Rise of an Eagle

by Margaret Way

  'God, this is dreary,' Sandra moaned. 'Doesn't Mrs. Larkin know anything about haute cuisine?'

  'On the contrary, Mrs. Larkin does, but E.J. wouldn't allow it. He never took much notice of the theory one shouldn't eat too much red meat, yet perversely sugar was out.'

  'It wouldn't have hurt him to have had a sweet tooth,' Claire observed. 'Haven't you ever noticed the relationship between people and their diets? Is there anyone who won't touch sugar who isn't sour in some way?'

  'Well, that's not your problem,' said her twin.

  'Cecilia,' Morgan said quietly, 'you're not eating. I'm sure Mrs. Larkin could make you up something else in moments.'

  'That's all right, dear, I'm not particularly hungry. I was wondering what was keeping Ty.'

  'There are always last-minute instructions. Probably he has countermanded mine.'

  Ty joined them less than five minutes later, apologising for his late arrival. 'What's this I hear about going after some stallion?' He threw Morgan a sharp look.

  She nodded composedly. 'A big grey. He's been after the mares. Cheeky devil. He comes in very close.'

  'You weren't thinking of joining in, were you?'

  'Try to stop me,' she said. Without even thinking, Ty had taken E.J.'s place at the head of the table, filling the ornately carved oak carver with distinction and style. He looked stunningly, vibrantly handsome, looking up to smile at his mother as she placed his meal before him from the selection of covered dishes on the warming trolley.

  'Good ole Hartland beef!' he murmured laconically. 'I really prefer a side salad when it's hot.'

  'I shall instruct chef,' Morgan said sardonically. 'I guess there are going to be lots of changes around here.'

  'You bet!" His blue eyes dazzled her. 'You know going after brumbies is quite dangerous? Depending on how strong and how wild they are, they can break out of any trap. Tom Brennan was killed when a mare kicked the fence down and went right over the top of him.'

  'I'm only in on the chase.' said Morgan crisply. 'Mustard?'

  'For God's sake, haven't we got any strawberries and cream?' Claire asked. 'Peaches would do. I like something sweet.'

  'Peaches it is.' Morgan jumped up and went to the buzzer that connected with the kitchen. 'Tinned, I'm afraid. Plenty of fresh cream. I can't remember the last time I had strawberries.'

  'Gosh, you've led a dull life! It must have been ghastly, just you and E.J. You poor little thing! I never realised just how grim it really was.'

  'At least the wine cellar is superb.' Sandra opened her blue eyes wide and smiled. 'Do you suppose we could have a Sauterne?'

  'Who are you asking? Me or your brother?'

  'Don't be difficult, Morgan. You do it so well.'

  Mrs. Larkin, plump and motherly, came into the dining-room, her hands respectfully clasped.

  'Claire is afraid to speak, but she wants peaches, Mrs. Larkin.'

  'Very well, miss.'

  'And cream, Mrs. Larkin. I do like to finish with something sweet,' Claire added coaxingly.

  'Why not, miss? I always do. Peaches with a little dash of Cointreau.'

  'We'll have to start getting up a whole lot of new menus,' Morgan said drily.

  'Which brings us to where are we all going to live.' Sandra's lovely face creased into a frown of anxiety. 'Ty is our brother, Morgan. We can't lose him.'

  'Really? I'd enjoy that very much.' Morgan threw a look at Ty, handsome as a young god in a mythology book.

  'Be serious.' Sandra begged. 'What are we going to do, Mamma?'

  'Return to Tyson's Landing, of course,' Cecilia said gently. 'It's a lot more comfortable than this.'

  'Gosh, Mamma, it would only take you a couple of ticks to turn this into a palace.'

  'I know this is new to you, darling, but Jahandra homestead belongs to Morgan and Ty.'

  'Don't you want us to move in?' Sandra begged, blue eyes bright and luminous.

  'Someone will have to move in,' Morgan responded tartly. 'I have my reputation to consider.'

  'I agree,' Sandra upheld her. 'We don't want any gossip.'

  'We've been chin deep in gossip all our lives,'

  'Who's asking you, Claire?'

  'What do you think, Mamma?' Claire asked, for all the world as though Morgan had no say at all, or she would defer to Cecilia as they did.

  'I think it will take divine wisdom,' Morgan intervened. 'Ty, please put your entire family out of their misery.'

  He finished his glass of wine and set it down. 'The family could move in temporarily. Until I get married.'

  'What?' The twins cried as one as was their habit. 'Then you've been lying to us. The things Camilla has been saying are true?'

  Ty laughed shortly. 'I have absolutely no idea what Camilla has been saying.'

  'She says you're on the verge of asking her to marry you.' said Sandra.

  'Well, not quite.' His thick lashes veiled his brilliant blue eyes. 'What do you all think of the lady?'

  'I have complete confidence in her to make you the perfect wife.' Morgan said sweetly. 'Under no circumstances will I tolerate her at Jahandra.'

  'I could have sworn half of it was mine.'

