Potrait of Jamie Page 7

  'Grandfather completely lacked my business judgment.'

  'I know that! Poor Philip, he found the world of intrigue and counter-intrigue quite impossible.'

  'That's why we lost out progressively to Hunter. For years he got away with the lot, but not now. It's all over!' He was staring into the past, his handsome dark face grim, his lean strong hands moving as though he contemplated wringing someone's neck. 'I even have to steel myself to accept the rest of them as vastly overpaid executives.'

  'Look here, Quinn,' his grandmother said sternly, 'they're entitled to their share of the multi-million-dollar business their father and grandfather built up.'

  'Not the lion's share!' Quinn said pleasantly, his black eyes brilliant. 'They've had that for too long.'

  'Don't think they're not aware of their position. They'd hurt you if they could. Everyone knows you're running Hunter Sterling these days. It's extraordinary how that man has lost all interest in what once was his whole life.'

  'The change is Jaime,' Quinn said bluntly. 'If you could have seen his face! Fascinating. The first and only time I've seen him reach out towards another human being and mean it.'

  'Then you don't really remember Rowena, how could you? He adored her, so much so that her brothers could scarcely endure her. It was no secret that he paid little attention at all to the boys when they were small. They've never forgotten it, or their jealousy of their sister. One can feel some pity for them—in a way it's affected their whole lives. Their mother was so gentle, such a defenceless, beautiful creature, she just gave up and died. She never understood her husband. Never for a moment. I know, because she told me. She asked me also, to look after her daughter!' Margo Sterling sighed deeply and her frail crippled hands moved restlessly in. her lap. 'Perhaps I can do her daughter a service. But not now. It's cruel, but I don't think I can lay eyes on the child. I'm too old, you see. I might weep.'

  'I've never seen you weep,' Quinn said calmly, an expression on his face few but his grandmother had seep. 'What was it Father used to say? There's no one more capable of meeting any situation than my mother!'

  'That was years ago, darling, I could very easily blemish my record these days. I'm an old woman and I mean old!'

  'And you're terribly tough! Where do you think I got it from? Quick, make the decision and I'll abide by it. I just don't know myself.'

  His grandmother stared at him. 'That's a first for you! What is she, this Jaime?'

  'A witch with long black hair and unnaturally beautiful eyes.'

  'You're talking about Rowena,' his grandmother said strangely.

  'No, Jaime. She won't go the same way as her tragic mother. She has enormous reserves and she's only a young girl. She's even made it clear to me that she expects me to back her in a business of her own.'

  'Why, how peculiar!' Margo Sterling had some difficulty keeping a slight hostility out of her voice. 'That's the Hunter business instinct. It's skipped a couple of generations to Jaime.'

  Quinn looked back at her steadily. 'Why on earth shouldn't it? Jaime has big plans. She wants to be another Pru Acton.'

  'That's a tall order.'

  'The raw material is there, if you'll forgive the pun. I'd like you to speak to her. She's too high voltage at the moment, but she'll learn. Her sense of style is innate and enviable. She's very chic, very modern but elegant, and she makes all her own clothes. She expects to have to work very hard and she requires listening to. She has the talent, plus the drive.'

  'And she wants you to do the rest! What about her grandfather? He has a tremendous amount of money.'

  'That would be involving herself in a real dilemma, and she's shrewd enough to know it.'

  'It doesn't really affect me, Quinn,' Margo Sterling said, almost pathetically desperate.

  Quinn smiled. 'Don't opt out, darling. I know what I'm asking of you. Perhaps not tonight, but spare her a little time. She hasn't had a fortunate life up to now, though she's very loyal to her father.'

  'You would seem to have become very loyal to her in a very short time,' the old lady observed.

  'She's a child!' Quinn said rather wearily. 'I'm not going to fling her headfirst into the maelstrom. Georgia and Sue hated her on sight.'

  'Then we'll go,' Margo Sterling said, equally forceful. 'You said the very thing to attract my sympathy. But then you know that, you cunning devil!'

  'Anyway, you ought to take that new hairstyle out. I can honestly say that fellow you go to is an artist.'

