Master of His Fate

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  * * *

  Early on Monday morning, James and Alexis set out to go to the Malvern warehouses on the docks. She already knew it was going to be a hot day. She had chosen to wear a long navy blue cotton skirt with a matching cotton blouse. She put on a navy straw hat to shade her face from the sun.

  James, fully aware of the weather and the hustle and bustle of Le Havre in summer from his earlier experiences, was dressed in a white cotton jacket, white shirt, and black cotton trousers, made by his grandmother last year.

  “I’d forgotten how busy it is,” Alexis murmured, and moved closer to James as they plunged into the docks at the heart of the city.

  Immediately, he took hold of her hand tightly. “Stay with me. Don’t let go. There’s a lot of shoving and pushing. The crowds are overwhelming and they don’t care who they hurt.”

  “I understand.”

  The two of them struggled through the masses of people: sailors, merchants, seamen, men rolling casks and pushing handcarts, and longshoremen carrying huge boxes.

  People shouted and screamed at each other, while usually moving at great speed. Alexis clung to James, afraid for a moment she might get trampled underfoot. Le Havre was a mighty seaport that serviced the world. Hundreds of ships were docked as far as the eye could see, flying flags of all nations.

  “Here we are!” James suddenly shouted, his voice rising above the noise. “See your name. Look. Malvern.” He pointed to the huge warehouses to their left. She saw them, nodded. They shoved their way through the masses to the front door.

  The first person Alexis saw was the only person she knew at the warehouse, other than her uncle. His name was Jacques Armand and he was the manager.

  He spotted them immediately as they hurried over to the huge open door, and his surprise turned to smiles as he rushed forward to welcome them.

  He addressed her in English, exclaimed, “Mademoiselle Malvern! ’Ow nice to see you.” He nodded, still smiling. Then he looked at James with great interest.

  Alexis said, “This is James Falconer, Jacques. He works for my father. We’ve been sent to see my father’s cousin. Is he in his office? Perhaps you can take us to him?”

  A deep sigh rolled out of the Frenchman. He shook his head. “Mr. Malvern gone. Run like wind.” He raised his hands. “You will find ’im at the Paris office … perhaps. I ’ope so.”

  Whilst Jacques had been speaking to Alexis, James had been looking around, glancing at some of the men in the vicinity. He thought they appeared to be shifty-eyed and nervous, even somewhat worried. He knew they were watching the scene surreptitiously.

  Now he intervened. He said in a pleasant tone of voice, “I would like to speak with you in private, Monsieur Armand. Can we go into your office, please? It also might be a little cooler in there for Mademoiselle Malvern.”

  “Mais oui, mais oui.” The manager agreed and ushered them into the depths of the largest warehouse. He pointed to a side staircase, added, “Up there … we sit up there.”

  The three of them went upstairs.

  “My office,” Armand announced, and indicated they should sit in the two chairs against the wall. He took the one at his desk. “Glad you came, mademoiselle, Monsieur Falconer. There are problems…” He turned to look at Alexis. “Mr. Percy left. On Thursday. Last week. Said he was going to Paris office.” He shook his head. “I planned to send telegram to Paris office tomorrow. Now you are ’ere. It is good you are ’ere.”

  “What are the problems exactly?” James asked, his eyes narrowing, wondering about the manager. And yet instinctively he felt the man was honest.

  Jacques Armand sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, as if weary, and then suddenly opened them. He sat up straighter. “So sorry, mademoiselle. You cousin is thief, stealing … stealing your money.”

  “I would like to see the books,” James announced. “I have the authority in a letter from Mr. Henry Malvern. But of course, as a Malvern and a partner, Mademoiselle Alexis also has the power to do as she wishes. Absolute power.”

  “You look at books. He took many papers.”

  Rising, Armand led them out of his office and across the hall, opened another door. “’Ere ’e worked…” He grimaced, muttered, “At stealing.”

