A Battle of Brains (5 page)

“But how can I do that?” Yolanda interrupted.

“I know the make and I have an alternative key that I will give you.  Inside the case you will see a lot of notes and letters.  Because you are very intelligent I want you to quickly look and find those which come from the Doxford Shipyard.”

He repeated the firm's name and continued,

“Make a note of what is in the letters as fast as you can, particularly if there are any in his handwriting.  I require copies of those too.  After you have done that, go straight to bed as I rather suspect that Mr. Harpole will not be in a condition for you to find his company very genial if you get caught prying!”

As he finished speaking, Yolanda gave a gasp.

“What you are asking me to do, Step-papa, is to
spy
on your friend!  It is something that no lady or gentleman for that matter, would ever do.”

“What I am requesting,” he replied sharply, “is
business
.  It is the type of business that takes place all over the world every day.  As I wish to make a larger bid for the ships than Harpole, it will be convenient for me to know what he has already offered.  Also if they have refused or accepted his offer.”

“Then you will offer more for them?”

“Of course I will.”

“But you must see that what you are suggesting is cheating, Step-papa, and in a most underhand way too, as this Mr. Harpole is supposedly your friend.”

“There is no need to preach to me,” he snapped.  “There is nothing wrong with what I am telling you to do, it is just standard business practice.  I had no idea you would make such a silly fuss!”

He took a deep breath and then declared firmly,

“Mr. Harpole is not working for himself, but for an American Company.”

He made a sound, which was almost a laugh.

“Harpole will receive a good rake-off from the deal – of course, he will.  And if I trusted him, which I don't, I might even suggest that we join hands on this particular purchase, but I have no wish to be too closely connected with him.”

“I don't think that his sharp practice makes what you ask any better.”

Mr. Garrack sat back in his chair.

“Does it really matter what you do or don't think?  I have requested that you undertake a straightforward job for me.  I feel certain that you can carry it out without making a mistake or missing the items you are looking for.”

Yolanda sat upright and clenched her fingers.

“I cannot do it, Step-papa!”

“Why ever not?” he spat back angrily.

“Because, as I said, it is cheating.  I feel sure that if you asked Mr. Harpole in a straight manner exactly what he was offering for these ships, he would tell you.”

He laughed and it was not a pretty sound.

“My dear child – how little you know of the world and how extremely stupid you are!  Of course Mr. Harpole would give me a figure, but if you think it would be the true one, then you must be even more foolish than I thought.”

“You mean that
he
would cheat
you
?”

“Of course he would cheat me.  We are both men of business and we know only too well the difficult world we are working in.”

Yolanda did not speak and he went on,

“Then, having asked him point blank what his price is, you can be sure that he would do everything in his power to damage me.  Thus I would find it difficult to approach the firm at all because he would have already poisoned their minds against me.”

Yolanda gave a little shiver.

“It all sounds unpleasant, underhand and illegal.”

“Officially there is nothing illegal about this,” her stepfather retorted, “and what you have to do is very simple and will not be known to anyone.”

He dropped his voice.

“Neither my secretary nor my attorney, who will be travelling with me, will know when I go to see the ship owners.”

“I am very sorry, Stepfather,” sighed Yolanda.  “I know that Mama would think it wrong.”

“Your mother, whom I adored, knew nothing about business.  And, as you well know, she would have done anything to help and support me if I had asked her to do so.”

This Yolanda could not deny, so she replied,

“It is something my father would never do because he would consider it as bad as cheating at cards.”

“If your father had cheated a little, he would have been a far richer man when he died!”

As Yolanda was silent, he said after a moment,

“Now stop talking nonsense.  Here is the key to Mr. Harpole's despatch case.”

He took a key from a drawer on his desk and held it out to her.

Yolanda shook her head.

“I am sorry, Step-papa, but I cannot do something that I am sure would shock every respectable person I have ever known.  It would make me feel like I had committed an unforgiveable sin.”

For a second Mr. Garrack just stared at her.

“If that is to be your attitude then, of course, I must respect it.  But I can only hope that you will find a situation where you can express your principles without upsetting anyone.”

His eyes flickered over her before he added,

“You are a very pretty girl and doubtless someone will employ you just for your looks rather than your brains.  But in the meantime until you find a suitable position, you may be somewhat uncomfortable and perhaps hungry.”

Now Yolanda understood what he was saying and she gave a little gasp.

“Are you telling me, Step-papa, that if I do not do this for you, you will turn me out and do nothing for me?”

“I have done a great deal for you already, Yolanda, as you well know, but if you are not prepared to pay back in a small way what I have spent on you, I see no reason why I should spend any more.”

“But you know quite well that I have
no
money and
nowhere
to go!”

Mr. Garrack turned towards his writing desk.

“That is not my business, but I daresay your mother would be most upset at your walking the streets without a chaperone and with nowhere to lay your head.”

Yolanda gave a little cry.

“How can you be so unkind?  You know how much it would upset Mama!”

“It upsets me too,” he replied.  “At the same time it is impossible for us to live here together if you disapprove so much of me and my methods.  I think you are ungrateful and in some ways offensive.”

Yolanda realised that he had won the battle.

So, in a small voice that he could hardly hear, she murmured,

“Very well, Step-papa.  You know that I am unable to fight you, so you win.  I will do what you tell me to do.”

“I thought you would see sense.”

He picked up the key he had put on the edge of his desk and handed it to her.

Yolanda took it from him.