  Cecilia took a deep breath. 'This will of E.J.'s has put us all in a difficult position. It will be hard for Ty to administer Jahandra in the way he would want from Tyson's Landing. Jahandra is the outstanding property in the chain. In any case, Morgan's wishes are paramount. It's true you do need someone living here for appearances. There's Aunt Maggie Tyson.'

  'Good heavens, Mamma, Aunt Maggie would drive Morgan bonkers.'

  'Funny thing, I don't mind her,' Morgan said. 'If she gives me any trouble I'll lock her in the basement.'

  'Are you never serious, Morgan?' Claire asked.

  'The problem is I'm always serious. Aunt Maggie is a real Outback character, but I've learnt one thing. I have to be my own boss.'

  'Of course.' Aunt Cecilia regarded the small triangular face gravely. 'Have you any suggestions of your own?'

  'I have no idea about how you feel leaving your home, Cecilia. You're a beautiful, gracious woman. I can't see you playing second fiddle to any woman, let alone me.'

  Cecilia waved that away. Even the movement of her long, shapely hand was an event. 'Morgan, I'm convinced you're a very superior young woman. I would forecast that within a year or two you're going to establish quite a reputation for yourself. I know Ty is going to do everything in his power to turn the two of you into an invincible team.'

  'Cecilia, what a pitch!'

  'My dear, I am quite serious. If you would only give Ty your full co-operation the results might surprise you. E.J. has a lot to answer for. Right at this minute I don't think he's hearing good news. He did everything in his power to alienate you from the family. The really strange thing is he never succeeded. I would have found it a very easy matter to mother you, Morgan. I longed to do it but feared to interfere. Still, I spoke to E.J. several times a year to no avail. Finally I had to stop. Whenever I spoke, the isolation increased. Ultimately he was trying to part you and Ty.'

  Morgan's fine forehead creased. 'I know that, yet he has tied us together.'

  'He was nutty enough.' Sandra said morosely. 'Why don't we vote on it? I guess it's all up to Morgan, but I wasn't aware we couldn't all get on together. We women, I mean, Mamma will have to separate Morgan and Ty.'

  'Fabulous!' Ty said boldly. 'Mamma's first job of the day will be to stop the crazy yelling. I don't want to think of how Morgan's going to get in the middle of station decisions.'

  'You think you're such an expert? You'll have plenty to learn from me,' Morgan fired.

  'Could we call a truce just for a moment?' Cecilia suggested quietly. 'This is a huge house. We could all find our privacy, yet offer each other the traditional support. The arrangement would only be temporary to see how things would work out. Morgan retains the right to say at any time she's not happy with things. Ty will marry and I hope it's not too far off. I suppose I shouldn't say thi
s, but I really hope it's not Camilla. Her family simply can't conceal their greed.'

  'Besides, she borrowed my mink jacket and never gave it back.' said Claire.

  'May I sleep on this, Cecilia?' asked Morgan. 'I know this probably sounds hard, but I don't feel in need of comfort at the moment. I would like to stand on the top of a mountain and scream my frustrations.'

  'I know just the place to take you.' Ty suggested, looking at her so steadily that she had to look at him.

  'In case you're interested, I've left a letter to say if anything happens to me, arrest you!'

  'Partner!'

  'I would like to return to Tyson-s Landing for a few days,' Cecilia continued, undeterred. 'That's if you decide we'll stay together for a while. I would like my nephew Steven and his wife to come from Muruk Muruk to oversee the place. Ty?' Cecilia looked at her son.

  'I'll go along with that,' he agreed calmly. 'In fact I'm counting on Steven's support. Alan Thomas will move up one. I've already got things started.'

  'You didn't call on me for approval of the appointments?' Morgan lifted her delicate slanting brows.

  'I didn't consider you'd disapprove.'

  'How high-handed can you get?'

  'Do you disapprove, Morgan?' asked Cecilia.

  'No. I just wanted to be informed.'

  'I don't believe this,' Sandra said, giving Morgan and her brother a wide-eyed stare. 'Why does the air crackle around you two?'

  'Lots of people have a catastrophic effect on one another,' said Morgan.

  Cecilia touched a hand to her elegant chignon. 'E.J. had the care of Morgan for a very long time. We won't find harmony overnight.'

  Morgan was still roaming around the house, sleepless, after the family had retired to bed. Her movements were sharp and quick, full of a brittle, nervous energy. She wandered from room to room, a small girl, wrapped in a jade silk kimono exquisitely decorated with blossoms and birds. Her narrow feet were bare, padding softly over marble and parquet and marvellous glowing Persian rugs woven with dense floral patterns, medallions, arabesque birds and animals of the hunt. Most of them were late nineteenth century and of the finest quality. They had never received any care, but they were remarkably sturdy. But the twins were right. The house looked like a mausoleum, while Tyson's Landing was a wonderfully open and sunny place, an inspiration to anyone who wanted to know how to live well. Cecilia had excellent taste and the money to indulge it, but she disliked anything that looked 'done'. So did Morgan. There was such a depressing feeling about Jahandra homestead. She supposed that could be altered very simply by changing the dark colouring of the house. E.J. had been adamant about leaving things the way they were. In consequence, a general air of gloom and faint decay lay over the huge rooms. As a house in stone, it was very stem and formal, in complete contrast to the picturesque timber colonial mansion of the Tysons'. Even the paintings were very Old World, dark interiors that would probably look marvellous properly lit. Baroque like drapes hung at every window, extravagantly be- tasseled, in rich, deep colours but drawn so close together that the sunlight barely touched either the heavy furniture or the works of art. She had to admit it all came to life at night when the innumerable chandeliers performed miracles. She had a sudden longing to clear everything out and start again. Nearly everything could be used again, but in a different way. One of life's pleasures was deriving comfort from possessions long associated with family. All the dark, sombre, rather severe beauty could be lifted by someone with a strong sense of style. She hadn't the slightest doubt Cecilia could transform the place to something extraordinary, but she wanted to do it herself. There was one huge stumbling block, of course. Ty. Ty, and this mysterious shadowed figure who would be his wife.

