Henry Malvern knew that James was going to celebrate his twenty-first birthday tomorrow, on May 27. He also knew that this brilliant young man was itching to strike out on his own.
But Henry understood that he couldn’t allow James to leave Malverns. Not just yet.
On this sunny morning in May, he sat in his office overlooking Piccadilly, racking his brains, struggling to find a solution to his dilemma. He needed a really worthwhile inducement which would persuade James to stay. Six months, Henry decided, I need him next to me for six more months. I’ll pitch for that and perhaps he might even be persuaded to stay for good.
Malvern and Falconer, Henry said to himself. It didn’t sound bad at all.
There was, of course, one other way to go. He could drag his daughter back to London, screaming and objecting though she might be. He would instruct her to learn everything she could from Falconer. With six months to do it. He would then tell Falconer he could go out on his own, start his own company. He knew the young man was restless.
Sighing under his breath, Henry got up and walked across to the window, looking down at Piccadilly.
As usual it was filled with traffic—hansom cabs and carriages, men pushing carts, horses pulling wagons. Men and women hurrying along, pushing and shoving to get ahead.
Newsboys shouting out headlines. Always bad news as they waved their newspapers. The shouts of the pie men selling their food.
What a cacophony of sounds came in through his open window. And a variety of smells.
What should he do? Henry asked himself, his mind focused on James Lionel Falconer. Now was the moment to decide.
Promote him—but how? Make him managing director? Or reward him in another way. Certainly Falconer deserved it. He had worked at Malvern House for only three years but he had been devoted, diligent, and totally committed. More than that—he had become Henry’s trusted deputy. He had pushed the company to modernize, anticipated change, encouraged them to take risks or to rationalize.
Henry nodded to himself. The company had grown and prospered under James’s management. He was a born businessman. A genius in a sense.
As for Alexis, she had been absent for most of this time. While she still wrote and visited, she had obviously lost interest in the Malvern company. He did not wish to leave his heiress without money. Half of Malvern’s shares would amount to a great deal. Furthermore, she would inherit his personal fortune, and his late brother Joshua had left her all of his wealth. Plus she had a trust from her mother and the house in Kent, left to her by Trevalian.
There was no doubt in his mind that Alexis would be a very wealthy woman.
He would talk to Falconer later today and endeavor to assess the young man’s feelings.
After Henry Malvern returned from a business meeting with his accountant, Edgar Williamson, he stopped off at James Falconer’s office.
“Will I never be able to convince you to take a break for a bite to eat?” Henry asked, standing in the doorway.
James jumped up at once, and had the good grace to chuckle. “I don’t think so, sir. Nobody can.”
Henry walked into the office and closed the door behind him. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes,” he announced. “If I’m not interrupting anything important?” He raised a questioning brow as he spoke.
“Of course, Mr. Malvern,” James answered. “Please, do sit down.”
Henry did so. “First, a question. How did we make such a big profit in the wine division this quarter? I just saw the papers you put on my desk on Monday night. Very impressive.”
“I suppose the first answer is we now employ honest men in Le Havre. And Jacques Armand is a very good manager. Also, we had a big sale.”
Astonishment flashed across Malvern’s face. “A sale of wine? I’ve never heard of that before! Who did we sell to, Falconer?”
“The Balkan countries. They had been buying a lot of our champagne, white wines, and sweet dessert wines, but not the red. When Keller was in Le Havre a few months ago, Armand showed him cases and cases of red wine stacked up. He asked Keller if he could cut the price a bit.” James paused, shuffled the papers on his desk, and found the page he wanted.
“They were good burgundy wines, but did not move. Keller brought down the price, and then on the spur of the moment, he told Armand to cut the price in half. Armand did so, and that huge bulk was gone in less than a week. It—the sale, I mean—was repeated about ten days later, a red that was quite highly priced and moving slowly; it went fast.”
“And yet we still made a profit?” Henry looked doubtful.
“Yes, because Armand then apparently brought in some slow-moving whites and cut the price. Also, we had more space in the warehouses and could ship in a new batch of champagne. Somehow it all balanced out in our favor.”
