An hour later Julia burst happily into the living room where Becky and Davy were enjoying a sherry and informed them, “Donald is a fine horseman! We had a lovely time!”
“Good!” Becky said. She smiled at her, then she gave Davy a teasing look.
The big man said, “There has to be a lot more about a man than being able to ride a horse!”
“Donald has all those attributes as well,” Julia said with a mischievous twinkle in her lovely eyes. “I’m going up to change now. Donald is changing at the stable.” And she hurried out and upstairs.
Davy sighed. “I might have known we could be in trouble. That young man has a lot of charm.”
“Why worry about them?”
His eyebrows raised. “My daughter wed a son of Bart Woods? The very thought of it angers me!”
“He is in no way to blame for his father’s actions,” she said.
“Maybe not. But I could not stand for Bart Woods to be linked with my family. I’m sorry, Becky. I’ll go into business with him and his son, but I draw the line at encouraging any romance between Donald and Julia.”
“What if they fall in love?”
“I can always take Julia back to Australia,” he said. “And I will if anything like that happens.”
Becky had no doubt that he would do as he threatened. This depressed her somewhat, since she sensed the two young people liked each other. If a romance developed between them, it would end the problem of Donald wanting to marry her Anne. But it seemed that Davy would interfere, even if Donald and his daughter should fall in love.
She would have to depend on Count André in Paris to sweep Anne off her feet. This appeared to be the best hope. And from all that Anne had written her, this romance was in full strength. The Count had formally proposed to her!
Julia proved herself to be her father’s daughter, in that she persuaded Donald to stay for dinner and the night. “You and Becky can return to London together tomorrow,” she told him. “It will be ideal to give Becky company.”
Donald did not need a lot of persuading, and the two young people seemed to have a wonderful time all evening. Davy showed colored lantern slides of Australia, which were most interesting to all. And Becky noted that at one point Julia and Donald were sitting in the darkened room holding hands. She hoped that Davy was too preoccupied at the lantern to notice this.
The weekend came to a close for her and Donald after breakfast on Sunday morning. Donald told Davy that he would await the proposal for the merger from him. And Julia and Donald parted with mutual promises to see each other again. On the surface all were in the best of humor, though Becky knew that Davy was not pleased about his daughter’s sudden interest in the son of his ancient enemy. It was a complicated situation, but she hoped it might work out.
In the carriage returning to London she questioned the young man. “What do you think of the Browns?”
“Mr. Brown is a remarkable person,” Donald said. “Vigorous for his age. I wish father had half his health.”
She sighed. “True. Your father has failed a good deal of late.”
“Mr. Brown is also much more forward looking,” Donald went on. “If he offers to merge his steel mill with us I’ll fight for the deal.”
“And you shall have my support,” she assured him.
“Julia is also a most interesting girl.”
“You like her?”
“I do,” he said enthusiastically. “Frankly, if I didn’t consider your daughter and I to be engaged, I would find myself much taken with that dark-haired beauty.”
She smiled. “I could see you two got along well.”
“Fabulously,” he said.
“But you aren’t truly engaged to my Anne,” she pointed out. “You shouldn’t feel bound not to pay attention to any other attractive girl who comes your way.”
“But I do,” he insisted.
“You shouldn’t,” she said. “Anne is at least dating Count André. I can see no harm in your seeing the Brown girl or taking her out occasionally.”
The idea seemed appealing to him. He gave her a questioning glance. “You think it would be all right?”
“I’m sure it would be, and Anne would be bound to agree with me.”
Donald sat back with a relieved look on his handsome young face. “Well, it might be fun to take her around a little and show her some of London.”
“I would consider it thoughtful of you.”
“And her father might appreciate it,” Donald pointed out. “And I do hope to do business with him.”
“Whether he appreciates it or not, I’d take her out. It is the girl you’ll be entertaining. Think of her and what she’d like.”
By the time they reached London she was reasonably sure that Donald would make an attempt to see Julia Brown again. This pleased her. The hard feelings between their fathers would have to be dealt with later. Enough for the present!
Two nights before she was to leave for Paris she had her first visit from Bart Woods following his fairly long period of convalescence. She was worried by his loss or weight and the increased toll his arthritis was taking. He walked with a cane now and said it was for protection against another attack, but she was sure it was because he couldn’t manage without it.
