by Jane Corrie
Silas P. Hawter was, he informed her, a retired banker, and had been toying with the idea of buying such a property in England. His agent was at that moment in London, and would be getting in touch with Miss Grange directly. He went on to say that he had complete confidence in his agent's judgment and had given him the authority to close the deal should the premises be suitable for his requirements. He ended by saying that in the event of it being a successful transaction, he hoped to make a personal visit in due course of time.
Jenny's hand shook as she laid the letter down. Silas P. Hawter was tailor-made! just what she had hoped for, because what would a retired banker know of hotel management? She blinked as she touched the letter again, and felt like pinching herself to make certain she was not dreaming. Her eyes shone as she went over the possibilities such a transaction might bring in it's wake. There was a
tremendous possibility that the present staff would be kept on—perhaps she could stay, too?—she shook her head slowly. It would be enough if the staff could stay, she couldn't ask for more.
When she showed the letter to Tony later that day, she was exasperated by his lack of enthusiasm. 'He doesn't mention keeping it on as a hotel, does he?' he remarked gloomily. 'He might have other ideas, such as making it his private residence, so don't go getting excited about it,' he cautioned her.
Jenny gave him an impatient look, but after meeting his earnest brown eyes, gave a small smile. 'Well,' she conceded slowly, 'I suppose he might have something like that in mind, but he doesn't say that either, does he?' she appealed to him hopefully.
'Or,' added Tony darkly, 'He may want to turn the place into an exclusive gambling den. He might be working for a syndicate.'
Jenny's eyes widened at this and she stared at Tony. He wouldn't do that, surely? Her soft lips clamped together firmly. 'Then I shall refuse to sell,' she replied steadily. 'No matter how much he offers.' She gave Tony an accusing look. 'Now you've spoilt everything!' she complained. 'And I was so sure he was the answer to our problems.'
Tony's sour countenance broke into a grin. 'Someone's got to think of these things, Goldie,' he said unrepentantly. 'That way you won't be too disappointed if things don't work out. I'm not saying you're wrong, but don't go throwing your hat over the windmill yet. We'll wait and see what this agent
of his has to say first,' he advised gently.
In spite of Tony's doleful advice on caution, Jenny soon found herself back in the land of high hopes. Tony meant well, and was only trying to save her from sharp disappointment should his gloomy predictions prove correct, but she had this unshakable feeling that luck was on her side, and that her hopes would be realised.
For the next day or so, she was on tenterhooks waiting for a communication from Silas P. Hawter's agent, and knew a vast sense of relief when the greatly anticipated letter arrived from a Mr Moore, stating that acting as Mr Hawter's agent, he wished to make an appointment to view the premises at the earliest opportunity. Jenny lost no time in answering the letter, suggesting two dates in the near future for the visit, one of which was in three days from the time of writing, and was the date accepted by Mr Moore, who rang to confirm the appointment upon receipt of the letter.
It would not have surprised Jenny if Tony had insisted on being present at the interview, since this would have been his way of protecting her interests, but he contented himself with a, 'Don't sign anything,' comment, and left her to it, although she was sure he would give the agent a pretty thorough visual inspection, on his arrival at the hotel—from a concealed position, that was, and she also knew that if he didn't like what he saw, then he would attend the interview, whether she liked it or not.
As soon as Jenny saw Mr Moore, she felt a surge
of relief flow over her. She hadn't quite known what she was expecting him to look like, but Tony's gloomy forecasts had prompted a certain amount of trepidation, and she had wondered how she would cope if he turned out to be one of the pushy types of agent, out to satisfy the needs of his client come what may.
Now, as she shook hands with the pleasant middle-aged man, she knew her fears had been groundless, and looked forward to their coming conference. -
Two hours later a flushed and excited Jenny dared Tony to try and dampen her elation, for the discussion had far exceeded her wildest hopes, as she explained to him, 'He does want to keep the place going as a hotel. He actually requested that the staff be kept on, and ...' she added with sparkling eyes, 'that includes me. Of course,' she tacked on thoughtfully, 'I wouldn't have the final say on big decisions, sort of manager's position, I suppose you'd call it.' She smiled at Tony happily. 'As if I'd mind that! No more worrying, is how I'd put it, and what a relief that's going to be ! ' she sighed contentedly.
