Rachel Lindsay - Business Affair Read online

  With a start she realised that Jim was talking again, gently telling her that all the arrangements had now been made and they could adjourn the meeting.

  "There's no point in prolonging it I know it's been painful for you."

  One by one the men filed from the room and only when Charles and Marcus were left did she speak.

  "When do you intend to start, Mr. Brent?"

  "Right now."

  "Then you will want an office."

  "I have already moved into your father's. It was vacant and I didn't have any time to lose."

  Fury swamped Kate's discretion. "Don't you have any decency at all? How dare you move into his office without consulting me?"

  "You weren't here to consult." The brusque voice softened slightly. "I know my being here is unpleasant for you, Miss Warwick. But I don't like it any more than you do."

  "Then you should have shown a little tact and not tried to take my father's place!"

  "I would never attempt to do that." He stacked the papers in front of him and a gold ring set with a dark sapphire glinted on his finger. "But I had to have somewhere to put all my things, as well as my secretary."

  "There was no need to bring your own secretary either." Trembling, Kate pushed back her chair. "We have plenty of competent girls here."

  "Miss Dodds is rather different. I wouldn't like, to manage without her."

  "Indeed." Kate's tone implied that she thought he could manage without anybody, and sensing the implication behind her words, he smiled slightly, looking first at Charles and then back to her.

  "I'll try to keep out of your way as much as I can, but in these next few weeks it might be difficult. There are a few things I must learn about the business. As far as I can I'll ask Mr. Collier, but I'd like to feel I can also come to you."

  "Of course." She moved to the door and as she turned to say goodbye, their eyes were on a level. She had been right about his height, she thought. With her shoes on there was little difference between them. Holding herself as straight and tall as she could, she gave him her hand.

  "Goodbye, Mr. Brent. I hope you make yourself at home here."

  "Thank you." He dropped her fingers abruptly. "With you here, Miss Warwick, I can't fail to do so!"

  CHAPTER III

  THAT beast of a man! Kate fumed all the way home, wondering how she would be able to control her temper sufficiently to co-operate with Marcus Brent.

  Although she was aware that he was merely doing his job, it was impossible not to vent her spleen on him, for he made a target, his arrogance and dislike of women in business being enough reason for her fury.

  In her bedroom she was alone for the first time since arriving in England. She took off her dress, switched on the bedside lamps and drew the curtains. The pink glow of the lights and the red bars of the electric fire illuminated the pastel walls and, huddling in a dressing- gown, she knelt on the floor and rested her head on the chaise-longue behind her. It was difficult to believe that her father might die. He had been so healthy, so full of vigour and determination, that she had never been able to imagine him growing old. Yet today, looking at him motionless on the bed, she had realised that the years of work had not dealt lightly with him. All. the stormy board meetings, the anxieties, the chances he had taken, had been engraved on his face. Tears coursed down her cheeks. No matter what happened in the future, she would always remember him as the beloved father upon whose knee she had climbed as a child and who, since the death of her mother, had taken the place of both parents, fulfilling the need so well that she had never missed not having another woman in whom to confide.

  It would not have been surprising had she grown up into the social butterfly her father had desired, but her innate intelligence and ability made her dislike being idle and on her nineteenth birthday she had entered the firm. How quickly her father had grown accustomed to discussing his problems with her, until eventually there was hardly a time when they were not talking business, trying to find ways and means of making Warwicks a household name in England.

  Warwicks for fashion and furnishings. Warwicks for food, flowers, beauty. For years it had been Kate's ambition to have a separate building to house everything that the female heart could desire: a complete empire called "Warwick Women." It was a dream that her father, in spite of his first opposition, had tried to create for her. And he would have succeeded too, had not illness intervened.

  She reached behind her for her handbag and took out a gold cigarette-case. Only three months ago she had received it from him: a lavish gift bought—had she but known it—with money loaned by the Bank! She took out a cigarette and let the case drop into her lap; imagining what Marcus Brent would say if he were to see it

  There was a knack at the door and the nurse came in. "I'm just settling your father down, Miss Warwick. If you'd like to say goodnight to him, perhaps you could come along now."

  "Of course." Kate walked along the corridor to her father's bedroom. He was lying in the same position she had left him earlier, his face as blank, his body as supine.

  "Everything's all right, Dad," she said soothingly, taking his hand. "Charles and I will be able to manage perfectly." She hesitated, wondering whether he knew about Marcus Brent and then, realising that she would have to tell him sooner or later, said evenly: "Jim Riddell has been wonderful. He doesn't want Charles and myself to bother with the financial side so he's bringing in a—a friend of his, a Mr. Brent He's a charming man, Dad." Kate swallowed on the words. "I'll bring him along to see you when you're better." The eyes in front of her flickered and she bent and kissed his cheek. "I'm not going to talk any more. The main thing is that you're not to worry. Just rest and get well."

  In her bedroom again she hurriedly bathed and changed into a grey silk dress the same colour as her eyes. Charles was coming to dinner and she did not want to keep him waiting. Dabbing her cheeks with rouge and carelessly brushing back her hair, she ran downstairs.

