‘Francis! What a lovely surprise!’ Elizabeth cried almost two hours later when Francis Walsington appeared at the table, a wide smile on his handsome face. She glanced at Nicholas. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?’
‘Because it wouldn’t have been a surprise if I had, now, would it?’
Francis blew Elizabeth a kiss and sat down next to Robert. When the waiter came over, Francis ordered a cognac, then reaching across the table he squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you, and congratulations. You’re a miracle-worker, Elizabeth. In six months you’ve managed to reverse a great deal of the damage your half-sister did for over five years. That’s quite an achievement.’
‘Thank you, Francis. I couldn’t have done it without the three of you, and Cecil. It’s been an effective team effort.’
He nodded, went on, ‘The Marbella Project has truly worked.’ Turning to Robert, he added, ‘You and Ambrose have done such a remarkable job on the resort, I’ve been wondering if we shouldn’t remodel some of our other hotels along the same lines.’
Nicholas exclaimed, ‘That had crossed my mind, too, but I’m not sure John Norfell would agree.’
‘Why not?’ Elizabeth asked, sounding puzzled. She frowned at Nicholas.
‘He’ll say it’s too costly,’ Robert interjected.
‘That’s right,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘He’ll say we haven’t got the money. But I know we could borrow from the bank if we had to, in order to go ahead with that kind of innovative scheme.’
‘Or I could lend Deravenels the money to modernize the hotels.’ Elizabeth glanced from Nicholas to Francis. ‘That’s one of the reasons I’m having my big auction, to fund a war chest so that I can help Deravenels if money’s needed for new projects. We’ve got to pull the company into the twenty-first century.’
‘And the only way we can do that is to modernize,’ Robert added.
‘Charles Broakes came to me with an interesting idea earlier this week.’ Elizabeth paused, said to Robert, ‘I told you about it, and you liked it, didn’t you, Robin?’
‘I did, yes.’ Glancing from Francis to Nicholas, Robert explained, ‘He was wondering if we could create a situation at several of our vineyards where people could come to stay, have wine tastings, lectures about different wines, and enjoy good food. I did think it was clever, because the manor houses at two of our French vineyards are not being used as homes any more, but rather as offices. We ought to cash in, I think we’re missing a chance.’
‘So do I,’ Francis said. ‘It would be quite easy to put up a small office building on each property, and then turn the manor into a guest house. That is what Charles had in mind, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Elizabeth began to laugh. ‘I even thought we might build a spa at each one. You know how everyone loves spas these days. Also, here’s another thought. Not all women are wine-aficionados, and they could enjoy spa days whilst their husbands learn about wines. If we went ahead with the idea it wouldn’t make us a vast amount of money, but we would make a good profit, and I think it’s a great public relations ploy because it would introduce people to our wines.’
‘It’s rather brilliant, in my opinion,’ Nicholas volunteered. ‘I suppose Charles was thinking of our vineyards in Mâcon and Provence?’
‘That’s right.’ Elizabeth lifted her glass of white wine, took a sip. ‘As we find new ways to bring Deravenels into the future perhaps we can close out some of the other divisions which are losing money, not that there are a lot of those. We’re holding our own fairly well overall. But a few are redundant, I think.’
The four of them went on talking about Deravenels for a while, but when the coffee was served Francis Walsington fell silent. He appeared to be sipping his coffee and listening, but, in fact, he was lost in his own thoughts.
Like the other men at the table, he was tall, good-looking and well dressed, and although he was only twenty-seven he had a rather distinguished appearance, seemed slightly older than his years. One of the most remarkable things about him was his extraordinary self-confidence. He also had an aura of immense power. A lawyer by training, he was Director of the Security Division of Deravenels, and he enjoyed his job, was brilliant at what he did, and usually inspired in his execution of it.
He had known Elizabeth for a number of years, and it was she he had been devoted to and to whom he had given his loyalty during her sister’s years at the company. He had left Deravenels when Mary Turner had inherited the top job and come to live in Paris, his favourite city after London.
Now as he sat staring at Elizabeth he could not help admiring the way she looked this evening. She was wearing a red silk dress and a string of large white pearls with matching earrings. Her red hair was longer, framed her face, and gave her somewhat angular features a softer look. She had always been striking, and unique as a woman.