“Now there is no reason, Yolanda, for us to speak of this again.  You know what you have to do and we will behave as if this conversation has never taken place.”

He rose from his desk.

“Actually I had a present for you on your return and I think it is something you should come and see.”

“What is it, Step-papa?” Yolanda was forced to ask.

“It is an outstanding present, which I am told has Arab blood in his veins and will require riding by someone who is a good equestrian besides a lover of horses.”

Yolanda's heart gave a leap.

“A new horse!” she exclaimed.

“A new stallion and it is a present from me to you.”

“You know how exciting that is for me and thank you very much,” she forced the words out between tight lips.

She knew that she ought to kiss him, but could not make herself do so.

Instead she asked quickly,

“Can we go and see him now?”

“That is what I thought we would do, so I have already warned the stables to have him ready for you.”

Yolanda was aware that he had known before their conversation started that he would be the winner.

He obviously recognised that he would afterwards prove his magnanimity by giving her such a present.

How could she be anything but grateful when she loved horses so much?

The one thing she had missed at the Convent was being able to ride.

As they walked to the stables, she had the feeling that she had sold her principles at an expensive price.

Because it was impossible to do anything else, she talked at dinner about everything she could think of with the exception of steel-hulled ships.

What she had to do tomorrow night kept her awake long after she had gone to bed.

The more she thought it over in her mind, the more she realised in her heart that there should be no question of her complying with her stepfather's wishes.

But how could she possibly face going out into the world alone?  She knew that it would be practically impossible to find work with hardly a penny in her pocket and no knowledge of London.

She had been only been in the City briefly, but what she had seen had been the elegance of Hyde Park, the rich and comfortable houses of her mother's friends and the luxury of her stepfather's mansion.

She was not so stupid as to think any of that would be of the slightest help – not if she actually had to earn her own living.

Apart from that what could she do?

She had an excellent education, yet that was not to say it would enable her to earn much on her own.

The most she could hope for was to become a governess or a servant and even that would be unlikely, as she had no experience.

It surely was a man's world, she thought ruefully.

Women were not particularly necessary whilst it seemed men were always in demand.

‘It is all so frightening,' Yolanda brooded.

She was forced to be dependent on whoever would be kind to her and at the moment that was her stepfather.

‘I have to obey him, Papa, even though I think he is wrong and ungentlemanly,' she murmured slowly.

Then she felt like crying.

However drastic their situation had been in the past, her dear father had never done anything so underhand – nor something he would think of as common and beneath him.

*

All the next day Yolanda waited apprehensively for the arrival of Mr. Harpole.

When he did arrive, he was such an unpleasant looking man that she felt that it might be easier to cheat him than if he had been handsome and charming.

Yolanda was sure that if it was a question of Mr. Harpole deceiving her stepfather, he would not hesitate.

He was clearly impressed with the huge house and as usual her stepfather introduced her in a way that made her sound grander than she really was.

Because he would expect it, she put on a very pretty gown for dinner, although she should be dressed in black as she was still in mourning.

When she had first arrived back, she had asked her stepfather if she could buy some black clothes.

She did not have any to wear on her journey home from Paris, so she had chosen her plainest coat and taken all the decorations from her hat.

Her stepfather, however, told her firmly,

“No mourning!”

“But it is correct for me to wear mourning because my Mama is dead,” protested Yolanda.

“I am aware of that,” he replied.  “But I do dislike black and I want you to look attractive.  You can wear as much white as you like and, as you are a
debutante
now you have left school, white is the correct colour for you.

“I am not having you walking about looking like a crow and your mother would not it like either.”

Yolanda wanted to argue with him.

However, as they were in the country, she consoled herself that, as they did not see anyone it would not matter that much what colour she wore.  She also knew that her mother had always disliked black, complaining that it did not flatter her complexion.

Although her mother had worn it when her father died, she soon changed to mauve or wore black dresses with a great deal of white trimming on them.

Whatever her opinion, Yolanda knew in her heart that as usual it was impossible to disagree with her stepfather as he would have to pay for anything she bought.

She therefore chose for dinner one of the gowns her mother had sent to her whilst she had been at the Convent.

Putting it on, Yolanda remembered what her mother had written at the time,

“
I was out shopping yesterday and saw such pretty
dresses in that shop in Bond Street where we bought some
clothes before.

I am sending you two gowns, which I know you will
enjoy wearing.

They come to you, my darling, with all my love, but
you must write and thank your stepfather for buying them
.”

Yolanda looked mournfully at herself in the mirror, seeing a sad looking girl in a very pretty expensive dress.  As she finished getting ready, she decided that it all came down to the same thing in the end.

Those who had
money
could do what they wanted.

But those who had none had to do what they were told.

She slipped the key that her stepfather had given her into her little evening bag and reluctantly went down the stairs, pasting a smile on her face as went.

Both the men had changed into evening clothes.

Greeting them, Yolanda considered that Mr. Harpole looked a little better in his than he had when he arrived.

But as dinner progressed she could not help thinking how rough and common he was, despite his expensive clothes.

He was obviously very clever and she listened to the way he talked to her stepfather with something approaching respect for his intellect.

There was no doubt that he had travelled and listening to him recounting his business stories it was clear that he was well versed in the new industries springing up all over the world.

There was, however, no mention of ships.

Yolanda found it hard to concentrate, let alone enjoy the food so carefully prepared by Mr. Garrack's excellent cook, as she thought apprehensively of what she had to do when dinner was over.