Because of their positions on the board and their close friendship with George, he had taken them into his confidence, and they, as part of his team of advisors, were privy to privileged information—information they could use to their advantage. Yes, they knew of George’s struggles and worries, of his weaknesses and declining health. And they knew of Fitzwilliam’s marriage, now cloaked in secrecy. And most importantly, they had a plan. Harry Dashwood smiled as he poured his friends a drink.
“As you know,” Dashwood began, “I have convened this meeting to discuss Pemberley’s corporate stability. You have seen the latest reports, so it’s no news to you that profits are down for another straight quarter in a row, an accumulated 63.5 percent drop over the last five years. Things are likely to go even further into decline if we don’t do something about it.” He eyed each man closely before proceeding. “George is out of touch with the business, completely oblivious to the current economic climate. He’s too embroiled in a dispute with his sons, thus the reason for the decline in revenue.
“This is our opportunity—the one we have been waiting for. Whilst George is distracted, we’ll move to gain control. Our strategy is as follows: George and his sons own 39.5 percent of the publicly-traded stock, but between us and those I’ve been able to convince to support us so far, we own an amount nearly equal to theirs. That puts us on equal footing with them and within striking distance of a serious challenge. And, if I spin things just right, I believe I can convince some of the other major shareholders to join us. With their support, we should be able to pick up another ten percent, giving us about fifty percent. Then we will only need another two percent, which we’ll need to purchase. With those things accomplished, we’ll have gained the controlling interest with a little to spare,” he said with a smile. “As we speak, I have a team of solicitors working on the formalities. Once everything is in place, we’ll have an iron-clad coalition, one George and his sons won’t be able to stop.” Dashwood chuckled as he surveyed the room. From the response he’d received from those present, and some who weren’t, his confidence soared.
“George has made the critical mistake of loaning me a considerable amount of money. I’ve secured other loans as well. If all goes as planned, we’ll have the money we need within a month, and we’ll have control of Pemberley before George or his sons are even aware of what has happened.”
“Yes, but Dashwood, that loan exposes you to unnecessary risk. Your own solicitor advised you against it. It has a six months’ duration clause. Surely you are aware of that danger?” queried Stanley.
“Of course I am. It’s a gamble, but I have all the confidence in the world that we can achieve everything we need to accomplish within six months. I will be able to repay George in full and gain control over Pemberley, too.”
Edward lit up a cigarette and listened quietly while closely watching all those present. “Harry, what are you planning to do about Fitzwilliam and David? They won’t just let us take control. You must know that?”
“They are of no consequence. Fitzwilliam is far too soft. He doesn’t have the fire in his belly for a fight. Pemberley has never been high on his list of priorities. He will take his money and leave, probably settling in America with his American wife at some university. David, on the other hand, might present a challenge, but he doesn’t have the intestinal fortitude, either. Besides, Samantha has informed me that he’s held in contempt by the majority of the family. Now Harvey may prove a little difficult, but it’s no secret that he and George barely speak. It’s well known within the family that the brothers hate each other. He won’t stop us, either. However, I would like his support just the same.”
“I don’t know, Dashwood. If Fitzwilliam and David present a challenge and win, we stand to lose substantially.”
A large smile crossed Harry Dashwood’s face. “Wesley, don’t even think about it. I know they won’t present any serious difficulties. I’ve watched them grow up. They don’t have the stomach for it. We have nothing to worry about.” The room reverberated with Dashwood’s proud and hearty laugh.
Wesley, still a little worried, posed one last question. “What about Hilda Vanderburgh?”
“Hilda follows the money. She’ll support us when the time comes.”
Edward Darcy focused on his fellow cousins. “We’d better plan carefully. I don’t think it wise to underestimate Fitzwilliam. He is co-chief executive officer and vice-chairman of the board. Although my cousin and I don’t get along, I know him well enough to know that he has a deep-seated regard for the family legacy.” Edward smirked. “He actually reads those dusty journals. He will fight, if for no other reason than that.”
“Edward’s right. We’d be unwise to count Fitzwilliam out,” Edmund said, with the other Darcys nodding in agreement.
“Pish, I tell you Fitzwilliam is not prepared to fight dirty. He is too forthright and honorable. And even if he does attempt to rise to the challenge, we don’t play by the same rules. Fitzwilliam’s Achilles’ heel is his wife. If I have to, I will get to him through her. I’ll dredge up everything I can find on that family. I’m investigating them as we speak. Perception is everything. I know how to handle Fitzwilliam.
“Now, all we have to do is solicit a little more support from the Darcy family and a few of George’s closest friends, whom, I should add, have no respect whatsoever for either of George’s sons. And by the time I’m through, they’ll have even less. We’ll assume control before George or his sons have a chance to react.” Dashwood scrutinized all those sitting around the table, looking from one to the other.
Henry Darcy, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “What exactly do you plan to do, Dashwood?”
