Roberta Leigh - In Name Only Read online

  "I don't believe in miracles," Sir Angus replied shortly.

  "Not miracles perhaps," the other man conceded, "but recoveries that only come about because of faith, or perhaps you might prefer to call it obstinacy - a determination to overcome every obstacle. In my personal opinion that may well happen with your son. That's why I hope you'll hide your own pessimism."

  "Good heavens, man!" Sir Angus said angrily, "do you think I'm going to rush in and tell him he'll never walk again? Of course I'll encourage him. I'll do everything in my power to help him."

  "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."

  For several moments after the surgeon had left, Sir Angus remained silent at his desk, his eyes closed but his fingers restlessly moving one against the other.

  "The only person I've ever cared abou,” he said finally. "Without Nicholas there's no rhyme or reason for anything I've done. It's all been a waste - the empire I've built, the power, the money… all a waste."

  "You mustn't say that!" Jane pleaded. "Your son will live! You heard what Mr, -"

  "Words are cheap," Sir Angus interrupted. "What else do you think he could have said? That my son's life was still hanging by a thread?"

  "I'm sure Mr. Manders-Jones wasn't lying. You're strong enough to accept the truth and he knows it. Your son will live, but he might not walk again. Surely that's better man not having him alive at all!"

  "For me, maybe," came the husky reply, "but I'm not sure what Nicholas would say. The life he led, the places he went to… and now tied for the rest of his days to a wheelchair!"

  "How can you be so sure? As long as he's alive there's always the chance he'll recover completely."

  "Spare me the maudlin platitudes!"

  Jane reddened but persevered. "You heard what the specialist said. The one thing that might help your son walk again is having the guts to try. And you're the only person who can give him that sort of courage."

  There was a tense pause, then slowly the anger left Sir Angus's face. "You're a kind girl, Jane. Kind but foolish." He walked to the door. "I won't do any more work today, so you might as well go."

  "Would you like me to come back this evening?"

  "I don't think so. Tomorrow evening, perhaps. Then at least I can be with Nicholas during the day."

  "Of course. I can change my working time completely if you wish."

  "Not for the moment. But thank you for suggesting it. I'll call you at the office tomorrow."

  For the next six weeks Sir Angus spent most of his days at the hospital and Jane's offer to work during the evenings was accepted and soon became her natural routine. Working in his home lessened the barriers between them, and watching him pace the library as he dictated letters and articles, or sharing a late snack with him in front of the fire, she not only learned more about him as a person, but also became closely involved in every step of his son's progress.

  Taking his cue from her own continuing optimism, Sir Angus spoke frequently of Nicholas's return home, reiterating time and again that once he was out of the hospital atmosphere he would have a stronger urge to walk.

  But Jane's optimism was something she deeply regretted on the day she finally saw Nicholas Hamilton carried into the house, a male nurse at his side. Gone was the virile, handsome young man she had briefly glimpsed before the accident, rushing along the office corridor. Now he lay sunk back in his chair, his demeanour so apathetic, his arrogant bearing replaced by a depressive slouch that indicated the acceptance of total defeat. Here was no man determined to show that will-power could succeed where medical help had failed; here was only an empty shell with a broken spirit.

  Sir Angus, standing at her side, seemed to sense what she was thinking and put it into words. "We were wrong to build up our hopes. It was childish. Nicholas is done for."

  "You mustn't let him hear you say that!"

  "He knows it for himself." Without another word he went across the hall and into the library, leaving Jane to return to the small breakfast-room where she had set up her office.

  With Nicholas at home, his presence a permanent reminder of his disability, Sir Angus lost the surface calm he had assumed since the accident and his temper, none too good at the best of times, became totally unpredictable. His inability to delegate became even worse and within a matter of weeks he was practically- doing the work of his entire Board.

