by Sara Craven
Then she discovered she would find out what she wanted to know, but only when he was good and ready—because he had not finished asking questions of his own yet. ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘tell me what you know about the firm of Livingstone Developments?’
Realising that since he was paying the piper she would have to dance to his tune, she replied, ‘That’s fairly easy. When I knew I had an interview last Tuesday, I made it my business to find out all I could about the company. I’d never been for an interview before,’ she explained, ‘so I had no idea of what sort of questions I should know the answers to.’
He accepted that as fair comment. ‘What did you discover?’ he wanted to know.
‘I discovered that Livingstone Developments—only it wasn’t called that then—was founded years and years ago by one Silas Livingstone.’
‘Sixty years ago, by my grandfather,’ Silas filled in.
‘It was only a small company then—dealing with industrial equipment, I think.’ She waited for him to interrupt. He didn’t, so she went on. ‘The firm expanded when your grandfather’s son took over.’
‘The firm made quite a progressive leap forward when my father took over,’ Silas stated. ‘Under his leadership the firm went on to become a leading international firm of consulting engineers.’
‘And when, five years ago, Borden Livingstone stepped down and you were voted to be chairman, you led the firm onwards to take in the design and manufacture of more advanced engineering products.’
‘You have done your homework,’ Silas commented when she had nothing more to add. Then, giving her a straight look, ‘All of which perhaps makes you see what a tremendous amount of hard work has gone on over the past sixty years to make Livingstone Developments into the much-respected and thriving company it is today.’ His eyes were still steady on her when quietly he added, ‘And what a colossal waste of all those years of hard labour, of effort, it would be if I can’t come up with some way to prevent the company from sinking into decline.’
Startled, Colly stared at him. ‘Livingstone Developments is in trouble?’ she gasped, forgetting about her own problems—the company employed thousands of people!
But he was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he denied. ‘We’re thriving.’
The firm was thriving, yet sixty years of effort might be wasted? It didn’t make sense. There had to be an ‘if’, and a very big ‘if’ at that. ‘But…?’ she questioned.
Silas gave her an approving look that she was keeping up with him. ‘A massive but,’ he agreed, and went on, ‘I had a meeting with my father on Monday. My father, I should explain, is the most level-headed man I know. I have never seen him panicky and have seldom seen him anything but calm. But there was no denying that on Monday he was extremely agitated about something.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ she murmured politely. She discovered she would like to know more, but knew Silas would not tell her, and felt it went beyond the bounds of good manners to ask.
‘No more sorry than I was to hear just why he was so disturbed,’ Silas commented.
Her curiosity was piqued, not to say her intelligence—she was suddenly realising that Silas would not have brought her here and begun to tell her what he was telling her were there not some purpose behind it.
‘I don’t want to pry,’ she began, ‘but—’
And was saved from having to pry any further when Silas interrupted to inform her, ‘All this has been a bit of a jolt for me, but I’ve had time since Monday to adjust. By the time I saw you on Tuesday I was beginning to acknowledge what had to be done, and that if the company was not ultimately going to go to the wall that it was down to me to do it.’
‘I’m trying to keep up,’ she commented. Fog? The fog was getting thicker by the minute.
‘I’m telling you this in the strictest confidence, of course.’
‘Of course,’ she answered—whatever ‘this’ was.
‘I’m also telling it very badly. Perhaps I’d better go back to the beginning,’ he decided.
‘It might be a good idea,’ she conceded. If this was the way all job interviews went, she had to confess herself intrigued!
‘To start with, my grandfather had a simply wonderful marriage.’
‘Ye-es,’ Colly said slowly, with no idea what direction they were heading in now.
‘Sadly, my grandmother died six months ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she murmured sensitively.
‘As you can imagine, my grandfather was devastated. But he at last seems to be coming to terms with his grief. Naturally we’ve all rallied round to try and help him at this dreadful time. My parents and my aunt Daphne—my grandfather’s daughter—particularly. In actual fact, my parents spent the weekend with him at his home in Dorset only last weekend.’ He paused, then added, ‘Which is why my father rang me the moment he got home on Sunday. I wasn’t in. He left a message saying it was of some importance that we meet without delay. I should explain—’ Silas broke off what he was saying to note ‘—that my father does not use such language unless something of very great import is going down.’
Colly’s brain was racing. ‘It was to do with Livingstone Developments having some kind of sword dangling over its head?’ was the best she could come up with.
‘Got it in one,’ Silas approved. ‘My father isn’t one to panic, as I mentioned, but he knew something serious was afoot when my grandfather told him that he wanted to talk privately to him in his study. My father came out from the study shaken to the core, still taking in what my grandfather had told him.’
Colly was desperately trying to think what any of this could have to do with her and this vacancy that had been created.
‘Your grandfather needs a housekeeper?’ She took a disappointed guess. It would be a job, and with accommodation thrown in. But did she really want to be a housekeeper for some elderly gentleman?
‘He already has a housekeeper,’ Silas informed her.
She was lost again. ‘Sorry. I’ll keep quiet until you’ve finished. Er—you haven’t finished yet?’
