Rudd anticipated the effect upon Buckland House shares, which dropped five points, but not upon Best Rest. The story of an American involvement in a boardroom dispute of a company the reputation and tradition of Buckland House got wide coverage in America, particularly in the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times. Fund managers are not gamblers but businessmen, content with a return of one or two per cent upon their portfolios and quick to spread an investment if they think their clients are at risk. The initial share movement in Best Rest was only the caution of big investors, but the smaller stockholders imagined the funds possessed knowledge denied them and started to offload as well. In a week there was a seven point drop in Best Rest stock. The support banks in New York sought explanations, which brought a constant flow of telex and telephone calls to Rudd from the directors in New York. On the Tuesday, a week after the Haffaford campaign started, there was a message from Senator Jeplow in Washington that in the committee stage the tax lay-off for the construction industry was meeting opposition that he hadn’t expected. Rudd delayed the planned meeting with Buckland for a gathering of the Best Rest directors in London.
“That could cost us an extra $5,000,000 on the overall development,” complained Morrison, when Rudd disclosed the latest problem.
“In addition to the stock drop of $4,500,000,” said Bunch.
“The stock drop is temporary,” snapped back Rudd. “And if we don’t get the legislation we don’t go ahead with the development. So where’s the problem?” Rarely, even in the early days, had he lost control in any argument with his father-in-law. He was letting his annoyance at not seeing Margaret develop into a business irritation. Nothing, nothing at all was going to prevent him from seeing her today: it had been nine days. Nine days too long.
Prince Faysel was the fourth director in the Berridge suite. “I don’t think anything has happened which should cause us to panic,” he said.
“I’m not talking about panic,” said Morrison. “I’m talking about confidence. It’s confidence that keeps stock up.”
“If there’s any problem at all it’s having the Best Rest board split by 3000 miles of water,” conceded Rudd.
“If that becomes public knowledge, it could lead to some sort of speculation that we’re here on a salvage operation,” said Bunch.
“Is there any need for us all to stay here?” said Rudd.
“There is for me,” said Faysel. “I’m responsible for the fund money in Buckland House.”
“I’ve got to stay,” said Rudd.
“I could go back,” offered Morrison. “I think we should let the people in New York know what’s going on.” He thought it was a pity that the exchange was not being recorded for later use.
In spite of Morrison’s sixty-eight years he didn’t look fatigued, thought Rudd, but that didn’t mean anything. “You’ve only just got here,” he said.
“The composition of the liner board isn’t as urgent now as assurance for New York,” said Morrison.
“I wasn’t thinking about that,” said Rudd.
“What then?”
A mistake, decided Rudd. Like his irritation. If he mentioned age the man would construe the concern as some sort of criticism. “Just thought you might prefer to stay here.” Even the attempted recovery was clumsy: not even a recovery, more an awkward expression of words. Rudd realized he wasn’t concentrating completely upon any point that was being made.
Morrison frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Rudd ignored the question. “I think it’s a good idea,” he said. “You’re right about the need for assurance.” He was conscious of the attention of Bunch and Faysel.
To Bunch Rudd said, “You could go to Washington to see how serious this thing is with Jeplow.”
“What’s the strategy with Buckland?” said Faysel.
“To keep him in power until we can get the thing before a court,” said Rudd at once. “I don’t want the merchant bank slicing up the cake to their choice.”
“You’re due for the meeting with Buckland in under an hour,” reminded Hallett, from the side of the room.
Rudd looked to his father-in-law. “Make it clear to New York that there’s no problem,” he said. “What’s happening is unforeseen and irritating but it doesn’t affect what we’ve already agreed. Tell them that the day before the shareholders’ meeting I’m going to issue a statement in Best Rest’s name expressing confidence in Buckland House’s trading position.”
“That will indicate support of Buckland,” said the lawyer. “Won’t that look odd when you challenge him?”
Rudd shook his head. “My opinion will be of the company, not the man,” he qualified. He stood, ending the meeting. “Call me from Washington,” he said.
The cars had been identified by the journalists waiting in the foyer. Rudd ignored them, leaving through the service lift and kitchen exit. He walked easily out along the alley into Mount Street and managed to get a taxi immediately. The vehicle did a U-turn, taking him back through Grosvenor Square and he looked up towards the apartment. How would she react when he told her? There couldn’t be surprise because he’d come close the last time; it had been Margaret who’d dodged, saying she didn’t know how she felt. She’d had nine days to make up her mind.
The arrival at Buckland House headquarters was as rehearsed as the unseen departure from the Berridge. Rudd paid the taxi off in Bishopsgate and approached the rear of the building on foot. A commissionaire was on duty, expecting him, and the American reached Buckland’s panelled office otherwise undetected.
“This is preposterous!” complained Buckland at once. “Haffaford’s are doing their best to wreck the company.”
