The Ravenscar Dynasty. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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       THREE

      ‘There’s a sea fret coming up,’ Richard said, swivelling around on the window seat in Edward’s bedroom, and looking across at his brother. ‘I can’t see any of the fishing cobles out there, Ned, it’s thick like a fog.’

      ‘Well, it really is a fog in a sense,’ Edward responded. ‘A fret usually comes up when cold winds blow in from the sea over the warmer land, in summer too, sometimes, as well as winter,’ Edward explained, glancing up from the box of books he was packing. ‘And there wouldn’t be any fishermen out this afternoon, you know. Tonight perhaps, if the fog lifts, Little Fish.’

      Richard grinned. He loved this name Edward had given him years ago; sometimes Ned called him Tiddler, which also meant little fish, and this pleased him. Having nicknames bestowed by Edward made him feel very special indeed. ‘I’ll be glad to go to London next week,’ Richard said, introducing another subject. ‘Even though I have to work hard because Mr Pennington is coming back to be our tutor.’

      Edward caught something odd in his voice, and asked, ‘Don’t you like it here at Ravenscar?’ As he spoke he frowned and then gave Richard a piercing look. ‘Perhaps it’s too cold for you here in winter, I realize that. On the other hand, I enjoyed winters at Ravenscar, when I was young. There’s always so much to do.’

      ‘Yes. I love it here, Ned, but I like London because you’re not so far away…I mean you’re at Oxford and I get to see you more when I’m in London.’

      Touched by his brother’s expression of his love and his need, and pleased that he could articulate it so well, Edward put down the leather-bound book he was holding and walked across the bedroom, sat on the window seat next to the younger boy. Placing an arm around his narrow shoulders, giving him a quick hug, he said softly, ‘I’ll miss you, too, old chap, very much. And you’re quite correct, Oxford is much closer to London than it is to Yorkshire. And listen, I’ll come to town often, so that we can spend some time together. Would you like that?’

      Richard’s young face filled with pleasure and his slate-grey eyes shone. ‘Do you promise me, Ned?’

      ‘I do, Dick, I do promise you.’

      The eight-year-old visibly relaxed, his tense body growing slack as he leaned against Edward in a companionable way, fully at ease with him, as he had been since his toddler days. ‘Things are not the same when you’re not at home…I do miss you so.’

      ‘I know how you feel, I miss you too, Tiddler, but I’m not all that far away. Perhaps I could write to you occasionally.’

      ‘Oh, Ned, would you? How wonderful to have a real letter from you every week.’

      Edward began to chuckle. ‘I didn’t say every week. But look here, Dick, it’s not as if you’re a boy alone when I’m at university. Meg is around, and you have George. Also, Edmund will be at home with you.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ Richard answered in an uncertain voice. ‘I love Edmund, but he’s so busy, and sometimes he seems a bit…impatient.’

      ‘I know he’s a very busy fellow indeed.’ Edward laughed, added, ‘Doing what I don’t know. But George is all right with you, isn’t he?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      Glancing at him swiftly, Edward asked, ‘Does George bully you too much? Tell me the truth, I don’t want you to lie to me.’

      Richard stared at his brother askance, and exclaimed, ‘I never lie, and I wouldn’t fib to you. George doesn’t bully me.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it, but I do recognize that at times he can become over-zealous, shall we say, about certain things.’

      ‘I can defend myself.’ There was a sudden flash of pride, a defiant tilt to Richard’s dark head.

      ‘I know you can. After all, I taught you.’ Edward gave him a light punch on the arm and stood up. He glanced out of the window, noticed how the sea mist was now obscuring everything; even the battlements at the bottom of the garden far below had been obliterated this afternoon.

      Turning, Ned strode across the floor, went back to the table where the large box stood. He put in another volume and then checked it off on his list.

      Richard, watching him from the distance of the window seat, asked, ‘Will Edmund go to Oxford one day?’

      ‘I expect so, and George, too, and you yourself, Dickie boy. When you’re old enough. That’s what Papa wants, that we all should be Oxford-educated. Does that suit? Would you like to go? To be an undergraduate?’

      ‘Oh, yes, I really would. Why does everyone call it the city of dreaming spires?’

      ‘Because there are so many churches and buildings with spires and they look beautiful in the light.’

      ‘It’s very old, isn’t it? Meg told me it was.’

      ‘It is indeed. Twelfth century.’

      ‘Can I come and visit you one day, Ned? Please. I would like to see everything at Oxford. Will you take me to see everything?’

      ‘Of course, old chap, and especially the Bodleian, that’s my favourite.’

      ‘What is it, Ned, the Bodleian?’

      ‘A library, a very lovely and very ancient library.’

      ‘Oh, I’d love to see it! Meg told me that in the Civil War Oxford was the Royalist capital, and that it was besieged by Cromwell’s parliamentarians, but it wasn’t hurt by them.’

      ‘That’s correct.’ There was a knock on the door and Edward called, ‘Come in.’

      The door opened and Jessup, the butler, entered, inclining his head. ‘Master Edward, please excuse me.’

      ‘Yes, Jessup?’

      ‘Your mother wishes to speak with you. She’s awaiting you in the library.’

      ‘Thank you, Jessup. You may tell her I shall be down in a few minutes.’

      ‘Mrs Deravenel did ask me to say that it was a matter of some urgency, Master Edward.’

      ‘Very well. Then I shall come right away.’