Power of a Woman

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “I see,” she said in a clipped voice.

  “What is it, Stevie?” Bruce leaned forward slightly, peering at her intently and in sudden puzzlement. He had noticed the way she had stiffened; he could not miss the tone of her voice. “You have a most peculiar look on your face. What’s wrong?” he probed again.

  “Nigel told me that you thought I’d paid too much for the White Empress, and that—”

  “Absolute nonsense!” he exclaimed, interrupting her. “I don’t know where he got such an idea.”

  “He said you told him that.”

  “But it’s not true!” Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and there was sudden annoyance in his voice as he added, “The young whippersnapper’s lying! I’ll have him on the carpet for this.”

  “He also told me you said I had always paid too much for stones.”

  Bruce sat up ramrod straight in the chair, and there was a faint tinge of white around his mouth, as if the skin were bleached. Stevie knew this was a sign of his anger; it was an odd physical trait she had grown accustomed to over the years. It happened whenever he was enraged, and it was something he could not fake.

  After a moment, he said in a controlled voice, “I simply don’t understand. Why would he tell you these ridiculous lies? Invent things I’ve never said? It’s preposterous.” His brows drew together, knitted in a frown. He shook his head. “I was very laudatory about your acquisition of the stone. I told Nigel that you’d done well, and I praised you.”

  “Perhaps that’s why he concocted his lies.”

  Her father-in-law drew back slightly and stared at her, perplexed. “If that is so, then Nigel is not as clever as I have always believed him to be. Surely he must have realized he would be found out at some point, that his lies would catch up with him?” His eyes fastened on hers.

  Stevie saw the truth in this comment, but she had no answer for him. She simply shrugged her shoulders, shook her head in bafflement, and then leaned back against the cushions. She was quite resigned to the fact that her son was duplicitous, just as she had suspected he might be.

  Bruce shifted in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he sipped the sherry.

  It became very quiet in the library. There was only the tick-tick-ticking of the antique clock on the mantel and the crackle of the logs in the fireplace.

  Eventually, Stevie broke the silence when she said, “I don’t know whether you know this, but Nigel came to New York at the beginning of this month. He came to Jardine’s on the Tuesday after the Sotheby’s auction. It was December the tenth, actually. He didn’t stay very long, and he didn’t seem to have any business at the store. No one to see, as far as I’ve been able to ascertain. He came up to my office, chatted a few minutes, made some scathing comments about the White Empress, and then left. Apparently he was on his way to see the Sultan of Kandrea, who, he told me that morning, prefers to do business with him now, rather than with me.”

  “Balderdash! The sultan’s always wanted to deal with you, Stevie, and no one else. We both know he dotes on you. He’s made no secret of the fact that when you’ve gone to see him in Kandrea he’d like nothing better than for you to stay. Indefinitely.”

  Stevie had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation about Nigel. “I’m not so sure of that, Bruce; he is a bit of a flatterer, you know. However, I am sure about one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Nigel came into the Fifth Avenue store to pick a fight with me. It was my birthday, and he knew it was, yet he didn’t even mention it. And he did that on purpose. There’s another thing…I have the distinct feeling he’s working against me. Plotting, actually.”

  “But with whom is he plotting, Stevie?” Bruce asked in a curious voice. His eyes did not leave her face.

  “I don’t know.” She gazed at her father-in-law helplessly. Then she grimaced. “It’s a silly thing to say, isn’t it? After all, with whom could he plot? No one. What I think is this, Bruce…he’s plotting with himself. Plotting in his head, plotting to oust me. He wants to run the whole show, you see.”

  Bruce grew disturbed, and this instantly showed in his face. He pushed himself up out of the chair, went and stood near the fireplace, resting one hand on the mantelshelf. For a moment he was silent, his worry showing in his eyes. Then he said slowly, “I can’t believe he would be so foolish.” He looked down at her sadly, and added in the quietest of voices, “He knows he’s your successor, that he’ll be taking over from you one day. He’s the heir apparent, for God’s sake. And that’s something he’s known all his life. He doesn’t have to…plot.”

