by Margaret Way
'The twins will be home.'
'That's all that's saving us,' he said with wry humour. 'Besides, Lagoon Maidens don't need clothes. I told you. All you need is a gold earring and a coronet of flowers.'
'Don't talk to me like this, Ty,' she whispered. 'I can't bear it.'
'You're not making it easy for me either, cuddling into me like that.' His voice was tender but harsh.
'I'm sorry.' She fought for control, pulling the emerald sheaf around her, her fingers nerveless. Finally Ty had to draw up the zip.
'How did you find it, anyway?' she asked shakily.
'I was looking at you every minute. Are you going to fix your hair?'
'Does it need fixing?' She looked at him with huge eyes.
His hand came up, moved a long gleaming lock off her naked shoulder. 'You're filled with anxiety, aren't you?'
'Why is it like this, Ty?' she begged. 'Sometimes I think I would let you do anything to me. Anything. Just shocking!'
'You're so innocent.'
'I know, and it's awful. I never knew anything about this world of erotica.'
'I wouldn't expect you to.'
'Of course. Naturally. Experience is for men.'
'You want experience?' he asked drily.
'Who would want it? It's terrifying.'
'Goddam right! Real passion is a mystery, and it doesn't reveal itself to everybody. You're young, I understand your panic.'
'I don't think you do. It's so physical.'
'You want it, don't you?'
She sighed very deeply. 'I want it so much, I'm in pain.'
The weeks before her twenty-first birthday passed in a flash. Looking back, Morgan recognised they were the happiest of her life. She had never lived a normal life under E.J. She could see that now. Underneath her station uniform of sturdy shirt, moleskins and riding- boots was a deeply creative person fighting to get out, They all had a marvellous time doing up the homestead. The project was so big, and time was so limited, they called in the design house of Paxton Partners to advise and help them. In his youth Ian Paxton had been a well-known dealer in decorative objects and furnishings, but helping friends successfully decorate their houses opened up a whole new line of business. As the designer himself observed, there was no shortage of 'things' about the homestead. What was needed was a lighter, cosier, more contemporary look. Morgan and Cecilia had a few other stipulations, and as the weeks went by the homestead underwent tremendous change.
They seemed to spend their days surrounded by swatches of fabric and colour-charts. Everything was painted, repapered, re-upholstered, except for the marvellous Chinese wallpaper in a large sitting-room. They decided to turn it into a garden-room because it gave directly on to the wide back terrace. A small army of workmen lived and worked on the premises while the restoration and refurbishing was going on. Furniture was moved around, the best pieces retained for the major rooms, the rest relocated or stored away. Superb new curtaining opened up new vistas of the garden and brought in light, and a magnificent Indo-Herat rug that had languished for years in a store-room was given professional treatment and put down in the entrance hall where it flourished and repeated the deep blues in the huge stained-glass window over the first landing and the melon of the new velvet on an ornately carved Indian sofa.
Morgan found a dozen horse paintings stacked away behind traditional large landscapes, and she carried them down in triumph to decorate the study.
'I want your opinion.' She grabbed Ty one afternoon as he called into the house for a few minutes.
'If it's anything about colours, forget it!'
'No, it isn't. It's the most marvellous surprise!' She was nearly dancing with joy. Ty shared her passion for horses, and three of the paintings, in particular, were captivating.
Because Ty worked every night in the study, its redecorating was being left to last, but Morgan had arranged the paintings along one wall: spirited renderings and traditional stances of magnificent subjects, arabs, thoroughbreds, from silver through a rich chestnut to gleaming black.
'What do you say, Mr Hartland?' She waved her hand like a magician.
He moved right into the room and walked across to the paintings to inspect them. 'I couldn't ask for anything better,' he said finally, his expression one of surprise and enjoyment. 'This one here, the Andalusian showing its paces, is the pick of them. The arab is good. So's the Appaloosa. Where did you get them from?'
'One of the store-rooms.' She came to stand at his shoulder. 'Aren't they just beautiful? I love paintings of animals, especially horses. What about that big painting Gary Knox did of you playing polo? I love that. It would look great here. Weil get Steven to send it over.'