He seemed in a badly depressed mood. He complained of unrest in the shipyard over lack of work, Donald’s arguing with him about turning to steel construction, and Vera’s near madness in pursuing her new fad of spiritualism.
She tried to comfort him and told him, “I think Anne has continued seeing that young count in France. And now Donald is showing interest in the daughter of a friend of mine.” She was careful not to name Davy.
Bart assumed it was some woman friend, and she did not bother to correct him. He said, “Then that is all to the good. Let us pray that something comes of both romances. Vera had long threatened to inform Donald that your Anne is his half-sister.”
This upset Becky. “She wouldn’t!”
“She is capable of it. But if she has no excuse, she’ll likely keep silent on the matter.”
“No matter what,” Becky said, “I wouldn’t hurt them that way. We could find some other means of separating them.”
“I would hope so,” he said with a sigh. “We now have another problem on the horizon.”
“Another?” she gasped. “I would say we had enough!”
“You will remember that Vera had a brother, James,” Bart said grimly.
“Yes. He went to America.”
“He is still there, but he threatens to return.”
“Oh?”
“Years ago, Vera’s father paid for his shares of the business. Now he is threatening to come back to sue for his rights. By the terms of the will, he doesn’t have any!”
“James was always a wastrel,” she agreed. “That could well spell trouble.”
“I think it will,” Bart said bleakly. “He has written hinting that I seized control of the company unfairly. That Mark Gregg was ill and could not have signed any agreement, and that he couldn’t have fathered Anne.”
She gasped. “He is already blackmailing you by letter.”
“Yes. I have refused him everything. Now he says he is returning to England and hiring a lawyer to represent him and press a suit against the company.”
“Oh no!”
“If he resorts to the courts, it could be a dirty case,” Bart said unhappily. “He would smear me as a possible forger, bring out that we were lovers, and reveal that Anne is our love child!”
“That must not happen!”
“I shall do all in my power to stop it from happening,” he promised.
“You must,” she begged him. “It could be our ruin. You did forge Mark’s name, though your saved his fortune in doing so.
He frowned. “I had little choice, or the yard would have gone then.”
She shrugged. “And Anne is our love child. Surely for the honor of the family James will not stir up such a mess.”
“I understand he has run through with his inheritance and now is looking for another one. Perhaps his threat is idle. He may never return. But should he come back, I wanted you to be prepared.”
She sighed. “It seems the past is to go on haunting us.”
“Haunting me!” he said. “I thought I had escaped it. No more! I know now that I was often violent and wrong in those distant days. Now I pay.”
Tactfully she asked, “Have they ever been able to track down your attacker?”
He gave her a suspicious look. Then he said, “No. I don’t expect they will.”
“Don’t you want them to?”
“Donald made a great fuss about it!”
“He is worried for you.”
Bart said, “I think it should be dropped.”
“I see,” she said quietly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
The weary Bart shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you in my arms!”
Two days later she left for Paris. Anne received her with delight. And in a short time she was whisked off into a wild round of socializing. There seemed to be parties for her on every side, and Anne appeared to have made friends with most of the charming people of the great city.
Becky had always considered Paris more lively than London. She loved its food, its exciting theatre and dance, and the air of romance which the great city of France always held for her. What more suitable place for her daughter to fall in love?
Count André Lemont became a successful architect. He had designed a number of fine buildings, and he was also the heir to a title and vast wealth. His widowed mother, Countess Maria, was frail but highly intelligent. She favored the match between Anne and her son.
Becky sat with her daughter in the small apartment she had rented within sight of the Eiffel Tower and listened over the breakfast table as her daughter told her all these things.
Becky sipped her tea and asked, “Then all is right here!”
“No!” Anne shook her head. “It’s all wrong! I have no right to be in love with André. Donald trusts me! You should read his letters!”
“Donald may be in the process of finding someone else whom he cares for,” she said carefully.
Anne’s eyes widened. “You think so?”
“It’s possible,” she told her daughter. I can’t say definitely. But I have to believe he is paying court to a girl from Australia. But he is held back in giving her his full attention because he feels he must be loyal to you.”
