Being Elizabeth by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page A

this praise, and as he stood there looking at Robert he remembered the boy he had been and Briney smiled inside. Now here he was, a grown man, so tall and handsome, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, ‘No frogs in your pocket today, sir, eh?’
    Robert threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘What a good memory you have, Briney. I was rather keen on frogs when I was a schoolboy, wasn’t I?’
    â€˜That’s a fact, sir. You found them fascinating, and you were always fiddling around in the pond. There was many a time I thought you’d fall in.’
    â€˜You caught a tadpole for me there once and put it in a jam jar,’ Elizabeth interjected. ‘I bet you don’t remember, though.’
    â€˜â€™Course I do … it was a gift for you, one of my first.’ He chuckled as they stepped out onto the front steps. ‘And how on earth could I forget that most glorious tadpole?’
    Elizabeth laughed, and said, ‘Thanks for showing us around.’ She shook Briney’s brown gnarled hand and went outside.
    â€˜My pleasure, Miss … you both make me feel young again … bring back memories, that you do.’
    Robert grasped Briney’s hand firmly and shook it. ‘Yes, it’s been a bit of a trip down memory lane for all of us, Briney. Take care now.’
    Briney waved as they walked towards the flagged terrace, and they waved back before striking out towards the sunken garden.
    At one moment Elizabeth said, ‘I noticed Briney didn’t mention Mary, but then I’m not really surprised. Toby said they didn’t like each other, and he mentioned that Briney was respectful to her but kept his distance.’
    â€˜He’s a nice old chap, the salt of the earth,’ Robert responded and then looked at her, frowning. ‘I wonder why your auntGrace Rose is so involved with the house? You once told me she had given it to your father.’
    â€˜That was my understanding.’ Elizabeth shrugged. ‘Maybe she just loves it because she grew up there, and lived there as an adult, and after her marriage to Charles Morran. Incidentally, Kat’s right. I think the property’s worth a small fortune.’
    â€˜Do you plan to sell it?’ Robert asked.
    â€˜I don’t know. I can’t very well live in all these houses, now, can I? Stonehurst Farm is beautiful. However, I’ve always loved Waverley Court the best, and it does happen to be closer to London. I can’t sell Ravenscar, you know. It’s entailed, and must pass to my heirs when I die.’
    â€˜Hey, no talk of dying today! You and I have a lot of living to do yet, my girl!’
    â€˜That’s true, we do, Robin. Together.’
    He threw her a surreptitious look, but made no comment.

N INE
    G race Rose had always had a flair for clothes, an individual unique style of dressing, and on this Sunday afternoon she looked quite wonderful, Elizabeth thought. Her marvellous abundance of luxuriant silver hair was stylishly coiffed, she was well made-up, and her outfit truly caught one’s attention. She wore a loose, raglan-sleeved jacket of purple silk brocade with a purple silk camisole and matching silk trousers. Ropes of large amethyst and turquoise beads hung around her neck, and small amethyst studs were fastened to her ears.
    As she sat sipping her tea and studying her, Elizabeth found it hard to believe Grace Rose was ninety-six. Her looks belied this, and so did her mental capacities. There were no signs of senility or dementia – in fact, just the opposite. Grace Rose had a keen mind, total comprehension, and her dry wit was still intact. It was true that Grace Rose was a very old lady, the same age as the century, but her spirit was forever young. Elizabeth was well aware her aunt kept herself constantly busy, continued to work for her favourite charities, handled many of her own business affairs and was well informed about