Swansea Destiny

by Fayrene Preston

  "Of course you did."

  "All along I've been afraid that your scandalous behavior would jeopardize the Deverell name. Now my friends are getting suspicious. Jake, I've worked too hard—"

  "And hurt a lot of people."

  "Now, you listen to me you, you—" Edward broke off, coughing.

  "I believe the word you're looking for is bastard."

  As soon as he quit coughing, Edward started again. "You think you had it hard growing up on the streets, Jake—"

  "I've never once complained about how I grew up. My gripe has always been that you had the means to make my mother's life so much easier, but you washed your hands of her when she didn't obey you."

  "You don't know anything. I grew up in the coal mines of the Black Mountains in Wales."

  Jake rubbed his eyes. Verbally, he and Edward rarely got anywhere. The only way he could reach Edward was when he did something particularly outrageous that threatened Edward's status in society. "I know, and when you were eighteen, you shipped out to sea. You've told me this before, Edward."

  "And I'll tell it to you again until you understand the importance of what I've done. From the railing of that freighter I caught my first sight of America—the great beauty of the Maine coastline, where SwanSea now stands. That coastline symbolized something brand new to me, where all things would be possible, and I decided then to build my home there. But first I had to have money. I knew about coal. I decided I would learn about steel. I made my way to Pittsburgh, and with nothing but a strong back and a good mind I had earned a fortune by the time I was forty. But money wasn't enough to wash the coal dust off me. I had to work hard to get accepted into society."

  "What in the hell difference does it make whether society accepted you or not?"

  "It matters, dammit. And I've handed everything I worked so hard for on to you, and I won't let you ruin it!"

  Jake exhaled a long breath. "What are you upset about today, Edward? It can't be the business. Things were never better."

  "It's the bootlegging, for Lord's sake! The whole business is getting ugly. It's in the newspapers daily. The danger's increasing. You're on the road to destruction, Jake. I wouldn't give a damn except you're taking my name with you."

  "I'm overwhelmed by your fatherly concern and support, Edward."

  "Dammit, shut up and listen. You think because you're younger and stronger than I am you can get the best of me, but you're wrong." He coughed.

  "You're smart, Jake, and you're every bit as strong-willed as I am, but I've lived longer and I've learned the answers to questions you don't even know exist yet. Life is very frail—"

  Jake's fingers suddenly tightened on the receiver. "Did you just say I'm as smart and as strong-willed as you?" The admission stunned him.

  "You're smart, but you're not wise, and that puts you at a distinct disadvantage. No matter how long this fight of ours goes on, you're not going to win, Jake. I will win in the end."

  "We'll see about that, old man. We'll see about that."

  "Arabella! Arabella!"

  Hearing Jake call her name, Arabella hurried down the hall and into his office. "For heaven's sake, Jake, what's the matter? Why are you yelling?"

  "Where's my desk?"

  "Your desk?" She glanced at the conspicuously empty space where the big golden desk had once been and her expression lightened. "Oh, good, Bert came to get it."

  "Bert? Who the hell is Bert?"

  "He's one of your stablemen, and"—the smile she gave him indicated she thought he was going to be very pleased indeed with what she planned to tell him next—"the son of one of the carpenters who built SwanSea. Isn't that wonderful?"

  "Why does one of my stablemen have my desk?" he asked, his voice filled with tension.

  "He's going to refinish it for you. He's already done several other tables and chairs."

  "Who moved my things? The papers that were in my desk?"

  "I did. They're in those two boxes in the corner."

  He threw a quick glance toward the corner and the boxes. "Who helped you?"

  She looked at him oddly. "No one."

  "Did you read anything you found?"

  "No. Jake, what is this? You're interrogating me. Don't you trust me?"

  "I'm sorry. It's just that I don't want you knowing too much about my activities. What you don't know can't hurt you."

  "Hurt me? That sounds like you're worried about my safety."

  Calmer now, he chose his words so as not to alarm her. "There's a very remote possibility that something could happen, and I don't want you too close."

  "Too close to what? To you, Jake?"

  "To what I am."

  "Is there a difference?"

  Jake paused, reflecting that she had a point. What was the difference between what he did and what he was? Probably none.

  He didn't seriously believe she was in any danger. It was just that his guard had instinctively risen at the sight of his missing desk, but, dammit, he shouldn't have jumped on her like he had. With Lucas gone, though, the whole responsibility of the bootlegging operation was his, and he was having to be twice as cautious as usual. He also seemed to be working twice as hard, but he did most of it at odd hours, when she was asleep, so that she wouldn't know.

  "Jake, is everything all right? I haven't read many newspapers since I've been here…"

  She was asking about the bootlegging, and the truth was the business had become extremely tricky. Wade's men were thick on the ground. Treasury had beefed up their patrols. Sources had dried up. Several times his men had run into roadblocks and had to turn back, causing additional problems. He couldn't tell her the truth without worrying her.

  "Everything's fine." He leaned his big body back against the bookshelves and with a smile crossed his arms over his chest. "So why did you decide the desk should be refinished?"

