Yesterday's Promise (15 page)

Surprisingly, it was Darinda who left Parnell and her grandfather and walked toward him, shoulders thrown back. She was young, perhaps Evy Varley's age. Unlike Evy, Darinda was a brunette. She was tall and slender, and as she came near, he could see pearl-gray eyes that measured him
boldly. Her neat skirt and white linen blouse with pleated bodice looked precise and businesslike. No frivolous Arcilla, this woman. Darinda looked capable of anything. Rogan wondered if she took after her grandfather.

Darinda stopped in front of him, carrying her height well. She looked at him through narrowing eyes with black lashes, a coquettish smile on her full lips.

“So this is Parnell's younger brother.”

Rogan smiled. “So
this
is Julien's granddaughter. I hear you're giving my poor brother a strenuous time.”

Instead of becoming angry, she laughed. “You're not like Parnell, are you? He's afraid to contest me.”

“Is that what you want, to be contested?”

Her dark brow lifted, and she scanned him again. “Welcome to South Africa,
Cousin
Rogan.”

“Welcome? I wonder…” He gestured his head toward Sir Julien. “Does he have his sjambok with him? Or is that two-hundred-pound guard the whip carrier?”

“Oh, you mean Jorgen?” She glanced toward the big man who climbed down from beside the driver. “He does get carried away at times…and Grandfather always has a sjambok near at hand,” she stated with indifference.

“Better tell him I'm no longer a boy.”

“Anyone can tell that.” Her eyes met his evenly.

Trouble
. He looked away toward Parnell. His brother was glowering as he walked up, and Julien walked into De Beers Consolidated. There would be no confrontation yet.

“I see you two have met,” Parnell clipped.

“Unfortunately, just now,” Darinda quipped with innocence to her voice.

Rogan knew the retort was anything but innocent, and he did not look at his brother. It was apparent that she had some of Julien's cool determination running in her veins.

“I've heard so much about you, Rogan. Not from Parnell, but from Grandfather.”

“Then I imagine you carry a derringer in your handbag,” Rogan said smoothly.

Again, she laughed. “Oh, I always carry a gun,” she quipped. “Any smart woman around here will. I keep telling Arcilla that, but she blanches each time she sees it.”

“Arcilla is from London,” Parnell said, his voice crisp, and it wasn't clear whether he was telling her she needed some of the polish of proper British ladies, or defending his sister.

“She'll learn,” Darinda said, then turned her attention back to Rogan. “Are you joining Grandfather on the expedition?”

“No. I came with my own plans.” Yet he wondered if his plans were already being thwarted by his uncle. He thought of Mornay and the money he needed for securing him as his guide.

“Grandfather needs you,” she said. “You simply must come on the pioneer trek north.”

“I doubt if Julien needs anyone except you, Miss Darinda,” Rogan said quietly.

She seemed to like that. “I wish Grandfather recognized that. For some reason he thinks he must have a male heir to run the family diamond business here in Kimberly. So he adopted Cousin Anthony. But Anthony is a Brewster through and through.”

Rogan wondered what she deemed lacking in the Brewsters. It was Parnell who shed some light.

“Anthony Brewster doesn't like confrontation. Business partners walk all over him. He'd much prefer to go off on some safari, not to actually hunt, but merely to take photographs of big game.”

“It's Camilla, of course,” Darinda said. “Her mental illness has robbed him of courage.”

“Bah, Lady Camilla is as sane as you or I,” Parnell countered. “She stays in her bedroom at Cape House because she doesn't like your grandfather.”

“Most people don't like Grandfather,” she agreed soberly and looked at Rogan again.

“Where's Peter?” Rogan asked Parnell.

Parnell showed unease. “At the house. Julien surprised us all, didn't he, Darinda?”

“Grandfather always surprises people. And I think he enjoys it. In fact, he wasn't due here until next week, but something has changed his mind.” She looked at Rogan again. “I suspect it was your arrival. He showed up last night with Arcilla.”

Then Arcilla must have told him of his arrival. Again, she had disappointed him. But had she mentioned Henry's map?

Darinda laughed. “Arcilla is still in bed. How on earth does Peter think she can survive the trek north?”

“Better ask your grandfather,” Rogan said smoothly. “It is Julien who insists she go. As well she should. A wife's place is beside her husband.”

“I always thought so,” she said cheerfully and smiled at Parnell, but there was more taunt in her eyes than sincerity. “Parnell thinks the opposite, don't you? He thinks a woman should remain safely in Capetown. I'm glad you don't feel that way, Rogan. Parnell, you have so much to learn from your younger brother.”

On guard
, Rogan warned himself dryly.
This woman means trouble. Worse yet, she is very attractive. For Parnell's sake, I better stay far away
.

“I'll get Grandfather,” she said suddenly and turned toward the De Beers building where Julien had gone. Either he was in no hurry to confront Rogan, or there was something important he wanted to check in the mining office. Whatever the reason, Rogan felt sure it would not be to his benefit.

Parnell turned on him angrily when she was out of earshot.

“Stay away from her, Rogan,” he warned grimly, his face flushed with frustration.

“Look, you ruddy clod, I've no interest in Darinda Bley. Take it easy. All I want is to be about my own expedition, free of Julien and the BSA. Tell me the truth about Mornay.”

“What?” Parnell now looked distracted, caught off guard. He calmed, straightening his cravat over a watered silk vest. “I don't know what you mean,” he said, slanting his eyes away.

“Come off it, Parnell. Someone paid him to draw that map. I've a good reason to think he was also warned to not hire on as my guide. He asked for a king's ransom to head up my expedition. It was deliberate.”