  She was mixing a cocktail when she heard Charles' voice in the hall and a moment later he came into the room. Without a word he crossed to her side, drew her into his arms and kissed her tenderly on both cheeks.

  "My darling." His voice was quiet "When I think what you went through this afternoon I could murder Jim Riddell!"

  "Don't talk about it! I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since I came home."

  "How's your father?"

  "Just the same. Oh, Charles, you don't know how terrible it is to go up and see him lying there like that If he could talk it wouldn't be so bad, but to see him so helpless…"

  "Do you think his mind is normal?"

  "I don't know." With shaking hands she poured a drink and handed it to him. "The doctor says it is, but I don't see how you can tell. He appears to recognise me when I bend over him—" Her voice broke and she fumbled for her handkerchief. "Let's not talk about it any more. I can't even bear to think about the business."

  "You know you don't mean that." There was faint humour in his voice. "You're not your father's daughter for nothing. Warwicks is your life."

  "I haven't got a life as long as I'm with Warwicks," she replied. "That's been the trouble all along. You needn't shake your head, Charles. Dad and I never had a holiday together until my illness and now, when he has a chance to take it easy, this has to happen. I hate business! It eats into your mind and your soul. It transforms you into an automaton, a money-making machine!"

  Charles sat down and crossed one long, thin leg over the other. "If you feel that way, why don't you sell out?"

  The drink spilled in Kate's hand. "Sell out? To whom?"

  "Hiltons."

  "You're crazy! I'd never sell Warwicks. I'd hang on to it if it was the last thing I did. You can't mean that, Charles. Jim hasn't been on to you, has he?"

  "Of course not." Charles smoothed back his fair hair. "But it would be one way of solving your problems. And you made your feelings for Mr. Brent remarkably plain this afternoon."

  "One thing's got
nothing to do with the other. I'd sell everything I possessed before I'd sell the store. It would break Dad's heart. I'm surprised you can suggest such a thing."

  "I wasn't the one to suggest it," Charles protested. "You said it yourself a moment ago. I merely took you up on it." His voice flattened out, grew dry with humour. "And I've proved you wrong."

  Shamefaced, she smiled. "You do understand me, don't you?"

  "More than you think. You're a fighter, Kate. All that long rigmarole you gave about automatons and such like was just reaction. You're interested in the same things that I'm interested in: getting to the top and staying there."

  She Sipped her drink and twirled the glass between her fingers, seeing sudden colour flash over the rim. "But is it worth it, Charles? Don't you think peace of mind is better than competition?"

  "No. And neither do you. You're just talking this way because you're tired. You need something to look forward to, Kate."

  "With my father lying paralysed upstairs, I don't see—"

  "I wasn't talking in terms of parties and social life, but something more real." He set down his glass and leaned forward. "Us. A long time ago I asked you to marry me, and I think I've been very patient in waiting for your answer. But you can't expect me to wait for ever. I'm a man, Kate, and I want you the Way a man always wants the woman that he loves. I want to feel your lips, your touch, your body."

  Amazed, Kate stared at him, unable to believe that Charles should talk so freely of desire! Embarrassment flamed her cheeks and her hands trembled so much that she clattered her glass to the table. "I never knew you felt like this."

  "Because I didn't want to upset you. But at the risk of sounding trite, I must remind you that I'm a man and you're an extremely beautiful woman. I know it isn't the most auspicious time to ask you, but I can't help myself. I want you to be my wife, darling." He caught her hand. "Will you?"

  Kate was moved by a greater emotion than she had ever felt for him before. It would have been easy to say yes, but something held her back. Was it fear of sharing her life, even with someone who knew her as well as Charles? Or was it perhaps the habit of years when she had never decided anything without consulting her father? But he had wanted Charles as a son-in-law, had seen in him the son he had never had. How pleased he would be to hear she was going to marry him after all. She thought of him lying alone in his room and saw the faded eyes staring back at her.

  "Yes," she said huskily. "Yes, Charles. I will marry you."

  Without a word he drew her into his arms, stroking her black hair away from her forehead, marking the widow's peak with his finger. "I'll make you happy, Kate. You'll never regret this."

  Behind them Mrs. Perkins coughed. "Dinner is served."

  "Thank you." Kate stood up. "You must congratulate me, Perkie. Mr. Collier and I have just become engaged."

  "Oh, Miss Kate!" The housekeeper held out her arms and Kate ran into them. Clasped against the soft bosom she remembered the many times she had run to Perkie for comfort, and her eyes were misty as she stepped back.

  "Another minute and my mascara will start running!

  We shouldn't cry like this, Perkie. Mr. Collier might get the wrong impression !"

  "Don't worry about me, darling," Charles said gently. "I understand. I only hope I qualify as being one of the family, Mrs. Perkins?"

  "You certainly do, sir." The housekeeper was prim again. "Mr. Warwick regarded you as his son, and that's good enough for me. Now come along in for dinner, or it will be absolutely ruined !"