He turned to look down at her, vibrant and full of life. 'You're having a lot of fun, aren't you, elf?'
She nodded. 'It's frantic trying to get it all finished in time, but yes, I'm enjoying it immensely.'
'You must be seeing yourself in another light as well.'
'Meaning?' She looked away from the Andalusian and up at him,
'You're a very creative person. The twins tell me they just nod their heads. Clearly my mother is impressed.'
'Doesn't everyone love decorating?' she asked in amazement.
'Some people have no talent for it at all.'
'Ah, well, we have Ian. He's so knowledgeable and funny! I would have to live a hundred years to catch up with him. It's going to cost an awful lot of money, I'm afraid.'
'This is where we live,' he said carelessly. 'Besides, the last time anyone tried their hand at it was well over eighty years ago. I have a meeting in Grantley tomorrow. Want to come with me?'
'Of course.' She lifted her raven head, 'I strongly recommend keeping an eye on you.'
In fact, they saw little of one another. The transformation of the house occupied all Morgan's time, and Ty was making his position as head of Hartland Holdings official by calling on the other stations in the chain and making surprise visits to the headquarters of their various ventures. It was a period of consolidation and the weeks flew by.
It was during the final stages of the redecoration that Ian Paxton flew out one of the principles of his firm, a statuesque redhead by the name of Sarah Stacey, who fell so madly in love with Ty, it was dreadful to see,
At least for Morgan. For the first time in her life she knew what it was to experience the pangs of jealousy. And Sarah was nice: warm, friendly, expressive. The sort of woman who gave out to others. Which meant
Morgan's pangs of jealousy were worsened by acute self-disgust. Basically Ian had brought Sarah out to show her what had been done. It was a major project and they were all very proud of it, but Sarah, being the creative artist she was, had her own input. She decided on a new chintz for the garden-room just in time and brought a fresh approach to the treatment of the master bedroom. It was Sarah who spied some very old Chinese wallpaper panels tucked away in a cabinet and had them framed and placed in Morgan's bedroom, which she had repainted the soft green of the leaves in the beautiful tree peony panels. Camille rose pinks, touches of blue and green was the theme, and Morgan's bedroom suite emerged rather more beautiful than it would have been.
To her credit, Morgan offered congratulations. Sarah had served a long apprenticeship in design, and despite her inherent excellent taste Morgan was without so many skills.
'Experience, dear,' Sarah told her kindly. 'You have considerable ability, you know. Why don't you think of a career in interior design? With your money, you could start your own business. Bring in the best people, and five years on I would say you'd be a name to reckon with. You're only scratching the surface of your skills.'
'I'd never thought of it, Sarah,' Morgan said soberly.
'My dear, you have to do something. It would be asking too much of a talented young woman like yourself to be satisfied with just sitting around.'
Morgan smiled wryly. There's plenty to be done on the station.'
Sarah opened wide her lovely blue eyes. 'Heavens, why
would a beautiful young woman want to play jackeroo? There are any number of young men looking for work. Why would you take it off them? I can't bear to think about it. Take your piano playing, for instance. You're very, very good. I was amazed when you first started to play. I thought maybe Ty had exaggerated. He's so fond of you, but he wasn't exaggerating at all. You're a fine pianist. You could have hurt your hands in the crazy situations that seem to have taken place in recent times. Your grandfather must have been an unusual man. To this day my father takes my hand when we cross a busy road, and that's on the pedestrian crossing. Yet the stories I've heard about you are really scary.'
'Nothing happened to me, Sarah.'
'Unusual family.' Sarah held up some silk in a brilliant peacock blue. 'How's this for the scatter cushions in the main guest-room? We need something bold,'
'Perfect,' Morgan agreed.
This really is a marvellous place.' Sarah stretched and looked around her.
'You should have seen it before we started.'