  His collapse, when it came, was as inevitable as evening after day, but its result upon Nicholas was totally unexpected. From being an apathetic cripple in a wheelchair, he was suddenly filled with so fierce a determination to walk again that it even drew a remonstrance from me physiotherapist in daily attendance on him.

  "There's a limit to the rate one can progress," the young woman complained to Jane one Friday afternoon. "But I can't make him understand that doubling the amount of his exercise won't make him walk in half the time! The most important thing is to progress slowly."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "I thought perhaps you could talk to him… that he'd listen to you." .

  "He barely knows me."

  The physiotherapist smiled. "But he knows all about you. Sometimes when he's been sitting by the window he's watched you walking in the garden with Sir Angus. He calls you the little nun."

  Jane was startled. "Whatever for?"

  "Because he says you always wear dark clothes and look sedate."

  Jane's reply was forestalled by the entry of Sir Robert Larkin, Sir Angus's own physician, and she could not help thinking how easily a house invested itself with the air of a hospital once members of the medical profession became regular visitors.

  "Don't look so depressed, Miss Roberts," the doctor said with a smile. "I only came to tell you to get your pencils sharpened. Another week's rest and Sir Angus will be at work again."

  "I didn't think he'd be better as quickly as that," Jane said in relief.

  "He'll be as well as he's ever likely to be." There was an inflection in the doctor's voice that signified a deeper meaning, and though etiquette forbade her from directly asking what was wrong, she gave him a questioning look.

  "It's not anything specific," Sir Robert said slowly. "But he's pushed himself hard all his life and it's time he slowed down. Matter of fact he should retire."

  "He could never do that!" Jane exclaimed. "He'd die first."

  "That might well be the choice he'll have to make," Sir Robert retorted. "He's got to take things more slowly. You'd do well to remind him of that next time he asks you to work late!"

  After the doctor had left, Jane mulled over his remarks, finding it difficult to conceive of Sir Angus as a man old enough to retire. Hard on this thought came the memory of Nicholas Hamilton and the physiotherapist's request. Now more than ever it was vital for him to be well enough to take his father's place, and though she doubted whether he would take advice from anyone, let alone herself, she felt duty bound to go and see him.

  Apprehension was her main feeling as she entered the large sunny room which he had occupied since his return from hospital. Apart from one meeting, when he had been wheeled into the drawing-room for tea, she had never seen him at such close quarters, and it was a sight that in no way restored her equilibrium. Though his accident had rendered him unable to walk it had not marked him in any other way, and looking at him as he sat in his wheelchair it was difficult to believe he was not capable of standing up, coming over to her and throwing her bodily out of the room.

  Despite his weeks in hospital his skin had lost only a little of its tan and the warm bronzed colour deepened the grey of his eyes. Though thinner, this only served to increase his look of muscularity and as he leaned back in his wheelchair his shoulders were so broad that they hid the back of it completely. .

  There was no mistaking that he was his father's son: the slight curve which gave the nose a commanding quality; the well-shaped mouth with the thin, determined lower lip and the obstinate thrust of the jaw bespoke the same heritage. Even the hair was of identica
l texture, though whereas

  Sir Angus was grey, Nicholas was still dark. Yet the hair sprang back from the high forehead with the same spring and vitality, giving the head a leonine quality that could not be ignored. No, even as a cripple, Nicholas Hamilton was a power not to be denied.

  "You're an unexpected visitor, Miss Roberts," he said, breaking into her thoughts. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  Immediately he spoke Jane's confidence returned, for his voice was only a feeble echo of the strong tones she had expected. Nevertheless her answer parried his question.

  "I just came to tell you that I've seen Sir Robert and he's delighted with your father's recovery."

  "Sir Robert has already spoken to me personally."

  His tone was a dismissal and, assuming she would take it as such, he turned his chair back to face the chains suspended from the ceiling above him and strained upwards to catch at them. As she watched, he lifted himself from the chair, held on to the chains for ten seconds - his body suspended in the air - and then lowered himself back into the seat.