Tony surveyed her gleaming eyes and flushed countenance. 'Seems to be a little too pat for my liking,' he said cautiously. 'Almost,' he mused, 'as if he knew our circumstances.'
Jenny's smile faded and she gave an exaggerated sigh. 'Must you always look for catches?' she said crossly. 'As for knowing our circumstances, as a matter of fact, he does,' she added, giving a quick grin at the look of surprise on Tony's face. 'It
appears that a friend of his knew Malcolm, and this friend used to spend a few days here when he was attending a conference. Well,' she went on, her voice showing her satisfaction, 'this friend saw the advertisement, and knowing that Silas Hawter was in the market for just such a property, told him about it. Mr Moore told me Silas Hawter had explained it all to him when he gave him the authority to close the deal if everything was satisfactory.'
Jenny put her head on one side and surveyed the still unconvinced Tony. 'There's something else I haven't told you,' she said triumphantly. 'We've not only got a buyer, we've got a ready made market, too! This friend of Mr Hawter thinks Peacock's Walk would be ideal to accommodate businessmen who come over from the States to attend conferences in Brighton, and goodness knows there's a lot of those going on at present,' she added brightly. 'It couldn't be better. He's got the connections, and we've got the premises! '
'We're not going into partnership with him, are we?' queried Tony sceptically.
'Of course not!' exploded Jenny. 'I was only trying to explain to you that he does intend to keep Peacock's Walk as a hotel, and not,' she said accusingly, 'as a gambling casino, as you so gloomily predicted he might. Now are you satisfied?' she demanded.
Tony shrugged. 'I'd feel a great deal happier if the business wasn't being conducted by an agent. I'd like to see this Silas P. Hawter. Did he say when he
was coming over—or if he was thinking of settling in this country?' he asked.
Jenny frowned at the question. 'Lots of Americans have businesses in this country,' she said patiently, 'but that doesn't mean that they have to reside here.' She shrugged. 'They do what he's apparently going to do, keep in close touch with the business. Usually they appoint a manager they can trust to run the business, but in our case, he's apparently satisfied enough to keep things running as they are. With the capital he can back us with, and the bookings he seems assured of, the place should go from strength to strength.' She gave him a beaming smile. 'But more than that, Tony, it means the staff will keep their jobs.'
Tony nodded complacently. 'Well, it looks like you've fallen on your feet, Goldie. Better make sure that those clauses of the staff being kept on are included in the contract—just in case,' he advised sternly.
With Tony apparently satisfied, however grudgingly he had given his approval, Jenny set about concluding the sale, and the contract with the necessary clauses inserted was signed six weeks later.
No more than a week after the signing and exchange of the contracts, a delighted Jenny received a communication from the new owner to the effect that she was to expect a party of fifteen business men from the States in ten days' time, two of whom would be bringing their secretaries. This number of guests was almost maximum to the amount the hotel could hold, for there were eighteen bedrooms,
most of which
had not been used for several months, and this left only one to be booked. Seeing the added footnote to say that she was to leave that booking open, Jenny did wonder whether Silas Hawter meant to accompany the party, but was not at the time of writing absolutely certain that he could make the trip—probably, she mused, through other business arrangements--but had taken the precaution of keeping the room free.
Jenny found herself hoping that he would make the trip, because she was now sure that that was his intention. The correspondence she had had with him to date had shown him to be a kindly, elderly man, and one she was sure she would be able to work very happily with for some time to come. It would also, she told herself, help to settle some of Tony's qualms; he had still not got used to the idea of working for someone he hadn't met, and she suspected the rest of the staff felt the same way. Her thoughts brightened yet further at the prospect of the activity she was about to set in motion when she related the news of the coming guests. For the past week, working under the orders of Mr Hawter, no bookings had been accepted, and the inactivity of the staff had produced a certain amount of speculation as to their future, in spite of Jenny's assurances that all was well, and as Jenny had walked through the deserted dining room, and the large empty lounge, she too knew a sense of uncertainty and could well understand their feelings.
