by Pamela Pope
‘Slanderer!’ retaliated Max. ‘Will you let me have my say!’ He turned to Grandfather Cromer. ‘My greatest sin was leaving Ellie. I acknowledge it, but I will repeat until my last breath that I didn’t take her money, even though I knew that you, sir, were supposed to be as rich as Croesus and titled into the bargain. It was partly that which scared me. I’d never mixed with your sort of people.’
‘She found me in no better state than herself,’ the old man told him fiercely. ‘I was an alcoholic.’
Ellie had no intention of listening to excuses, and she indulged her anger to the full. ‘If it hadn’t been for Oliver, God knows what we would have done. I can’t find words to describe the agony you caused me, Max. Oliver stood by me through the worst time of my life. When the bailiffs came and turned Grandfather out of his home Oliver took on the burden of looking after all of us. His generosity was overwhelming.’
‘The man saved us,’ agreed Grandfather.
‘Yes, Max, Oliver supported us all with the money his mother had left him, while you were using my money to feather your own nest.’
‘What!’ Max spat the word out.
She rushed on. ‘What a brilliant plan! You never wanted to marry me. It must have been the biggest disappointment when my father refused to give me a cent or even acknowledge you as my husband.’
‘Ellie …’
She clasped her hands together so tightly the bones cracked. ‘What a clever way to get rid of me. You went back to America rich and free, while I had nothing.’ Accusing him was making her so distraught her voice shook, but once in full flow she couldn’t stop lashing him with bitter words.
‘Ellie, I DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MONEY.’ Max moved swiftly to clasp her arms, shaking her so that she would listen. ‘And Oliver’s mother lived in a cottage not far removed from a mud hut, so where do you think she would have got a fortune to leave him?’
‘He had inherited money.’
‘I gave it to him: it was your own money. I trusted him with it. He promised to give it to you and see you safely to London. I didn’t take it, Ellie, I swear on oath.’
She fell silent. The Ormolu clock on the mantelpiece chimed the half hour in its frivolous tinkling fashion while Ellie’s heart thudded. It dawned on her gradually that he could be speaking the truth, and she was thrown into confusion. They faced each other, two deceived people who had been living in shadows of misapprehension, and the wounds went deep. She shrugged free of his hands.
‘Are you really making out that the money Oliver’s been spending is really my own?’
‘It must have been: he had none.’ Max’s mouth was now set in a grim line and his anger had to be controlled. ‘Does he still live with you? Did he buy you this house?’
‘No, he doesn’t live with us!’ She was livid at the implication. ‘I pay rent to my Uncle Julian from what I earn at the Works. Oh yes, I’m a businesswoman now. I’ve had to be.’
‘If it’s true about the money, why didn’t Devlin make off with it instead of buying into the company?’ Sir Robert intervened.
It would take time for her to adjust to this totally new state of affairs, but what she saw straight away, appalled Ellie. ‘He bought shares in my uncle’s company with my money. Everything he owns rightfully belongs to me.’
‘Then it’s time to get it back,’ said Max. ‘Where does he live? I’m going to see him now.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Ellie said.
But Max refused to let her become involved. ‘Stay here,’ he commanded. ‘If there’s going to be trouble between Oliver and me, I don’t want you anywhere near.’
‘It concerns me — I’ve a right to know what’s said!’
‘No,’ said Grandfather Cromer with authority. ‘You’ll remain here with me. Let your husband sort this out.’
There was nothing she could say to change their minds. Her grandfather gave Max directions to Brunswick Place, and she watched helplessly, her thoughts in chaos, as he strode from the room. His arrival in England had opened up a new can of worms and she feared to look inside.
*
Max was in a towering rage. His steel-tipped heels clipped the pavement so sharply they threw out sparks as he hurried along. He would never have believed his brother-in-law could be so criminal, and as he made for Oliver’s home the questions he had to ask scorched his mind.
