Being Elizabeth
Ravenscar: a house, a legacy, a dynasty.Elizabeth Turner, scion of the fabled Deravenel family, carries the red-gold hair and beautiful English complexion of her ancestors. And it is not just her colouring that she has inherited from Edward Deravenel. Astute and charismatic, she is also bold, daring and fiercely ambitious, with the same ruthless streak.Now, aged just twenty-five, she stands in the position she has dreamed of – inheriting the family business, Deravenels. Over eight hundred years old, the company is a bastion of male chauvinism and the challenge that lies ahead of Elizabeth is immense.Her future is threatened also by the bitter enmity of her cousin, Mary, who believes herself the rightful heir.Cecil Williams acts as Elizabeth's mentor while navigating the treacherous corridors of power with her. But her greatest ally is her childhood friend, handsome, charming Robert Dunley. Highly intelligent, he is her match in every way – and there is a spark between them that is impossible to resist. Yet Robert is already married. When they begin an affair it scandalises those around them. But far worse is to come…From the family seat perched high on the Yorkshire moors to the glamour of London as the twentieth century draws to a close, Elizabeth fights for her birthright and her inheritance. Passion, drama, betrayal and death stalk the pages of this gripping new blockbuster from the author of A Woman of Substance.
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Barbara Taylor Bradford
Being Elizabeth
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008 1
Copyright © Barbara Taylor Bradford 2008
Barbara Taylor Bradford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins eBooks.
Ebook Edition © NOVEMBER 2008 ISBN:9780007287185
Version: 2017-10-25
For Bob, with my love
Contents
| Title Page | |
| Copyright | |
| Dedication | |
| PART ONE | |
| Grasping Destiny | |
| PART TWO | |
| Love Won’t Wait | |
| PART THREE | |
| Dangerous Reversals | |
| PART FOUR | |
| Scuttling the Enemy | |
| EPILOGUE | |
| Woman of the Year | |
| About the Publisher |
‘I slept and dreamt that life was Joy,
I woke and found that life was Duty.
I acted, and behold,
Duty was Joy.’
Rabindranath Tagore
‘I bend but do not break.’
Jean de la Fontaine
‘Work is more fun than fun.’
Noël Coward
ONE
‘She’s dead!’
Cecil Williams made this announcement from the entrance to the dining room at Ravenscar, then, closing the door behind him, he walked across to the table in a few quick strides.
Against her will, Elizabeth Turner jumped up. ‘When?’ she asked in a voice full of sudden tension, her eyes on his face.
‘This morning, very early. Just before dawn, to be exact.’
There was a silence.
Elizabeth took tight control of a sudden rush of emotion; even though this news had been long expected, deep down she had not believed she would ever hear those words. She took a moment to absorb them, then said, ‘There’s nothing much to say, is there, Cecil? Nothing at all, actually, and anyway, what would be the point? I’m not a hypocrite, I’m not going to pretend I mourn her death.’
‘Nor am I. I understand your feelings perfectly, Elizabeth.’ He put an arm around her shoulder, kissed her cheek, and looked deeply into her luminous dark eyes. They were glistening with tears, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the tears were not for the deceased woman. They were, in fact, tears of genuine relief.
‘It’s over, Elizabeth,’ he said, very softly. ‘Finally. Your torment is at an end, and you’re safe, secure. No one can tell you what to do, not ever again. You’re your own woman, in control of your own destiny.’
The tense expression on her pale face instantly lifted, and she exclaimed, ‘Yes, I am free. Free at last! Oh, Cecil, how wonderful that thought is! Yet, do you know, I can hardly grasp it.’ A quavery smile flickered around her mouth and was immediately gone, as if she was not quite convinced of her new status.
He smiled at her. ‘I believe it’s going to take a few days to sink in.’
She looked at him intently, her eyes narrowing slightly. He knew her well, truly understood her, and he was correct, it would take a few days for her to truly believe that everything had changed. She took a moment to steady herself, before saying, ‘I’m being rude, Cecil. Let me get you some breakfast, you must be famished. Lucas has brought in enough food to feed an army, so what do you fancy?’
‘I am hungry, I must admit. But I’ll help myself. Go and sit down, drink your coffee and relax. You have every reason to do so today of all days.’
Elizabeth did as he suggested, glad to sit down in the comfortable chair. She was shaking inside and her legs felt weak and unsteady. As she settled back, trying to relax, she experienced instead an unexpected sense of dread. The future loomed up in front of her; it was an unknown future. Overwhelming. A wave of nausea swept over her at the prospect of moving on, leaving her old life behind, grasping her destiny with both hands. All those years of sleepless nights, early risings, often before dawn. Constantly worrying, always fearful, numb with anxiety, forever apprehensive. About her sister. Never knowing … never knowing what tricks Mary would pull, what accusations the woman would level at her. She had been living on the edge … on the edge of danger, living on her nerves for as long as she could remember. Mary had tormented her since childhood.
