In the Lion’s Den: The House of Falconer. Barbara Bradford Taylor
on her lack of concern for her father and for the business she would one day inherit. He saw her continued absence as a dereliction of duty. And these thoughts damaged her image in his mind. He thought her behaviour didn’t quite live up to his standards, just didn’t ‘fit the bill’. Then, quite unexpectedly, Georgiana Ward came into his mind, and he wondered how she was, how she was doing. He had only ever once asked his cousin William if he had any news of her. William had shaken his head, then told him, ‘My mother has only heard from her once, letting her know that she was feeling better away from London fogs. That’s all I know.’
James had remained silent at the time, not wanting to probe too hard. A small sigh escaped as he turned on his side. Whenever he thought of the older woman who had been his first lover, he realized how kind she had been to him, how much she had cared about him. One day, he thought. One day I will meet someone like her … I know I will.
He also missed William, who was far away in Hull. As he fell asleep, his thoughts were only about the importance of family and friends.
James sat up with a start, as if someone had shaken his shoulder. He was wide awake, and the room was very bright. He blinked as he got out of bed and went over to the window. The moon was riding high in the midnight-blue sky, and it was shining into his bedroom because he had forgotten to close the curtains last night. He noticed that the rain had stopped.
He was suddenly restless, wanting to be outside, walking the streets, as he sometimes did, thinking through his problems. And clearing his head. Within minutes he was dressed in his trousers, shirt and shoes; he pulled on a thick jacket for warmth and slipped out of the flat quietly. All he needed was his uncle to wake up and ask where he was going at two in the morning.
His answer would have been nowhere in particular, because that was the truth. Once outside, he walked along Curzon Street and turned onto Park Lane, heading down towards the Wellington Arch and on towards Buckingham Palace. It wasn’t far away, and as he caught sight of it in the distance he noticed there was no Union Flag flying on its flagpole. Queen Victoria was at Balmoral, and the Prince of Wales, her heir to the throne, lived in his own home with his wife, Princess Alexandra. Now there was a beautiful woman, he thought, one who was elegant and regal. She was deaf, but did not appear to let that bother her. Uncle George had told him she was Danish and that her sister Minnie was married to the Romanov Tsar of Russia.
As he neared the palace walls, James slowed down and stood staring at the regal building, almost entirely in darkness, only a few lights showing through upstairs windows. During the summer, Princess Louise, daughter of the Prince and Princess of Wales, had been married there.
Married, he thought. I wonder if I will ever get married. He grimaced to himself. The idea did not appeal to him at the moment. He had other fish to fry. His career. He knew within himself that he was doing well, so lucky to work for the Malvern Company, to be close to Mr Henry. Yet he was always aching inside to be on his own, to start his own retail business. Ever since his childhood he had longed to become a merchant prince. Too soon, he thought. It’s too soon.
He sighed under his breath, slowly walking away from Buckingham Palace. He was still too young to go out on his own. He mustn’t be impatient. His grandmother was forever reminding him of that. He headed down the Mall, his thoughts shifting to the days when he worked on his father’s stalls in the Malvern Market. He had been eight years old, and fell into the work at once, loving every moment of the day. Stay calm and keep going. Slowly, he told himself. And one day you’ll get to where you want to be.
The following morning James went to Malvern House very early. As he walked down the corridor to his office, he relished the silence, the closed doors, and the lack of lights. He was the first to arrive today.
He immediately unlocked his desk drawer and took out the batch of documents that had been delivered the day before. They had come from Philippe de Lavalière, a private detective in Paris, whom the company had hired to look into the fraud they had discovered. Swiftly, he went through them all, reading a number of them again, and then put them away.
Mr Malvern wasn’t in yet, and so he studied some of the reports from Natalya Parkinson, who had been Alexis’s assistant and was helping to manage the work in Alexis’s continuing absence. He enjoyed working with Miss Parkinson, or Natalie, as her friends and family called her. She was efficient and had quite a flair for helping their tenants arrange the windows of their shops appropriately.
A bit later, when he heard Mr Malvern’s footsteps in the corridor outside his office, James rose and strode out. ‘Good morning, sir,’ he said.
Henry Malvern turned, smiled at James. ‘Morning, Falconer,’ he answered. His employer was looking better these days, though he still tired easily.
‘I wonder if I can come in and see you for a moment?’ James asked. ‘It is important.’
Malvern nodded. ‘Of course.’ As he moved on, he added, ‘Come in now, Falconer. I have a meeting in half an hour with the accountants.’
‘Right away, sir.’ James rushed back into his office, took out the documents and hurried after his boss.
After hanging up his overcoat on the coatstand in the corner, Henry Malvern sat down behind his desk. Looking across at James, who was already making his way into his office, he said, ‘Are those documents why you want to see me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Not from Alexis, I don’t suppose?’
James shook his head. ‘No sir. They arrived late yesterday by courier just after you left. They’re from the Paris office.’ James stopped at the large Georgian partner’s desk and placed the bundle of documents on it. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good news.’
Henry Malvern inclined his head and gave James a hard stare. ‘I wasn’t expecting good news, Falconer.’ He began to read the documents, but then said, ‘Please sit down, you know it makes me nervous when you’re hovering.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ James replied, and sat down in the chair opposite the imposing desk, patiently waiting for his boss to digest everything.
At last Henry looked up, sat back in his chair and shook his head. ‘A bigamist! I’m not too surprised he stole so much, but his romantic philandering does surprise me. My cousin is such a plain man, and rather short, with quite a reserved manner. But as my mother always said, “Still waters run deep and the devil’s at the bottom.” I think her words may well apply to Mr Percy Malvern.’
The documents revealed that Percy Malvern had not only embezzled money from the company, but also had two wives. His English wife Mary, and a seventeen-year-old daughter Maeve, were living in Nice. A second wife, Colette, a twenty-six-year-old Frenchwoman, was living in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, outside Monte Carlo, with a six-year-old son, Pierre.
Percy Malvern himself was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared into thin air.
In the letter he had written, Philippe de Lavalière had suggested that Percy might well have fled abroad, perhaps to somewhere like the French West Indies, where a man could hide for ever. There was little chance of ever finding him.
James nodded. ‘He must be very devious. It takes a special kind of skill to keep two families going. But then money helps, I suppose. Do you think we can recoup any of it, Mr Malvern?’
‘I’ve no idea, Falconer. It doesn’t sound hopeful. In the meantime, I shall have to plan on putting some of my own funds into the Wine Division in Le Havre. That’s the only thing I can think of.’ The older man frowned. ‘It will be a long haul to get back into profit. I’ll have to increase revenue from other parts of the company.’
James paused, and gave Malvern a quizzical look before saying, ‘It might seem strange to suggest spending money at this point, but have you given any more thought to my suggestion that we build an arcade in Hull, sir?’
‘The City of Gaiety, you say it’s