  'And I don't begrudge him a farthing of his turnover, though some people get quite annoyed.'

  'Like Aunt Lucille ?'

  'That's right. Now, my boy, help me up. If we must go out on this errand of mercy I'll need time to prepare. At times you remind me altogether of my own father. He was always getting us to do unimaginable things without putting himself out one bit!'

  'I suppose you enjoyed it.' Quinn said, smiling, but his grandmother only rested against him for a moment and patted his cheek. It would take all her calm and indomitable will to meet Rowena's daughter: Rowena, whose actions had robbed her of a son. Of course Nigel had become morbidly sensitive, but he had been young without the balance of maturity, and Rowena had been such an exceptional girl, an exact blend of the witch Nigel had always called her and a woman to set the nerves pulsing. It would be like resurrecting the old tragedy to meet her daughter, yet it had for Margo a compulsive fascination. She went up to her room on Quinn's arm only wishing to get it all over. It was so very tedious to be old.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By the time dinner was over, Jaime felt a little better. It had been something of an ordeal, not only for her, but for the suffering, regal old lady who sat opposite her, her beautifully dressed head high, her misty blue eyes full of pain. It was so unfair, in its way, this resemblance she had to Rowena, for the mother Jaime had never known had made many people unhappy. At times, under the clamorous, glittering eyes of her relatives, she had felt herself akin to the fox with the whole frenzied pack after her. Her uncles Gerard and Vivian, sharp-eyed and handsome, their expensive-looking wives, her cousins Sue-Ellen and Leigh, with their vaulting ambitions, could be dangerous to her, deeply involved as they were in holding and maintaining their positions in Sir Rolf's life and when that life flickered out, in his will.

  Her male cousins, smooth-faced versions of their fathers, were making it blatantly obvious they were prepared to consider her as a matrimonial prize the winning of which would be an enormous feather in their caps, both socially and financially, for Sir Rolf was making no secret of his tremendous pride and joy in his newly-found granddaughter. No one was left in any doubt that a new heiress had just been created. It was like having a beautiful dream blown up in their faces.

  Only Quinn and his grandmother held themselves aloof, making suave and witty conversation, coming to Jaime's assistance whenever she needed it, and she found she did to combat the family's rapacity. For this she silently thanked them in her heart, not knowing that her beautiful eyes were conveying to Margo Sterling, at least, her sensitivity, compassion and deep gratitude.

  It was these qualities, so easily recognised in Jaime, that enabled Margo to get through the evening, for Jaime was so like her mother that it had been like a physical blow, knocking her off balance and sweeping her back in time. A sudden impulse had seized Margo at the first moment of meeting and caused her to put her arms around the girl and kiss her cheek tenderly, a gesture Jaime was destined never to forget, for she had been shocked at the concealed misery in those softly blue faded eyes. Quinn had looked at her with mingled mockery and congratulation, for even he had wondered how his grandmother would react. She had been known to freeze people at a glance, but only if she considered they deserved it. Jaime obviously did not deserve to suffer for the havoc her mother had caused, if only in Margo Sterling's eyes. Jaime was too well hemmed in by her relatives and their burning, hidden fears and antagonisms. They who had so much, yet wanted more. Jaime, who had lived precariously for so many yea
rs, would be denied even the smallest legacy from her grandfather if the family had anything to do with it.

  The assessment, though harsh, was quite accurate. Sir Rolf's heirs were in complete agreement about Jaime. She was enormously unwanted, though they were scrupulously polite to her in clear view and earshot of Sir Rolf. Many furious words had been said in the privacy of their own homes. It was considered not inconceivable that the Old Man, in an excess of stupid reparation for old wrongs, could over-compensate the girl, and it was their unpleasant duty to see that this didn't happen. Old people nearing the end of their lives invariably became maudlin about such things. The girl was an outsider, for all Rowena had been her mother. Rowena had surrendered her claim and that of her daughter, choosing her own way, and the family were markedly disinclined to accept Jaime much less take her to their hearts. The sight of Sir Rolf making such a fool of himself further repulsed them. One would have thought he didn't have two other beautiful granddaughters to dote on, and he had never been known to do that, not even when they had been the most adorably cute toddlers in their exquisite little hand-made dresses.

