Unknown (7 page)

They reached Denham House as the sun was setting, and it had never seemed more beautiful. The gently-flowing Yair almost surrounded it, winding in a vast loop through the quiet parkland, and all the trees were in new bud. The hills in the west, from Dun Rig to White Coomb and Ettrick Penn, were stained with the glory of departing day, silhouetted boldly against the azure sky, with a fret of little clouds resting on their summits, and the golden reflection lay on the face of Denham and in the water at its feet.

Susan’s throat was suddenly tight with emotion.

“We can’t let this go,” she said involuntarily as she helped her stepmother from the car.

“We won’t have to if we accept the Elliotts’ terms,” Evelyn pointed out.

The door was flung open and Nellie stood on the threshold.

“In you go,” Susan urged. “I’ll bring your luggage.”

She lingered as long as she could over the simple task of putting the car away and collecting Evelyn’s belongings from the front doorstep. So many times she had come back to Denham like this—from school in the long vacations; from holidays abroad with her father; from nearby dances and point-to-points, and Denham had always been the same, waiting and welcoming. She couldn’t bear to think about leaving it all behind her. Not just yet.

Evelyn went from room to room, touching this and that, remembering, too. She seemed to have forgotten their conversation on the way from Edinburgh, or had managed to dismiss it from her mind for the time being while she relived the happier past, and Susan had no immediate desire to renew it.

Almost before they had finished the simple meal Nellie had prepared for them, the telephone began to ring and Evelyn was once more in universal demand. People had heard of her return and were eager to drop in to welcome her home. Denham House had come to life again.

FOR the best part of two weeks Evelyn held court in the sunny drawing-room or out on the terrace when the weather was warm enough. A seemingly endless procession of friends and acquaintances flocked over the stone bridge and up the winding drive to tell her how happy they were about the stupendous news. There really might be another Adam Denham, after all!

Evelyn took everything in her stride, happily contented to be home, it seemed, and not worrying too much about the future. But the future was first and foremost in Susan’s mind. She went to the mill each day, since there were no private showings to be arranged at the house, and while she was busily employed she was almost able to forget about the doom which hung darkly over them.

Everything seemed the same. No further communication was forthcoming from Elliott’s, apparently, and she wondered, half hopefully, if they had changed their minds.

The image of Maxwell Elliott as a ruthless business man began to fade. He hadn’t even considered it worth his while to accept Evelyn’s pressing invitation to come to Denham House, so perhaps he was having second thoughts about the take-over bid. The odd thing was that she didn’t see him around, even on her travels. She might have expected to see him riding across the moor or in Hawick again, with the girl in the blue tweeds.

And what of Hope’s Star? When she thought about the mare she worried about it not being exercised enough, although she was forced to acknowledge that it was now no affair of hers. Hope’s Star had gone to the Carse, possibly to be given to the girl who had been Maxwell Elliott’s companion and was probably his fiancée or even his wife.

They knew so little about him, really, and she shrank from asking Evelyn if there was any further news from London.

When the letter came from the firm of solicitors in Edinburgh it was addressed to her stepmother, and Susan stood by while Evelyn opened it. They were in her father’s study, which was still the business room, and her stepmother sighed as she tossed the typewritten communication across the desk.

“It had to come one of these days, I suppose,” she said. “It’s all there, Sue, if you care to look at it before you go down to the mill.”

Susan, who had never taken any part in the administration side of Denham’s, read the letter with a growing sense of confusion. She ran through it twice before she looked up.

“I suppose it’s clear enough,” she said, “and you do mean to sell out to Elliott’s.”

Evelyn flushed, but she could be determined as well as kind.

“It isn’t a ‘sell-out’, as you put it, Sue. We’ll have adequate shares in the new company with our holdings in Denham’s. Surely you understand that?” she said.

Susan nodded, quite unable to reply for a moment.

“What I can’t understand is the bit about the house,” she said, at last. “They can’t possibly want this, too.”

Evelyn got up to stand beside one of the long windows overlooking the river.