  Morgan shivered as though a particularly chilly wind had blown through the house. Ty's wife. Her legs seemed to turn to marble and she came to a halt, staring at herself in the central mirrored panel of the elaborately carved wall. Her hair streamed over her shoulders and her eyes looked huge, dominating her face. Who had had those slanting eyes? In her experience, such a distinctive feature had to be handed on by a parent. Ty's stunning looks and overwhelmingly blue eyes came from Cecilia, that radiant sexual quality that both had which could never be acquired. The twins owed their looks to both sides of the family. All the Hartlands were fair, including Morgan's own father. Certainly Marcia was a brunette, but her eyes were a soft grey and set straight on. Although she wasn't in the least Oriental-looking, as Ty sometimes teased her, she did have a decidedly exotic look. Russian? She had a picture of a Russian ballerina with slanting eyes like hers. Morgan lifted her fingertips to the corners of her eyes, staring at herself as though she expected the girl in the looking-glass to answer her.

  'Who do you expect to see?' a voice asked from behind her.

  'A devil!' She spun around to face him. 'I thought you had gone to bed.'

  'I was waiting for you to go up.'

  'Don't wait for me.' Morgan shook back her long hair. 'I'm used to wandering around half the night.'

  'That doesn't surprise me in the least,' he said softly. 'The witching hour is coming up.'

  'Who do I look like, Ty?' she asked seriously.

  'Whoever it was, they were as exotic as hell.'

  Her eyes flew to him. 'What do you mean, whoever it was? It must have been Marcia's side of the family.'

  'Raven hair is a rarity in our side of the family. So are green eyes. I mean, they are very, very green, aren't they? As deep as emeralds.'

  She sighed and turned back to the mirror. 'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, are you going to buy all that?'

  'Don't you ever feel you should have a talk to Marcia?' asked Ty, moving silently across the room to stand directly behind her. 'Here, do you want me to lift you up?'

  'I can see.' And so she could, from the shoulders up. Much more of Ty was reflected, the gilt of his skin and hair, his blue and white printed olive-bronze shirt. Whatever he wore became an ornament, just as it did with Cecilia. Looking at them both was an experience.

  'Hi, elf!' He reached out and stroked her hair.

  'That's going back a bit.'

  'You don't look any different.' His expression was amazingly indulgent.

  'What should I talk to Marcia about?' She pulled her hair over one shoulder and began to plait it, still facing the mirrored wall.

  'I have the feeling Marcia could tell some melodramatic story.'

  'Marcia?' Morgan said stiffly. "Though I am devastated to say it of my own mother, Marcia is just another pretty face. There's not a great deal to her.'

  'Unfortunately, no, but a good deal could have happened around her.'

  'What are you getting at, Ty?' she enquired sharply. 'Next you'll be telling me I'm illegitimate!'

  'A great idea if I want to toss you out, but I have this feeling Marcia might have led a private life.'

  'What?' She whirled on him.

  Incredibly, he appeared serious. 'Somehow, Morgan, you don't fit in.'

  'You'll have to do better,' she scoffed. 'I know what's behind this. You're worried I'm going to contest the will.'

  'Why should I deny you the chance to be happy?' His voice was laced with derision. 'Just don't forget Henry's the expert and Henry told you you'd be wasting your time.'

  'We'll see,' Morgan frowned. 'I've got lots of money now. I could even get married.'

  'Anyone in mind?' he asked lazily.

  'Anyone who doesn't remind me of you.'

  'Isn't that a bit odd?'

  'Not as odd as your trying to seduce me.'

  'Charming! I thought it was you doing all the emoting. What do you think of this idea of the family moving in?'

  'I hope to sleep on it.' Morgan shrugged.

  'The alternative is, the two of us will be on our own. Which is the more difficult?'

  'There's always Aunt Maggie.'

  'Who, incidentally, is one of your greatest fans. Maggie was a feminist before anyone ever thought about it.'

  'Th
at's probably why she never married. Let me reconsider. I mightn't either.'

  'Whatever you do, you'll have to discuss it with me.'

  'Really? I wasn't aware of that.'

  'You are now. I have a thing about protection. Which brings me to another matter. I don't want you going out in the morning. As I hear it, the stallion is a rogue.'