He had noticed the moment he arrived that she had a glow about her, and he was well aware this was because of her relationship with Robert Dunley. They were in love, and he was pleased about this recent development. She had not had a happy life thus far, and he felt she deserved the joy she found with Robert, a man he admired and trusted. Francis knew Robert intimately; they had been friends for over ten years and got on extremely well. Francis was often amused when people dismissed Robert because he was good-looking, or because he was well dressed. Long aware of Robert’s intelligence and business acumen, and his total loyalty to Elizabeth, Francis felt nothing but respect for the man. Also, he knew that it would be Elizabeth, Cecil and Robert who would always run Deravenels together, and as a very tight ship. Anyone who thought otherwise, under estimated them, and especially Robert, was not only a fool but unlikely to survive at Deravenels. They were the triumvirate with the ultimate power in their hands. And that was something which would never change.
Francis and Nicholas were old Paris hands and knew the city inside out. They had been close for years, helping each other through their difficulties and problems, protecting and shielding each other during Mary Turner’s iniquitous time in the company. Neither of them had been part of her coterie; they continued to be wary about those she had chosen for her inner circle, and gave them a wide berth.
This they spoke about as they walked together under the arches of the Palais-Royal, heading for the Place Vendôme and the Ritz Hotel where they always stayed. Elizabeth and Robert had gone off alone, making for their own hotel; the two friends and colleagues were happy to have this time to chat, ponder together about the company they were committed to, and the woman who had their total devotion.
Heading towards the Louvre Museum, keeping a steady pace, they fell silent for a short time, enjoying the pleasant weather, the beauty of Paris, and the glorious night sky. Suddenly coming to a stop, Francis turned to Nicholas, and confided, ‘I feel a bit sorry for those two, you know, old chap. All this silly gossip, it beggars belief, and it’s got to be annoying to them.’
‘I don’t think they pay much attention to it to be honest, Francis, I really don’t, and no matter what, I’ll be on Elizabeth’s side. Her father was a real bastard, and treated her like shit when she was a child, even when she was a toddler. I never understood that. There was something cold-hearted and unusually cruel about him, but then look at the way he behaved with Catherine. He was married to her for almost twenty years, and happily so, and then Anne Bowles came waltzing by and suddenly caught his eye and the rest is … well, history, as they say.’
‘Anne led him a merry dance,’ Francis murmured. ‘We all know that, and it took him over six years to get her into bed. And then it went so bloody wrong it was unbelievable.’
‘He blamed Anne, naturally. That was the way Harry Turner was. He was never the guilty one. One of the most selfish men I’ve ever come across. I met him when I was first working at Deravenels and I’ll tell you this: I never liked him. He was a bit of a braggart, in my opinion, with an ego the size of the Eiffel Tower.’
‘In the meantime,’ Francis interjected, ‘let’s get back to Elizabeth and Robert. She told me a few weeks ago she is quite happy with the way things are … she said she doesn’t want to marry him.’
‘No doubt he will get a divorce though, won’t he? Normalize the situation by becoming a single man?’ Then Nicholas shrugged. ‘I’ve no clue, do you?’
Francis simply let out a long sigh and took his friend’s arm. They strolled on, lost in their own ruminations.
When Francis continued to remain silent, Nicholas finally asked, ‘Why the long sigh, my friend? You sounded as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Want to share your burdens?’
‘The gossip’s crossed the English Channel, Nicky. Apparently there are mutterings about Elizabeth in certain quarters … about her being in an illicit relationship with a colleague who’s a married man. I’ll give you one guess from whence those words are emanating.’
‘Frenchie in a kilt?’
‘Correct. She’s sounding holier than thou, proclaiming to anyone who’ll listen that she’ll be running Deravenels one day instead of her flighty and immoral cousin.’
‘She can never get her hands on the company!’ Nicholas exclaimed. ‘And you know that as well as I do.’
‘But she can have a helluva great time making Elizabeth’s life difficult, even miserable, whilst trying to buy up any shares she can find.’
‘Surely there aren’t many Deravenel shareholders willing to sell?’
‘I doubt it. Anyway, Harry’s will is watertight, Cecil has reassured us about that. Unfortunately gossip, scurrilous stories, leaks to the press, lies and inventions, all that sort of thing, can only be damaging in the long run, Nicky. We don’t want Deravenels making headlines for the wrong reasons.’
‘Can’t you do something about the Stewart woman, shut her up?’ Nicholas asked.
‘I can think of a lot of things to do, but most of them are not legal.’ Francis let out a chuckle.
Nicholas grunted as they turned the corner and went up a side street, heading for the Ritz Hotel. As they approached the front entrance on the semi-circular Place Vendôme, he came to an abrupt halt, grabbed Francis Walsington’s arm. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why is Robert so suspicious of John Norfell?’
‘Let’s go to the bar and I’ll give you my opinion over a Calvados,’ Francis promised as they entered the hotel.