The Secrets of Armstrong House Page 26

  Morgan nodded and, smiling, left, closing the door after him.

  Sitting in the back of the motor car as he was driven home, Morgan thought about Harrison Armstrong, as he had countless times before. Harrison had been with the bank for several years. He had started in a lowly position and through sheer hard work and dedication beyond the call of duty had risen through the ranks. From the beginning Harrison did not mix with the other employees. He did not attend any social function, not even the Christmas party. He never socialised with anyone and kept himself to himself. He was always polite but his attitude was often taken as aloofness and unfriendliness. It had been three years before it was revealed who he actually was. A visiting official from Dublin had spotted him at the bank and to everyone’s shock exposed him as being the son of one of the United Kingdom’s most respected families, related to lords and dukes and whatnot. Morgan remembered Harrison being furious when this was discovered. He became even more withdrawn when his true identity was known. Morgan worried about Harrison. It just wasn’t natural for a young person to have no life outside that office he seemed chained to. Especially for a young man like Harrison who could have New York at his feet. Morgan had tried his best to nurture him into having a better life for himself. But he had to admit defeat on Harrison Armstrong and leave him to his own ways.

  It was after ten by the time Harrison reached home, which was only a short distance from the bank. Letting himself into his apartment, he picked up the post that his housekeeper had left on the sideboard for him. He flicked through the letters and threw them back on the sideboard except for one whose writing he recognised as his sister Daphne’s.

  Walking into his sitting room he saw his housekeeper had left a cold meat salad for him before she had gone home. He ignored it as he sat on the couch and, smiling to himself, touched the neat handwriting on the envelope. He then carefully opened the envelope, unfolded the paper inside and sat back to read the letter from Daphne. It was the typical type of letter she and his family wrote to him. Full of news from home – gossip about somebody they knew growing up, chit-chat about relatives, hearsay about neighbours. Inconsequential news, but he relished hearing it all anyway. The letter finished as usual with a paragraph asking how he was, hoping he was looking after himself, saying how they missed him and would love to see him soon. His siblings and his parents wrote very regularly to him, regardless of the fact he rarely responded. When he left Ireland he knew he would never return. And writing to his family would only give them false hope that one day he would. It was better for them to get on with their own lives without him. They hardly ever mentioned Charles and Arabella in their letters, only in passing for some event like when their children Prudence and Pierce were born. The very thought of them sent him into a cycle of hurt, depression and shame. The shame of everyone in Ireland knowing how he had been made such a fool of. Charles, Arabella, Prudence and Pierce: he imagined the happy family.

  He got up off the couch and ate the meal the housekeeper had left for him. Then he went straight to bed.

  Morgan Wells looked exceptionally pleased with himself as Harrison sat down opposite him in his office.

  “We’ve landed them! We’ve landed the Van Hoevans as a client . . . almost,” he declared.

  Harrison sat back, impressed by this news himself. The Van Hoevans were one of those families who had built America. A name that sat alongside Vanderbilt or Rockefeller whose wealth and glamour had come to epitomise America during this gilded age. A family whose fortune was built on steel and railroads. Landing the Van Hoevans and their millions was a major coup for the bank.

  “You said the word ‘almost’?” asked Harrison, concerned. He had been involved in too many deals that were almost done and that fell apart at the last moment.

  “Yes, they’ve agreed to come to us in principle but we’ve no signatures yet,” explained Morgan.

  “I see – and when do you think we’ll get the signatures?”

  “You know Oscar Van Hoevan’s reputation. He likes to leave people dangling and often pulls out at the last minute when he gets a better deal or interest rate from somebody else.”

  “So nothing is guaranteed with this deal?” said Harrison, disappointed.

  “Not yet – and that’s where you come in.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re going up to Newport, Rhode Island to meet him on Monday, and you’re not to come back until his signature is on all the paperwork.”

  “I don’t really want to meet or have to deal with Oscar Van Hoevan.”

  “Why not? It could be entertaining for you. See how the other half live.”

  “The other half doesn’t live like the Van Hoevans. Only a tiny minority of people live like that . . . I think you should send Pratchford instead. He’d love all that and do a great job.”

  “I don’t want Pratchford to go, I want you to go,” said Morgan.

  “But –”

  “And that is an order, this time, Harrison.”

  Harrison didn’t hide his frustration. “Very well.”

  “You’re to travel to Newport on Monday and you’ll be staying at the Van Hoevans’ house.”

  Harrison stood up and left as Morgan sat back, satisfied with himself. Harrison Armstrong was the perfect man for the job. Anyone else would be overawed and intimidated stepping into the Van Hoevans’ world. Harrison wouldn’t give a damn. And Oscar Van Hoevan would lose respect for anyone in awe of him.

  chapter 44

  The train pulled into the station in Newport and Harrison stepped off onto the platform where he was met by one of Van Hoevan’s chauffeurs. As the motor car was driven through the streets of Newport Harrison observed the splendid palaces built by America’s super rich to show off their wealth. Finally they reached the Van Hoevan mansion and drove through gigantic pillars and up a driveway. The house was an extravagant white building and Harrison realised that the rumour the Van Hoevans had based the design of the building on Versailles was not unfounded. In the distance he could hear the ocean. He followed the chauffeur up the wide sandstone steps and through the front door into a colossal hallway with white walls and white marble floor and a wide staircase with gold-encrusted balustrades, where he was met by a butler.