On receipt of the news Jenny had to impart, the hotel became a hive of industry again. Rooms were
spring cleaned by willing, happy staff, and a general air of being in business again pervaded the atmosphere.
The ten days' notice that Jenny had at the time thought a little too long, and rather wished that only a few days' notice had been given of the coming bookings, flew by with a rapidity that amazed her. For not only the bedrooms received a thorough going over. The whole hotel came under the eagle eye of Dodie Hooney, and not a corner escaped her attention. The heavy velvet curtaining in the dining room and lounge, that might have done duty for another six months without cleaning, was taken down and replaced by new curtaining, the colour and texture being faithfully adhered to, for great care had always been taken to keep to the original old-world decor that so suited the dignified old building.
On the day before the arrival of the guests, Jenny did a tour of inspection, more to please Mrs Hooney than to satisfy herself that all was in order, and duly complimented the staff on their efforts when the tour was satisfactorily completed.
With a deep sense of satisfaction, she returned to her office and sat for a moment indulging in a little self-congratulatory musing. Peacock's Walk had come into its own again. The thought of Mark Chanter's reaction to the news that she had been successful, not only in her wish to keep the staff on, but had negotiated a sale resulting in an assured trade for the hotel, was an added bonus. The kind of business that he was so keen to promote, and was
sure to bring Peacock's Walk back into the top bracket again, where it had once held pride of place. No doubt that whoever it was that had passed the previous information on to him would also pass on the current state of affairs, and Jenny was a little sorry that she would not be able to witness his fury as losing out. He had been so sure of himself during that last visit, and certain that she would have to turn back to him, to, as he had put it, 'get you out of the financial mess you've made of things'.
Her happy musings were abruptly curtailed at this point by the arrival of the very man she had been thinking about. She was too surprised by his sudden appearance to notice that he had strolled into the office without giving the customary knock, but when the fact did sink in, she glared at him and remarked coldly, 'I don't remember you asking to see me,' and added for extra measure, 'I'm rather busy at the moment, so if you don't mind ...' She left the sentence unfinished, but she was sure he had got the message.
Mark Chanter gave her a long considering look before he drawled, 'Yes, aren't you. I've just popped in to see that everything's in order.'
Jenny stared at him, then stated baldly, 'I don't see what it's got to do with you. Would you mind stating your business and leaving me to get on with mine?'
Not bothering to answer this rather direct question, he further infuriated her by picking up the printed menu forms for the week's fare. 'Seems okay,' he remarked as he looked up to meet her
fuming eyes. 'Make sure you have plenty of melons on hand, will you? They're partial to them, I understand.'
Jenny gasped, and made an attempt to snatch the menus out of his hand, but was forestalled by his merely holding them up and out of her reach.
Sit down, Miss Grange,' he commanded sternly. 'We're due for a little talk.'
Jenny knew better than to question his right in making such an order; she knew she would get nowhere by shouting and raving at him. Besides, it would be much more dignified to sit and glare at him—at least he would have to sit too, and she wouldn't have to stare up at him. She made her way towards her desk with as much dignity as she could muster, only to find her way barred and a pointing imperious finger directing her to take the chair in front of her desk.
'Sit there, will you? I'm not accustomed to holding slanging matches with my staff—I'll thank you to remember that in future.'
Jenny sat, simply because she had to. Her legs .no longer proved reliable and felt decidedly wobbly. Her lips were stiff as she managed to get. out, 'Would you mind explaining that last statement? Mr Hawter is my employer, and I've contract to prove it,' she added on a firmer note.