  Stevie nodded her understanding, looking at him steadily. A long sigh escaped her, and she felt, for a moment, that Bruce doubted her words. Then all of a sudden it struck her that his demeanor had changed, was slightly different. His anger had abated and a resigned expression was registering on his face. As she went on staring at him silently, she noticed a knowing look enter his eyes.

  And then it hit her. She nodded, as if to confirm something in her own mind, and said in a low, steady voice, “You’ve suspected him yourself. You just didn’t want to say anything to me…unless I confided in you. And that’s one of the reasons you’ve been going into the showroom more than usual. To keep an eye on him…and to snoop around.”

  When he made no response, Stevie continued. “I know I’m right, Bruce.”

  “Yes,” he admitted at last, and sighed. “I have suspected Nigel, although to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I’ve suspected him of really, Stevie.”

  She watched him closely as he moved away from the fireplace, came over, and sat down next to her on the big sofa. Taking hold of her hand, looking deeply into her face, he continued. “I had recently begun to realize that Nigel was courting a lot of your personal clients. I asked Gilbert Drexel about this, and he confirmed that Nigel was handling their business with us, or rather, endeavoring to do so, even though they wanted to deal with you. Gilbert didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with Nigel’s taking over, since you were in New York a great deal. I sort of…well, actually, I took his word for this, when perhaps I shouldn’t have, and therefore I never said anything to Nigel. At least, not initially.”

  “But you found it strange?”

  “Yes, I did,” he told her. “After all, when a client is going to spend five, ten, even fifteen million pounds with us, and often much, much more, I know you would take the Concorde in, which you have always done in the past. After I’d thought about this for a few days, I felt uncomfortable, so I did finally speak to Nigel. He told me he was merely trying to help, that he wished to alleviate your burdens, and that you were extremely grateful to him for doing so. I accepted this; why wouldn’t I?” He emitted another long, slow sigh. “I had no reason to doubt him. I see now how wrong I was. I trusted my grandson. I believed him. I realize now that I should have spoken to you right away.”

  “Perhaps you should have.” She averted her head, thinking that ten years ago, no even five years ago, Bruce would have been on the phone to her at once. His age was showing after all; he wasn’t so fast on the draw anymore.

  “Then again,” he continued to explain, “Gilbert was totally unconcerned. However, I began to notice a grave change in Nigel the past few weeks, and this has troubled me greatly.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “He’s become extremely impatient and irritable. And he is temperamental. It’s struck me numerous times he’s rather sarcastic and acerbic with people when speaking to them. That’s not the way to behave around the staff, nor is it the way to handle them. Or to run a business.”

  “I agree. But Nigel’s always been a bit of a know-it-all, and he’s—” she began to say, then stopped abruptly. She’d been about to say, like you were once, but had cut herself off just in time. Clearing her throat, Stevie went on quickly. “And he can be arrogant.”

  “Yes, that’s true. And argumentative. He’s had several run-ins with Gideon recently, and whe
n Gideon was not in the least at fault.”

  “Run-ins about what?”

  “Minor things apparently, of no real consequence. Nigel’s exaggerated their importance, blown them out of all proportion.”

  He drew away from her, watched her quietly, waited for her to speak. He was troubled by this conversation, and he felt great empathy for her. She had grown up to be a brilliant woman; he had watched her grow, seen her become what she was today. She was steadfast, loyal, dedicated, hardworking, and a decent person. If Nigel was trying to oust her, then her son had made a terrible mistake. And there was no question in his mind whom he would back. If it came to that, of course.

  The silence between them lengthened.

  Bruce, glancing at her covertly, realized she seemed tired, and there was a stricken expression in her eyes. His heart went out to her. Stevie, aware of her father-in-law’s scrutiny, drew herself up on the sofa and half smiled at him. “So, you suspected him yourself….”

  Bruce nodded. “But of what I wasn’t at all certain.” He cleared his throat, said in a low, concerned voice, “I never thought for one moment that he wanted—” He paused, looked at her askance, and finished, “That he wanted your job, Stevie.”