  Arabella frowned. "Because it badly needed it. I'm not sure you've noticed, but that desk is an absolutely exquisite work of art with its graceful lines and carved orchids. It's made of the same citron wood as the paneling and shelves. And you put your feet up on it every chance you get. That practice needs to stop once Bert is finished with it and you get it back."

  Jake could barely keep the smile he was feeling from his face. He loved seeing Arabella involved with SwanSea. She could redo the whole place and he wouldn't care, because in some nebulous way, her interest in his house seemed to forge a connection between them—at least in his mind. Truthfully, he was scared to death she would leave him. After all, there was no commitment between them, nothing spoken or written. And he remembered when she had first come to him she had said she would leave when she pleased.

  "Bert has a real feel for wood," she said, walking to the big crystal vase of roses she had placed on a table in front of a window. She studied the arrangement, then switched a couple of the roses to different spots. "Since there's very little carpentry work around here, and since he wanted to stay close to home, he decided to accept a job as a stableman here. He's very good at his work with the horses, but luckily I found out he's even better at refinishing things."

  "And how did you get so lucky?" he asked, experiencing a now all too familiar pain in his gut. His belief that he could never be jealous had gone out the window shortly after Arabella had entered his life. If he thought she would sign it, he would have his lawyers draw up an iron-clad contract between them that she would never speak to another man. And even then he didn't think he would feel secure that he wouldn't eventually lose her.

  "Why, I talked to him, of course." He nodded with resignation. "Of course."

  "I'll get another desk in here for you to use until Bert finishes with yours. I've already got one picked out up on the fourth floor. I found it in a bedroom that Marlon told me used to be your father's." The suddenly dark look on his face made her add, "I mean Edward Deverell's."

  "Find another desk," he said.

  "All right." She knew better than to pursue the subject. As close as she fel
t they were growing, there were still so many areas of his life that were closed to her.

  The roses arranged to her satisfaction, she strolled over to the ticker-tape machine and began to idly peruse the tape. "Has anything interesting happened today on Wall Street?"

  "Not really." They had been together long enough for him to realize that she had more than a conversational knowledge of business. "It's definitely still a bullish market."

  "That's good. I know you were worried about the plummet stocks took last month."

  "I'm still worried."

  Her interest caught, she dropped the tape and went to sit on the couch. "Are you? Why?"

  He shrugged. "I just believe that the faith people are placing in the market is unjustified." He paused. "Who handles your family's finances?"

  "Parker Davidson."

  He nodded, sitting down beside her. "He's a good man. I wonder if your father would mind if I spoke with Davidson, made some recommendations."

  "Jake, my father doesn't even know I'm here with you. I've told you that before. Despite the regular arguments I have with Kenneth over the telephone about me being here, he's still helping me out by taking messages from our parents and forwarding me their mail. Then I write back to them, send it to Kenneth, and he sends it on to them from Boston."

  He had always known that keeping her parents in the dark as to her relationship with him troubled Arabella. He understood; he would never do anything deliberately to hurt his mother. He had also known the fights with Kenneth put a strain on her that she tried to hide. But he wanted her with him too badly to tell her to go home. He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers across her head. "Your parents will be coming home in a couple of months, honey."

  Her lovely mouth set into a stubborn line. "I know. And when the time comes, I'll have to deal with it. But when I do, it will be face-to-face with them."

  He sighed, not even wanting to think about the possible consequences of her meeting with her parents. "Arabella, I wouldn't even bring this up if I didn't think it was important. But someone needs to advise Davidson to start getting your family out of the market."

  Her expression turned thoughtful. "Is that what you've been doing with the Deverell stocks?"

  He nodded. "I've got us almost completely out. This prosperity is phony—and there's got to be a ceiling somewhere. There are a few other people who foresee serious problems ahead. Unfortunately, there's not enough."

  "But you do? You really believe there's going to be a problem?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Then I'll write my father," she said decisively, "tell him your views, but as if they were mine, and then I'll ask for permission to speak with Mr. Davidson."

  He stared, slightly amazed. "Just like that? You trust my judgment?"

  With a smile that warmed him, she reached over and took his hand in hers. "Of course I do."

  He stared down at their joined hands for a moment, telling himself he was being silly to be so affected by her simple gesture. "And will your father listen to you?"

  "Yes."

  He squeezed her hand. "Then—"

  "Excuse me, sir." Marlon spoke from the doorway. "Mr. Kenneth Linden is here to see Miss Linden."

  Arabella made a sound of delight. "Kenneth! Show him back!"

  "That won't be necessary," Kenneth said, strolling into the study. "I'm already here."

  Arabella jumped up from the sofa and threw her arms around him. They might argue every time they spoke on the phone, but he was still her brother. "What a nice surprise!" She hugged him, then drew back and gazed up at him. He looked awful. He had lost weight and there were deep circles beneath his eyes. Guilt instantly surged through her. She had been so involved with Jake during the last few months, she had just assumed that Kenneth was doing well. "Have you been ill, Kenneth?"

  His laugh held embarrassment. "No. I've never been one to catch things, you know that."

  "Then why do you look so bad?"

  Kenneth laughed, this time genuinely. "I see staying here at SwanSea hasn't improved your tact any, kiddo."