“Well, well, good news indeed.” Leaning forward slightly, Malvern pinned his eyes on Falconer, and said, “Even though I am now in much better health, I don’t want you to think about leaving. I want you to stay on for another six months. Will you?”
James was not surprised one iota about this request. He had been expecting it. He did want to leave and start his own company, fulfill his dream, wanted to more than ever. On the other hand, he had feelings of guilt about the burning of the arcade in Hull.
The arsonist had never been found. However, James harbored a suspicion, one he had never been able to voice to anyone. He already felt responsible for encouraging Mr. Malvern to expand and commit to the arcade. That it had been reduced to a ruin before a single shop had opened had been devastating. Thankfully their insurance firm had paid out and made rebuilding it possible.
But in his darkest moments, James couldn’t avoid feeling he had somehow attracted the arson attack. No one else felt this, he knew that. But he had his own view. And it was one he would have to keep secret.
The good news was that the ruined left side had been cleaned out of rubbish and was already open, along with the right side. The arcade had been rebuilt in record time, thanks to his idea of using two building firms working together and with Joe as the manager of both. At night Joe’s team of guards surrounded the entire arcade and there were no more incidents.
The project had been an enormous effort, and a lot of people were employed. The financial outlay for the company had been massive and quite a strain at the end of the previous year. But it had succeeded. The arcade had opened in January and business was booming as the summer drew closer.
And yet James somehow felt responsible for the fire, and all that costly rebuilding. So he remained silent, hesitating.
Henry Malvern, not knowing any of James Falconer’s worries, thoughts, and qualms, jumped in and said, “If you will agree to stay for the next six months, I will appoint you managing director. Immediately. And as a reward for all you’ve done for Malverns over the past few years, I will give you shares in the company—”
Henry paused and, amending his first idea as a new idea came to him, he finally said, “The number of shares I would give you would increase with each year you spend with the company.”
“How very generous, Mr. Malvern. I would certainly like to be the managing director, and the offer of a gift of shares is extremely kind and is very tempting. But how would I be able to leave if I accept those shares?”
Henry Malvern studied this unique young man, endeavoring to second-guess him, surprised by the hesitation he was showing.
Falconer said, “I think I would like to stay for six months, to see through certain projects, sir. And to know that you could manage without me.”
“That makes me feel better already, Falconer. Your presence gives me confidence. But what about the shares? Are you rejecting my gift?”
“No, sir. I am going to think about accepting, and I will let you know in due course.”
Malvern nodded. “Fair enough. I agree to your terms.”
“Anyway, Miss Alexis might decide to come back, sir.”
Henry Malvern laughed hollowly. “That would be the day! Hell would freeze over before she did that! No chance.”
Falconer nodded. “Well, you never know what can happen. Sometimes life surprises us.”
After Henry Malvern went back to his own office, James thought about the offer his boss had just made. It was indeed generous.
He didn’t mind working for another six months, and being managing director gave him total power at Malverns. More or less.
But taking the gift of shares somehow tied him to the company. Or so he thought. He wanted his freedom, to do as he wished. His retail empire remained prominent in his mind.
He sighed, and put his papers in order and locked them in his desk. Last night he had decided to take tomorrow off. His own birthday treat to himself. And he had just decided to leave early—now. He wanted time to think about several things. And about Irina, stuck in Saint Petersburg because her aunt Olga had been in a serious accident and needed her.
He couldn’t help wondering where that left him. How much longer would she be in Russia? It had been months.
When he arrived at the flat on Half Moon Street, and opened the front door, he saw several envelopes on the inside mat.
Picking them up, he noticed that one was addressed to him. His heart missed a beat. He recognized the handwriting immediately. The address on this envelope had been written by Mrs. Ward. A small rush of happiness filled him as he went upstairs. Calm down, he cautioned himself. It’s probably just a birthday card.
He opened it eagerly once he was inside the flat. It was indeed a card wishing him a happy birthday. However, there was a small note on the other side of the card. Georgiana had invited him to come and see her about an important matter. Whenever he could in the next few weeks. She had asked him to choose a date and given him her address so he could write back to her.
He sat down in a chair, still holding the card. He was excited to have heard from her at long last. He would write to her later this week and go to visit her as soon as he could. Why ever did she wish to see him … about an important matter?