“I’m glad you finally asked. First of all, I intend to alert the media as to where Fitzwilliam really is and what he is doing…that he’s in America, not Saudi Arabia as George has claimed. That alone will unleash the press to investigate matters as they see fit. Next, my strategy is to mysteriously release a few carefully planned news stories with juicy tidbits about David. With both brothers under scrutiny, family members and close friends will give anonymous interviews about how the company is suffering due to lack of leadership. Last year’s annual report to the shareholders speaks for itself and is in our favor. Profits were flat. This will draw George’s focus to the news media.” He grinned. “That will give me the chance I need to begin enticing the Pemberley Five, the five most prominent shareholders outside of the family, away from George and to us. I’ll convince them that George is too engrossed in family struggles. How can a man run a corporation when he cannot manage his own house? I’ll sadly emphasize that Fitzwilliam is ill-disposed and unwilling to lead such a large corporation. It is no secret where his true interests lie. And David,” he heartily laughed, “he’s far too busy with his pleasurable pursuits. He has become obsessed with fast cars, fast women, and a profligate lifestyle of debauchery, lost in a world of mediocrity. They are both unsuitable for their positions. Pemberley is nothing more than a means for sustaining their way of life.”
“A house divided cannot stand.” Jason Wesley interjected with a sneer.
“Exactly.” Dashwood reaffirmed. “That is our pretext—”
“Whilst our real motivation is control,” finished Edmund Darcy, nodding in understanding. “Ha! I love it! I think we can pull off that line of reasoning. What do the rest of you think?”
“I say we should go ahead and do it,” Henry Darcy said.
“Yes!” said the other Darcy cousins in unison.
Dashwood smiled and lifted his glass to his lips. “With the major shareholders’ support and the stock we’re buying, George won’t be able to stop us.” Dashwood laughed deeply, followed by most of the others. Only Sean Ashton and Charles Wilson remained unconvinced. Not being blood related, they had the most to lose.
Chapter Thirty-one
…Jacta alea est—the die is cast…you keep your friends close and your enemies even closer…
Things in L
ondon were in a state of turmoil. Harvey Darcy hadn’t spoken to his brother George in years, but he had heard the gossip, and along with some of their cousins, was concerned.
Rumors and innuendo were spreading among the family that George Darcy had come into bitter conflict with his two sons and had even disowned Fitzwilliam over a supposed marriage to an American. No one outside the inner circles knew the particulars since George kept everything effectively concealed, and though Harvey knew the marriage had occurred, he could only speculate as to George’s thoughts and motives for his actions.
George must be slipping. He usually held a firm control over everything, or had George set the stage, planning to use this as a device against his sons? Harvey didn’t know, but if he had, Harvey was very sure George had no idea he was being double-crossed, and that things were more serious than he realized. Thus, given the seriousness of the situation, Harvey would have to break his estrangement from his brother and contact him.
They hadn’t spoken in years, but it hadn’t always been like that. In fact, they had once been close, but a woman had divided them. Consequently, it was with a heavy heart that Harvey made the call he dreaded.
“George, it’s Harvey. I have to see you, and it has to be today. It’s urgent.”
“Of course, Harvey. I’m at home and have some time. To what do I owe this honor after all these years?” George’s voice showed no emotion.
“I’ll explain everything when I get there.”
Harvey realized that a battle of wills was inevitable. Little had changed. It would take Harvey about thirty minutes to make his way through London traffic at this hour in the afternoon, giving him time to reflect on their past. The last time Harvey had come to Darcy House was when he had spoken with his brother about Anne. It had been a bitter confrontation on which both brothers parted, never to speak to one another again, until now.
…Anne, he sighed. The memory grieved him. No, the truth was that it more than grieved him. It broke his heart. He had once loved her, and they had been engaged before her marriage to George. Harvey shook his head. How she had managed two more pregnancies after David was still a mystery to him. After all, she had given George his due—his two sons. The other two, he supposed, must have been Anne’s doing. When they’d been engaged, she had often talked about her desire for a large family. So he deduced that his brother had granted her wish on those rare occasions when he came home to Pemberley.
As Harvey weaved in and out of the London traffic, his thoughts ventured back to thirty-nine years earlier. Both he and his brother had been strikingly handsome in their prime, and many a heart had wilted at a mere glance from either of them. They resembled one another closely in looks, but in personalities, they were polar opposites. Harvey was soft, tender-hearted, and easy going, while George was dark, serious, and brooding. And though their temperaments differed, they were linked by a close bond—that is until the beautiful Anne Winthrop separated them.
Harvey swallowed against the lump in his throat. His and Anne’s story had been tragic—one in which youthful foolishness had cruelly intervened. One summer in the sun spent in the South of France had changed everything. Harvey shook his head.
When he came to the massive gates that led to Darcy House, Harvey’s thoughts dissipated as he pulled onto the yellow brick drive. Rolling to a stop, he exited his car and walked the familiar path to the front door where a friendly face met him.
“Master Harvey!” greeted the old butler as he took his coat. “It is a pleasure to see you again. It has been so long!”
“Sammons, it’s very good to see you, too. How have you been?”
“Very well, sir. Very well indeed. Now, if I may, I shall show you to the study. Master George is expecting you.”
Sammons escorted him down a long hallway—one he knew well. As he entered, George rose to greet him with a handshake and a thin smile.
“Come in, Harvey. Sit down and have a drink.” George poured two brandies.