“The fact that you’ve been working and showing here had something to do with it,” she explained. “They felt that the business should be kept intact, every facet of it, and you must admit that we were doing rather well, showing to the trade out here. The atmosphere of a Scottish country house added something, Sue. Make no mistake about that. It was one idea that paid off in a big way.
Your
idea.”

“Don’t try to placate me,” Susan interrupted harshly. “This is our home. I’ve loved it all my life, but perhaps you can’t understand such a stupid sentiment—”

“Sue, I can, only too well.” Evelyn came to put a gentle hand on her arm. “But the truth is that we can’t afford to keep Denham. Not as a private house, anyway. Its upkeep is enormous, and it’s far too big for our needs, without a man about the place, I suppose I mean.” A swift stab of jealousy pierced through Susan. What did Evelyn mean? Was she already planning to marry again, even quite soon after the baby was born?

“Perhaps you don’t think you owe anything to Denham,” she challenged.

“Sue, you’re so wrong!” Small, intense, lovely, Evelyn stood with her hands clasped before her in an attitude of entreaty which she could not fail to recognise. “I love this house, but what can we do about it? The money we get for the mill will all be invested in the new venture. It will be a simple transfer of shares. We have very little hard cash. Isn’t it far better that Denham House should go with the mill than pass out of our orbit altogether?” Susan stared at her incredulously.

“You don’t mind about someone else being here—utter strangers?” she asked.

“Not if they can keep Denham as it should be kept,” said Adam’s wife, “and I have their promise that the baby can be born here.”

“When?” Susan demanded in utter surprise.

“I’ve seen Maxwell Elliott out and about. In fact,” Evelyn confessed, “I’ve been to the Carse.”

Oh, treacherous Evelyn! Susan felt her throat contract, as if all the breath had been squeezed out of her.

“I didn’t know,” she managed, at last. “You should have told me.”

Anger had died in her, giving way to despair. This was it. The end of argument and pleading had come, and Evelyn meant to agree to the take-over. The contract was almost sealed, signed and delivered.

“You know I can’t object,” she said. “Not when you want this thing so much. You seem to know these people now, better than I do.”

“I haven’t met the elder brother yet,” Evelyn confessed. “He’s coming over towards the end of the month and Max would like everything fixed up by then, if it’s at all possible.”

Max! Susan thought. It had gone as far as that.

“This older brother,” she asked, deliberately ignoring the reference to Maxwell Elliott. “He’s obviously putting up most of the money.”

“His fair share of it,” Evelyn agreed. “They’ve been in sheep for a long while in New Zealand, but he’s in the wool brokerage business now. Quite a man, from what I can gather. A real tycoon!”

She was happy with their bargain. Susan could see that, and now it only remained for them to sign away Denham House and the deal would be complete. She stumbled towards the door.

“He’s doing everything to the letter of the Law, isn’t he?” she observed. “Not coming near while the transfer goes through, but I bet he’ll be on the doorstep just as soon as we’ve signed on the dotted line. The take-over will be complete,” she added bitterly, “and Maxwell Elliott will be the man in possession.”

Before Evelyn could answer, she had gathered up her handbag and gloves and made for the door. She would be late getting to the mill and the thought irked her more than usual. Nellie was on the point of opening the front door.

“I won’t be back for lunch, Nell,” she told her as the door swung wide. “I haven’t time—”

The remainder of her sentence hung in mid-air because Maxwell Elliott was standing on the top step with a trug-load of flowers in his hands.

“I brought these across for your stepmother," he informed her. “I thought you would be at the mill.”

“You’ve caught me out in one of my weaker moments,” Susan said dryly. “I slept in.”

“It can happen to the best of us,” he reflected. “I won’t worry Mrs. Denham if she’s not out of bed yet,” he added. “It’s early to call, but I’m on my way to Edinburgh and I promised her some flowers last time she was at the Carse. The place is overgrown with them.”

Nellie had deserted her, Susan noticed. There was nothing to do but ask him in.

“Evelyn rises with the lark,” she assured him. “You’ll want to see her, I suppose. Please come in.”