  "Wouldn't it be better if you did those exercises when the physiotherapist is here ? " she asked.

  He turned his head sharply, although surprised she was soil there. "An hour a day won't have me on my legs."

  "Nor will overstrained muscles."

  He glared at her, looking more than ever like Sir Angus's son. "Stop acting as catspaw for my physio and leave me to decide what's best!"

  "Some decisions are best left to the expert," she retorted.

  "And you're an expert too, I suppose?"

  "I've been coached by one - as you just said!" Jane admitted with a half smile.

  "At least you're honest," he said bitterly. "You don't pretend you've come here because you wanted to."

  "I've often wasted to visit you," she said candidly, "bat you've made such a point of not having any visitors at all"

  "I'll welcome anyone so long as they didn't know me when…"

  He did not finish the sentence, but Jane did so for him. "When you were fit and well," He was silent, but she refused to let it defeat her. "Are you afraid your friends might pity you, Mr. Hamilton? Don't you know that even in a wheelchair you're stronger than most ordinary men?"

  He gave a short, unamused laugh. "You've a peculiar idea of strength, Miss Roberts."

  "I mean strength of character. It's more important man the physical kind."

  "You say that because you can walk! You don't know what it's like to be tied to a chair - to be helpless and dependent on someone else for everything you need."

  "I can understand how it must feel. Believe me, I know exactly the progress you're making. But you can't rush your recovery. If you do, you might do more harm than good."

  "And what happens to the Hamilton Press in the meantime? It's a family company, Miss Roberts, and I'm the only family left!"

  "Sir Angus can carry on for years."

  "Only if he slows down. And he won't do that if I'm not at hand to take over." He swung his chair away from her and lunged for the chains above him, but this time he was unable to reach them, and after two attempts he lay back, breathing heavily. -

  "Well, go on," he said, not looking at her. "Why don't you say I told you so ? "

  "I don't need to. You obviously only learn by your own experience. It shows a limited imagination."

  There was a short silence, so intense that it almost had a noise of its own. Then he spoke, his voice amused. "So the little nun has a serpent's tongue! I must say I never expected it!"

  "You shouldn't judge by appearances."

  "How else does one judge a woman?"

  "You could try talking to her!" Remembering some of the more lurid gossip she had read about him in rival newspapers, she added mischievously: "Or is talking something you've never bothered to do with your female companions?"

  "The answers I would have received wouldn't have made the effort of talking worthwhile!"

  "You're honest too," Jane admitted.

  "Why shouldn't I be? Women are delightful creatures as long as one doesn't take them seriously."

  For a split second Jane thought he was joking, but one look at his face told her this was not so.

  "Your relationship with women must have been a very limited one, Mr. Hamilton."

  "I wouldn't say that," he said drily. "I believe that at one time one of our rival newspapers actually listed the number of my best friends'!"

  "I meant the word 'limited' as indicative of your understanding of women, not of your sexual achievements." She stopped abruptly, afraid she had gone too far. "I'm sorry, I'd no right to speak like that."

  "Don't apologize for your candour. It's refreshing. If I weren't a cripple I might even be tempted to take your advice and talk to the next girl I went out with!" He gave a heavy sigh. "But that question is now purely academic so there's no point considering it."

  "You mustn't think like that."

  "I'm a cripple," he said harshly. "What woman in her right mind would want to be tied to a cripple?"

  Impulsively she moved over and stood dose by his wheelchair. "You'll walk again - I'm sure of that - but even if you don't, you've still got more to give than most men."

  "With all my worldly goods," he said sarcastically.

  "Don't! That wasn't what I meant at all. I was thinking of intelligence and character, of humour and…" She turned and walked away from him, knowing she had failed in what she had come there to do, yet not knowing what else she could have done. "You equate everything on the same level and you put women on the lowest level of all."