  “I’ve realized that he did, does, and has for some time.” Her laugh was hollow as she added, “Ah, well, uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

  “Quite so.”

  “It’s funny, Bruce. At Thanksgiving I made up my mind to unburden myself to you. Then on the plane coming over I changed my mind. I decided all this could wait until after Christmas. I didn’t want to spoil the festivities with problems. Now it’s all come out in such a rush of words.”

  “Perhaps that’s just as well, my dear. And we must talk to Nigel, don’t you think?”

  Stevie bit her lip. “Yes, but I believe I should be the one to do that. Not you.”

  “We should talk to him together, Stevie.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t think so. It would be much better if I saw him alone. Please, Bruce, let me handle it.”

  “Very well,” he replied in a somewhat resigned voice, having learned long ago not to argue with her when she had already made up her mind about something.

  “After Christmas?” A dark brow lifted questioningly.

  He nodded.

  Stevie took a deep breath and continued. “He’s not the only one I have problems with.”

  “Oh.” Bruce threw her a swift glance. “Who else?”

  “Chloe.”

  “Not Chloe! That couldn’t possibly be. She’s such a sweet girl,” Bruce murmured, staring at Stevie aghast.

  She saw his love for the girl reflected in his eyes, and so very carefully she explained. “Chloe announced at Thanksgiving that she doesn’t want to go to college.”

  “Not even Oxford?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Correct. She wants to drop out.”

  “But she must at least graduate from Brearley,” Bruce murmured with a worried frown. “She must not forgo that.”

  “Yes, you’re right, and she won’t.”

  “And then what?”

  “She wants to work at Jardine’s. In London. Chloe would like to go into the family business, Bruce.”

  Bruce Jardine could not help smiling. Try though he did to keep a sober face, knowing this was a serious matter, the smile forced its way through and settled on his mouth. It wouldn’t budge.

  Stevie, watching him, said, “Well, I might have known you’d be pleased.”

  “I shan’t deny that I am, Stevie, my dear. You know I have an extremely soft spot for Chloe, and she’s such a smart, intelligent girl. There’s a place for her at Jardine’s whenever she wants it as far as I’m concerned. However, you’re her mother, and, of course, you’re the managing director at Jardine’s here. You run the company. Whether you want to give her a job or not is up to you.” Reaching forward, he patted her hand, and there was an air of genuine friendship and affection in his manner. “She’s so young, only eighteen. Don’t be too harsh on her.”

  “I’m not being harsh. I just want to do what’s best for her.”

  “Naturally, and so do I. Why don’t you let her come to London next summer? She can live here with me at Wilton Crescent, and go to Jardine’s every day. Gideon can take her under his wing. She can get her feet wet, so to speak, and she will soon know whether she likes the family business or not.”

  “That had also crossed my mind. Well, we’ll see.” She let out a long sigh.

  Bruce eyed her keenly. “What is it?”

  “She’s a teenager. Not an enviable age. They’re full of excitement one moment, depressed the next. They go through terrible mood swings, temperamental outbursts, and are at the mercy of raging hormones.” She forced a smile. “By next summer she may have changed her mind yet again.”

  A smile touched his dark eyes. “I hope not. I’d like to think she’ll be part of Jardine’s eventually. The whole idea pleases me….”

  Stevie was silent for a moment and then she rose, walked across the room, stood at the window looking out. After a few seconds she swung around and said, “If I do let her come next year, she’ll be living with my mother, Bruce. I think that would be the best thing for her.”

  She saw the disappointment flash across his face and settle in his eyes. “That’s understandable,” he murmured, sounding sad, and looked away.

  Quietly, Stevie went on. “My mother’s expecting you for Christmas lunch tomorrow. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Nigel’s going to be there.”

  “He told me he wasn’t taking the family to Paris this year, so I assumed they would be with us.”

  “Why do you think he wants me out of the company? Because he does, you know,” she asked unexpectedly.

