Peacock's Walk (2 page)

Her lovely eyes lingered on the brown velvet curtaining of her office window as she went back to that time. A time when she did not own Peacock's Walk, but had been secretary to the owner, Michael Peacock. Her father had been manager of the hotel, then, and had occupied a small suite on the ground floor, and Jenny had been brought up to regard the hotel as her home, as indeed it was, and since she had been motherless from the age of five, the hotel staff had rallied round to take turns in watching over her. There had never been a time when Jenny had no one to turn to, she could lay claim to at least four 'mothers' and any number of sympathetic 'uncles'. She could have been exceedingly spoilt, but such was her nature that she never took anything for granted, and never failed to show her appreciation for the little pleasures thought up for her enjoyment.

Her eyes left the curtains and
centered
on the large oak chair the other side of the room. That had been Malcolm's chair, and she closed her eyes for a moment or so while the memories washed over her. Malcolm had been ten years older than her, and the only son of the proprietor, and like Jenny, had also been brought up at Peacock's Walk. Although most

of his life had been spent at an exclusive boarding school, he did come home for holidays, and despite the age gap, he and Jenny had been very close. To Jenny, he was the big brother she had never had, and it wasn't until his death in a car crash two years ago that she found out just what she was to him.

None of this had she been able to convey to a furious Mark, who had accused her of duplicity when she and Malcolm had missed the last train back after a business trip up North, and had been forced to put up at an hotel in Aberdeen for one night.

There had been so much that Jenny had not been able to understand at that time, but pieces of the puzzle had gradually filled in during the months that followed the ending of her engagement to Mark.

The letter that
Malcolm
had left her, for one thing, had shown her a very different aspect of the past, and one that had never before occurred to her. She did know that Malcolm was against her engagement to Mark, and did all in his power to break off their association. It was through Malcolm that Jenny had met Mark, for the two men were, or had been, close friends, for Mark had attended the same university as Malcolm, and it was natural that they should become friends. They had the same interests and the same backgrounds, and would eventually take over the running of their respective parents' businesses.

When Malcolm had returned from a business trip abroad to find Mark firmly ensconced as Jenny's con-

stant companion, he had been furious at what he had called Mark's 'undercover activities' and set about educating Jenny on the facts of life. A slightly amused Jenny had listened to him, demurring only when he had said that Mark would eventually hurt her badly. He had known Chanter for a very long time, he had told her; he used women as playthings, and was never serious. He went on to tell her that he did not intend to stand by and watch her get hurt as other women had been hurt.

At this point Jenny moved restlessly, and tried to turn her thoughts to other matters, but they persisted. If only she had known then that Malcolm loved her, and that it had been sheer jealousy that had made him act as he had. She recalled her feelings when she read the letter he had left for her, the letter that had been given to Tony for safe keeping, to be given to her if anything happened to him.

'—if
you ever read this letter I sha
ll have met with some unforeseen fate. There is so much I want to tell you, my darling. So much you never saw—such as how much I loved you. There was never anyone else but you, for me. That you are reading this letter means that I have lost you—perhaps Mark does deserve you, but I do not regret acting as I did, and if given the same opportunity I would not hesitate to do all in my power to wrest you from him. I always looked upon you as mine, and the thought of someone else possessing you was not to be borne. I would rather it this way than to stand by and see you marry another.

`Forgive me, my darling, for the lies I told Chanter about our association, hoping to make him throw you over, but I didn't succeed, did I? I can only wish you happiness, my love, and remember I did what I did because I loved you.'

Jenny's gaze went to Malcolm's chair again, and she said softly,
B
ut you did succeed, Malcolm. Your will saw to that.' Her eyes went to her hands. She couldn't blame Malcolm for wanting to provide for her if he wasn't there to watch over her, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back where Mark was concerned. His furious reaction and his harsh words still remained etched in her mind. 'So much for your "good friends" act,' he had sneered when it was learnt that Malcolm had left her Peacock's Walk. 'It's the done thing to provide for your mistress, isn't it?' he had taunted her savagely. `Well, I hope it was worth it, because we're through!'

That had been two years ago, and the last time she had seen Mark. She had tried to send him his ring back, but he had returned it with a terse message that she was to keep it as a memento of the good times they had had. This had hurt Jenny much more than any of his previous accusations, and he must have known it would, for he was telling her that if she had hoped her action in returning the ring would bring him back to her, then it had failed.

A bewildered Jenny had had no such thought in mind. The sudden turn of events had left her completely numb. To be so sought after, and courted at

the speed of a cyclone, for such had been Mark's courtship of her, only to find herself thrown aside as a shop-soiled article, had left her badly shaken.

Recalling Tony's worry that she was still vulnerable to Mark, Jenny gave a small bitter smile. Tony knew of the letter
Malcolm
had left her, but did not know of its contents, and that had Jenny wished to get Mark back she only need show him that letter. But she hadn't, and when she had recovered from the blow of Malcolm's death, followed so closely by Mark's abrupt removal from the scene, she had wondered why, and had eventually come to the conclusion that she had not been as much in love with Mark as she had thought she was.

There had been plenty of time since then to mull over the past, and one fact had stood out starkly. Mark had given her no choice but to accept his courtship. He was a very determined man, and she was now of the opinion that it had been like being in the middle of a cyclone—you couldn't withstand it, but had to go along with it. She could see how it had happened, for Mark was not only good-looking, but possessed a dynamic personality, one that swept you along with him, whether you wanted to go or not. He was also very experienced, and Jenny had been no match for him—not that she had viewed his interest in her as such at the time. She had to admit to feeling extremely flattered that such a man should set his sights on her and want to marry her, and if it hadn't been for Malcolm, he would have married her.