  “This way, sir,” said the butler, opening ornately engraved double doors.

  As Charles stepped into the next room he realised he was in the Van Hoevan famed Hall of Mirrors. It was a giant room with wooden floors and huge gold-framed mirrors all along the walls. The room was known for the elaborate parties held there.

  Across the room he saw a woman approach him. As she neared him he saw she was a striking young woman with soft curled blonde hair and the most refined bone structure he had ever seen.

  “And you must be Harrison Armstrong,” said the woman as she reached him. “I’m Victoria Van Hoevan.”

  He reached out and shook her proffered hand.

  “Welcome to our home. I hope you enjoy your stay here. My father is waiting for you if you would care to follow me?”

  She turned and started walking through the room and he followed her.

  “Thank you for having me. I don’t plan to impose on you that long,” he said.

  “Really?” she said.

  “I just need to get a few signatures from your father and then I’ll be on my way back to New York.”

  She smiled at him as she led him out of the room and through further hallways.

  “You don’t know what my father is like, Harrison. Getting a few signatures from him can be like extracting teeth, and often more painful.”

  “Oh dear,” said Harrison under his breath.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Don’t bother trying to fight it, just accept his ways,” she advised.

  They reached another double door which was dark mahogany.

  She leaned forward and whispered to him. “Don’t be intimidated by him, and don’t let him bully you either. He can come across as a terrible grizzly bear, but he’s really just a cuddly
cub underneath.” She smiled at him and opened the doors.

  “Don’t you ever knock?” growled a deep voice from behind an expansive desk.

  “Somebody is after getting out of bed the wrong side this morning,” said Victoria as she led Harrison in. “Dad, Harrison Armstrong has arrived from New York.”

  “Who?”

  “The man from Union Bank, which you are investing with,” said Victoria.

  “Which I might be investing with,” stated Oscar.

  Harrison, on reaching the desk, put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Oscar ignored the hand. “How do you know you’re pleased to meet me? You might be very displeased to meet me once you see what I’m like.”

  Seeing his outstretched hand was being ignored, Harrison awkwardly put it down by his side.

  “Would you like a drink, Harrison?” asked Victoria.

  Harrison started to open his case. “No, thank you. I have the papers here and it’s very straightforward really.”

  “Sit down and have a drink,” commanded Oscar. “And get me one while you’re at it, Vicky.”

  “Certainly, Daddy. I might even have one myself,” said Victoria, walking over to the drinks cabinet and pouring three gin and tonics.

  She came back, handed the drinks to the men and sat down on the arm of her father’s chair.

  “To your good health,” said Oscar.

  “And yours, sir,” said Harrison.

  “So you’re the guy who wants all my money,” said Oscar, studying him.

  “Well, some of it anyway, sir,” said Harrison.

  “What do you think, Vicky, should I give it to him?” asked Oscar with a smirk.

  “Well, you see, I don’t know why you ask me these things. I’ll get no credit if it goes well, and get all the blame if it goes wrong,” said Victoria.

  “That’s why I ask you!” laughed Oscar. “I don’t want to blame myself if it goes wrong, do I?”

  “Could you not just blame Harrison and keep me out of it?” Victoria laughed lightly back.

  Harrison coughed, took the papers out of his case and handed them across the desk.

  Oscar reached out and took the paperwork and then flung it to the other side of the desk. “Paperwork bores me . . . my grandfather, who started the Van Hoevan fortune, didn’t make money out of paperwork, young fella, he made it out of steel, blood, sweat and tears.”

  “Usually other people’s,” said Victoria.

  Harrison coughed again. “Indeed, but you need to keep that fortune well minded, and we at Union Bank –”

  “Will mind it like a newborn baby, no doubt,” said Oscar.

  “Daddy! Hear him out!”

  “Why don’t you two run along and let me get back to what I was doing,” said Oscar.

  “But, sir,” began Harrison.

  “We’re being dismissed,” said Victoria, getting up off the arm of the chair. “No point in arguing with him.”

  “You could learn a few things from listening to her,” said Oscar.

  Harrison felt bewildered as he stood up and followed Victoria out of the room.

  “No need to look so puzzled,” said Victoria as she led him down the corridor. “I told you he’s a cuddly cub . . . now let’s get you settled into your room. We’re serving dinner at eight tonight; Daddy is a stickler for time, so try not to be late.”

  Harrison was completely confused as he hung up his clothes in the sumptuous guest room he was shown to. Oscar Van Hoevan didn’t seem to have any interest in finding out anything about the Union Bank proposals. He really hoped he hadn’t made a wasted journey. His room was at the back of the house and he went to one of the windows that looked out over an expansive lawn and the ocean just beyond it. He stayed in his room for the rest of the day, not daring to venture out in case he had to cope with Oscar’s overly confident and peculiar daughter.