‘I’m getting there. The thing is that since my parents and aunt can’t be with Grandfather all the time he spends many hours alone reliving the past. And at this present time, and with the loss of my grandmother so recent, he spends a lot of time thinking of her and their long years of very happy marriage. Which,’ Silas said, ‘brings us up to Sunday, when, in his study, my grandfather spoke to my father in terms of altering his will. Instead of my cousin Kit and I inheriting his considerable holding of shares in the firm between us—as I’ve always been lead to believe will happen—he intends to leave the whole basket-load of shares to Kit—if I don’t buck my ideas up and marry.’
Colly blinked—and didn’t know which question to ask first. ‘You’re not married?’ was the first one to pop out.
‘Never have been.’
‘But your cousin—Kit—is married?’
‘Has been this last ten years.’
‘You’re not engaged or living with anyone?’ she questioned, more or less in the same way he had asked her on Tuesday.
He shook his head. ‘No, nor likely to be.’
‘Nor do you want to marry?’
‘Definitely not. And, much though I’m fond of the old chap, I resent him, just because he has this sublime respect for the institution of marriage, attempting to force me to take a wife.’
‘But unless you do you stand to be disinherited,’ she reasoned. ‘Join the club.’
‘It’s not going to happen.’
‘Your father thinks he’ll change his mind?’
‘Very doubtful. My father’s anxiety stems from the certainty that it will happen, and that all that he and I have worked for over the years will be as nothing if Kit gets a controlling interest in the firm. Which, with those shares, he most definitely will.’
‘He’s—er—not up to the job?’
‘Don’t get me wrong. Kit and I had a lot to do with each other duri
ng our growing years. I’m fond of him, despite his faults. But, as well as being no powerhouse when it comes to work—and that’s being kind—he is far too easily swayed by others. Although he’s already parted with some of the shares his mother gave him, he, like me, already has enough shares to guarantee him a seat on the board. But while we have a duty to our shareholders we also have a duty to our workforce. And I’m afraid Kit feels a duty for neither. It’s a foregone conclusion that the ship will sink if he has any hand in guiding it.’
Colly did not know much about big business, but if Silas Livingstone thought it was so, she was quite willing to believe him. ‘So…’ she brought out the best her brain could come up with ‘…either you marry and inherit a sufficient number of shares to deny your cousin control, or you ultimately have to stand by and watch him ruin all that three generations of Livingstones have worked for?’
‘Exactly,’ Silas agreed. ‘And while God forbid that anything untoward happens to my grandfather for years and years yet, I have to face the reality that he’s currently aged eighty-four. Which is why I have determined that when that awful day comes, and he’s no longer with us, I am not left hearing that unless I have been married for a year and a day the shares that should be mine have been inherited by my cousin Kit.’
By then Colly had forgotten entirely that she had only dined with Silas Livingstone to hear about a job he was now offering her. She recalled how wounded she herself had felt at the way her father had left his will. By the look of it, the shares Silas Livingstone had always been led to believe were half his would be willed elsewhere.
On thinking over all he had just said, though, she could only see one way out for him—if he was dead set on keeping the company safe. ‘I’m sorry, Silas,’ she said quietly, ‘but it seems to me that unless you’re prepared to let the company fail you’re going to have to get over your aversion to marriage and take yourself a wife.’
For ageless moments after she had spoken Silas said not a word. Then, drawing a long breath, ‘That is the only conclusion I was able to reach too,’ he said. And then, looking at no one but her, ‘Which,’ he added, ‘is where you come in.’
She stared at him. ‘Me?’ she questioned, startled.
‘You,’ he agreed.
Her brain wasn’t taking this in. ‘No,’ she said on a strangled kind of note as what he might possibly be meaning started to filter through. Then, as common sense swiftly followed, ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘For one totally absurd moment I had this weird notion that you were asking me to marry you.’
She laughed awkwardly, feeling that she had made a fool of herself. She was on the brink of repeating her apology, only, daring to take a glance at him, certain that he must be laughing his head off, she could see not one glimmer of being highly amused about him!
Colly swallowed hard. ‘You weren’t doing that, were you?’ she asked, her voice gone all husky in shock.
‘I cannot fault the idea,’ he answered, his look steady, his expression unsmiling.
Did that mean that he was suggesting that he marry her? No, don’t be ridiculous. Good heavens, she…Colly got herself more together. Whether he was suggesting what it very much sounded as if he was suggesting or not, she thought it was time she let him know her feelings.
‘I don’t want a husband!’ she told him bluntly.
‘Good!’ was his answer, doing nothing for her feeling that she had just made one enormous fool of herself. ‘I don’t want a wife.’ She wondered if she should get up and leave right now. ‘But…’ he added—and she stayed to hear the rest of it, ‘…you and I both have a problem, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I know what your problem is,’ she agreed.
‘And your problem is that you need somewhere to live and the wherewithal to finance your training.’
‘I hope you’re not thinking in terms of giving me money!’ she erupted proudly—and, oddly, saw a hint of a smile cross his features. ‘I shall work for any money I—’
‘Look on this as work,’ he cut in quickly.