“You think he might fall in love with this other girl if I weren’t available. If we hadn’t our agreement?”
Becky said, “I don’t know what agreement you have. But it must be a foolish and easily-put-aside one. Your happiness and his are what is most important. You shouldn’t feel locked in by past promises.”
“Donald has always been like a brother to me,” Anne said tautly. “I can’t hurt him!”
“Let him remain a friend and sort of brother.”
“He wouldn’t,” Anne said unhappily. “If I turn him down, for André, he’ll hate me.”
“He might be upset for a little, but he’d get over it before too much time passed.”
Anne stared down at her empty teacup. “Susan would give everything to win Andre’.”
“But he loves you.”
“Yes.”
“And you care for him?”
Anne looked at her mother. “Yes. He is exciting.
And life here is so different and thrilling. I have never been happier in all my life!”
Becky said gravely, “And you have not seen Donald since you came here.”
“No.”
“And his letters have only worried you.”
“Yes. But that is my own selfish fault. I want to desert him, and he resents it.”
Becky said, “I think there is some selfishness on his part also. He will not accept that it is possible you have fallen in love with another man!”
Anne considered this. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Her daughter came around the table and threw her arms around her as she sobbed, “Oh, mother, what shall I do?”
“Follow your heart.”
“I love André in a way I’ve never loved anyone before.”
“Then marry him.”
Anne sighed and let go of her and stood touching a hankie to her eyes. “No. I can’t do that. Not until I return to England and talk to Donald.”
At once Becky knew the old fear. She said,” I say that is the worst thing you can do.”
“Why?”
“Donald will try to urge you into marrying him and putting André out of your life.”
Anne said, “He can’t force me to unless I agree.”
“He’ll work on your sympathy, and you will agree. You’ll be married, and in a short time you’ll feel restless and frustrated. You’ll never forget André, and you’ll come to hate your marriage.”
“Hate Donald? Never.”
“You think not now,” her mother said. “But I’m older than you, and I’ve seen such things happen.”
“I will have to risk it,” her daughter said. “André has promised to wait until I can go to England and work this out. If I am meant to marry him, I’m sure I shall return.”
Her daughter’s decision worried Becky, not only for the obvious reason that Donald and Anne could never marry, but also because Count André Lemont was such a fine prospect for a son-in-law.
At a garden party held at his mother’s house the next day, she and the young Frenchman stood together by a lovely fountain. Fragrance of the flowers in the surrounding gardens filled the air.
André was copper-haired with rather thick, sensual lips and an even-featured pleasant face. His eyes were brown and alert. And he had a wry, ready smile which he was quick to use.
He smiled now as he told Becky, “I have to be worried.”
“You do?” she said, pretending not to understand him.
The Count said, “Yes. Anne is determined to return to London and discuss her plans with that young man she grew up with.”
“Oh, that!”
“I do not like it.”
“Nor do I,” she smiled. “From all she has told me she is clearly in love with you. And you have asked her to marry you. She should accept.”
“Thank you, madame,” the Count said. “My mother is of the same opinion. But Anne will not decide.”
“I have talked to her.”
“So have I. Endlessly,” he said. “It has been of no use. I love your daughter. But I do not always understand her.”
“I must admit to the same thing,” Becky smiled. “Her father’s character was a strong one. She seems to have inherited it.”
“What shall I do?” André asked in despair.
“Be patient.”
“I have been.”
“When she returns to England, you come with her. Then you will at least be able to hold your own in this contest for her.”
The Count brightened. “I had not thought of that.”
“But if she protests?”
“Come anyway,” Becky said. “I will entertain you.”
“Excellent,” the young man said with one of his quick smiles. “You are a most understanding mother!”
“I’m concerned for my daughter’s happiness,” she said quietly.
And she was. A few days later she returned to London. Anne would complete her Paris studies within the month, and then planned to come back to talk with Donald. No matter what Becky said, she could not make Anne change her plans. So that was how things now stood.
Becky was exhausted by the time she reached her house in London. She found several messages waiting for her there, including one from Bart Woods which said, “James Kerr back in London! Watch out!”
