When he had finished his breakfast, Robert went into the library. Seated at his large Georgian desk, he took the note from Wilson out of his pocket and read it again. Then he glanced over at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. He had an hour before Wilson arrived, bringing him the accounts for the Yorkshire estate. He was grateful to have this intelligent and innovative man working for him.
Robert smiled at himself. It was young Blackie O’Neill who had told Wilson about the vacancy, his need for a talented estate manager. Apparently O’Neill had built a beautiful new kitchen for Wilson’s aunt, pretty much run the project himself, and had met Wilson there, sent him along to meet the Earl. Now O’Neill was building a conservatory for her. The boy is certainly enterprising, Robert thought. He wondered if he could find a job for him, something to test out the talent he suspected lay beneath the cheerful and hard-working Irish labourer. He’d come a long way from the skinny youth who used to help out in the gardens sometimes at Lassiter Hall with his cousin Michael.
Wilson had done wonders with the Bolton Manor estate in a very short time. He was thirty-two, had an open, very genial personality and got on well with all who worked with him. He had a love of agriculture and the estate was prospering under his guidance.
Right from the start, Robert had been honest with Wilson about the fact that he was estranged from Lady Lucinda, and they lived separate lives, keeping up a civil front for the sake of their sons. He had told the new estate manager he needed to know the Countess’s whereabouts at all times. Hence, the early note this morning; Colin Wilson wanted to alert him that Lady Lucinda had already left Bolton Manor – and England.
Robert leaned back in the chair, his mind racing. He knew that Adrian was having a meeting this morning with the head of the private investigating company.
Later they would have lunch together at the Fraser Brothers’ private bank.
Adrian ran the Mayfair office on South Audley Street, and a new dining room had just been created so that important clients could be entertained at leisure in secure surroundings.
Robert rose and walked over to the window, stood looking out at Grosvenor Square, thinking, suddenly, how his life had changed overnight. In the blink of an eye.
He heard his father’s voice echoing in his head, warning him that he should never waste a day, because that particular day would never come back. ‘So live those hours to the limit,’ his father had constantly reminded him. And often he would add, ‘And always remember you are not in control of your life. Life is. All you do is control your behaviour and your day-to-day living, your friendships, your relationship with women, your colleagues, your parents and your children, should you have them.’ And he had remembered every word, cherishing his father’s wisdom. His father had also forewarned that his life could change in the blink of an eye, and now it had.
At precisely eleven o’clock, Turnbull showed Colin Wilson into the library as he announced his name.
Robert stood up and went to greet him, his hand outstretched.
‘Good morning, Wilson,’ Robert said. ‘I’m glad to see you.’
‘Good morning and likewise, Lord Robert. I trust you found the note I left here earlier this morning? On my way to Shepherd Market.’
‘I did indeed, thank you. I suppose her ladyship herself let you know she was leaving Bolton Manor?’
‘Yes, she did, and went on to add that she was travelling with her friend Lady Glendenning, that they were going to the clinic in Zürich. She mentioned that you were aware your sons were on the estate with their tutor.’
‘Did she say how long she would be gone?’
‘No, she did not, m’lord.’
Robert nodded. ‘I always know where the boys are. They were supposed to be going to their grandparents with her.’ He frowned to himself. ‘I shall need to make some arrangements.’ He paused and then indicated a chair. ‘Now, down to business. Shall we go through the accounts first?’
Colin Wilson opened his briefcase and took out several files, explaining, ‘We’ve had a record season, sir, and I believe you’ll be pleased with the agricultural figures. Just one thing, Your Lordship, before we begin, I would like to discuss the dry-stone walls in the lower fields, as I mentioned when you were there last week. Some are in dire need of repair. I thought I ought to bring in the best stone-waller in Yorkshire, Sam Bell. What do you think, Lord Robert?’
‘By all means, do get Bell in to tackle them. It’s quite an art, building or mending those walls. No cement used, as you well know – just fitting the right stones together.’
‘I will hire him immediately,’ Wilson answered, and leaned across the desk and offered Robert the first file.
Lord Robert Lassiter cut quite a swathe as he walked out of Grosvenor Square, and headed down South Audley Street.
However, he was totally unaware of the admiring glances that passers-by gave him. As usual, his busy mind was preoccupied with thoughts of business, which pushed everything else to the side.
For the last few years, he had watched the enormous new building going up at Harrods, a department store in Knightsbridge. Fire had destroyed the original store, but what a success it had become, defying those who had predicted failure because it was so huge. Now he wanted to find an area to build a similar edifice, or a clutch of old buildings next to each other, which he could demolish.
