Master of His Fate. Barbara Taylor Bradford

up her reticule, she walked to the door. She paused for a moment in the corridor, knowing she ought to go to her father’s study to say goodbye.

      But she was reluctant to do so. There had been a breach in their relationship that troubled them both, and it had now gone on far too long. Perhaps this afternoon was the right time to heal that breach, and get them back to their normal relationship. But how would she begin? She stood there, thinking, knowing it was the proper thing to do, if only she could find the right words.

      Although she did not know it, her father was having similar thoughts as he sat at the desk in his study. He wondered if he should go up to her room to speak to her and attempt reconciliation. Not that they had really quarrelled, and they were polite and civil with each other on a daily basis. Yet there was a coolness on her part, and he was hurting from it.

      Henry sighed under his breath, rose and walked across the room, looking out at the garden, ruminating about the problem. It was Saturday 30 July 1887, and a glorious day, filled with sunshine. Yes, he wanted her back very badly, loathed her emotional withdrawal from him.

      Henry Ashton Malvern was not exactly a self-made man. Rather he had taken his father’s small and rather badly run property business and turned it into a flourishing enterprise. And a big moneymaker. He had become an extremely wealthy man.

      His older brother, Joshua, was his full partner in Malvern and Malvern, but did not have any ambition, no dreams of glory like Henry always had. It was Henry who had been the driving force behind the business, just as his daughter was now. She was so like him in many ways.

      She was Henry’s only child, the third member of the Malvern team, and had worked by her father’s side from the age of sixteen, having refused to go to finishing school in Switzerland.

      Her mother had died when Alexis was eight years old, and it was Henry who had raised her. She would often tease him and say that he had brought her up to be a boy. She was intelligent, hardworking and smart.

      Alexis was his sole heir, and one day the business would be hers. She knew every aspect of it, and now, at twenty-five, she could take control of it if needs be. He had never known anyone more talented at business than his daughter; he had great respect and admiration for her.

      Quite aside from this, Alexis was a rather beautiful young woman, with her auburn hair, deep green eyes and English-rose complexion. Because of her looks and her charming manner, she had had many suitors over the last few years. None of them appealed to her; also, she was wary of marriage, knowing that a husband would be the head of the family and would perhaps take control of her inheritance and the business. Frightening prospects to her.

      And so, a few months ago, she had told her father that she would never get married, and had given him the reasons why. The prospect of not having a son-in-law or grandchildren appalled Henry. He also worried about the future of Malvern and Malvern after he was dead and Alexis grew older. Who would be her heirs?

      A long and difficult discussion had ensued, and had brought about this breach in their loving relationship, a situation both of them genuinely hated. Nothing like this had ever happened; they felt isolated from each other.

      There was a light knock at the door and, as Henry swung away from the window, Alexis walked into his study. He couldn’t speak for a moment. This afternoon she was breathtakingly lovely. The cream silk gown was a wonderful foil for her natural colouring, which appeared more vivid than ever and was most arresting.

      ‘Do you have a moment, Papa?’ Alexis asked, closing the door behind her, walking towards him.

      ‘Of course I do,’ he answered. ‘I was about to come and find you, before you left for your ladies’ tea. I hope you told Bolland to have the carriage ready for you.’

      ‘I did, Papa. Not that I’m going very far, only to Delia Talston’s house in Belgravia, but I can’t very well walk through the streets in a cream-coloured dress. It’ll soon be dirty.’

      ‘And, I might add, looking the way you do … very comely, indeed, my dear.’

      A faint smile crossed her face, and she sat down on the edge of a chair. After a moment, she said, ‘I’ve been wondering how to start this conversation, Papa, and decided just to … well, blurt it out. So, I want you to know that, first of all, I’m sorry for my coolness and that there’s been a distance between us. Truly, truly sorry, and I apologize for hurting you. I would like us both to forget about our … disagreement, shall we call it? Let us put it behind us, be close again, as we’ve been all of my life.’

      ‘I want that more than anything in the world, Alexis. Thank you for taking the lead. I was wondering myself how to broach the matter to you a few minutes ago. You see, I’ve come to understand that you must live your life the way you wish. After all, it is your life, not mine. You must be happy and fulfilled, and if the business is enough for you, then so be it. It is your choice.’

      ‘Thank you, Papa. It’s not that I have anything against men, you know. I rather like them, enjoy their company. But I can’t become someone’s possession or have another person rule me. I need my freedom and I need to work in a business I love. I’m not cut out to be a housewife.’

      Henry chuckled and held out his hands, pulled her to her feet. Automatically, she went into her father’s arms. He held her close for a moment, relief suffusing him, and he kissed her cheek, then released her.

      Walking across to his desk, he said, over his shoulder, ‘I know you and Delia wish to launch that charity you dreamed up together last year, and that’s what this tea is all about today? I’m right, aren’t I?

      ‘Yes, you are,’ Alexis answered, staring after him, wondering what he was getting at.

      He looked across at her and showed her an envelope. ‘There is a cheque in here which I wrote two weeks ago. I want to be the first to make a donation to your charity and wish you great success.’

      Crossing the room, Alexis, accepted the envelope. She looked at the cheque. ‘Papa! How generous of you. Thank you, thank you so much.’

      Delia Talston greeted Alexis in the peach-coloured drawing room of her townhouse, a smile of approval on her face. ‘You look quite divine today, Alexis. No wonder men fall all over you. I would too, if I were a man.’

      Alexis laughed. ‘I should wear cream all the time, since it seems to engender compliments. I see I’m the first, so let me give you this before the others arrive.’ Opening her reticule, she handed the envelope to Delia. ‘Look inside. It’s a cheque from Papa.’

      Delia raised a brow as she took the envelope from her. ‘Have you two finally reconciled? Oh, I do hope so.’

      ‘Everything is back to normal. I apologized to Papa just before I left, and he handed me the cheque. You’ll see he made it out two weeks ago.’

      ‘And he’s been so generous! How wonderful of him. Richard gave me a cheque this morning for five hundred pounds, and my father did the same last week. We now have a good sum for our kitty, because of other small donations I’ve received. Please thank your father, and I shall write him a note.’

      ‘I think we’re off to a good start.’ Alexis sat down on the edge of a chair, and glanced around. ‘I’ve always loved this room since you painted it peach a few years ago. It has worn well, I must say.’

      ‘Become too worn, I think. I was wondering the other day if I should create a new look.’

      ‘Oh no, don’t do that. The peach has grown mellow and warm; on a day like this, the room is so welcoming with the sunshine streaming in on us,’ Alexis observed.

      ‘The Persian’s somewhat tired,’ Delia murmured, glancing down at the large burgundy rug patterned in cream and moss green.

      ‘Leave everything alone!’ Alexis exclaimed. ‘Anyway, you won’t have time. You and I both are going to be rather busy—’

      Alexis broke off as Parker, the butler, opened the door, announcing, ‘Mrs Clive, madame.’

      Delia