  It was unthinkable. They hadn't really believed it until they saw it with their own eyes, but Jaime was emerging as a colossal threat to all of them. Perhaps even on a grander scale than Quinn Sterling with his frightening rise to the seat of power. Sabotage on two levels—small wonder they were so upset and worried. The only ray of light, or the only possible way about the whole bad business, was to marry the girl off to one of the boys. Simon or Brett, it didn't really matter which. They were interchangeable and their dedication to family interests was the only remarkable thing about them.

  Margo Sterling, watching all of them with her wise, old eyes, was hopelessly disgusted. Only one thing saved her from total despair; there was an added strength and humour to Jaime's features beside the purity of Rowena's. She hadn't noticed it immediately, so overcome had she been, but now, hours later, she began to appreciate the subtle differences between Jaime and her memories of the young Rowena. The very best of Rowena plus something very individual. One could never have seen Rowena, for instance, ever contemplating setting up her own business. Rowena had been reared a princess. Jaime had come up the hard way and it hadn't hurt her. The end product was a very striking young creature indeed, with courage and ambition, and the others were green with jealousy, the women busy deploring her beautiful face and figure, not realising that they had to give Jaime credit for the chaste little evening dress she had on, sheer as blue smoke, totally demure and inexpressibly stylish, sheening as it did her beautiful young body.

  Now Margo realised with a flutter of relief that it might be a good thing to back Jaime in a business enterprise, and the pleasure and intensity of her emotion astonished her. She would talk to the girl, but for tonight she was experiencing too much remembered pain. She would have to arrange with Quinn to bring Jaime to Rosemount. Tonight her ghosts were haunting her, practically Sitting beside her.. Nigel, as beloved and familiar to her as Quinn was now; Rowena, so beautiful and enchanting that she could do no wrong. Then as now Rowena was Rolf Hunter's only blind spot, and Rowena lived on in her daughter. The situation was potentially dangerous, for even a man as brilliant as Rolf Hunter could still be as big a fool as any other man on earth. He had the power to make Jaime one of the richest young women in the country and in so doing throw a giant scare into his family, and he was a man without pity. Jaime would bear the brunt of his measures, a bigger and bigger rival every minute she stayed on at Falconer.

  An hour later, Margo signalled to her grandson that she was ready to go. She had never enjoyed the Hunters' bitter world, as luxurious as were their surroundings, the glittering possessions, the literal fortune in paintings that hung on every wall. Very few people would ever bother to remember that Rolf Hunter had once been a struggling young university student with numerous paying sidelines to support himself and his widowed mother. A man could be a mixture of things, good and bad. It was only when he entered the jungle of big business that Rolf Hunter embarked on the course of ruthless slashing and parrying and back-stabbing that took him right to the top. He was clever. He was extraordinary. He was even a very handsome old man, but Margo Sterling had decided as always that she couldn't stand another minute of his company.

  She was conscious of Jaime's presence by her side and inexplicably it now gave her a deep sense of ease. The family had all formed into a group to say goodbye, the girls Sue-Ellen and Leigh, enough alike to be sisters, vying as usual for a minute of Quinn's time. He preferred Leigh of the two, a softer, more amiable version of Sue-Ellen and very attractive tonight in a cool, halter-necked dress the same fresh green as her eyes, her hair like her cousin's with a deep fringe and swinging in casual blonde perfection just clear of her shoulders. Margo much preferred Leigh as well. Given a different background Leigh could relax and be herself, not the member of a clan whose purposes and way of life dominated her.

  Leigh more and more, was coming under the influence of her younger but more cunning and selfish cousin, Sue-Ellen. Both girls were affronted by Jaime's beauty and obvious self-confidence. It put them in a rage. The family had pointed out that the girl had almost been dragged up by a failure of a father; it was therefore demoralising to be confronted by a poised and elegant young woman who regarded them all gravely and with a faint element of—pity? It was easily seen that their grandfather, who had never loved them and rarely smiled at them, had found again the one person in the world he could love. They all found it frightening and disquieting, though they did their best to be agreeable, with a lifetime's practice at playing it smart.

