When he caught up with his mother, she was already lighting the candles, explaining, ‘I want you to open the vault, Ned, the handle is a little stiff for me. Now, let me tell you the numbers.’
Within seconds the heavy door of the large vault swung open, and Cecily stepped closer to Edward and pointed to the two dark green leather boxes, and another large one made of dark blue leather. Along with these there was a smaller fourth box, and this was a faded red.
‘Let’s carry these upstairs, where the light is much better. I’ll take the red and blue boxes, they’re lighter, Ned.’
‘Heavens, the green are heavier than I thought!’ Ned went along the cellar, following his mother, saying, ‘If these are what I think they are, they must be purgatory.’
Cecily laughed, but made no comment and climbed up the stairs to the entrance hall. ‘I think we should go into the drawing room, the light is better there,’ she pointed out, and led the way. Placing the two leather boxes on a chair, she indicated the sofa to Ned. ‘Put those boxes over there. Now, darling, open them please.’
He did as she asked, and gasped when he took out the first tiara. ‘Good Lord, Mother, this is extraordinary!’ he cried, holding the tiara between his hands, turning it slowly, watching the light strike the diamonds, hundreds of them, catching the rainbow colours. ‘Wow, Mother, this is—something special.’
‘Unique,’ she murmured. ‘It belonged to my mother.’
Ned put it back in the box, and took out the second tiara. Again, he exclaimed about its beauty. ‘And whose was this?’
‘Mine,’ she answered. ‘My father bought it for me after my marriage, and this third tiara was left to me by Mother’s best friend, Clarissa Mayes. She had no children and bequeathed it to me, along with this diamond necklace.’ As she had been speaking, Cecily had shown him the tiara and necklace, and he seemed a little stunned.
‘Mother,’ he said at last, ‘there’s a small fortune here!’
‘I know. I’ve been hoarding all of these diamonds for a rainy day, and now I shall sell them, and buy you a house. What money’s left over will pay for your staff.’
‘Oh, Mother, it’s such a shame to sell these things, why they’re family heirlooms. And what of Meg? She will need a tiara one day, after her marriage.’
‘You shall buy her a tiara, Ned, when the time comes. These are going to be sold so you can have your own establishment.’ Her voice brooked no argument.
Edward stood on the threshold of the conservatory in Neville’s Chelsea house, watching his brothers play with their cousins, Isabel and Anne.
The two little girls looked charming in their deep-blue woollen dresses, each with a large white satin bow on top of their heads. His brothers were as smartly turned out, in their knee breeches and jackets, black stockings and highly-polished black shoes.
Surrounded by all the plants, and with sunshine pouring in through the many windows, it was an idyllic scene and brought a smile to Edward’s face. George seemed to be holding forth about something animatedly, and certainly he had captured Isabel’s complete attention. Anne was talking earnestly to Richard, who was nodding his head and looking amused. He felt a little twist in his heart…they were so young, so vulnerable.
At the sound of footsteps in the hall, Edward swung around, and smiled at Neville as he approached.
He joined Ned in the doorway, put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, and together they stood watching the children. After a moment, Neville said softly, ‘The future, Ned…they are the future of our two families, which are as one, and they must be protected at all cost.’
‘I agree, you’re quite correct,’ Ned answered quietly. ‘We must guard them at all times. The Grants will stop at nothing.’
‘Unfortunately, you’re right…I’m sorry I had to leave you to take the telephone call, and just as you were arriving.’ Neville glanced around. ‘I suppose Cecily and Meg have gone off somewhere with Nan.’
Ned nodded. ‘They’re in the drawing room.’
‘Right. Well, shall we meander along to the library and have a glass of champagne before lunch? Will and Johnny are already there, waiting for us.’
‘Why not?’
The two men walked down the entrance hall, but just before they reached the library Edward paused, took hold of Neville’s arm, so that he, too, stood still.
‘Yes, Ned, what is it?’ he asked.
‘I need a word with you. Privately.’
‘Then tell me now, whilst we are alone here. Are you worried about something?’
‘No, no, just curious. About the digitalis. We know Aubrey Masters died of an overdose, but I believe it was in the food…his vegetarian dinner, to be precise.’
‘Oh. Really.’
‘Yes. Let me tell you about a book called Fatal Flowers.’ Swiftly, Edward told Neville of his discovery the day before, and the conclusion he had come to almost at once about the use of foxglove in the vegetarian mix.
‘I see what you mean,’ Neville replied, nodding. ‘But you said you were curious…about what exactly?’
‘Did we have anything to do with Masters’s ingestion of digitalis?’
Neville did not respond. He simply stood there, tall, elegant and serene, staring at Ned, his light blue eyes calm, his face without any expression and steady.
Ned, leaning against a pillar, was equally steady. He waited.
After the longest moment, Neville answered. ‘I did promise you we would avenge the murders of our fathers and brothers. I never break a promise, Cousin.’
Ned nodded his understanding, his own face wiped clean of all emotion, his eyes locked to his cousin’s with intensity. And then he reached out, took hold of Neville’s hand and said in a low voice, ‘Fidelity unto eternity,’ repeating his family’s motto.
Cecily Deravenel was enjoying the luncheon party at her nephew’s home in Chelsea. A lovely, flowing house overlooking the Thames, it was beautifully furnished in perfect taste, made a charming setting for this Sunday lunch. And because they were family it was all the more pleasing to her. As for Will Hasling, she always thought of him as family, as another son, having known him for years, and certainly his devotion and loyalty to Edward had forever touched her heart. Yes, he was family, no question about that.
Her eyes roamed around the table, rested for a moment on her nephew, Johnny. Dearest Johnny, so fine of character, a man of integrity and honour, Ned’s champion. Her glance settled on Neville. How alike the two brothers were in appearance, and certainly they had the Watkins physical characteristics just as she did: dark hair, light eyes, the finest bone structure.
Neville was now the only senior male in the family, and it was on him that she must rely in many ways. Her brother Rick had managed her affairs but now that he was dead it would be his son who would advise her on these matters. Only last week she had told him Ned needed an allowance. He had agreed. She trusted Neville, she had no reason not to do so. He was, after all, her nephew, the richest magnate in England, a powerful man. That was the secret to him, of course, his power. Or rather the secret was his love of power. Only the other day she had pointed this out to Ned, and he had smiled and retorted, ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
They