Her Own Rules

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Suddenly I realized I was almost home. I had been walking so quickly I had reached Eaton Square in record time. As I put my latchkey in the door and turned it, the grandfather clock in the hall struck six-thirty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “When Vivienne said your father was planning to get married this year, I was completely taken aback,” Madge Hitchens said, looking at me intently across the lunch table. “I didn’t know anything about it, Luciana, did you?”

  I stared at her without answering. I was stupefied to hear this.

  Madge said, “I can tell by the expression on your face, and your silence, that you didn’t. You look as surprised as I was when she told me.”

  Recovering my voice, I asked, “Who on earth was he going to marry?”

  “Vivienne didn’t know her name. That’s why she was asking me.”

  I frowned and said quickly, “Vivienne thought you would know because you traveled with Sebastian constantly, spent so much time with him.”

  “Yes. But I wasn’t aware of a fiancée. In fact, no one at the foundation was.”

  “How come Vivienne knew?” As I asked this question I realized it was stupid of me to even pose it. Vivienne had always been a kind of confidante to him.

  “Sebastian told her,” Madge replied, confirming my thought.

  “But he didn’t tell her the woman’s name, Madge.” I shook my head. “How like Sebastian that was. However, he must have told her something else, surely?”

  “He did. He told Vivienne she was a doctor. A scientist. At least, so I gathered. He also said she lived and worked in Africa.”

  “What’s Vivienne’s interest in her now that my father’s dead?”

  “She’s writing a profile about Sebastian and she wants to interview her.”

  “I see.” I smiled faintly at Madge. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about the tone and content of the story, Madge dear. It’s bound to be flattering, since Vivienne’s writing it.”

  “Oh I’m sure it will be.”

  “Who’s Vivienne writing it for? Did she tell you?”

  “Yes,” Madge said, nodding. “The magazine section of the London Sunday Times. As I told you earlier, she was in New York for several weeks, interviewing people at Locke Industries and the foundation. From what I gather, everyone spoke beautifully about Sebastian. But then why wouldn’t they? He was a very unique man, and those who worked for him and with him revered him. They still do. I think Vivienne’s premise for the profile is very accurate.”

  “And what is it?” I asked curiously.

  “She’s focusing on the idea that he was the world’s last great philanthropist.”

  “The Last Great Philanthropist,” I repeated. “Not a bad title, not bad at all, and you’re correct; it is right on target.”

  “Your father was a great man, Luciana. In the eighteen years I knew him, a day didn’t go by that I didn’t marvel at him. He could win men’s hearts by the sheer force of his personality, and he commanded energies beyond the average. And I’ve never known anyone with his strength of will. He was formidable in so many ways, and such a compassionate man as well.”

  “Yes, he was everything you say,” I agreed. “And I’ve always believed that he could have been anything he wanted, even if he hadn’t been born who he was. He was so brilliant, he would have succeeded at anything he did.”

  “He certainly had an extraordinary aura,” Madge remarked. “It fared him well when he was dealing with some governments in Third World countries. They were awed, bowled over by him, and ultimately he brought them around to his way of thinking. Which brings me to another point, Luciana.”

  “Tell me, Madge.”

  “Even though Jack is now running the foundation and administering the money as your father did, he won’t go on any field trips. I wonder if you could influence him to come to Africa with me later this year?”

  “You must be joking! He won’t listen to me, Madge! Or anyone else, for that matter. Jack’s very stubborn, surely you know that after all these years. Why he grew up at your knee, as I did.” I shook my head and finished, “He won’t go to Africa. Or anywhere else, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t you think we could work on him, Luciana?”

  I laughed hollowly. “We could try, but I’m not sure it would do any good. He never wants to leave that vineyard of his.” I took a sip of water, and continued, “Madge, I think we ought to look at the menu and order lunch, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” She eyed me for a long moment and then said, “I’m glad to see you’ve put on a bit of weight. You’ve been far too thin for far too long.”

