Being Elizabeth by Barbara Taylor Bradford Read Free Book Online Page B

kind of you.’
    Robert said, ‘We’re going up to the executive offices, Alfred, we won’t be very long.’
    â€˜Take your time, sir, no problem.’
    Elizabeth glanced around as the two of them walked across the gargantuan marble foyer, their footsteps clattering loudly as they made for the great double staircase that flowed up to the first floor. How impressed she had been with this foyer when she was a young girl; it had intimidated her. She smiled to herself. Perhaps it still did in a certain way. It was impressive, no two ways about that.
    â€˜It’s very quiet this morning, Robin,’ Elizabeth said, and instantly looked startled as her voice echoed back to her. ‘Oh, goodness, I’d forgotten about the echo in here.’
    â€˜Had you now?’ Robert glanced at her, grinning. ‘Don’t you remember the time we first discovered it? We were about ten and started “making echoes”, as you called it, by screaming and shouting. There was hell to pay.’
    â€˜God, yes, I do remember! Your father and mine were absolutely furious with us, because of the noise we made. But it was Sunday, and the place was deserted, just as it is this morning. I never quite understood the fuss.’
    â€˜My father docked my spending money. What did yours do?’
    Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I can’t recall, just shouted at me, I think.’
    They went on up the staircase in silence, headed down the main corridor and stopped outside the managing director’s office. Robert said, ‘Close your eyes. I want this to really be a surprise.’
    Elizabeth did as he asked; he took hold of her hand, led her into the office, switched on the overhead light and said, ‘Okay, you can open your eyes.’
    She did so and instantly gasped. ‘Oh, my God! Robin! How on earth did you manage to do this?’ As she spoke, her eyes swept around the room, swiftly taking everything in, and then she turned around and hugged him. ‘It’s Father’s office once again, not hers ! Oh, thank you!’
    â€˜Do you like it?’ he asked eagerly, as always, wishing to please her.
    â€˜I love it, can’t you tell?’ She walked slowly around the large room which had been occupied in the last hundred years by Richard Deravenel, his son Edward Deravenel, and Edward’s youngest brother Richard. Then it had been her grandfather’s, and after Henry Turner died, her father Harry had occupied it for years.
    Because Edward Selmere had been the administrator, running the company on behalf of her younger brother, he had used another office on the executive floor. Once Mary had become managing director it was her domain, as was proper, but she had made a mess of it, in Elizabeth’s opinion.
    Looking at Robert, Elizabeth asked, ‘What on earth did you do with all that ghastly modern furniture Mary bought?’
    â€˜I chucked it out, with Cecil’s agreement, of course,’ Robert laughed, added, ‘I was happy to see the last of it. And look,Elizabeth, over there on the wall behind the desk … it’s the famous old map of the world, which Mary had sent down to storage. I rescued it and put it back where it belongs.’
    Rushing over to the map, she said, ‘And you had it reframed, from the look of it.’
    â€˜I did, and now you can see the map much better because I had new glass put in.’
    â€˜Robin, how lovely of you to do all this. Thank you, thank you, you’ve made me so happy.’ She sat down at the beautiful Georgian desk that had been used by those of her ancestors who had run this company before her, smoothed her hands over the fine leather top, reverentially, momentarily lost in thought. A few seconds later, rousing herself, she took stock once more, noting the rich cream colour on the walls, the antique Chesterfield sofa with its highly polished, dark-green leather gleaming in the light from the various lamps.