  Bruce seemed to be weighing her words. “I trust your judgment implicitly. If you say he does, then he does. And to answer your question, I can’t imagine why. And it would be ridiculous to speculate.”

  “That’s true.”

  There was a knock on the door and the butler reappeared. “Lunch is ready, Mr. Jardine. Cook would like you to come to the table. She’s afraid the cheese soufflé might fall.”

  “Right away, Alan, right away,” Bruce replied, and stood up.

  Stevie said, “I just realized how hungry I am. And I love Elsie’s cheese soufflé. It’s going to hit the right spot.”

  Bruce merely nodded, and together they left the library.

  As they walked across the grand entrance foyer to the dining room, Stevie remembered the night she had sat in this vast cavernous hall and listened to Bruce’s voice raised in anger. He had told Ralph she should get rid of her baby. If she had, Nigel would never have been born.

  17

  “I’M CERTAINLY GLAD TO SEE EVERYONE’S BEHAVING well today,” Stevie said, turning to Derek, and then once more glancing around the room. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I,” he answered, following the direction of her gaze, observing the other family members, who were sitting or standing in different parts of the room, chatting to each other. “They actually seem rather chummy, which is something of a relief. There’s usually some sort of contention going on, or an undercurrent. Mmmmm.” He nodded to himself, added, “And these are noticeably absent, Stevie.” Grinning at her, he said sotto voce, “As far as I’m concerned, they can all go off and murder one another later, so long as they don’t upset the applecart this afternoon. Blair’s been working for days to make this Christmas Day a very special one.”

  “Yes, I know she has,” Stevie murmured, settling back on the sofa, “and everything will be fine, don’t worry. Why even Nigel’s smiling for once.”

  “So I noticed. And he’d better keep on smiling. If he doesn’t, or if he starts any kind of trouble, I’ll have his guts for garters.”

  Stevie began to laugh. “I haven’t heard that expression for years. Oh, Derek, look
how sweet the little ones are being with Bruce…and he’s so proud, tickled to death to have great-grandchildren. I ought to take a picture, don’t you think? Three generations of Jardines.”

  “It’s a great idea. Do it after lunch, when we’re opening the presents. And perhaps you’ll take one of your mother and me with the babies and Tamara. That would be a nice shot to have for our family album.”

  “Yes, I will, and doesn’t Tamara look beautiful? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking lovelier than she does this afternoon.”

  Derek nodded in agreement. “Red suits her; it looks fabulous with her hair. She’s got great style, you know, that one. It’s a special kind of chic only the French seem to have. Well, at least have naturally, and without having to make a big effort. I’m glad she’s part of the family; she’s been such a positive influence on Nigel.”

  “Yes, he’s generally much pleasanter when Tamara’s around, that’s true. It’s a marriage made in heaven, thankfully. She seems to have a soothing effect on him.”

  “She tempers his recalcitrant attitude. And makes him smile occasionally,” Derek added succinctly.

  Stevie threw him a quick look. “Please don’t worry; no one is going to spoil the day. I won’t let anyone. I know how hard Mom’s worked. Incidentally, this room looks wonderful since she redecorated it.”

  “Your mother’s very talented when it comes to design, but then I don’t have to tell you that.”

  Derek once again swung his eyes, followed Stevie’s gaze, seeing the drawing room of the Regent’s Park flat objectively, through her eyes. And of course it was beautiful and grand and impressive, with its pale silk fabrics and fine antiques, the lovely old paintings gracing the cream silk walls.

  So far from the Welsh valleys of his youth, the little back-to-back house where he had grown up, so far from the poverty and grind that had been his family’s lot in life for generations.

  The grand leap.

  That was the way he thought of it. And even today, after so long, there were moments when he would stop whatever he was doing and survey this world where he now lived—and he couldn’t help marveling at himself just a little. He marveled that he had been able to make that great leap from there to here. And the fact that he was here with a career, fame, success, wealth, and a title to boot said something for his courage, his nerves of steel, his strength of will, his drive, energy, and desire to succeed.