She’d barely had a warm tub and changed to a suitable robe for the house when her housekeeper informed her she had a visitor. Thinking it must be Donald or even Bart, she went downstairs to find someone else, someone whom she thought to be a stranger for a moment. Then she recognized him and gasped, “James Kerr!”
“The same,” he said, with a courtly bow from the hips. His hair was white, and his face was bloated. His eyes, which had once held a merry expression, could now only be called shifty. He was dressed elaborately in a pale blue coat and black and white checkered pants. A glowing diamond stickpin decorated his purple cravat. He looked prematurely old and unhealthy.
She said, “You’ve returned to England.”
James Kerr laughed mockingly. “Surely that is obvious. I would expect something better than that from a smart girl like you, Becky.”
Upset, she said, “I’m sorry. You did surprise me.”
“I’m rather strong on surprise,” the prodigal said. “I will now make a prediction. You are going to offer me a strong whiskey, or better still a glass and bottle so I can help myself, and an easy chair in which to rest my poor body.”
She said, “I’m also weary. I’ve just returned from Paris.”
“I know,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. And she went for the whiskey, wondering who might have told him.
He took the glass and bottle from her when she returned. Seating himself with feet sprawled out he bade her to sit in the chair across from him. “Sit down where I can see you,” he said.
“I had planned on retiring early,” she said as she sat down.
“I won’t keep you long.”
“I’ll be grateful if you don’t.”
He poured a drink and downed half of it. “You don’t seem happy to see me.”
“We were not all that close.”
“More your fault than mine,” he rebuked her. “I was very much taken with you at one time. But you were out to marry Mark Gregg and you did.”
“That’s all over with,” she protested.
“Not as I see it,” he replied. And he finished off the whiskey in the glass and poured himself another. Then he asked, “Where was I?”
“You mentioned that I married Mark.”
He laughed. “So I did. Quite a match for a barmaid whose sister became a prostitute and who might have been one herself!”
She jumped up, enraged. “How dare you say that?”
“I have a certain lady friend,” he mocked her. “Somewhat the worse for wear I will admit. But in her sober moments she recalls a Becky and Peg Lee. And she can tell a few stories of Peg working side by side with her in Alfie Bard’s stable of girls!”
“Get out of here!” she demanded.
“Not yet,” he said, calmly finishing his drink. “I can prove what I’ve said. And I also know that Mark Gregg was duped by you and Bart Woods after his stroke. Mark was not able to sign any documents, and he certainly could not have fathered your girl!”
“You can prove none of that!”
“I don’t need to,” he sneered. “I have only to say it abroad and in court. I was wrongly robbed of my share of the shipyard, and I mean to get it back!”
“You were paid off by your father!”
“And cheated—though I mean to get mine!” He coughed and all at once bent his head as if in pain. Then he reached into his inner coat pocket and yelled at her, “Fetch me some water!”
Terrified at his sudden attack, she hurriedly fetched a glass and a pitcher of water. She filled the glass and put it on the table by his chair. He brought out a bottle with white pellets in it. He took out one and put it on his tongue. Then he drank some water and sat back in the chair staring until the attack passed.
She watched him closely and after a little the glazed look of pain left his eyes. His face, which had gone paper white now became reddish again. He seemed to breathe easier. He picked up the bottle of white pellets and replaced them in his pocket.
He smiled and said, “Wonder pellets! Supplied to me by a doctor friend in New York. I brought a supply here with me. I must have them constantly at my side, or my life is in danger.”
She was standing. “You are better now?”
“Yes,” he said. He looked up at her. “You hate me, don’t you?”
“What do you expect after the things you’ve said?”
“All of them are true.”
“You twist everything to suit yourself.”
“I’m willing to argue that in court,” James said. “I’m going to plead that Bart and you, being lovers and ambitious, persuaded my senile father I was worthless and had him pay me off with a paltry sum!”
She said, “I have heard a different story. I heard that you were well paid.”
“From Bart Woods?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, I’m back,” James Kerr told her. “And if Bart does not come up with a goodly sum, all that I’ve told you will be public knowledge.”
“Why do you wish to ruin us?”
He smiled coldly and rose. “I have no such wish. I’m only interested in my rightful inheritance. If you wish to bring ruin on yourselves by denying me, then I cannot do anything to stop it.”