He did not want to open and run the store. His desire was to design, build and sell it.
He was confident he would make a very high profit. In this instance, he knew he had nothing to lose, although he often pondered on that possibility at times. He was well aware he had to place the idea of loss in every equation.
Within minutes, he was entering the offices of Adrian’s bank, and being shown to the second floor.
Adrian was waiting for him on the landing, and after warm greetings were exchanged, he led Robert into the new dining room where they would be having the midday meal.
Robert stood in the middle of the room and glanced around. What he saw pleased him. Pine-panelled bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, and rose-brocade draperies at the two high windows, covering other walls and on the chair seats.
A carpet filled with a mixture of pinks and reds covered the floor. In the middle of the room, a circular polished wood table was set for two, and on the back wall there was a beautiful Chippendale sideboard.
‘Congratulations, Adrian!’ Robert exclaimed, turning to his friend. ‘Your team has done a wonderful job. It’s fresh, very inviting. And, of course, it has elegance as well.’
‘Thanks, I’m glad you like it. This room has looked faded and worn out for years, very Victorian. We’re living in the Edwardian era now, an era of great change, and change for the better.’ Walking over to the sideboard, Adrian continued, ‘How about a spot of bubbly, or do you prefer a glass of white wine?’
‘Champagne, please, Addy. It’s lighter. You know I don’t drink much, and especially during the day.’
Once they had toasted each other, clinking glasses, Robert gave Adrian a pointed look, and said, ‘Colin Wilson’s in town for our estate meeting, I asked him to come down rather than wait for my return. He popped a note through my letter box this morning on his way to breakfast in Shepherd Market.’
Reaching into his coat pocket, Robert took out the note and handed it to his closest friend. ‘Read that.’
Adrian scanned the note and raised his eyebrows. Eyeing Robert, he said, ‘This is a surprise. You could say we’ve got her by the short hairs.’
‘Exactly,’ Robert responded. ‘You could also say she’s fallen right into our hands. Or rather, the hands of one of your private investigators.’
‘Damned right.’ Raising his flute of champagne to Robert, Adrian said, ‘Here’s to an unexpected windfall.’
Robert grinned, took a sip of the Dom Pérignon. ‘How did your meeting go this morning?’
‘My private investigating firm has taken the job. Oh, and one of the operatives pointed out another thing. He said that desertion has been used as grounds for divorce by some men.’
Robert nodded. ‘That occurred to me a couple of years ago, but I was in the middle of a huge business deal at the time, and pushed my marital situation to one side. And strictly speaking our paths still cross, so I think adultery is a safer option.’
‘True, well, you’ve been avoiding the issue for bloody years, so now’s definitely the time to jump into the fray, my boy, and with both feet.’
‘I agree.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘By the way, I’m seeing Vanessa for tea at The Ritz this afternoon.’
‘Wonderful idea.’
‘Not mine, hers.’
‘She’s not shy in coming forward, is she?’
‘No, she’s rather outspoken, says what she’s thinking, but I don’t mind that bluntness of hers. It’s refreshing.’
Adrian pulled his keyring out, and tapped one key. ‘Do you want it?’
‘Thanks, but no thanks. Not today.’
Rising from his chair, Adrian went to the sideboard and topped up his glass. He said as he strolled back to the table, ‘I like the suit. New, isn’t it?’
Robert nodded. ‘Yes, and a new style: single-breasted, three buttons, and navy blue instead of black.’
‘Savile Row, knowing you.’
‘Hawes and Curtis, actually. My tailor told me the King started the style, with a light-cream suit with a brown stripe, and creases at the sides instead of the front. Plus the new hat he designed, which is called the homburg.’
‘I’ve seen the King in that – can’t say I like it. Oh, here is Rollins, the butler for this room. With the menu, I’ve no doubt.’
Rollins greeted the two men, handing them a menu each.
After perusing them, Robert settled for pâté, to be followed by Dover sole, and Adrian selected oyster patties and poached salmon.
When the butler left, Adrian said, ‘I’m so glad you’ve stopped going to your office on Friday, which means we can get together.’
‘So am I,’ Robert replied. ‘I began to realize that by Thursday night I needed to get out of the salt mines.’
‘I think you mean the gold mines,’ Adrian shot back with a cheeky grin. ‘You’re not known as England’s wealthiest landlord for nothing.’
‘Must you always have the last word, Addy?’
‘Yes. And I usually get it!’