‘This is the job you’re offering me?’ This wasn’t happening; she’d got something wrong somewhere.
He took a long breath, as if finding her uphill work. She did not care. The whole notion was absurd—that was if she had got all this right. ‘Try and see this logically,’ Silas said after some moments.
Colly looked at him levelly, took a deep breath of her own, and supposed her reaction had been more instinctive than logical. ‘So?’ she invited, as calmly as she could.
‘So in my line of business I have to work not for today but for tomorrow. Use forward planning techniques to the full.’
‘As in marrying someone before your grandfather’s will gets read?’
‘Which hopefully won’t be for years yet. But, yes. Had anyone but my level-headed father told me what the stubborn old devil intends to do I’d have paid scant attention.’
‘But your father isn’t one to panic unnecessarily?’
Silas nodded. ‘I’d twenty-four hours to take on board what he said when the daughter of a much-respected man in the engineering world was there in my office—telling me she had been disinherited…’
‘And that rang a bell?’
‘Too true it rang a bell. You then went on to say how you needed a job that paid well, and how you were going to have to find some place to live, and I find I’m suddenly going into forward planning mode.’
‘You—um…’ She couldn’t say it. She did not want to make a fool of herself again. Though she could not help but recall how he had asked her about men-friends, and if she were engaged or anything of that sort.
‘I had an idea,’ he took up. ‘An idea that I’ve had since Tuesday to look at from every angle.’
‘That idea being…?’ she questioned, and waited, barely breathing, to hear whether she had been foolhardy to think he might be meaning what she thought he was so amazingly suggesting, or whether her brain, her instincts, had got it right.
‘That idea being,’ he said, looking at no one but her, his gaze steady, unwavering, ‘to marry you.’
A small sound escaped her. Even though she had thought that might be what he meant, she could not help that small gasp of shock. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she said, and stood up.
He was, she discovered, not a man to give up easily. He had cynically, no emotion in it, decided he would marry, case closed.
But he was on his feet too. ‘Hear me out, Colly?’ he asked of her. ‘Neither of us wants to marry, so that’s all in our favour.’
‘How on earth do you make that out?’
‘Neither of us is emotionally involved. And it’s not as if we have to live with each other.’
‘We don’t?’ she found herself questioning, even when she was just not interested.
He put a hand under her elbow and guided her from the lounge, waited while she retrieved her cloak, then escorted her out to his car. But instead of driving off once they were in his car, he turned to her and stated, ‘You too have a problem, Colly.’
She half turned to look at him. ‘I’m fully aware of that,’ she answered shortly.
‘And I’m in a position to solve your problems,’ he said. And before she could give him a curt, No, thank you, he was informing her, ‘My grandfather owns a small apartment here in London where he and my grandmother stayed whenever they came up to town. He hasn’t used it since her death, and he’s said he will never again use it. But, because of his very happy memories of times spent there, neither will he part with it. He’s asked me to keep an eye on the place, and I’ve stayed the occasional night there. But you’d be doing me a favour if you’d take it on. The place needs living in.’
Good heavens! ‘You’re offering me the tenancy?’ she exclaimed, guessing in advance that she would never be able to afford the rent.
‘What I’m offering, in return for you giving me a half-hour of your time and standing up in front of some registrar and making the appropriate responses when asked,
is somewhere to live. I think you’ll be comfortable there. Further to that, I’ll undertake to fund any training you desire, be it a foundation course followed by university, or whatever you may wish to do.’
This was jaw-dropping stuff! She had come out with him for a job interview and had never expected anything like this! She just had to recap. ‘In return for an “I will” you’re prepared to…’
‘On the day you marry me,’ he replied unhesitatingly, ‘I shall arrange for ten thousand pounds to be paid into your bank, with subsequent top-ups as and when required.’
‘No!’ she said, point-blank, and, nothing to argue about, she turned to face the front.
‘Think about it,’ he returned.
‘I’d like to go home,’ she told him woodenly. She was aware of his hard scrutiny, but was relieved when after some seconds he too faced the front and started up his car.
Neither of them spoke on the way back to her home. What he was thinking about she had no idea, but her head was positively buzzing. ‘Think about it,’ he had said—how could she not?
When she was desperate for somewhere to live he was offering her free accommodation! When she had a need to train for a career—and by twenty-three most women had a toe-hold on several rungs of the career ladder—he was offering to finance her career training! She should be snatching his hand off. But—marry him! Colly knew that to marry him was something that she could just not do.
Having been silent all the way home, it was as if Silas Livingstone had thought to give her all the space she needed to get used to the idea. Because no sooner had he driven up to her front door than he turned to her.
‘What’s it to be?’ he enquired mildly.
‘I thought I’d given you my answer.’
‘That was instinctive, spur-of-the-moment, an unanalysed reaction.’ He shrugged that away. ‘Marry me,’ he urged.
‘I—don’t even know you!’ she protested.
‘You don’t need to know me,’ he countered. ‘Just a halfhour—we need never see each other again.’