The Ravenscar Dynasty by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

Masters, who had gone to sit down behind the desk.
    â€˜Please accept my condolences, Mr Edward, for this awful loss you have suffered, and you too, Mr Watkins. My deepest condolences to you both,’ Masters began. ‘This tragedy has been a blight on the company for the last few days, since we received the dreadful news. Everyone has been plunged into sorrow and gloom—’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Edward said peremptorily, cutting Masters off sharply. ‘My cousin and I are most appreciative of your kind thoughts and sympathy, and we certainly thank you for sparing our mothers undue and additional heartache. To have received the news by telephone would have been perfectly ghastly for them both, unbearable actually.’

    â€˜Yes, it would. It seemed to me at the time that contacting Mr Watkins was the right and proper way to handle the matter,’ Aubrey Masters answered, leaning forward over the desk, his hands clasped together.
    â€˜Most sensitive indeed,’ Neville interjected, his eyes appraising as he studied Masters, weighing him up.
    â€˜Mr Watkins and I are very anxious to know exactly what happened to our fathers and brothers in Carrara, Masters. We have been given only the slightest information about their deaths, and we hope you will now supply more of the details.’
    Clearing his throat several times, Aubrey nodded. ‘I’m sorry to say I do not have a great deal of information, Mr Edward. All I know is that a fire started in the hotel last Sunday night. I was informed on Monday, by telegram from Carrara.’
    â€˜And who sent the telegram?’ Edward asked, keeping a tight rein on his emotions. He was re-discovering his inherent antipathy towards Masters, who had never been a particular favourite of his father’s either. There was something shifty about him, and Edward was convinced that his loyalty was for sale, and always had been. Edward now wondered about the man’s integrity. Certainly it was not a characteristic he associated with the head of the Mining Division.
    Aubrey Masters, staring at Edward in return, said in the most matter-of-fact voice he could summon, ‘I was informed of the tragedy by Alfredo Oliveri.’
    â€˜Isn’t he the manager of our business affairs in Carrara?’
    â€˜Yes, he is. He works with the superintendent of the mines.’

    â€˜I see. And there’s another manager in Florence, isn’t there?’ Edward remarked. ‘Fabrizio Dellarosa.’
    Masters nodded. ‘Dellarosa runs our overall business in Italy, and he was the one who worked most closely with Mr Richard—er, your father.’
    â€˜Has he been in touch with you?’
    â€˜Yes, he has.’ Aubrey sat up a little straighter, more intent on his visitors, looking from Deravenel to Watkins, suddenly detecting hostility. He wondered why. A rush of panic hit him. Had he forgotten something? Did they know more than he did? If there was more to know. Clearing his throat, he announced in a clear, firm voice, ‘Look, I have told you everything I know , Mr Edward.’
    â€˜Were they badly burned in the fire?’ Neville asked, swallowing, not permitting his heartache to surface.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know. Oliveri told me by telegram that they were found in the hotel and that their bodies had been taken to the hospital in Florence. That they were being held there until the arrival of the family members. That is yourselves, of course.’
    â€˜And that’s all you know?’ Edward said, incredulity echoing in his voice.
    Masters appeared to be mystified by this question. ‘There’s not much else to know,’ he murmured, looking confused and worried.
    â€˜Were they all together? Were they in a lounge or the foyer? Or in their bedrooms? How long did the fire burn? Why were they not rescued before it was too late? What did the police report say?’ Edward stared hard at