“Thank you, George. I believe I will.”
“Now, Harvey, come to the point. You never visit me, so what do you want?” George asked flatly.
Harvey suppressed a smirk. This was the George he remembered—always to the point, always forthright. Harvey picked up the gauntlet. “Simply this,” he shifted in his seat, “you have to end this disagreement with Fitzwilliam. If I’ve heard the rumors, then you must have heard them.”
“Still covering my back, I see. Well relax, Harvey.” George smiled dryly. “Everything is under control. There’s no need to worry.”
“No need to worry? George, look at what you’re doing. You’re tearing Pemberley apart. You have to reconcile with Fitzwilliam and accept his wife. Announce the marriage. David and Georgiana speak well of her, and if Benson or William found a woman like her, I would be honored to have her as a daughter. Fitzwilliam loves her! You must accept that. She is a Darcy now. And David, you have to make amends with him, too.”
George leaned back with a contemptuous smirk on his face. “Harvey, what business is it of yours concerning me and my sons?”
“Enough, George! I’ll be blunt with you. Our brother-in-law is undermining you. He plans to take control of Pemberley, using our cousins as pawns along with your arrogant pride as the weapon to sway the board. If you care anything about Fitzwilliam and David, you will make this right!”
“Harvey, I will never accept that marriage or David’s flagrant disregard for propriety. But you know full well, short of disinheriting them, there is nothing I can do about it. However, if I had my way, I’d have Fitzwilliam’s marriage dissolved and a proper English wife found, and I’d—”
“You’d what?” Harvey interrupted. “Oh, let me guess. You’re hoping his marriage will fail, aren’t you? That’s why it hasn’t been announced. George, you have to let the boys go. They are men now. If you don’t, you will lose them forever. You cannot continue to control them.” Harvey was up and out of his seat, pacing back and forth.
He leaned on his brother’s desk. “Your vocal disapproval of the boys has set the stage for your enemies to take control. They’re using your very words to say your sons are unfit to run Pemberley. You’ve been so preoccupied with David and Fitzwilliam that you can’t see what’s happening right under your very nose. If you don’t rectify things and present a solid unified front, you’ll leave our heritage in shambles, and the boys may not be able to protect it. George, you had better think about it!”
“You take an eager interest in my sons. What are they to you—your bastards? I know Anne loved you,” George sneered through clenched teeth.
Taken aback, Harvey’s anger deepened. “I won’t have you insult Anne’s memory like that. You know she was always faithful to you, and as for the other, I would know nothing about it. If she pined for me, perhaps it was because you weren’t the husband you should have been.”
George’s eyes grew dark as he pushed back in his chair—tears of anger glistening in his gaze. “If she was unhappy, it was her own doing.”
“How can you say that? I know Anne tried to love you.”
“You know no such thing!”
“Do I not? Sadly, I think I do.” Harvey held George’s cold stare with one of his own as they verbally crossed swords. “She told me so when I begged her to leave you before your first son was born. I wasn’t married yet, but Anne wouldn’t hurt you. Even later, for her sake and the sake of her children, she wouldn’t leave. She told me that she was committed to her marriage. She may not have loved you at first, but later, she did love you.”
“You know so much about it, and yet you know nothing—”
“I know you withdrew from her, and that you wouldn’t talk to her. I know that she pleaded with you to come home, but you refused. I know how much she cried over you.” Harvey walked the room, glaring at his brother. “George, why wouldn’t you talk to her? Why didn’t you try to work things out? Why didn’t you love her? It’s all she ever wanted, George—just to be loved. Why didn’t you c
ome when she was dying? Why, George!? Didn’t you know that she kept asking for you—asking when you would come?”
“Loved! It wasn’t me she loved. It was you, Harvey—you that she loved, not me! You were ever present in our marriage and in our bed. It was you who was there when I made love to her. It was your name she cried out—not mine! When she held me, it was you she was holding. I would come to home Pemberley to see my boys, hoping that Anne and I could somehow resolve our differences—come to some sort of agreement. But no matter what I did, I could never get you out of her heart, so I stopped caring and found consolation elsewhere. If she loved me later on—it was too late! By the time she wanted to talk, I no longer gave a damn. I am not a man who is ruled by his emotions. That is a sign of weakness, and I am anything but weak. As to why I was not there when she died?” George’s eyes flashed. “Why should’ve I come? You were there in my stead.” George threw himself back in his chair, his face contorted in anger and pain.
Harvey’s heart was heavy at the sound of his brother’s words. His face also twisted in pain. “When did we become such men, George?” he calmly asked. “You and I both hurt her when all she ever wanted was to be loved… and to have a family.”
George wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head wearily. “I know she wasn’t unfaithful, at least not with her body, but her heart was another matter. However, Anne and our love triangle is not why you are here. My sons are my responsibility, not yours. They are all I have left. I have a duty and an obligation to Pemberley, and I must have them do their duty to the business and the family legacy. I know business-wise they know what to do, but there is more to it than a spreadsheet.” He held his brother’s gaze. “I must do what I must do in order to assure the future is secure.”
The Cumberland Plateau Page 40