  In their hearts they knew there was no question of getting used to the situation but reversing it. They would never surrender their position, Jaime would have to be the one to go. In a family used to high strategy, dominated by a fierce pride to emerge victorious, one young girl on her own should present no real problem. Rowena had run out on her father and all that she had known. Her daughter could be made to do the same.

  After a month of her relations, Jaime felt as though she was drowning in poison. It was such a wild idea to have thought they might accept her. They never would— jealousy brought out the worst in people. The women put this across with force and clarity, smiles on their narrow arrogant mouths. Her uncles Gerard and Vivian kept her constantly under surveillance, their eyes loaded with speculation as though beating their combined brains out to devise some way of rendering her permanently harmless. Her cousins, Simon and Brett, figured largely in their plans, for had Jaime accepted all their numerous invitations to go sailing, swimming, partying and what-not, she would have been as dizzy as a child on a merry-go-round. They were all so alike in their objectives that they might have been one.

  There seemed no time whatever to think of her own plans, for her grandfather rarely let her out of his sight. Blood, she had cause to know, was thicker than water, because she found herself indulging him, caught into the desire to please him, or more accurately give him peace, for his health after such a serious heart-attack had markedly declined. It was always sacrifice, she thought to herself. Men seemed to demand it. First her father, now her grandfather and her woman's compassion kept her enslaved. Nevertheless it would have to stop.

  Quinn, whom she saw fairly often, had been almost formidably abrupt at their last meeting, contenting himself with hurling at her one question: 'When do you intend breaking out of your prison?'

  She hadn't answered him then, upset by the cold brilliance of his eyes, but she proposed to do so now. Directly after breakfast, she intended to take a taxi into the city and waylay him in his office. It was true Uncle Gerard and Simon would be leaving in the car shortly before then, but she had no wish to ask either of them for a lift even though the chances were she would run into them at the Corporation Building.

  Neither Georgia nor Sue-Ellen ever came down for breakfast, her grandfather had a tray in his room, so Jaime usually endured breakfast with her uncle and cousin. It seemed incredib
le to her that her Uncle Gerard could have no feeling for her. They shared a family resemblance, but that meant nothing. It wasn't as though his behaviour was uncivilised, quite the reverse; he was extremely convivial, especially in front of his father, but the Judas light shone in his eyes.

  It was devastating but true, and small wonder her mother had left home. After a month Jaime had come to realise that her relatives expected her to join them or they would destroy her. It was brutal, but apparently it was their way of life. If she consented in time to marry either of her cousins they would consider her in another light. For then her inheritance, and it was now certain she would receive one, could be kept in the family. Not a one of them had a guilty conscience, for family alliances kept empires alive and they were already under attack from the Sterlings.

  Jaime was given to understand that she had better choose her side, and only a fool would run to the Sterlings. She would never be allowed to use any future financial power against her own family. Even now Quinn Sterling was dictating policy and ran Hunter Sterling, when their father had built the firm up into the great business enterprise it was today. Too many had already assigned their holdings to Sterling, and if Jaime inherited a very large block of shares and for whatever reason assigned them to Sterling, then the family would lose out on the majority shareholding. It was not to be borne.

  When Jaime came down that morning, she found the breakfast-room occupied, the sun streaming through the great plate glass window; a modern touch, affording the most beautiful views of the garden and the blue harbour beyond. Gerard Hunter looked up with a smile, laying down his paper, and greeted her most genially. Simon jumped to his feet, pulled out a chair, saw Jaime seated, and offered to serve her from any one of the silver chafing dishes that lined the sideboard. Both men, she had discovered, ate a very hearty breakfast—fruit juice, cereal, a hot dish, eggs and bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, enormous quantities of toast and marmalade, excellent black coffee reduced by cream. It almost hurt her to watch them, for she found breakfast the least inviting meal of the day.