Mark Chanter settled himself behind her desk before bothering to answer her, then giving a wry grimace remarked dryly, 'This chair is not for me,' and got up again and walked to where Malcolm's chair stood by the office window. Picking it up as if
it were no weight at all, yet it was made of oak, he placed it in position behind the desk, pushing the lighter chair that Jenny had used back into the background.
Watching these movements, Jenny felt a sense of doom settling over her. His actions were somehow symbolic—as if he were saying, 'We've done with the past. The King is dead—long live the King!' She swallowed as her wide eyes met his implacable ones.
'Now where were we?' he asked casually, and gave a mock frown of concentration. `Ah, yes, the contract.' He gave her a grin that Jenny could only describe as wolfish, and she felt a prickly sensation along her spine. 'Silas P. Hawter,' he went on slowly, taking his time, and savouring with no little pleasure her wide eyes and white face, 'is the name of a company of which I hold a majority of shares.' He nodded slowly as Jenny attempted to intervene. 'Yes, there is a Silas P. Hawter. He was the original owner of the company, but he has since sold out. He still remains interested in the company, of course, and watches over our interests in the States, purely on an advisory basis.'
Jenny gasped as the implication hit her. Of all the low-down tricks! He couldn't have been honest about it from the start, could he? Oh, no, she thought bitterly—he knew she wouldn't have entertained another bid from him for Peacock's Walk—not if she could have got someone else! 'I suppose the older staff will now get their marching orders,' she commented bitterly. 'At least you were honest
about that when you came to see me,' she added in a low voice.
He did not answer her for a second or so, and when Jenny glanced up at him she was surprised by the flash of fury in his eyes. 'The contract states that all staff are to be retained, if I remember rightly,' he said savagely. 'I made a concession there for which you ought to be grateful.'
Grateful! Jenny wanted to shout the word at him. She'd be grateful if he left her alone. He had enough hotels, didn't he? Why should he want Peacock's Walk? 'Thank you,' she managed to get out between clenched teeth.
'Will it be so repugnant working for me?' he asked softly, yet goadingly. 'It won't be so very different from the job you used to have with Peacock —er—workwise, that is. There won't be any business trips, I'm afraid,' he added meaningly. 'We've got that side of it over with, haven't we?'
Jenny's small hands clenched into fists. He didn't have to bring that up to make sure
she understood the position. She did not answer. There was nothing she could say anyway, nothing that he would understand.
`I'm not,' he went on smoothly, 'saying that time won't alter the situation.'
Jenny's eyes had been centred on her hands, but now they flew to his, and the incredulity in hers made him smile again. She didn't care for that smile any more than she had cared for the other one he had given her, or the way his narrowed eyes were studying her slight figure.
'You're a very attractive woman, Jenny,' he said softly. 'I might just decide to kick over the traces with you.' He gave a nonchalant shrug as he added meaningly, 'Who knows?'
Her eyes never left his face, even though she felt the flush spread over her features. There was nothing 'like putting it on the line, she thought furiously. It wasn't enough for him to make her feel cheap, he had to emphasize the fact that he thought her a go-getter as well, and had the temerity to dangle a golden carrot in front of her!
Jenny sent a silent thank-you to Malcolm for leaving her some security. He had been right about Mark Chanter—he did use women as playthings, she thought scathingly; if she had ever needed proof of this, then she had just received it. She could, and would, get out. The staff were taken care of, so there was no worry there. Her head was held high as she replied steadily, 'I'm afraid I have no wish to resurrect the past. I'm flattered, of course, by your remarks.' Her lovely eyes glinted with green sparks as she added significantly, 'I didn't enjoy the last chapter in our romantic skirmish, so I'll pass this time, if you don't mind.'
For one frightening moment it looked as if he would yank her out of her chair, but her beating heart calmed when she saw him sit down again slowly, but his eyes never left hers as he said softly, 'You rather underrated me, didn't you? But time will teach you not to make the same mistake again. Who's the, current fancy?' he shot out at her.