In the Lion's Den

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘So it’s only on loan to me, while I’m alive?’

  ‘That’s another way of saying it. And yes, that’s the situation.’

  She stood up, putting a hand up to her throat.

  ‘Why would he leave the house to me when we were only engaged?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can only hazard a guess.’ Reggie cleared his throat, and continued, ‘He fell madly in love with you the moment he set eyes on you. He was a widower for ten years and although he took out various women, I had never ever seen him behave in the way he did with you. It was a coup de foudre, as the French say. He was struck by lightning, in other words.’

  ‘But he couldn’t have known he was going to die,’ Alexis interjected.

  ‘I agree. However, I do think he wanted to give you something substantial, in case there was a problem, a tragedy of some kind … maybe an accident, whatever. It’s hard for me to understand what he did myself.’ Reggie sighed. ‘I think in his mind it was some sort of protection for you for as long as you were alive, and if perhaps he wasn’t alive.’

  ‘I think I understand,’ Alexis murmured, looking from Reggie to Jane, but sounding baffled.

  Jane’s face was without expression. She too was rather startled.

  ‘Let me say something else. If he had lived we would have been married, and more than likely we would have had children. So when I died, who would have been the heir to Goldenhurst?’

  ‘Your first child by Sebastian. Or Sebastian himself, if he were still alive. Remember, you would have become a Trevalian, and it was deeded to a Trevalian.’ Reggie shook his head. ‘That’s the best way I can explain it.’

  ‘I still think it was a strange thing to do, Reggie. Don’t you?’ Alexis pressed.

  ‘I’m not sure what to think. However, just remember, it is yours for your whole life, Alexis.’

  Alexis nodded, and stood up. ‘Thank you, Reggie, for explaining this to me. I must go up to my room and puzzle through it.’

  Alexis sat upstairs on one of the couches in her bedroom, staring out at the gardens and thinking about Sebastian, wondering why he had entailed the house. She had listened carefully to everything Reggie had told her, and she understood fully what entailment actually meant. She shook her head. She felt that Reggie was as baffled as she was – and Jane, too, had appeared slightly stunned.

  Sebastian hadn’t trusted her to do the right thing. As this thought entered her mind she closed her eyes, pushing back the tears. She had loved him so truly, and with all her heart. She would have protected him with her life. Surely he had known that?

  If he had not suddenly and unexpectedly died at forty, they would have married, and more than likely had children. And when he died, his heir would have inherited Goldenhurst. That was the law. Perhaps he had had a premonition that he might die young, and not have an heir, and had wondered what her life would become without him. That she might marry again, have a child, and leave Goldenhurst to her child? A son or daughter who was not a Trevalian?

  He could have had that thought, of course he could, she decided, and did not like the sudden rush of disappointment that flooded through her. He wasn’t like that, not at all. He had always been generous and kind, and a man who was loyal to those he loved.

  Nonetheless, he had entailed the house that she thought of as her home, and although she could live in it for her entire life, it would go to Claudia, or another Trevalian, when she died. She felt the tears trickling down her cheeks, and tried to shake off the hurt feeling inside … but she knew it would not go away … not for a long time. Perhaps it would remain with her for ever. She would not ask Claudia anything about her father’s will, nor discuss this matter. She would explain that to Reggie and Jane later. Now she would attempt to pull herself together, and put this unexpected knowledge behind her. She was a visitor here for the weekend and she must mind her manners and be a good guest. Keep face, no matter what.

  PART FOUR

  Taking Chances

  London

  1891–2

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Henry Malvern knew that James was going to celebrate his twenty-first birthday tomorrow on 27 May. He also knew that this brilliant young man was itching to strike out on his own.

  But Henry understood that he couldn’t allow James to leave Malvern’s. Not just yet.

  On this sunny morning in May, he sat in his office overlooking Piccadilly, wracking his brains, struggling to find a solution to his dilemma. He needed a really worthwhile inducement which would persuade James to stay. Six months, Henry decided, I need him next to me for six more months. I’ll pitch for that and perhaps he might even be persuaded to stay for good.

  Malvern and Falconer, Henry said to himself. It didn’t sound bad at all.

  There was, of course, one other way to go. He could drag his daughter back to London, screaming and objecting though she might be. He would instruct her to learn everything she could from Falconer. With six months to do it. He would then tell Falconer he could go out on his own, start his own company. He knew the young man was restless.

  Sighing under his breath, Henry got up and walked across to the window, looking down at Piccadilly. As usual it was filled with traffic – hansom cabs and carriages, men pushing carts, horses pulling wagons. Men and women hurrying along, pushing and shoving to get ahead. Newsboys shouting out headlines. Always bad news as they waved their newspapers. The shouts of the pie men selling their food. What a cacophony of sounds came in through his open window. And a variety of smells.

  What should he do? Henry asked himself, his mind focused on James Lionel Falconer. Now was the moment to decide.

  Promote him – but how? Make him managing director? Or reward him in another way. Certainly Falconer deserved it. He had worked at Malvern House for only three years but he had been devoted, diligent and totally committed. More than that, he had become Henry’s trusted deputy. He had pushed the company to modernize, anticipated change, encouraged them to take risks or to rationalize.