  In the evening he dressed for dinner and headed down for eight sharp as instructed. A butler showed him into the dining room, which had the familiar theme of the house: huge and lavishly decorated.

  “Ah, you managed to find us all right!” Victoria said as he came in. “You know, we had a guest here this summer who got lost in the house and couldn’t find his way back to his room and ended up sleeping on a couch in a hall!”

  “Uncomfortable for him, I imagine,” said Harrison.

  “Well, he was half drunk on Daddy’s best cognac, so I don’t think he minded that much.”

  Oscar was seated at the top of the table and had already started to eat the first course of salad.

  A lady in her fifties, impeccably dressed and groomed with dazzling diamonds around her neck, was also seated at the table.

  “Harrison, this is my mother, Tess,” said Victoria.

  “Very nice to meet you,” smiled Tess. “Victoria has been telling me all about you. You must sit beside me so I can interrogate you properly.”

  Harrison nervously went and sat down where he was told to, which was across the table from Victoria. A footman poured him wine and he started to eat his salad.

  “We met your sister and brother-in-law, the Duke of Battington, when we were in London last year – charming couple,” Tess said to Harrison’s amazement.

  “You’re the son of an Irish lord, aren’t you?” said Victoria.

  Harrison nodded, becoming angry. He knew they must have been informed of all this by Morgan. It became apparent why he had been chosen to come to the Van Hoevans. Morgan had wanted to impress them with Harrison’s family background. He wasn’t there on merit but because Morgan felt Harrison’s aristocratic connections would impress the Van Hoevans and land them as a client.

  “We haven’t been to Ireland, but we believe it’s beautiful,” said Tess.

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Harrison.

  “Do you go home often?” asked Victoria.

  “No.”

  “Of course there’s Irish in us somewhere,” said Victoria.

  “Really? I thought you descended from Dutch with your name?” said Harrison.

  “Dutch, Irish, German, French, we’re a real melting pot – it’s all in there somewhere,” stated Oscar.

  “I’m surprised we’ve never met you socially before in New York,” said Tess.

  “Oh, I believe Harrison doesn’t like to go out much, do you?” Victoria said.

  Harrison glared at Victoria, wondering who she had been talking to and what she had heard. He felt very much exposed and wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible.

  Harrison turned to Oscar. “I was hoping we could meet at the earliest opportunity in the morning, to go over the paperwork.”

  “Sure, sure – what’s my diary like tomorrow, Vicky?”

  “A bit busy really, but I’m sure we’ll manage to fit you in.” Victoria smiled over at Harrison.

  Tess talked incessantly about her children – two sons and two daughters.

  “Two of them are in New York at the moment, and Conrad – he’s in San Francisco.”

  He found Tess to be jovial and warm, Victoria inquisitive to the point of being nosy and Oscar changeable from being warm to grumpy.

  He waited for the earliest opportunity to get away from them that evening and go to bed.

  The next morning he dressed and came down for breakfast. He was shown into the dining room where he found Victoria.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “The sea air here always gives people a good night’s sleep . . . I’m afraid Daddy has had to go.”

  Harrison looked up, alarmed. “Go where?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Chicago! What’s he doing there?”

  “Building a railroad or something. An urgent message came for him this morning and off he had to go.”

  “But what about our business together?”

  “He said you weren’t to leave until he had an opportunity to talk to you.”

  “And when will that be?
” Harrison was aghast.

  “Who knows?” said Victoria shrugging. “Everyone knows what Daddy is like . . . I’m sure you won’t be bored here.”

  “It’s not a case of being bored. I’ve commitments back in New York with my job.”

  “Very thoughtless of Daddy really, he can be like that, you know.”

  “I – I – I just don’t think I can stay waiting for him. My boss won’t understand.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will. Relax – you might just enjoy yourself!” She smiled at him.

  Five days came and went at the Van Hoevan mansion and there was still no sign of Oscar Van Hoevan returning, much to Harrison’s dismay. He contacted Morgan who instructed him again under no circumstances to leave without getting his business done with Oscar. Oscar obviously thought that his wealth allowed him to inconvenience others with no regard, thought Harrison angrily. He spent his time in Newport trying to avoid Victoria who had taken it on herself to try and alleviate Harrison’s boredom with suggestions of doing everything from sailing to horse riding, all of which he politely declined.

  He dined with her and Tess most evenings. A couple of times he feigned a headache and had food brought to his room. He longed to be back on the train to New York.

  One afternoon he went walking by himself down the long expansive lawn. At the end of the lawn was a cliff edge with a straight drop down to the ocean below, where the waves crashed continuously against the rocks. He walked past a gazebo and stood, staring out to sea.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” said a voice and he turned to see Victoria.

  “Oh, nothing – just looking at the ocean . . . My home is across that ocean, the west of Ireland . . . Armstrong House.” He gazed out at the sea.

  Victoria studied him and then her usually happy face turned very sad. “Do you know . . . I think you’re the loneliest person I’ve ever met.”

  He turned to her, startled. “I’d better get back to the house.” He turned and walked quickly across the lawn, leaving her staring after him.

  Harrison came into the dining room that evening and found Victoria on her own there waiting for him.