He had gone to Court Carriages earlier in the day expressly to ask for Ellie. It hadn’t occurred to him that Oliver might work there, and being Saturday the office staff had consisted of juniors with little knowledge of the family connections. Julian Cromer, whom he knew to be Ellie’s uncle, had not been at the Works during the Diamond Jubilee week, and only through persistence had Max managed to obtain Ellie’s home address. He’d been surprised that her house was not more opulent. Discovery of the reason why had shocked him to the core.
This visit to England was officially to interest London buyers in his furniture, which was beginning to make a name for him. In Albany he owned a store called simply ‘Berman’s’, and he was in the process of opening a much larger one in New York. The popularity of his furniture was exceeding all expectations and he had been persuaded to make contacts in England before he was really ready to take on any foreign commitments. Unofficially, and far more importantly, he had come to see Ellie.
In the last two months, since the death of his father, he had made a decision. The time had come to try to right the wrong he had done, and though he knew he didn’t even deserve a hearing, he was taking the first step towards putting his family together again. Laban had managed to locate him in time to be at his father’s bedside with his mother and brother until Poppa had drawn his last laboured breath, and he had deeply regretted the years of separation. Families belonged together.
The storm had left huge puddles, and a fast-driven gig sent a shower of spray over him. It did nothing to cool Max’s temper though, which was directed as much against himself as Oliver. It was his own fault that Oliver had betrayed him and duped Ellie.
He had always cared a lot for his brother-in-law. Oliver’s devotion to Katrina had been an inspiration, and his departure after her death understandable. Everyone had presumed the trip would be short and he would return to his child, but Oliver had stayed away. He had turned his back on Galina.
The child was beautiful. Her frizzy red-gold hair brushed out round her head like a halo of light, and her piquant face was as cherubic as a Michelangelo painting. But she was also a boisterous child, filled with boundless energy. Poppa had doted on her, even wanting her near at the last when noise had caused him pain, and it had been a struggle for Momma to cope. Neighbours had been kind, but Galina didn’t mix well with other children. Momma, frail with grief and the trauma of nursing her sick husband, had nevertheless said she wouldn’t let her grand-daughter be cared for by strangers.
‘Elizabeth’s not fit to take on another child. I wonder she survived the birth of the last one,’ she’d said, referring to Laban’s sickly wife. Then with an edge to her voice: ‘You must be responsible for Galina, Max, now that Poppa’s gone. Though you’re worse than Oliver, deserting your wife and son.’ Enough had already been said on the subject to fill a book.
‘I accept the responsibility,’ Max had said.
Heavy clouds hung over Southampton and seemed to press down on his head. He was about to do battle with Oliver Devlin, who would doubtless remind him of his own guilt. Both had seized an opportunity for their own selfish ends, but which of them had committed the greater wrong? Oliver had robbed Ellie of her dowry, but he had used it to care for her. Max had left her to fend for herself.
He had come to England with only the newspaper report of the Ezbanian train to lead him to Ellie. Momma’s correspondence with Oliver was always care of a London bank which would not disclose a forwarding address.
Not for one minute had he suspected that Oliver would still be with Ellie. His wife and brother-in-law had not been well-acquaint
ed. No, Max was convinced that Oliver’s native Ireland had drawn him back. Now it seemed he had appropriated her money and stayed on in her company. The discovery was like salt to a wound, and jealousy was added to the emotions bedevilling Max as he strode along.
He found the house and pressed his thumb on the bell without releasing it. An unruffled butler came to the door.
‘Mr Devlin said he would be working late this evening, sir,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what time he’ll be back.’
The matter was too urgent to be left. Max hailed a hansom which was drawing away from an adjacent house, and asked to be taken to Court Carriages. Sitting impatiently on the edge of the seat he was unable to forget the new Ellie he had seen.
He had prepared himself for the meeting with her. He’d known it would be an ordeal for both of them, but he’d certainly not anticipated this outcome. The change in her had taken him aback. She had acquired a wonderful grace. Her tall, slender body was as supple as a willow, her face more beautiful than he remembered, and sculpted with planes of maturity which enhanced the air of breeding. He had looked at her in the first few minutes, and a powerful longing had replaced the anxiety preceding the meeting. His reaction was so strong it had almost thrown him off-balance. And then she had attacked him in an ice-cold temper such as he had never seen before.
