He has not changed much over the years, my friend Robin. Not in character at least. He has always been thoughtful, caring, worrying about my comfort; or second-guessing me; or showing up out of the blue, as if he could read my mind. When I was a child I was always hoping he would persuade his father to bring him to Kent to stay with us. Often I got down and prayed that he would arrive.
Sometimes he and his father would show up at Waverley Court, usually on a Friday afternoon, and John Dunley would leave Robin with us for the weekend, or often longer in the summer. Kat Ashe, my governess, had taken a great liking to Robin and welcomed him warmly. Looking back. I’m sure it was Kat and Robin’s father who concocted these visits between them, knowing how isolated I was.
We first met at my father’s Chelsea house, and we took an instant liking to each other. That day when he came to have lunch and play with me, I asked him how old he was, and he told me he was eight. I remember how surprised I was, because he was tall and looked older, and then I confided, ‘I’m also eight. My birthday is on September the seventh. When’s yours?’ I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look of astonishment on Robin’s face. ‘That’s my birthday too! September the seventh. We’ll have to have a joint party!’ He grinned at me and exclaimed, ‘Gosh, we’re actually twins, Elizabeth!’ It’s often struck me how alike he and I are, in fact.
I was a lonely little girl. My father had taken a terrible dislike to me after my mother died in a car accident in France. He shunned me, eventually disowned me, and shunted me around to stay with any of his relatives who would have me. I felt unwanted and unloved, and actually I was. By him, anyway.
Eventually, Father sent me to Kent, to live at Stonehurst Farm. And Kat came too. She became a surrogate mother to me; Kat loved me very much, and loves me to this day, but, as can only be expected, in those days I wanted my father’s love. He with-held it. In fact, he was cruel and inhuman in his behaviour towards me.
My father abandoned me, showed me little or no consideration, and did not bother much about my well being, leaving everything to Kat. He was verbally abusive to me when we did meet, calling me terrible names, telling me I was a bastard, insisting that he was not my father, and shouting at me, saying that my mother had been a cheating whore. I never quite understood why he hated me so much, and I still don’t, not really. Obviously, I was terrified of him.
When I was little I pretended that Robin was my brother, because I so desperately wanted a family, wanted to belong to somebody. And needed someone to love. I loved Robin then, and I still love him. He is my best friend. And I know, deep inside, that I am his; certainly he’s often told me so. We were close in childhood, but we drifted apart as we grew older and he was sent off to boarding school. Still, if I ever needed him, he was always there for me, and in those awful days when Mary was vengeful and mean, he was kind and comforting. My loyal and devoted Robin.
I’m glad Cecil likes him. They’ve known each other for years because Cecil worked for Robin’s father at one time, which was when they got to know each other. They are somewhat different in temperament. Cecil Williams, with his grey eyes and clever face and bright intelligence, is a man that everyone trusts and listens to. Like me, he has a degree of caution, is wary and does not make hasty decisions. He watches and waits, as I do. A lawyer by training, he scrupulously abides by the rules.
Robin is also intelligent, shrewd and clever, and has proved himself to be brilliant in business. His handsome features and dark good looks, plus an easy natural charm and a gift of the gab, add to his potent charisma. And with his height and build and flair for clothes, women tend to run after him, fall at his feet. Although he doesn’t pay much attention to them, I know he likes women and their company. But he’s never been a womanizer; he has a good reputation in that respect. The only thing I have ever cautioned him about is his impulsiveness. And he does appear to be more restrained these days.
I’m glad he came up to Yorkshire last Sunday. It was a lovely surprise and he, Nicholas, Cecil and I were able to talk at length about Deravenels and future plans. He and Nicholas left on Monday morning. Cecil and I stayed on, of course, working together for several days. Also, we had to remain at Ravenscar because of the funeral. Sixty people attended, and we managed to squeeze everybody into the chapel. John Norfell had arranged everything with his usual good taste and punctilliousness. The chapel was filled with flowers, Mary’s favourite priest was brought from London, and the priest and John Norfell accompanied the coffin. Afterwards there was a catered lunch at the house. I did my duty and played the part, kept a solemn demeanour and said all of the right things to everyone with a quiet dignity. At least, Cecil told me I had been dignified and appropriate. Once everyone left, Cecil and I loaded his car with luggage and drove to London together.
And here I am on Saturday morning, back in my own apartment in Eaton Square, waiting for my darling Kat, who’s due to arrive at any moment. I can’t wait to see her … it’s been several months since we last met.
‘Let me look at you, darling girl,’ Kat said, staring up into Elizabeth’s face. ‘I must say, you look none the worse for being all those weeks in the frozen north. I’d even go so far as to say you seem to be in blooming health. If a little pale.’
Elizabeth began to laugh, hugging her former governess, the woman who had brought her up. Finally releasing her, she said, ‘Kat, I’m never anything but pale, and you should know that since you’re the one who never let me out in the sun or the wind.’
‘That’s just it, it’s usually so very windy at Ravenscar. Frankly, it crossed my mind that you might have a bit of a windburn since you’ve been there for several weeks. And you have had it in the past,’ Kat reminded her.
‘When I was a child.’ Taking hold of her arm, leading her across the foyer, Elizabeth continued, ‘You know I listen to everything you say, and I’ve been protecting my skin for years, following your rules.’
Kat smiled. ‘Yes, I know.’
The two women went into the living room which Kat had helped Elizabeth decorate several years ago. Spacious and airy, it had a high ceiling, tall windows and a fireplace where a fire burned brightly. It was cheerful and inviting with its daffodil-yellow walls, cream sofas and chairs, as well as a number of good antique pieces which had been borrowed from attics at Ravenscar.
Elizabeth said, ‘I’ve lots to talk to you about, but first I must go and get the coffee –’
‘Let me do that,’ Kat cut in.
‘No, no, I’ll bring the tray,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘Just this once, please allow me to do something for you, Kat. You’ve been looking after me most of my life.’
‘All right, thank you.’
Elizabeth hurried out and Kat strolled over to one of the two windows, staring down at the garden in the middle of Eaton Square. The trees were bare, and there was a sense of bereftness about the garden on this cold Saturday. To her way of thinking, there was nothing quite as sad and dreary as a winter garden full of dead things. One of her joys these days was tending to her gardens;