  "Not you," he said unexpectedly, his voice coming so close behind her that she knew he had propelled himself forward. "I don't equate you with the women IVe known. You not only look different, Miss Roberts, but I actually believe you are! And that's meant as a compliment in case you think it wasn't. Now for heaven's sake turn round and look at me." The words were so like his father's that she obeyed him automatically. "Now then," he said, "you came here to tell me to make haste slowly, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "And what do I do with the time I don't spend exercising? Haven't you considered the possibility that I need to let off excess steam?"

  "I'm sure there are other less harmful ways of doing it I"

  "Like playing snap?" he rejoined, the words giving clear indication that despite his desire to mollify her his irritability and temper still lay very close to the surface.

  "You could try learning more about the Company," she suggested.

  "Learning more!" he exploded. "What do you think I've been doing with my life for the past ten years? Don't be too misled by the gossip columns, Miss Roberts. My trips abroad weren't only jet set jaunts. I made contacts, discovered sources we could use… damn it, I practically created the whole network that's made our foreign correspondents the best informed in the world!"

  "That's what I mean," she said exactly. "You've been so busy travelling you haven't had time to get to know the people you'll eventually have to work with. And that's what you should be doing now - learning all you can about everyone on your Board of Directors and your senior editors. Then you'll know their strength as well as their weakness."

  "For such an innocent-looking girl you've a positively machiavellian turn of mind!" He tilted his head to look directly at her, and as he stared at her face his sardonic amusement was replaced by thoughtfulness. "You have a point there, Miss Roberts. Apply psychology to the Boardroom and divide and conquer by courtesy of Freud!" His hands, large and strong, gripped the arms of his chair. "How do you suggest I set about it ?"

  "That's easy." She smiled with relief. "It's all on record."

  "Then have them brought here. From tomorrow the weakness of my legs will be compensated for by the strength of my knowledge!"

  CHAPTER II

  True to his promise, Nicholas Hamilton assigned himself ferociously to learning the background of all the directors and top echelon connected with the Company. It was a mammoth task
, but one he obviously found so absorbing that it left him - according to the grateful physiotherapist - little time to ponder over the slowness of his progress.

  But progress he was undoubtedly making, as Jane saw for herself during her frequent visits to the house in Orme Square. Although Sir Angus had promised his doctor not to overwork, he still did a great deal during the weekends, and hardly a Saturday or Sunday passed without her working with him. Even when there was no dictation or reports to be done he seemed reluctant to let her leave, and took to using her as a sounding-board for innovations he wished to make, while sometimes he just used her as a listener for his more outrageous proposals which, once voiced and aired, she knew would rarely be used.

  A week before Christmas and six months after the plane crash, Nicholas was able to walk into the dining-room on crutches and take his place at the table. Jane was the only person to know he had recovered sufficiently to do this, and she was sworn to secrecy.

  "I want to wait till I'm completely fit," he said by way of explanation. "Then I'll give a party and invite all my friends here to celebrate my return to the world."

  "Acquaintances seems a better word than friends," she replied acidly. "If they were really friends you wouldn't mind them seeing you as you are."

  He did not argue the point and she now knew him better than to continue it. Although he had a great similarity to his father, there was much in him she did not understand; one moment he could be tolerant and amused and the next waspish or sullen Not that it was fair to judge him until he was completely well, she conceded, though when that time came he would move totally out of her own orbit. It was a thought which, coming to her as she watched him talk to his father in the library one Sunday evening, made her realise how much a part of her life both Sir Angus and his son had become. Too big a part to be healthy, she acknowledged, and realised that though she criticised Nicholas for cutting himself off from his friends, she herself had done exactly the same, albeit for different reasons.

  His own desire to be alone until he was well again had stemmed from a need for self-protection, whereas her desire to be alone was in order to protect a love which she knew could never come to fruition. Yes, at last she was admitting the truth of her feelings for Nicholas Hamilton. She loved him. Loved a man who saw her only as his father's competent secretary.