Jenny got up quickly and walked over to the win-

dow in an effort to shake these thoughts off. If Mark was in the hotel, then he was there for a purpose, and Tony's suspicions that he had come to make an offer for the hotel would be a certainty, for Jenny could see no other reason for the visit. Going over the past was not going to help her to remain subjective and see things from a business point of view—the very thing she had accused Tony of not so long ago, she told herself crossly—although she had more reason than he had for adopting this attitude. It wasn't easy to forget that Mark had accused her of being Malcolm's mistress, even though events had since proved to her that Malcolm must have hinted at such an association, for he was as determined to end their engagement as Mark had been to bring it about.

The ringing of the telephone on her desk cut short these memories from the past, and the dulcet tones of Rose came over the wire asking if Miss Grange could see Mr Chanter.

Taking a deep breath, Jenny thought that he hadn't wasted much time; he hadn't altered in that respect either. 'Very well,' she answered smoothly, adding quickly, 'Oh, Rose, would you please hold back coffee until I ring for it?' she requested, afraid that her visitor might feel that she was presuming on their past acquaintance if she offered him refreshment.

A few seconds later there was a perfunctory knock on her office door, and Mark strode in.

Jenny did not move from her position, but gave him a small smile purely for the sake of politeness,

which was not returned, she noticed, and as he walked towards her she watched him curiously, telling herself that this was the man she very nearly married, but found the fact hard to accept. He was still extremely good-looking; dark and lithe of movement. His blue-grey eyes that had once laughed into hers were now devoid of emotion, and as his glance flickered over her she wondered if he was thinking the same as she was. If so, there was no outward sign of such thoughts on his hard features. With a kind of surprised relief Jenny acknowledged that they were now strangers, and that being the case, the discussion she presumed they were about to have should present no difficulty to either of them.

After seating himself in Malcolm's chair, he came straight to the point with an abrupt, 'It's
rumored
that you're in financial difficulties. Is that correct?' he demanded without preamble.

Jenny stiffened at the bald question; he had made it sound more like an accusation than a question. His autocratic acquisition of Malcolm's chair had not helped her to retain her cool approach to the situation. He knew very well that it was Malcolm's chair, and could have chosen another, the one in front of her desk, for instance, but that would have looked as if she was interviewing him, and on no account would he allow such a state of affairs to exist, she thought scathingly. It also occurred to her that Tony had been right again in assuming that someone on the staff must have given him this information. Lifting her chin a fraction higher, she

replied haughtily, 'It's not quite as bad as that, Mr Chanter.'

Her use of his surname seemed to infuriate him, and his eyes blazed back into hers before he answered furiously, 'Don't come the grand lady with me, Jenny Grange. I've a long memory where you're concerned. You're damn lucky to be sitting where you are, and don't forget that. Not every secretary ends up owning th
e establishment she worked for !
'

Jenny flushed and looked away from him and down at the desk in front of her. So much for her thinking it was going to
be easy !
They were back to the past with a vengeance, and he was once again speaking to her as if she were a cheap go-getter. For a second or so she debated whether to ring the bell for Thomas, the hall porter, and have him escort him out of the hotel, not that she could envisage such a happening actually taking place, but the thought gave her a pleasant feeling. It was too ridiculous for words, she told herself, and made an attempt to bring the conversation to a less personal nature. 'I'm sure you had a reason for asking to see me,' she managed to say calmly. 'I think the past's best left out of it, don't you?' she added briskly.

He gave a curt nod to this gentle but firm reply to his deliberately goading remarks. 'And I'm sure you're aware of the reason. I wish to purchase Peacock's Walk,' he said harshly. 'Name your price; I won't quibble over it.'

Jenny gave a small bitter smile at this. He could afford not to 'quibble' as he had put it. She looked up from the desk and met his gaze squarely before

she replied slowly, 'If I sell, it will only be under certain conditions.' She saw him start and stare at her, and wondered what he was thinking. That she would demand to stay, perhaps? This was her home when all was said and done, but she had no such thought in mind. The staff would have to be kept on,' she went on firmly, adding quickly, 'I intend to make my own arrangements, of course.'

She did not miss his quick speculative look at her as she said this, and she waited for his answer, thinking that she might be able to persuade Tony to stay on. He could hold a watching brief over the interests of the staff under the new regime.

Mark Chanter's eyes left hers and centred on the register on the desk, and the look said more than words to Jenny. It plainly said that he didn't think the staff quite measured up to his standards. To his way of thinking, the fall-off of guests bore mute witness to this.

Jenny could see his point, but felt it was unfair criticism. It was not the staff's fault that past patrons of Peacock's Walk had been enticed away by the plushier Chanter Enterprise, or that the money Malcolm had hoped would be forthcoming for the slight
modernizations
he had in mind would not be available. The sudden collapse of the travel agency he had started in Rome, a few months before his death, had taken all available funds, and there were still debts owing. Debts that had to be paid out of the hotel's profits, such as they were.

'I'm afraid I can't agree to that,' he replied haughtily. 'There may be a few I would wish to re-

tain,' he conceded grudgingly. 'But to take them en bloc is out of the question.'

Jenny's lips firmed at this; he would take the younger staff was what he meant. The older ones had been with the hotel for most of their working lives, and were hardly likely to find other positions, and it was for this reason that she had made the stipulation. Not that these sentiments would mean anything to Mark Chanter, she thought bitterly. Sentimentality didn't enter into his world—as if he hadn't enough money. It wouldn't hurt him to keep the older staff on. They might not work at breakneck speed, but at least you could be sure that whatever work they were given would be carried out with meticulous care. She thought of Tony. 'Tony?' she asked quietly.