  I smiled at her. “I know I suddenly got my appetite back.”

  Once we had ordered, I took up the subject of Jack again, and his involvement with the foundation. “Jack doesn’t mind giving away the money, Madge,” I explained. “He’s not a bit tight-fisted, and he knows it goes to help people in need. However, he doesn’t want to be personally involved with the charities. He doesn’t know how to deal with people the way Sebastian did. Don’t ask me why, he just doesn’t.”

  “Perhaps I could edge him into it,” Madge began and stopped short, pursing her lips. “You know, I always felt that Jack hated living in your father’s shadow. Maybe that’s the problem.”

  “It could be,” I agreed. “He’s so much like Sebastian and in so many ways, but he does his damnedest to be completely different. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be my father’s clone.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t.” Madge gave me a hard stare, and asked, “Do you think Sebastian was really engaged to someone?”

  “It’s possible.” I shrugged. “But he never told me.”

  “Or anyone else, except Vivienne. So if it was true, why did he keep it a secret?”

  “Perhaps he didn’t,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe she worked in a remote area. You know what he was like, jumping around all over the map. I could never keep track of him, could you?”

  “Not all the time, no, and certainly he and I were often in different parts of Africa. Indeed in different parts of the world. But it is a mystery, isn’t it? By the way, I think I ought to alert you. . . Vivienne plans to come to London to see you, Luciana, to interview you for the piece.”

  I merely nodded and stored this bit of information away.

  At this moment the waiter arrived with our first course and I let the subject of Vivienne sink. To my astonishment I was hungry, and I even found my mouth watering as the waiter served me. I was about to eat Morecombe Bay potted shrimps for the first time in years, and I was actually salivating.

  “Bon appetit,” I said to Madge, picked up a thin slice of buttered brown bread and took a bite, then I dipped into the potted shrimps with relish. I’d first eaten them in 1979, here at Claridge’s, where Sebastian had often brought us for lunch and occasionally for dinner. I had sworn off them years ago, because the shrimps were potted in pure butter, but I could enjoy them with impunity today since my aim was to actually put on weight.

  “I hope I get a chance to see Gerald,” Madge murmured, as she dug a fork underneath a Colchester oyster.

  “He’ll be back from Hong Kong tonight. Perhaps you’d like to have lunch with us in the country on Sunday.”

  “That would be great, Luciana, thank you. He’s such a nice man, and he was very kind to me at the memorial service in New York, very comforting.”

  “That’s Gerald, and I’m afraid he still feels badly that he wasn’t able to come to Sebastian’s funeral in Connecticut, but his father had just undergone surgery and he didn’t want to leave him,” I said.

  “He told me all about it, and I could well understand his feelings.”

  “Would you like to bring Melanie with you?” I asked, smiling at her. “Or would it be too dull for her?”

  “Of course it wouldn’t. I’m sure she’d love it. Thank you.”

  “She’s doing well at the Royal College of Art?”

  “Spectacular. And lovin
g every minute of it,” Madge replied, and went on talking about her twenty-two-year-old daughter for the next few minutes.

  As I listened to my father’s former colleague and dear old friend of the family talking, I couldn’t help thinking how well she looked. Madge had gone to work as Sebastian’s administrative assistant when she was forty-two, when Melanie was just two years old. Eighteen years later she didn’t look much different than she had then. Her hair, which came to a widow’s peak on her forehead, was still as black as coal, her heart-shaped face smooth and unwrinkled. At sixty she looked much younger.

  “You’re staring at me, Luce,” she said, regarding me with her head on one side. “Is something wrong?”

  “How rude. I’m sorry. But I was actually admiring you, Madge, thinking how wonderful you look . . . the same as you did the first day I met you, when I was all of ten.”

  “Kind words will get you everywhere,” she answered with a laugh. “And I feel wonderful.”

  “Sebastian always said you were very fit, the fittest person he knew. He even mentioned it the last time I was with him in New York. . . just before he died.”