Now he knew the full extent of his folly in leaving her. All previous remorse was as a seed blowing in the wind. He had resented her pursuit and her manipulation of his life, but without her he was emotionally empty. Since his return to America he had been celibate. He’d told himself it was a penance for his crime, but seeing his wife again had opened his eyes to the fact that no other woman matched up to her. He’d had no hankering for Mariette Schuman, no interest in the daughters of Jarvis Warding who vied for favours even though they knew he was tied by marriage, and no wish to deceive any of the other women who thought him to be unattached. The jewel of them all was the girl he had spurned.
Damn Oliver. Damn him to hell. At that moment he wanted to kill him.
Max’s expression was as thunderous as the weather when he entered the Court Carriage Works Office for the second time that day. Even though it was late the clerk was still there.
‘I must see Mr Devlin,’ Max said, in staccato tones. ‘It’s urgent and I’ll take no excuse. Tell him Max Berman is here.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The clerk departed hurriedly, but returned within a few minutes, his expression puzzled. ‘That’s strange, sir. Mr Devlin informed me he had important work to see to and I was to stay on to take letters. Now it seems he’s left without telling me.’
Max clasped his hands to his head in frustration. ‘Where will he have gone? He’s not at home.’
‘There are celebrations all over town, sir. At a guess Mr Devlin will be joining in the entertainment down by the Town Quay.’
Max received further directions and set off once more on foot, following the crowd. He would search in every bar until he found him.
*
A short time earlier, Oliver had concluded an acrimonious meeting with Julian Cromer which had left him feeling elated beyond measure. A financial scheme on which he had been working had finally come to fruition and he’d visited Fortune Cottage that afternoon to inform Julian he was no longer the major shareholder in Court Carriages. By careful dealing Oliver had managed to secure the company holdings of a recently-deceased baronet whose widow was having to sell everything to pay his debts. The transaction had been secretive, the amount paid well above the market value, and the outcome presented to Julian as a fait accompli. It had given Oliver extraordinary pleasure to inform the other man that he no longer owned the company outright.
‘I now have control of more than fifty per cent of the business,’ Oliver gloated. ‘In future it will be run by my methods.’
Julian was ashen; the hatred in his eyes had turned ice to fire. ‘You will never run my company — never!’
‘And what have I been doing these last three years? Without my money, where would you be now?’
‘The money is irrelevant.’
‘Oh, irrelevant, is it? And my knowledge of railways?’
‘You are incapable of conceiving anything as ambitious as the Ezbanian train.’
‘And how long can we survive on one spectacular order? We’ve only been asked to give one quote for another.’
‘You’ve lowered our standards.’
‘And increased our profits. Without me, Cromer, this company would have been taken over by Eastleigh two years ago, so it would.’
It had never been an easy partnership. The two men had no intellectual meeting point, and they talked only when business affairs necessitated it. All they had in common was a desire for Ellie Berman, and it was that which added to the friction.
Oliver had not been fooled for a minute by Ellie’s excuse for the fracas at the hotel in London. It had only taken a second to assess the situation, and his Irish temper had been so inflamed he’d had the utmost difficulty controlling it. In any other place he would have not been so restrained. He hated Julian Cromer. Antagonism had marked their first meeting, and his obsessive urge to gain control of Court Carriages had largely been to overthrow him. Any man who could so heartlessly ruin his own father didn’t deserve to succeed. Later, when Cromer’s passion for his niece had become obvious, Oliver had laid plans to ensure the ruination of the son, and this latest acquisition of shares had tipped the balance.
Julian’s anger was terrifying in its ferocity. He threatened legal action, while his cold, hard face gleamed with sweat, but he had no power to reverse the situation.
‘You’re a peasant, Devlin. You’ll live to regret the day you invested money here,’ he said, his voice cutting like a scythe. ‘I hate your guts and I’ll break you sooner or later.’