  James spent half an hour looking at the few record books which were in Percy Malvern’s desk. They told him very little, actually nothing, because they were old books and of no real value to him. But of course, Percy took any papers that would condemn him. Why leave them behind if he was fleeing? And he had fled. There was no doubt in James’s mind that Percy Malvern was not in Paris either. Thieves didn’t hang around to get themselves arrested.

  Returning to Armand’s office, James said, “There is nothing there that can help me. But you must know something, Monsieur Armand. You are the warehouse manager; you worked directly with Mr. Percy. Please try and help us to understand how he did this.”

  The Frenchman nodded, grimaced again. “I discover it, few days ago, what ’ad been ’appening. Mr. Percy selling wine to old customers and taking the money.”

  “How could he possibly think we wouldn’t find out?” James asked, staring hard at the manager.

  “Monsieur Joshua not paying attention, an old man, then a sick man.” The Frenchman gave a Gallic shrug.

  “This must have been going on before Uncle Joshua had a stroke,” Alexis said, staring at James and then Jacques.

  The manager nodded, obviously concerned.

  James said, “I won’t take the papers in his office. They are of no use to me, Monsieur Armand.”

  “Je comprends. Please, mademoiselle, go to Paris. To office, they give you advice.” He cleared his throat. “Trust me. I loyal to Monsieur ’Enry. I stay. I look after warehouses. My men loyal.”

  Alexis looked at James and raised a brow. “What are your thoughts about this situation?”

  “I tend to agree with Monsieur Armand. There is absolutely nothing we can do here. Percy has fled. Taken certain papers with him. I think we do have to go to the Paris office, talk to them.”

  “I agree. And I know Jacques will keep everything going here at the warehouse. You will, won’t you, Jacques?”

  “Trust me. I work ’ere at Malvern’s all my life. Monsieur Philippe de Lavalière, the man at Paris office, mademoiselle. Trust ’im.”

  “We will do that, Jacques. Thank you for your advice,” Alexis said, and then asked, “Where are our two ships? The Marie-Claire and the Belle Étoile?”

  “At sea, delivering goods to Russia,” James said before Jacques Armand could answer. “I keep track of the two ships at all times,” James finished. “Part of my job.”

  Fifty-one

  Alexis and James, along with Tilda and Josh, arrived in Paris late on Wednesday afternoon. They were happy to be in this most beautiful city after the raucous and overcrowded port of Le Havre.

  They went directly to Alexis’s favorite hotel in the City of Light, Le Meurice, which was where she had always stayed with her father. It was also quite close to their Paris office, located on the Rue de Rivoli.

  Tilda had just finished unpacking for her and had then left to go to her own room, when there was a light knocking on the sitting room door of her suite.

  Wondering who it could be, Alexis walked across the floor and opened the door to find James standing there.

  “Is everything all right? How is your room?” she asked.

  “Very nice, thank you. I just wondered if we could have supper, talk about the business problems before we go to the office tomorrow.”

  “That’s a good idea. I shall tell Tilda and Josh to go and see the sights. How does that sound?”

  He nodded. “Where shall we have supper? You know Paris better than I do.”

  “I think we should stay here. There’s a very nice restaurant in the hotel. Seven o’clock in the hotel lobby?”

  James nodded. “See you then,” he said, and was gone in a flash.

  Alexis sat down at the desk and was ab
out to write a telegram to her father, and then changed her mind. Perhaps it was better not to put anything in writing for the moment. In fact, perhaps not at all.

  A member of their family had committed a criminal act by stealing from them. It was better told verbally, wasn’t it? How sad this would be for her father. Betrayal by his cousin was not a nice thing to hear. And he had been saddened lately because his older brother, Joshua, had been rendered helpless after a stroke. Her father was vulnerable at this moment in time. Anyway, bad news could wait.

  Leaving the desk, she walked across the sitting room, lay down on the chaise, and covered herself with a small blanket Tilda had placed there. Closing her eyes, she hoped to have a nap before going to supper with James Falconer.