  "Well?"

  "It's nothing. Just too much partying." Eyeing Jake cautiously, he held out his hand to him. "It's nice to see you again, old boy. I hope you don't mind me dropping in like this."

  Jake did and called himself a fool because of it. But he had grown used to having Arabella all to himself and he liked it. "Not at all. What brings you up this way?"

  "The parents called yesterday." He turned back to Arabella. "They'll definitely be home September tenth."

  She glanced at Jake, then back at her brother. "What else did they say?"

  "They're still having a great time." He paused. "I think they're getting a little suspicious about why you're never around to talk to them when they telephone."

  "I'll place a call to them tonight. I had planned to write them a letter anyway."

  Kenneth twirled the brim of his hat. "I told them we were both fine and nothing else."

  "Thank you," she said. "I appreciate your backing me up. Now tell me what your plans are. Can you stay for a few days?"

  He grinned. "I was hoping you'd ask. I really do need a break from Boston." He cast an uncertain glance at Jake. "I just wasn't sure it would be okay."

  "Applesauce! Of course it will be okay. Jake, tell him."

  He couldn't refuse. Arabella was too happy to see her brother again. In addition, he also sensed her concern for Kenneth and privately felt she had cause for worry. "You can stay as long as you like, Kenneth."

  Arabella smiled, but an ominous feeling came over her and she looked at Jake with a grave expression. Why, she wondered, did she suddenly feel as if their idyll was coming to an end?

  Chapter 11

  On the cliff top overlooking the sea and a twilight sky, Jake put his arms around Arabella and drew her back against him. He had grown to love these early evening walks with her. At times like these, with SwanSea behind them and the power of the ocean before them, he could almost believe they were the only two people in the world. He liked the idea.

  Arabella felt his arms tighten around her, but her expression remained pensive as she stared without seeing toward the island that belonged to SwanSea. "Jake, I want to thank you for letting Kenneth stay on. I don't know what's wrong with him, but there is something, and I think staying here is helping him."

  For Arabella's sake, knowing that she was worried, he had tried to talk to Kenneth, to offer help and support. But the more he tried, the more Kenneth stayed to himself. It had reached the point where he forgot for long periods of time that Kenneth was even in the house. But she was right—there was definitely something wrong. Kenneth was a long way from the open, easygoing young man he had known at Harvard.

  He turned her around so that she faced him. "He's your brother. If it makes you happy to have him here, then that's all I need to know. You don't have to thank me." She smiled up at him, and he felt his heart turn over. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never stop marveling over the way she affected him.

  He put his arm around her shoulder and they started to walk slowly along the cliff. "Did I tell you that Vanessa telephoned the other day?"

  "No. What did she say? Are they coming back anytime soon?"

  Shaking his head regretfully, he answered the last question first. "I don't think so. She said the studio has her scheduled to start another film as soon as she finishes the one she's doing. By the way, she told me those new movie awards went well. She said Janet Gaynor won for three films, and that the movie Wings was voted best picture for 1927 and Broadway Melody was voted best picture for 1928. She said the Academy Awards are going to become an annual event, so I guess they decided to backtrack a couple of years so they could acknowledge other films."

  "I haven't seen Broadway Melody, but I saw Wings. Kenneth dragged me to it one afternoon. He raved for days afterward about the combat flying sequences." She paused. "Did Vanessa mention Lucas? What he's doing?"

  His mouth twisted in
to a rueful grin. "You mean, beside cursing me?"

  She looked at him in surprise. "Did you two have a fight?"

  "You could say that. At any rate, he has businesses and property out there. I imagine he's staying busy."

  "You told me once that he and you were partners in a couple of ventures—besides the bootlegging, I mean. Are you having to handle them alone now?"

  "Yes, but I don't mind. They're going well. Let's sit down for a while," he said, drawing her down to the grassy bluff with him. "It's so peaceful here, I'd like to stay out for a while."

  She chuckled. "It's peaceful inside the house too."

  The teasing sparkle in her golden eyes drew a smile from him. "That's true. You know, I just realized that summer will be here in a few days. It doesn't seem possible."

  "I know what you mean. There are days when time seems to stand still. But then there have been mornings when I have awakened and thought that time was going too fast."

  He reached out and laid his hand along the side of her face, somehow feeling that if he were touching her, he had more of a chance of convincing both of them of what he was about to say. "Time is not going to affect us, Arabella. I won't let it."

  Feeling a trace of sadness, she stared at the dark, hard face of the man she loved so much. He had not changed during the time they had spent together. Not really. He might have barred SwanSea's doors to his friends and the press. And he might eat with her now. But he was still the same intense, driven man he was when she had first met him. Since they had been here together, he had transferred much of the focus of his intensity to her, but his demons were still very much within him. "Not even we can stop time, Jake. Eventually something will happen with your company that you can't handle from here, and you'll have to go back to Boston. Sooner or later I'll have to go back too. My parents will be returning. And the foundation—"

  His hand slid down the side of her face until he had her jaw framed between his thumb and fingers. "Arabella, you've got to tell me that things won't change when we return to Boston. Tell me that you'll still stay with me."