  Ann in arm, Kate and Charles entered the dining- room that overlooked the walled garden. The french windows were open to the misty night and the table candles spluttered in silver holders.

  "Maybe I should sell the house," Kate said as they began to eat. "It's far too big for Dad and me and we could get a good price for it."

  "It won't be too big when we're married."

  She looked up in surprise. "I never thought of living here when we marry."

  "I don't see why not." He poured another glass of wine. "I'd like to do a lot of entertaining, Kate. Your father never built up the social side of the business the way I felt he could, and once we're—"

  "Don't!" She held up her hand. "You're criticising him as if he were already dead !"

  Charles' pale face turned scarlet. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But we've got to be quite frank about this. You're in charge and I must be able to talk to you freely."

  "I'm not in charge! We're both in it together. You know Warwicks as well as I do "

  "I've tried to," he admitted, "although it hasn't always been easy. Your father regarded me as a favourite of his and a lot of people were jealous. You'd be surprised at the way they tried to make mischief."

  Kate found it difficult to reply, for she knew that Charles was speaking the truth. Although he had always been scrupulously fair, many of the employees did not like him, finding him unapproachable and severe. To hear him admit that he had been hurt by this deepened her liking, making her more than ever convinced that they would have a good life together. She and Charles, joint owners of Warwicks.

  An image of Marcus Brent came into her mind, the heavy brows lowered over the eyes, the mouth turned down in a sardonic smile. 'Women are always personal in business,' he had said, and he would certainly reiterate it when he learned of her engagement.

  Knowing she was tired, Charles left soon after dinner and Kate went to her room with a book. It was difficult to concentrate on the story between the pages, for the story being enacted around her own life absorbed all her thoughts. Restlessly she lit one cigarette from another and listened to the sounds outside : a bus chugging in the distance, car brakes screeching and footsteps on the pavement below her window.

  Bandol seemed an eternity away and she felt a nostalgia for the gentle swish of the water on the beach and the smell of pines in the air.

  Throwing down her book, she lay back against the pillows, starting up again as she heard footsteps along the corridor. "Who is it?" she called. There was no answer and she called again.

  The door opened and the night nurse smiled at her. "I was just getting your father some hot milk. He's restless tonight."

  "Is he worse?"

  "Oh no. A little better if anything. But I feel there's something worrying him that prevents him from sleeping. I'm a great believer in warm milk. It makes the pills act more quickly too."

  Kate pushed the hair from her eyes. "Would it be possible for me to see him?"

  "Well…" The nurse paused doubtfully. "I don't see why not. Just for a few moments anyway. Maybe you could find out what's on his mind."

  "I'll try," Kate promised and, alone in the bedroom with her father, caught his hand and talked to him as gently as if he were a child. "Nurse tells me that there's something bothering you. What a naughty man you are, Dad. I told you before that you've nothing to worry about"

  The grey eyes looked back at her with such intensity that Kate's earlier doubt of her father's mental ability faded, and she stared at him, wishing with all her heart that he could speak. More than ever she needed his assurance that he approved of her engagement She frowned. Surely there was no doubt of that? He would have welcomed it a year ago had she been willing to say yes. She moved closer to the bed. Night was the wrong time to think: it made one too fanciful.

  "Dad," she said softly, "I have some news for you. I'm going to marry Charles." Grey eyes stared into hers. "It's what you've wanted, isn't it? You've always felt Charles was the right man for me. He loves Warwicks and so do I. Together we'll be able to work things out You needn't worry any more." The lids drooped and opened again, the pupils dilated till she could see the pale reflection of her own face in them. Sweat beaded the lined forehead and trickled down until they were caught against the sparse eyebrows.

  "Dad, what is it? I know you're trying to say something but I can't understand you." Still the sweat continued to pour and in a panic she caught his hand and held it close against her throat. "Darling, don
't look like that!" She swung round as the nurse came into the room. "I think something's wrong with my father."

  The nurse hurried forward and placed her hand on John Warwick's pulse. "Have you said anything to upset him?"

  "No. I just told him I—I was engaged to be married."

  "That's it then. He's probably excited. I'm surprised at you telling him such news so late at night."

  Kate flushed and feeling like a schoolgirl that had been reprimanded, hurriedly left the room. A woman in a white coat could now rule the life of a man who had never been ruled before. The irony brought a bitter smile to her lips and musing on the tragic turn that Fate had played them, she fell asleep.

  The next morning Kate reached the store as it was opening. The ground floor was deserted save for the assistants and a couple of early shoppers intent on making their purchases before the rush, and she walked across the marble floor, smiling "Good morning" as she passed the counters. Gradually Warwicks was becoming alive; the great cloths that covered the counters were being lifted and folded away; in the cosmetic corner the air was filled with the buoyant smell of perfume, and from an alcove to the left came the sweet smell of toffees. Past the confectionery, past the gloves and the hosiery, Kate stopped only as she reached the lifts. Gilt doors slid back and she stepped through to be whirled to the top floor and the staff offices.

  "Nice morning," the liftman said.

  "Very nice."

  "Looks like we'll be busy today."

  "How can you tell?"