The threats were all hot air to Oliver. He knew how to stay in control.
He returned to his office in high spirits. The wealth he had amassed since coming to Southampton now exceeded his most extravagant ambitions, and it was only the beginning. Before long he hoped to be able to buy Julian Cromer out altogether, and then Court Carriages would be Devlin-owned. Devlin! Who would have thought it possible? And along with his possession of the company would come his possession of Ellie, for he also knew how to woo her. Ellie needed constant reassurance that his interest was only affectionate, but her dependence on him would eventually tilt her emotions. The competition Julian Cromer had presented was past. He had obviously overplayed his hand, in the same way that Oliver had done himself earlier, but Julian didn’t have the character to patiently rebuild a shattered dream.
The future sparkled for Oliver as he reread the signed agreement which had enabled him to gloat over his enemy, and he started composing a letter to his solicitor asking for an appointment. There was something else to be done which could be delayed no longer. Deep in thought, he wandered to the window. It was then he saw Max crossing the yard.
All Oliver’s elation evaporated as if a tongue of flame had licked it dry. He went cold. Not once had he reckoned on Max returning to England, yet it had not been guaranteed. He saw his brother-in-law striding towards the office with the confidence of a man on a mission, and was seized by panic.
He couldn’t face Max yet. He needed to prepare himself. God, what explanation was he going to give for the misappropriated dowry? In the space of a few seconds Oliver savoured the same kind of fear he’d rejoiced in inflicting on Julian Cromer. He had no respect for Julian and therefore no regard for his feelings, but Max was a different matter.
His heart raced as he left his office and quit the building by a side entrance which led through the brake shop and out onto Western Esplanade. The thought uppermost was to put distance between himself and Max, though he knew an eventual meeting was inevitable.
‘I just need time,’ he muttered to himself. ‘I must make him see I’ve done everything for Ellie.’
Instinct made him
want to turn in the direction of home where he could burrow deep and stay hidden, but the clerk would send Max to Brunswick Place when it was discovered the office was empty. He couldn’t go there.
‘I’ll say I didn’t tell Ellie about the money because the old man would have got it out of her for drink. Didn’t I invest it for Ellie’s sake?’ He went over his options as he hurried through the Bargate, forming excuses, looking for the least culpable. ‘He’ll know a woman isn’t capable of handling a fortune wisely.’
Crowds jostled him as he threaded his way down the High Street. Sounds of revelry rang out from the numerous pubs and beerhouses along its length and looked set to continue well into the early hours as the last day of the Jubilee Celebrations drew to a close. Flags and bunting fluttering above his head mocked his plight. Oliver carried on past Smith & Lewis, the store where he had recently bought a brooch to give to Ellie to mark his success. The smell of baking potatoes on a cart turned his stomach, as also did the stench from an alley leading off the main road. He needed a strong drink and a corner where he could think and plan. He was within sight of the Town Quay, and the Sun Hotel was on his left. He went inside.
It was the luckiest chance that he had seen Max in advance. Had they come face to face without warning it could have been disastrous.
A special train had brought men from Eastleigh to Southampton for the festivities. They poured onto the platform at the Terminus, already in high spirits, and like a rising tide they surged towards the hotels and public houses at the southern end of the High Street. The Sun quickly became congested, and Oliver was pressed to drink with them. Refusal would have looked bad so his glass was refilled countless times until the momentous events of the day gradually became hazy. He thought of Max once or twice more but by this time, his head was pleasantly buzzing and he was able to laugh, ridiculing himself for having let the devils in his conscience scare him. Nothing scared him.
Yet as the crowd in the bar grew denser and the air thickened with tobacco smoke, Oliver had the strongest feeling that he was being watched. Faces merged; voices became a cacophony. It was ludicrous that amidst so many he should be singled out for scrutiny — unless Max had followed him. He looked round but saw no one he knew, yet the hair at the back of his neck seemed to stand out, and he rubbed his hand over it jerkily.