“Unless you get your way, you will do all this,” she said. “And Bart cannot give you a lot of money, even if he wished. The business is in bad shape.”
“I would say that is his concern and yours, not mine,” the dandy said. “I’m living at the house at the request of my sister, Vera, though I must admit I’ve been coolly treated by both Bart and his son. How like his father he is !” James gave her a leer. “I should like to meet your daughter.”
“You will please me best by leaving and never returning,” she said coldly.
He picked up his hat and fashionable walking-stick. “Have no fear,” he said. “You are bound to hear from me again.” And he left her.
She was in a state. She paced up and down without any thought of rest. And she was actually glad when the doorbell later sounded. She opened the door and a tense Donald entered.
Donald said, “I just learned you had returned. Dear Uncle James kindly told me!”
“That creature!” she exclaimed.
“I know!”
“Despicable,” she said. “He was never a nice person, and now he’s thoroughly rotten!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Donald said. “And as soon as Father heard he’d been here he asked me to come over. Father was worried about you.”
“I’m all right,” she said. “He did upset me. That’s all.”
Donald frowned. “What are all these threats about? Father won’t tell me. And James only goes on about revealing certain family secrets if he’s not properly treated. What is he talking about?”
“There’s a great deal of bluff to it,” she said, slumping down into a chair by the fireplace.
“My mother looks terrified, and she has even had several sessions with father in his study. They usually never talk over anything, but he has driven them to consulting each other. Mother seems to believe her brother can cause trouble.”
Becky sighed. “He can slander us all and cause a nasty scandal. He claims he was cheated out of his share of the firm.”
“Father says there are papers he signed to accept that he was being paid off. My grandfather showed them to him—they are in the safe at the office. So he doesn’t have a true claim that it’s a case of blackmail!”
“Without doubt!”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” she said wearily. “He is a sick man. He had a bad attack of some sort while he was here.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. I was terrified. He took some pellet and seemed better.”
“His wonder drug,” Donald said sarcastically. “It’s his heart. He’s had several attacks at the house since his return. But he keeps the tablets by him always, and as soon as he takes one he improves.”
“I saw that,” she said. “I wonder that a man clearly so near death would wish to do so many people harm!”
“He’s vicious,” Donald said. “I’ve had a bad time since you left—trying to keep the merger plan from my father, having to deal with this unpleasant Uncle James, and worrying about Anne ! She only writes me every ten days or so, only a short note with little in it. What is she doing?
“She’s finishing her studies and enjoying the city,” Becky said.
“She’s not being fair!”
“I understand she is coming back to London soon to talk with you. She’s not making any plans until she does.”
He sighed. “At least I’ve been able to get that much sense in her. When she returns, she’ll see this other romance is wrong and marry me.”
“That’s what you want?”
“It is what is right for both of us.”
“I wonder,” she said.
“How can you have any doubts?” he protested.
“I thought you and Julia Brown made a nice couple,” she told him.” What about Julia?”
“She’s all right.”
“Have you seen her?”
“You told me to see her!”
She smiled. “Don’t be so aggressive. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m simply interested. Her father is a dear friend; perhaps he will be our business associate. I’d like to know how you and his daughter have made out.”
Donald paced up and down. “She’s a fine girl. You know I think that. I’ve seen her several times. In fact, I’ll be taking her to dinner and the theatre tomorrow night.”
“Ah!” she said. “That sounds as if you’ve been truly kind to her.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t completely altruistic on my part. She’s jolly good company. I never tire of being with her.”
“I can imagine she’s delightful.”
“She is!” He said almost enthusiastically. Then he looked at her strangely. “Why should you be lauding her so?”
“I’m only saying what I think to be true.”
“You’re Anne’s mother. You should be anxious for me to marry her!”
Becky said, “Only if I’m sure you are better suited for each other than to anyone else. And I’m not that sure!”
He shook his head. “I think you had me meet Julia just to confuse me!”
“You had to meet her if you’re going to be a business partner of her father’s.” She paused and said knowingly. “And if you are confused, it means you must care more than you’d like to admit!”
“I’m going!” Donald said. “I’ll tell father you are all right.”