  In the last few days, she had changed her mind about him in certain ways. She didn’t know him well. She had met him several times, but he had always seemed oddly cold, too matter-of-fact to her. But now she realized that he was simply keeping his place, reporting to her as his boss, in a sense, when speaking about the arcades. He had done a good job with them; there was no question about that. He was a hard worker, diligent and disciplined.

  On this trip, so far, he had been less standoffish, friendlier, and certainly he had handled himself extremely well in Le Havre. Businesslike, efficient, and pleasant with Jacques Armand. She had found herself trusting his judgment when it came to Jacques. She herself was quite certain the warehouse manager was honest and loyal; after all, he had worked for them for over twenty years. When Falconer had said he believed Jacques’s story about Percy and that he really had only just discovered what was going on, this pleased her, gave her a sense of relief.

  It was Tilda who awakened her an hour later. She had dozed for a while, and then apparently fallen asleep. The trip from Le Havre had obviously tired her out today.

  Tilda insisted on touching up her hair and persuaded her to change out of the navy cotton dress, which was now badly creased. After washing her hands and face, Alexis put on the gray silk gown Tilda had chosen, much more appropriate for supper in this elegant hotel. Tilda had added a shawl of gray cut velvet and a matching purse.

  “Go out and have some fun with Josh,” Alexis said as she was leaving her suite. “There are lots of little bistros around here. Enjoy yourself.”

  Tilda gave her a small, shy smile. “He asked me already.”

  Alexis smiled back. She went out into the corridor and downstairs to the lobby. James was already waiting for her.

  Once he had greeted her, he said with a faint smile, “Tilda and Josh have gone out on the town.”

  The way he said it made her laugh, something she hadn’t done for a long time.

  “Why are you laughing?” he asked as he took her elbow and led her into the restaurant.

  “I don’t know. It was just the way you said it, that’s all. And I hope they have a nice time. Paris is unique.”

  James insisted on ordering a glass of white wine for each of them, whilst they studied the menu. Oddly enough, without influencing each other, they both ordered country paté, to be followed by coq au vin, chicken in red wine.

  Over the food, James spoke about the meeting with Philippe de Lavalière. Alexis had explained that he ran the shipping division at the Paris office and had for several years. He was answerable to Percy Malvern directly.

  “So who is he answerable to now?” James asked, frowning. “With Percy in the wind.”

  “You, of course,” she replied at once. “You are running the wine division.”

  “Mostly the London end of it though. Not France,” he reminded her.

  “That’s true. Personally, I think he should now be answering to you. Until we replace Percy, find someone to do his job.”

  James tried to hide an unexpected smile, but his mouth twitched.

  “What is it?” she asked, staring at him.

  “I was going to say there might well be a lot of people trained in stealing … which apparently was Percy’s job. Lately.”

  * * *

  The following morning, Alexis and James walked over to the Rue de Rivoli and into the offices of the Malvern company. Alexis introduced herself, and then James.

  Philippe de Lavalière was a nice-looking man in his late thirties. He was delighted to meet them, but surprised and upset when he heard what they had discovered in Le Havre.

  “I do not understand this. Not at all,” he said in perfect English. “Percy Malvern a thief? Stealing from his own family?” He shook his head. “It is not possible. No, no.”

  “How did he behave when he was here a few days ago?” James asked, looking directly at the Frenchman, his eyes narrowing.

  “In a hurry. He said he had to visit a friend in hospital. We spoke for only a few minutes. He went into his office and when he left he simply said good-bye and that he would see me later. What are you going to do? This is a scandal.”

  “I think we must hire a French lawyer, investigate the situation,” James replied. “For the moment, Jacques Armand is continuing to do his job as manager of the warehouses and he will be answerable to you, Monsieur de Lavalière.”

  “Very well. That will work, I am certain.” He paused for a moment, looking at Alexis. “I reported to Mr. Percy directly, Mademoiselle Malvern. To whom shall I report now?”

  “Mr. Falconer runs the wine division at the London office, as you already know. I think it would be best if you report to him.”