“It’s a point for you to make,” said Rudd. “Are you having the accountants prepare figures, showing the effect of this campaign?”
Buckland blinked. “I hadn’t thought of doing so,” he said.
“Do it,” advised Rudd. “The argument will be about management and responsibility: it’s a factor in your favour, showing their irresponsibility.”
Buckland made a note on a jotting pad. “Have you seen this?” he said. “That’s going to be splashed all across the papers tomorrow.”
Rudd took the document, looking down at it. It was the statement of Haffaford’s move for shareholder distribution. There were no positive accusations, just references to the two sums of money. There were no details or location given of the Mews house.
“Damned libel!” said Buckland.
“That’s exactly what it isn’t,” said Rudd. “It’s too carefully worded for that. But it shows their concern.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is obviously being circulated in advance of the meeting to all the shareholders.”
“And the newspapers.”
“I’m not worried about the newspapers,” said Rudd, irritated at the man’s refusal to look upon anything constructively. “Rebut it completely. Make your written reply to the shareholders very detailed. Give all the figures of the trading losses and then balance them against the effect of the liner sale. It’s the most positive proof against an accusation of mismanagement.…”
Buckland nodded, smiling, and made another note.
“And circularize something else,” said Rudd. “Have a request printed, with a tear-off section at the bottom for replies. The shareholders’ meeting is closed to anyone not holding stock in the company. Ask permission in advance of the meeting for lawyers to be present.”
“What for?” said Buckland.
Rudd gestured with the Haffaford leaflet. “It’s vaguely worded because it’s got to be; to have printed the claims would have been libellous. And they know it. They’ll have been warned, too, about the risk of slander at the meeting. They’re shareholders so they’ll automatically get the request if you make it; and there will only be one inference they can draw from it.”
“So they’ll be too frightened to make the accusations?” said Buckland hopefully.
“Th
ey’ll have to be careful, if they think you’re considering that sort of action.”
“I’m indebted to you, Harry,” said Buckland. “I wouldn’t have thought of any of this.”
Rudd hurried on, made awkward by the gratitude. “And guarantee that the meeting is closed,” he insisted. “The press will try to get in if they can. Have stewards check the certificate holding of everyone and announce a press conference afterwards.”
“A press conference!”
“It’ll show you’re confident: that you haven’t got anything to hide.”
“I thought we’d have the meeting at the Berridge,” said Buckland. “The ballroom is big enough for the number of the people likely to attend.”
“That’s good,” agreed Rudd. “It’ll remind them of the sort of thing you’re trying to protect.”
“I’ve been following the American market,” said Buckland. “I’m sorry about the effect on Best Rest.”
Rudd made a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t expect it, but it’s not serious. Morrison is going back today to reassure them. Prices will pick up soon enough.”
“Do you think they could win?” said Buckland, suddenly urgent. “Do you think they could overthrow me, Harry?”
Rudd winced at the nakedness of the man’s fear. “You made some silly mistakes, Ian,” he said.
“I’ll promise the meeting not to do so again,” said Buckland.
He was like a small boy caught stealing apples, thought Rudd. “No!” he said. “You don’t apologize. You’ve got to convey the impression that you’ve nothing to apologize for: that there have been no irregularities, just misunderstandings and that Haffaford’s have over-reacted to them.”
Buckland laughed, a sighing sound. “Obviously you’ve been involved in more boardroom fights than I have,” he said. He decided against telling Rudd his intentions regarding Sinclair. He wanted to prove he had some ideas of his own.
“Any indications of support?” asked Rudd.
“Nothing positive,” said Buckland.
“I’m going to issue a statement on behalf of Best Rest a day or two before the meeting, expressing our confidence in your company.”
Buckland smiled again, missing the qualification. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Harry. A bloody good friend. I want you to know I shan’t forget it.”
Rudd said nothing.
Rudd was sure that he got away from Buckland House undetected, but he still changed taxis twice going westwards back across the city, finally paying the cab off in Brook Street and completing the last part of the journey on foot, inviting challenge if the apartment had been discovered, so that he would know it was unsafe for Margaret to come. He arrived unhindered. The apartment had a dusty, unused smell to it. Rudd opened the windows and discarded some dead flowers into the waste disposal unit. He tidied some records which had been left loose from their covers and moved aimlessly from room to room, anxious for her arrival. Realizing she might have had to cancel and that there was no way she could have contacted him, Rudd telephoned the Berridge and was connected at once to Hallett. There had been no messages, reported the personal assistant. Morrison was flying out at four and Bunch had managed a direct connection to Washington, two hours later. Wall Street had opened quietly, with Best Rest still five points below par.
“I’m at the apartment,” said Rudd.
There was a pause. Then Hallett said, “Can I call you there if anything comes up?”
“Of course. But don’t give the number to anyone else.”