'Gloomy, I agree. Ian did take photographs, but one could see exactly how it could look. It's an enormous advantage if the family has a host of possessions to choose from. How extraordinary to grow up amidst all these splendours. I had such an ordinary childhood, hence my thirst for beauty. Ian and I agree the main reception-rooms are the most beautiful we've ever done. 'I'm glad you and your aunt didn't decide to undertake it all on your own. Professional advice. That's the real key to success,' Sarah declared confidently. 'This is just the sort of place Ty deserves. Such a stunning man! So charming, yet so forceful. The mixture is just right. I must say he makes all the men of my acquaintance seem slack.'
'You're divorced, aren't you, Sarah?' Morgan delicately enquired.
'Yes, dear.' Sarah looked up from one of lan's water- colour sketches to give her a smile. 'My dear husband was a compulsive gambler. I just couldn't take it. I simply upped and moved off. No child to think of, which saved a lot of suffering. I want children, of course, and I have to hurry. I'll be thirty-four next birthday.'
'You look marvellous,' Morgan told her sincerely. 'Would you want to continue to work?'
'That would depend entirely on my husband,' Sarah smiled, 'I must say the lucky woman who marries Ty would have everything she wanted. Long periods in the country. Longer periods in the city. A varied life-style. One could take to the limit.'
'Not with Ty. He wouldn't go for it.'
'Nonsense!'
'He wouldn't, Sarah. This is Ty's life. I think I should warn you.'
'Whatever do you mean, dear?' Sarah stared at her.
'You're very attracted to him, aren't you?'
'Oh, my God, does it show?'
'It isn't unusual.'
'I should think not. He must be the catch of the century.'
'A lot of women have expended a lot of energy trying to catch him.'
'Thanks for telling me. You're a good girl. And what about you? Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but what are you going to do when Ty marries?'
'Half of this place is mine,' Morgan pointed out with wry humour.
'Yes, I know, dear.' Sarah clicked her tongue sympathetically. 'Your grandfather made it difficult for you. I can feel you love the place.'
'I love the station more. Everyone would wish for all this beauty and comfort, but it's the land that gives Jahandra life.'
'It doesn't frighten you?' Sarah asked with genuine attention.
'In what way?'
Sarah shook back her rich fall of hair, it's so huge, it's humbling. I keep thinking of the numbers of people who get lost out there.'
'One has to obey the rules, Sarah. The rules are there for our own protection.'
'I'm sure.' Sarah gave a little shiver. 'Yet your aunt and the girls have an enviable life-style. They're so beautiful, so sparkling. They know everyone. They go everywhere. When do they do that?'
'Whenever they like. That's OK. Ty doesn't mind. He wants them to be happy.'
'His wife could do that, surely?' Sarah persisted. 'Isn't a wife's place by her husband's side?'
'Well, it was in traditional marriages.'
'Ty is a traditional man. Accept it. I'd hate you to think he was the sort of man who would say nothing if his wife took off at a moment's notice. Ty would want the woman he loved around all the time. Count on it. He would want the mother of his children to rear them in the traditional way. He's no chauvinist, but he's no push-over, either. Any woman who wished to marry Ty would have to consider seriously what her life-style would be. Ty's view of a wife is his closest companion. Not someone else's companion. He's a very dominant man and his life-style only serves to entrench his masculinity.' Sarah blinked black furry lashes. 'Are you trying to warn me off, Morgan?' she asked. 'What do you think?'
'I think you're a little witch.' Sarah laughed. 'How did you come by those great slanting eyes?'
'My maternal grandmother.'
'Ah, yes, Lady Ainsley. I've seen her a few times at
functions. She's even more attractive than her photographs. How come you don't live with her, or near her?' Sarah asked,
'My grandfather reared me.' Morgan replied lightly. 'Jahandra is my home.'
'Then you have a problem, haven't you, dear?' Sarah looked at her directly. 'Forgive me, but it must have come to mind. I should think Ty would marry fairly soon. His wife wouldn't care to share their home, much less you. As Ty is the head of all your family interests, I suppose the solution would be for you to settle elsewhere.'
'Maybe I don't want to settle elsewhere,' Morgan said spiritedly.
'But you couldn't stay here.' Sarah looked bewildered.
'You sound alarmed.'
'Well, dear,' Sarah picked up a piece of cardinal red damask and studied it carefully, 'no offence intended, as they say, but you must see there could only be one lady of the house.'