  Henry nodded to himself. The company had grown and prospered under James’s management. He was a born businessman. A genius, in a sense.

  As for Alexis, she had been absent for most of this time. While she still wrote and visited, she had obviously lost interest in the Malvern Company. He did not wish to leave his heiress without money. Half of Malvern’s shares would amount to a great deal. Furthermore, she would inherit his personal fortune, and his late brother Joshua had left her all his wealth. Plus she had a trust from her mother and the house in Kent, left to her by Trevalian.

  There was no doubt in his mind that Alexis would be a very wealthy woman.

  He would talk to Falconer later today and try to assess the young man’s feelings.

  After Henry Malvern returned from a business meeting with his accountant Edgar Williamson, he stopped off at James Falconer’s office.

  ‘Will I never be able to convince you to take a break for a bite to eat?’ Henry asked, standing in the doorway.

  James jumped up at once, and had the good grace to chuckle. ‘I don’t think so, sir. Nobody can.’

  Henry walked into the office and closed the door behind him. ‘I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes,’ he announced. ‘If I’m not interrupting anything important?’ He raised a questioning brow as he spoke.

  ‘Of course, Mr Malvern,’ James answered. ‘Please, do sit down.’

  Henry did so. ‘First a question. How did we make such a big profit in the Wine Division this quarter? I just saw the papers you put on my desk on Monday night. Very impressive.’

  ‘I suppose the first answer is that we now employ honest men in Le Havre. And Armand is a very good manager. Also, we had a big sale.’

  Astonishment flashed across Malvern’s face. ‘A sale of wine? I’ve never heard of that before! Who did we sell to, Falconer?’

  ‘The Balkan countries. They had been buying a lot of our champagne, white wines and sweet dessert wines, but not the red. When Keller was in Le Havre a
few months ago, Armand showed him cases and cases of red wine stacked up. He asked Keller if he could cut the price a bit.’ James paused, shuffled the papers on his desk and found the page he wanted.

  ‘They were good burgundy wines, but did not move. Keller brought down the price, and then, on the spur of the moment, he told Armand to cut the price in half. Armand did so, and that huge bulk was gone in less than a week. The sale was repeated about ten days later, with a red that was quite highly priced and moving slowly – and that too went fast.’

  ‘And yet we still made a profit?’ Henry looked doubtful.

  ‘Yes, because Armand then apparently brought in some slow-moving whites and cut the price. Also, we had more space in the warehouses and could ship in a new batch of champagne. Somehow it all balanced out in our favour.’

  ‘Well, well, good news indeed.’ Leaning forward slightly, Malvern pinned Falconer with his gaze and said, ‘Even though I am now in much better health, I don’t want you to think about leaving. I want you to stay on for another six months. Will you?’

  James was not surprised one iota about this request. He had been expecting it. He did want to leave and start his own company, fulfil his dream – he wanted that more than ever. On the other hand, he had feelings of guilt about the burning of the arcade in Hull.

  The arsonist had never been found. However, James harboured a suspicion, one he had never been able to voice to anyone. He already felt responsible for encouraging Mr Malvern to expand and commit to the arcade. That it had been reduced to a ruin before a single shop had opened had been devastating. Thankfully their insurance firm had paid out and made rebuilding it possible.

  But in his darkest moments, James couldn’t avoid feeling he had somehow attracted the arson attack. No one else felt this, he knew that. But he had his own view. And it was one he would have to keep secret.

  The good news was that the ruined left side had been cleaned out of rubbish and was already open, along with the right side. The arcade had been rebuilt in record time, thanks to his idea of using two building firms working together, and with Joe as the manager of both. At night Joe’s team of guards surrounded the entire arcade and there had been no more incidents.

  The project had been an enormous effort, and a lot of people were employed on it. The financial outlay for the company had been massive, and quite a strain at the end of the previous year. But it had succeeded. The arcade had opened in January and business was booming as the summer drew closer.

  And yet James still somehow felt responsible for the fire, and all that costly rebuilding. So he remained silent, hesitating.

  Henry Malvern, not knowing any of James Falconer’s worries and qualms, jumped in and said, ‘If you will agree to stay for the next six months, I will appoint you managing director. Immediately. And as a reward for all you’ve done for Malvern’s over the past few years, I will give you shares in the company …’

  Henry paused and, amending his first thoughts as another idea came to him, finally said, ‘The number of shares I would give you would increase with each year you spend with the company.’

  ‘How very generous, Mr Malvern. I would certainly like to be the managing director, and the offer of a gift of shares is extremely kind and very tempting. But how would I be able to leave if I accept those shares?’

  Henry Malvern studied this unique young man, trying to second-guess him, surprised by the hesitation he was showing.

  Falconer said, ‘I think I would like to stay for six months, to see through certain projects, sir. And to know that you could manage without me.’

  ‘That makes me feel better already, Falconer. Your presence gives me confidence. But what about the shares? Are you rejecting my gift?’

  ‘No, sir. I am going to think about accepting, and I will let you know in due course.’

  Malvern nodded. ‘Fair enough. I agree to your terms.’