She knew how frigid she sounded, but it appeared to be impossible to snub this man. He walked past her into the hall with the utmost assurance, looking about him unashamedly at the lovely interior of the house which he no doubt coveted now, more than ever. The front hall, with its apsidal ends and richly embellished ceiling, generally took the visitor to Denham’s breath away, but he looked beyond it through the half-open double doors to the inner hall.

“I believe you hold your shows in there,” he said. “Your stepmother told me it was unique for that purpose. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I took a brief look?”

Susan was forced to follow him, although she had already indicated how impatient she was to get away. The big, inner hall was her own particular delight, however. She had planned its colouring to complement the double sweep of stairs going up to the first floor and it had been much admired both by her customers and her friends. The walls were mushroom-coloured, the plaster-work picked out in shell pink and ivory and the closely-carpeted flights a deeper shade of cinnamon, while the woodwork remained starkly white. The wrought-iron banisters which carried the hand-rails were decorated in gold and bronze and the model girls came slowly down to parade across the hall before the buyers seated in the deep chairs removed from the drawing-room for the purpose.

It was a setting she loved, and many of her own designs had been thought up in keeping with it.

“This is certainly ideal,” Maxwell Elliott said without demur. “Fm quite sure you’ve got something here. It would be a pity to waste it,” he added as she turned abruptly away.

“If you’re suggesting that I might work for you, Mr. Elliott,” she said harshly, “you’re wasting your time. I shall leave Denham’s as soon as this merger goes through, if you mean it to go through.”

“That was the general idea,” he agreed, studying her closely. “You know, of course, that it’s all but settled? You have only to make up your mind about the house.”

She turned to face him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told him. “Evelyn has made your point for you. You’ll get Denham House, as well as the mill, in the end.”

“Not unless you agree.”

“What has that to do with it? It’s Evelyn’s home.”

“And yours.”

“She wants the baby to be born here. I couldn’t go against her wish in that respect—”

“We needn’t take over the house right away. Mergers take time to get into their stride, you know—even small ones.”

“But you will occupy the house, in the end,” she suggested.

He lit a cigarette, his thin hands shielding the flame so that it sprang to life reflected in his eyes.

“That’s what I want,” he said. “To keep things exactly as they are. Don’t tell me you’ve lost all interest in Denham’s so suddenly,’ he added, watching her closely. “I can’t see why you shouldn’t go on working here just as you’ve always done, and there’s no reason why we should remain at loggerheads over this. Certainly your stepmother doesn’t consider it too bitter a pill to swallow.”

“Evelyn has nothing to lose!”

Suddenly he moved, barring her exit to the outer hall.

“And you have?” he queried. “Perhaps you can tell me what it is, now that you’ve no doubt seen our final terms.”

She looked up at him, aware of his anger and the uncompromising line of his stem mouth as he waited for her reply.

“I’ve made up my mind to agree to your terms,” she told him without flinching, “but nothing you could ever say will make me feel happy about them.”

“I didn’t ask that.” His dark eyes held hers relentlessly. “I wondered what you had to lose, apart from your independence.”

“I would only forfeit my independence if I agreed to work for you, Mr. Elliott,” she told him stiffly, “and I don’t have to do that. If this deal goes through, I intend to find work elsewhere.”

“In opposition to Denham’s?”

“In opposition to Elliott’s, if you like!”

“You appear to have very little loyalty to Denham’s,” he told her ruthlessly. “Your designs have always been popular, I believe—best-sellers, in fact. Does that mean absolutely nothing to you?”

She hesitated, because he had struck at her most vulnerable spot.

“I think it does,” he said before she could answer him. “When this merger goes through we will need more new designs than ever. It’s going to be a challenge—a tremendous incentive for us all. Denham’s and Elliott’s will both have to pull their weight, and you’d be letting the side down to quit at the very beginning.”

So all he really wanted was for her to tide them over until he could replace her without it affecting the new company ‘in the beginning’! That was typical of the man, she supposed. Big Business at its most astute.

“We’ve had one spring showing,” she explained, “and my new designs for the autumn are almost complete. We work so far ahead in the
couture
world that I couldn’t possibly be inconveniencing you till next spring, at the very earliest. Long before then you would probably have replaced me, in any case. I can’t imagine us working amicably together for very long.”