'And I'm supposed to step aside?'
'You, with not a care in the world!' Sarah smiled. 'As I hear it, Morgan, you're a very rich woman. Your knight in shining armour could turn up right out of the blue. He would carry you off as soon as possible. You'd have a wonderful home all of your own.'
'No one is attempting to kick Ty out, I notice,' Morgan said bluntly.
'Would you really want to do that?' Sarah opened her eyes wide, a habit that was fast becoming familiar.
'I haven't yet learned total self-sacrifice. Everyone makes the immediate assumption I am the one who has to go. Personally, I don't understand why. Ty and his bride can build something just as big up the road. After all, my grandfather left him more money than he left me. I say let Ty take off!'
It was said with such fire, it gave Sarah considerable food for thought. She was without her usual sparkle for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter Seven
It was Cecilia who decided to give a smallish dinner party to celebrate the near completion of the house. Work would continue over many months, but the main rooms would be done in time for Morgan's gala twenty-first.
'We'll ask Steven and Sue. The Masseys. I think we'll have to ask the Ogilvies or we'll never hear the end of it. What about Jessie Stannard and her two boys? We need some young men. How many is that?'
'Fifteen.' Sandra answered promptly. 'Let's settle for twenty. What about Pat O'Donough, Morgan?'
'What about him?'
'May he come?'
'Pass.'
'I don't mind Pat.' Claire said. 'He has a couple of things going for him. He's a big handsome male. He'll inherit Parkhurst.'
'Which all adds up to a big fat nothing so far as I'm concerned.'
'We won't ask him if you don't want him, Morgan.' said Cecilia soothingly.
'No, that's all right.' Morgan shrugged, 'I’ll practise my feminine wiles on him while Sarah continues her courtship of Ty.'
Sandra giggled. 'She's so obvious!' she whispered, I could have sworn her hair was smoking last night.'
'She does seem to have it rather badly.' Cecilia was forced to concede.
'Still, she's a charming woman, don't you think?'
Morgan sprang up from her seat. 'A real professional. I feel I have to get moving. Anyone want to go for a ride?'
'As long as you don't do that insane galloping,' Sandra agreed. 'Count Pat in, Mamma. Wait until he sees the new Morgan. He's going to flip,'
As a prediction it was spot on. They were determined to keep it small, and the dinner party numbered twenty. Their guests were delighted to have an advance preview of the house, all except Camilla, who was enraged at the sight of Sarah, wearing a long glittering black sheaf that made the most of her tall, voluptuous figure leading the party around, holding affectionately on to Ty's arm.
'Struth!' Pat shook his flaming, leonine head. 'Camilla took years to make that progress. What gives with the decorator? Is she making a play for Ty?'
'Who knows, she may succeed,' said Morgan crytically.
'Poor old Camilla looks on the point of mental collapse,' observed Pat.
'So does her mother. I'm not twenty-one yet, but I've learnt that absolutely nothing is certain in this life except leaving it. I swear no one but Ty has been allowed to enter Camilla's mind. Her mother must have started the indoctrination in the cradle. I feel sorry for her tonight.'
'So do I,' intoned Pat. 'Is that dress glued on?'
Morgan looked towards Sarah. 'She has a wonderful figure!'
'She sure has,' agreed Pat enthusiastically. 'She's not in the first flush of youth, though.'
'Youthful enough. Early thirties. I tried to tell her, but she thinks the mistress of Jahandra can somehow be away most of the time.'
'Is it that serious?' asked Pat.
'Oh, yes, I promise you.'
Pat tightened his grip on her arm. Ty looks better than ever, lucky devil. He just keeps collecting beautiful women.'
'That he does!'
Camilla waited her moment and then drew Morgan aside into the folds of the curtains. Her expression was so formidable, she looked more than ever like her mother. 'Who does that woman think she is?' she demanded.
'You mean Sarah?' Morgan looked over to where Ty and Sarah were standing. Sarah was talking with great animation. Ian, her mentor, was standing back, selflessly giving her her head while she described how to handle pattern on pattern. The woman is an opportunist,' Camilla snorted, 'I' like her.'