  Madge stared at me, and then unexpectedly blurted out, “I miss him so much, Luce.” Her fine gray eyes filled with tears, and she cleared her throat several times.

  I reached out and took hold of her hand resting on the table. “I know you do. So do I.”

  There was a silence, and then finally recovering herself, she gave me one of her penetrating stares and said quietly, “I dwell on his suicide a lot. I can’t imagine why he did it. I’ve racked my brains for a reason.”

  “Perhaps there isn’t one, Madge,” I said, squeezing her hand. “At least not one that we could understand.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Gerald, listen to me. Please don’t go to sleep. Please” I said. “I want to talk to you about something and it’s very important.”

  Stifling a yawn and rousing himself, my husband responded in an apologetic voice, “Sorry to be so sleepy, darling, I’m afraid I’m still suffering from the time change. But talk to me, please do, I’m all ears, I promise.”

  Pushing myself up on one elbow, I looked down at him and said, “I’ve stopped using birth control pills, so you may well have made me pregnant tonight. Isn’t that an exciting thought?”

  Gerald sat upright in bed and gaped at me. “Good Lord, darling, when on earth did this extraordinary change of heart occur?”

  “I’ve been thinking about having a baby since December, Gerald. The time is right, don’t you think?”

  “I certainly do! I’m all for it, you know that. Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “A baby. What a wonderful idea.” He gave me a boyish grin. “Perhaps we did make one, we were certainly passionate enough, if that counts for ought.”

  He leaned back on the pillows, gave me a long penetrating look and added, “Well, well, well, so you want to be a mother, Luciana. What was it that actually wrought this unexpected change in you?”

  “The fact that the Locke dynasty is on the wane has been bothering me for a long time,” I said. “And the only way to rectify that is for us to have children. Heirs, Gerald. Heirs to follow in our footsteps. Mine and yours. I know you want children, and that your father wants grandchildren to go into Kamper Brothers. After all, your family business is one of the oldest merchant banks in England, just as the Locke family is one of the oldest dynasties in America. We can’t let the Lockes and the Kampers become extinct, now can we?”

  “Perish the thought,” he said with a dry laugh. “And how many children are you planning for us to have, my sweet?”

  “At least four,” I answered. “Two for me, I mean two to go into Locke Industries, when they’re old enough, and two for you for the bank.”

  “Sounds a bit cold-blooded when you put it that way, don’t you think?” he murmured, giving me an odd look.

  “It may sound it,” I said. “But it isn’t, not really, Gerald. I’m just being practical, that’s all, and maybe we’ll only have two or three. Perhaps we might have six, though. Who knows. There’s some luck attached to it, I’m sure, but as far as I’m concerned, the more the merrier.”

  “Forgive me if I seem a trifle startled, but this is indeed something of a switch on your part. Quite a switch actually. You were always so much against having children.”

  “You’ve always led me to believe you wanted them. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. You haven’t, have you?”

  “No, no, not at all, Luce. I’m delighted about your decision, couldn’t be more pleased if I tried. I suppose you’ll want to continue working, and have a nanny for the baby?”

  “The answer to both questions is a decided yes, and surely that doesn’t matter to you, Gerald. You’ve always understood about my work.”

  “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “And you were brought up by a nanny.”

  “Yes, thank heavens. My Nan was wonderful and I loved her very much when I was a child. I still love her. Pity she’s retired, she would have been perfect for Bertie.”

  “Bertie?”

  “Yes, Bertie the baby. Our baby. Sounds sweet, doesn’t it?”

  I laughed. “Not Bertie, darling. We’re not going to call him that. He’ll be named Sebastian after my father, Horatio after yours. So, in fact, his full name will be Sebastian Horatio Lyon Locke Kamper.”

  “Good Lord, that’s a hell of a mouthful for a little baby.”