Rudd made another tour of the apartment and then stood at the window, looking out over the square to watch for her arrival. When she came, he missed it. He was expecting a car and she came on foot, like he had, so his first awareness of her presence was the key going into the lock. She halted just inside the door, smiling shyly across the room to him.
“I was watching for you,” he said.
“I had to dodge around a lot to get here. I’m fed up with it,” she said.
He went towards her, not immediately kissing her but holding her close to him. She came gratefully to him and he could feel her shaking. “I don’t like what’s happening,” she said. “I feel like … Oh, I don’t know what I feel like. I just don’t like it. Why did Ian have to be such a bloody fool!”
Rudd led her to the couch and seated her, as he would have seated someone suffering from some illness. “Would you like a drink?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I saw Ian this morning: we talked about how to fight off the attack.”
“Has he done anything wrong? Legally I mean?”
“Yes,” said Rudd. He hadn’t wanted a conversation like this.
She stared at him wide-eyed. “He won’t be arrested or go to prison or anything like that, will he?”
“I don’t think so,” said Rudd.
“He’s told his mother and Vanessa that it’s just a mistake.”
“That’s how it’s going to be explained to the shareholders.”
“Damn his gambling,” she said. “Damn his gambling and his whoring and damn him.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said, wanting to change the direction of the talk.
She felt out for his hand. “I’ve missed you,” she said in return. “More than I thought I would.” His face clouded. “Oh, that sounded awful! I didn’t mean that. I meant …”
He leaned forward, kissing her and stopping the outburst. “You don’t have to explain what you meant.” So it had been the same for her! He felt hollow-stomached in his excitement. All the half-formed plans, the misty thoughts he’d refused to consider, were possible after all. He didn’t imagine she would enjoy hotel life, so they could hunt for an apartment together. Maybe on Riverside Drive, like before. And a proper place for the weekends. Connecticut was the first thought but there was no reason why it should be there, if she didn’t like it. He couldn’t expect her to accept an upheaval as complete as this, to remove herself completely from England. And there wouldn’t be the need, either. They could have homes here in England: London as well as the country. He’d wind down, Rudd decided. The complete absorption in business had had a purpose but now that purpose was past. What was it that Mary Bunch had said that weekend in Connecticut? “Learn to enjoy the view and stop looking around for bigger mountains.” Now he would. He’d delegate, fully utilizing the management structure he’d carefully created but until now always insisted upon supervising. He’d still supervise, but not on the daily and weekly basis that he did at present.
“You’re looking very serious,” she said.
“I love you,” he said.
Her smile faltered and fell away. “Don’t,” she said. She seemed frightened of him saying it.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”
“I love you,” he repeated. “And I don’t want us to go on like this. I want us to tell Ian and I want you to get a divorce and I want to marry you.”
She sat regarding him open-faced, her expression a mixture of disbelief and amazement. “Marry me!” This didn’t happen in any of the fantasies.
“Of course.”
“But …” She made a helpless flapping movement with her hands. “I mean … think what’s involved!”
“I know what’s involved,” he said. “And I know it’s going to be more traumatic for you than for me and I wish there was something I could do to make it otherwise. But there isn’t.”
She jerked up, walking back and forth in front of the couch with her back to him and her head bent low. “I don’t know,” she said. Vanessa would never let situations develop like this.
“Don’t you love me?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what I feel. I know I was as miserable as hell without you.” Which was true. But was it enough?
“I won’t ever let you be unhappy,” said Rudd. He realized it was coming out as a plea which he hadn’t intended, because he never pleaded, but in his anxiety to convince her
he didn’t care. “We can live wherever you want, do whatever you want. I’ve already decided to worry less about the businesses. We’ll be able to spend all the time together we want.”
She shook her head against the flurry of words. “Not now,” she said. “I can’t decide now. Let’s get this meeting over first. Whatever has happened between us I can’t let Ian down like that.”
How long after the shareholder confrontation would it be until the court challenge? wondered Rudd. Not long. “You’re running away,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“So I’m running away!” she shouted, annoyed at his persistence. “You say you know what you’re asking me to do but you don’t. You can’t. It would mean cutting myself off from everything … everyone … abandoning everything I’ve ever known.…”
“… But we could have homes here, as well as in America,” he tried, but she cut across him.
“And who would come to them?”
“So you’d rather have the alternative,” he said. “Exiled to some place in the country, companion to an old lady, allowed up here by some special dispensation and knowing damned well that all the friends by whom you set such store are laughing at you behind your back because of the affairs Ian is having.” It was their first argument. He hadn’t expected them to fight.
“I’ve told you,” she said. “I don’t know what I want.”
“You’ve got to decide.”
“Not if I don’t want to,” she said, in a spurt of petulance.
“We’ll wait until after the meeting,” said Rudd, conceding. “Decide immediately afterwards.”
“Yes,” she said, too quickly.
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