  Philippe de Lavalière nodded, smiling, obviously liking this solution. “That will work, Mademoiselle Malvern.” He then addressed James. “I look forward to passing on my reports, Monsieur Falconer. On a weekly basis.”

  After speaking for a short while longer about matters concerning the shipping company, James asked Philippe if he would endeavor to find a good lawyer who might be able to handle the case. The Frenchman said he would do that at once and be in touch.

  When Alexis and James finally left the Paris offices of the Malvern company, they agreed that the meeting had been successful. They had both been impressed by Philippe de Lavalière, and knew he was honest and reliable.

  Out of the blue, Alexis exclaimed, “I think we ought to celebrate tonight.” She and James were on their way back to the Meurice Hotel. “We have managed to solve our problems. Well, for the moment.”

  “We haven’t caught Percy, though,” James answered, eyeing her worriedly as they fell into step. “Maybe we should have reported him to the police.”

  Alexis shook her head. “I think we must tell my father everything before we do anything like that. He must make the final decision.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely correct,” James agreed, still uncertain, though.

  Once they reached the hotel, Alexis said she had some errands to do and repeated that she really did want him to be her guest this evening. She was looking forward to celebrating with him.

  “I’ll see you in the lobby at seven tonight,” Alexis said firmly, and hurried off, aware she could never do that in London. There, single women had to be chaperoned outside.

  He watched her walking down the street, wondering how he would manage to get through another social evening with her.

  For the first time in his life James Falconer had fallen in love. And with a woman who could never be his. Last night he had not been able to sleep, thinking about Alexis, her extraordinary beauty, and his desire for her.

  No woman had ever captured his heart until now. It was a huge dilemma. He could manage to work with her, that he had proven to himself these last few days.

  But he could not be alone with her. The solution was to make sure he avoided social events after tonight. He would celebrate their success, as she wanted, just to please her. After that, he would be unavailable in his free time.

  * * *

  Alexis felt the need to walk, to be outside in the sunlight, to throw off her weariness, all that hurt that had gathered inside her over months. Without thinking of going anywhere special, she just meandered along. Let go of her wo
rries, pushed aside the pain of loss.

  Unexpectedly, she found herself on the Champs-Élysées, and remembered how much she and her father had enjoyed walking down this most lovely avenue. It was one of the many created by Georges Haussmann for the Emperor Louis Napoleon in the 1860s. He was the architect who had turned Paris into the beautiful city it was today.

  Suddenly she came to a stop in front of a familiar shop. It was where her father had bought her one of her favorite dresses as a girl. Drawn to it by nostalgia, she went to look in the windows.

  A gown on display immediately caught her eye. It was deep lavender with a hint of pink. Without another thought she went into the shop.

  The young woman who came to help her told her the size of the dress. It was taken out of the window at once. Alexis held it against her body, liked the look of it, and bought it. Just like that. On an impulse. Something she had never done before.

  Later, when she was back at the hotel, she wondered why she had been so silly. Obviously she would never wear it, thinking it had been a waste of money.

  There was a light knock on the door. Tilda came in carrying two of the cotton day dresses she had been ironing.

  Instantly she saw the silk dress on the bed and ran over. She stood staring at it. “Oh, Miss Alexis! It’s beautiful!” she cried, putting the other dresses down, picking up the new one.

  “You must wear it tonight,” Tilda exclaimed.

  “No, I’m not going to, Tilda. It looks cheap, a bad buy, in haste.”

  The young lady’s maid shook her head, picked up the dress, and took hold of Alexis’s arm. She led her to the cheval mirror in the bedroom.

  Posing her in front of it, she held the dress against her body, and said, “Just look at yourself, Miss Alexis. It is the most unique color, and perfect for you. Deep lavender.”

  Staring at herself as the maid held the dress against her body, Alexis had to agree that it did suit her.

  After a little more discussion, Tilda brought Alexis to the dressing table. She began to touch up her glorious auburn hair, redoing the curls on top of her head, smoothing the sides, pulling a few curls onto the front of her forehead.