  “But he’s going to grow up and be a tycoon and run Locke Industries. And anyway, he’ll be known as Sebastian Locke Kamper. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

  “It seems you’ve got it all worked out,” Gerald answered. “Well, there’s one thing I do know for certain, poppet.”

  “What’s that?” I asked gazing into his vivid blue eyes. I loved him a lot.

  “We’re going to have rather exciting times these next few years, trying to make all the babies you want.”

  I laughed, reached up, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sure that won’t worry you.”

  “Of course it doesn’t, I’m mad for you, Luce.”

  “You’re the sexiest thing, Gerald.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, and let me return it. So are you.”

  “Thank you. Gerald?”

  “Yes, darling?”

  “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

  “I’m wide awake now, so go ahead, I’m listening.”

  “It’s about Locke Industries,” I began and then hesitated. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

  “I’m all right, tell me what’s troubling you?”

  “I’m not really troubled,” I answered quickly. “Just concerned about Locke Industries.”

  “In what sense?”

  “Jack’s not really interested in running the business. He does what he does because he has to, and he was brought up to understand that he had to do his duty. God knows, that was drilled into him all his life. But he doesn’t love Locke Industries the way I do. And I feel I should be running the company in his place. He could still have the title of chairman.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you want to be CEO and president?” Gerald asked, his voice rising slightly.

  “Well,” I began and paused when I saw the concerned expression settle on his face. “Don’t you think I could do the job?”

  “Don’t be silly, Luce, of course you could do it. But it’s awfully demanding and all-consuming. Quite frankly, I think Jonas Winston is a wonderful businessman and a great CEO and he’s done a fine job for ten years, performed extremely well. Don’t forget, he was handpicked by Sebastian. And Peter Sampson is a darned good second in command. I—”

  “Do you think I can’t run Locke because I’m a woman?”

  “That has nothing to do with it!”

  “Then why are you looking so worried?”

  “You’re my wife. I want to spend time with you, Luciana. Obviously I don’t mind if you have
a career, in fact I’m proud of you, your achievements. You know that. But I’m not sure I’d want you spending eighteen hours a day at Locke headquarters in New York.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing that.”

  “Of course you would. You’re a hands-on person, that’s your style of management. I doubt you’ll change.”

  “Maybe Jack would be happy if I became chairman in his place,” I said, thinking aloud. “That’s a much less demanding job. And it would be much better for the company than having him making decisions from France. You wouldn’t mind if I were chairman, would you, Gerald dear?”

  “No. But Jack might.” He threw me a knowing look.

  I shrugged.

  Gerald said softly, “And how many decisions do you think Jack really makes? Mostly he approves of what Jonas Winston thinks should be done, the decisions that Jonas has already made. They discuss them, of course, but Jack listens to Jonas, I’m positive of that. He’d be a fool not to listen when Jonas is sitting there in full command of the company. I absolutely believe this is exactly the way it is. Trust me on this, Luce, please.”

  “I’m not sure you’re right,” I began and paused. I knew he was correct in everything he’d said.

  “Look here,” Gerald exclaimed, “I’m going to give you a bit of advice. It’s the same advice I give to friends and colleagues who come and discuss a problem with me, a problem they have with someone else. I always tell them they’re talking to the wrong person. I point out that they should be talking to the person they’re at odds with, not me, because that’s the only way they’ll get any satisfaction, resolve the problem.”

  “So you’re telling me I should go and talk to Jack?”

  “Yes, I am, darling, if you want to pursue this matter further.”

  “And what if Jack is relieved and happy that I want to take over from him? How would you feel about that? And also, Gerald, would you really move to New York?”

  “In a shot! Of course I would. Move to New York, I mean. I’d be happy living there, I could run our Wall Street office, we could live in that magnificent town-house of your father’s that’s now yours and is standing empty. And we could spend weekends at Laurel Creek Farm. I’m sure your brother would be happy if we made use of it in his absence. As for you taking over the chairmanship from Jack, that would be perfectly all right with me as long as you were not killing yourself at Locke Industries.”