  ‘Anyway, Miss Alexis might decide to come back, sir.’

  Henry Malvern laughed hollowly. ‘That would be the day! Hell would freeze over before she did that! No chance.’

  Falconer nodded. ‘Well, you never know what can happen. Sometimes life surprises us.’

  After Henry Malvern went back to his own office, James thought about the offer his boss had just made. It was indeed generous.

  He didn’t mind working for another six months, and being managing director gave him total power at Malvern’s. More or less.

  But taking the gift of shares somehow tied him to the company. That was his feeling. And he wanted his freedom, to do as he wished. His own retail empire remained prominent in his mind.

  He sighed, put his papers in order and locked them in his desk. Last night he had decided to take tomorrow off. His own birthday treat to himself. And he had just decided to leave early – now. He wanted time to think about several things. And about Irina, stuck in St Petersburg because her aunt Olga had been in a serious accident and needed her.

  He couldn’t help wondering where that left him. How much longer would she be in Russia? It had been months.

  When he arrived back at the flat on Half Moon Street and opened the front door, he saw several envelopes on the inside mat.

  Picking them up, he noticed that one was addressed to him. His heart missed a beat. He recognized the handwriting immediately. The envelope had been addressed by Georgiana Ward. A small rush of happiness filled him as he went upstairs. Calm down, he cautioned himself. It’s probably just a birthday card.

  He opened it eagerly once he was inside the flat. It was indeed a card wishing him a happy birthday. However, there was a small note on the other side of the card. Georgiana had invited him to come and see her about an important matter. Whenever he could in the next few weeks. She had asked him to choose a date and given him her address so he could write back to her.

  He sat down in a chair, still holding the card. He was excited to have heard from her at long last. He would write to her later this week and go to visit her as soon as he could. Why ever did she wish to see him, and what could the ‘important matter’ be?

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Esther and Philip Falconer considered a twenty-first birthday to be the most important anniversary in a person’s life. ‘Coming into manhood or womanhood’ was the way Esther put it.

  She also believed it should be a family affair, and that everyone who could should chip in to make it the best. And she would always add, ‘No, not the best. Better.’

  For one moment Harry thought of offering his own restaurant, the Rendezvous, as the venue, closing it for the evening, telling his steady customers that it was a private event. But almost instantly, he changed his mind. James’s eighteenth birthday party had been held at the Bettrage Hotel in a private room. Nothing less would do for his twenty-first.

  Harry’s brother George agreed with him, and so they worked out how much they would each give to their parents. When they explained this to Matthew, James’s father and their eldest brother, he insisted on matching the amount.

  George, who had collected wines as a hobby for years, also offered to provide the wine for the birthday party. It was with a huge smile that Philip was able to announce to his sons that Lady Agatha and the Honourable Mister had already gifted them the wine, to honour James.

  As it so happened, James was a particular favourite of Lady Agatha’s. For years she had been giving him magazines and books, and there was always a birthday present from her of some kind.

  ‘So this year it was the wine,’ Philip remarked. Esther had added, ‘And thank you, boys, for helping to pay for the private room. The food and the tips we can easily manage from our savings.’

  And so, on a sunny evening on Wednesday 27 May 1891, George and James walked together up Curzon Street heading for the Bettrage Hotel in Mayfair.

  Uncle and nephew did not talk very much as they walked along at a steady pace. George was mentally writing a new piece in his head; James was thinking about sending a telegram to Georgiana Ward, instead of writing
a letter.

  By the time they had reached the famous hotel, he had made up his mind. He would send the telegram, and no doubt she would send one back. That would be much quicker. He was so intrigued by her invitation that he couldn’t wait to go to Ascot where she lived.

  Philip and Esther were already standing in the private room, near the table which had been set up as a bar, with waiters standing behind it. Hurrying over to his grandmother, James kissed her on the cheek. Holding her at arm’s length, he exclaimed, ‘You should always wear deep purple, Grans. It’s decidedly your colour.’

  ‘James is right, Mother. How regal you look. Royal purple! And your hair is beautiful,’ George complimented her.

  Esther smiled, thanked them.

  Both men shook hands with Philip, and remarked how smart his tuxedo looked on him. After thanking them, he said, ‘I can certainly say the same about you two. You’re a couple of toffs. I think there’s nothing quite as elegant as a man in a black tie. I’m glad Esther insisted on our wearing them tonight.’

  ‘I want to thank you, Grans, and you, Grandpa, for allowing me to invite my friends. It’s very generous of you to have them at such a private family event.’

  Philip nodded, smiled, and so did Esther. He then said, ‘I understand from Rossi that they’re your posse.’ A laugh escaped. ‘I must say I do like that curious name. Rossi explained that it means really close friends.’

  Before anyone could respond, Natalie appeared in the doorway of the room, accompanied by William. He had come up to London for the party, not wanting to miss it. Lucy Charteris, Natalie’s assistant, was right behind.

  After introductions had been made, and drinks served, Matthew and Maude strolled in, with Rossi and Eddie hovering in their wake, and came across to embrace their son James.

  Detective Inspector Roger Crawford and Harry were the last members of the group to walk in, both apologizing profusely for being a bit late.