Parnell shook his head, then glanced back over his shoulder toward De Beers. “I was told to hire him to do the map. That's no secret. I already told you yesterday.”

“By Julien, no less.”

Parnell failed to reply, confirming his statement.

“Derwent and I rode out to Mornay's bungalow. He'd been warned I was coming. He demanded an unreasonable wage for his services. Derwent tells me Mornay just came back from a safari with a German baron. He didn't charge the baron a tenth of what he demanded of me.”

Parnell shrugged impatiently. “I don't know about that. How could I have warned him? I didn't know you were here until you walked into my office yesterday.”

Rogan looked toward De Beers Consolidated Mining Company. “All right, Julien then. But how did he know?”

Parnell smoothed his hair, which glistened like a polished chestnut beneath the bright sunlight.

“You should know the answer to that question.” His voice was quiet. “Arcilla's returned with him. You heard Darinda.”

Rogan didn't want to believe Arcilla would betray him like this.

“She promised to say nothing until I got my expedition together.”

“Look, Rogan, we know our sister. We know she means well, but she's…she's Arcilla. Doesn't that answer it?”

It did. But Rogan didn't want to think of it. Arcilla truly wanted him on the BSA expedition north. She'd made that clear at Capetown. Had Julien caught her returning to the house and forced it out of her?
Yes, that had to have been it
. Arcilla would have been no match in a confrontation with Julien. He could be quite intimidating. She might admit
the truth and then make an excuse for her failure in doing so. The worrisome thing was the map. Had she told Julien that he might be led to the gold by Henry's map, which Rogan had found?

“Julien's coming now,” Parnell said. “Excuse me. I don't want to be here for this. I'm going to my office to find Darinda.” He turned and walked briskly across De Beers Street to the three-story edifice.

Rogan waited for his uncle by marriage as he walked toward him. For a moment Julien stood there measuring him. What Julien thought could not be discerned from his stoic face. Yet Rogan could sense a controlled anger as his uncle stared at him with his one eye.

“You've thrown aside the family's wishes and indulged your restless nature, I see. I should have known a year in London with Anthony was too much to expect from your adventurous sort. Henry, that's who you're like. If I didn't know better, I'd swear Honoria—”

“Don't say it, Julien,” Rogan cut him off in a deadly quiet voice. “One word about my mother, and I'll live up to your insults and flatten you.”

Julien's mouth slipped open. He glared at him. Then the dark eye glinted like the mysterious diamond itself. His lower lip pulled into a smile.

“Yes, you would, all right. You'd enjoy it too, wouldn't you?”

“Not particularly.”

Julien gave a snort of laughter. “I won't give you that satisfaction, my boy. Come. We need to talk business.”

He turned his back and strode toward the edge of the Big Hole, where countless workers continued their busy activity. The wind caused his jacket to flap like crows' wings. No matter the weather, Julien always wore English black and fastidious white Irish linen shirts.

Rogan watched him a moment, then followed him to the rim of the mine. He didn't wait and took the initiative.

“Was it you who warned Mornay not to work for me?”

Julien took a gold case from his pocket and removed a slim Turkish cigarette. He lit it, cupping his hands against the wind.

“Mornay is now working for me,” he said matter-of-factly. “I pay him a ridiculously high wage for doing very little. The only advantage this offers me is that he will not lead your expedition. Why? Simple. I need you on Rhodes's expedition north.”

Rogan tried to bluff. “Mornay's not the only experienced guide in these parts.” But he was the best one for following Henry's map, and they both knew it.

“Few are capable of leading you deep into Mashonaland, because few have ever been there. I know of only one other guide who's better than Mornay, Frank Thompson. He is a Rhodes man. So, Rogan, you might just as well forget this nonsense of yours and come along with us. You're anxious for adventure, so you'll do well as Peter's assistant. There will be hard times ahead with the Matabele chief, Lobengula. The tricky old devil is backtracking on his agreement with the BSA. He squats at Bulawayo, his warriors making raids against the Shona in the north. It's time to be rid of him once and for all. They want a bloody fight, and we ought to give it to them.”

Rogan could think of little about Julien that he liked. His greed, his arrogance, all served to strengthen Rogan's stance against any cooperation. The idea of ending up like his brother, a tool in Julien's hands to do his bidding while Julien held the key to something he needed badly, was worse than losing his inheritance.

With Julien there was no middle path; it was always all or nothing.

“Forget Mornay,” Rogan countered. “Somehow I'll find a way. You'll have to accept things as they are this time, Uncle Julien. For years I've planned to finish Henry's expedition, and nothing will stop me now—not even you.”

“Commendable. Nostalgic, I suppose. Carrying on your beloved uncle's big dream—”

“A dream you mocked back then too. Henry's Folly, wasn't it? It looks as if it wasn't Henry who was so foolish.”

Julien inclined his head. “A point to your credit. Yes, I was wrong, and I've admitted it a hundred times. If I could do it over, I'd not only
have given him the money for the expedition, but I'd have arranged to go with him.”

“We cannot go back. And Henry is dead.”
Should I have said murdered, or do I wait?

“No, we can never go back and retrace our lives. But the gold remains. And the shareholders in Rhodes's company will find it ab solutely necessary to stop you. Unless, that is, you form a partnership with several in the Company, including myself. Cooperate with me, Rogan, and there's no need for Rhodes to know.”

Rogan studied him, surprised at his offer. This was a step he'd never thought Julien capable of. Forming a partnership behind the back of the BSA. It said even more about Julien Bley's all-consuming greed.

“Henry's gold deposit will remain in the family, adding to our power and wealth in the next generation. Strike out on your own, a greenhorn who knows nothing of this land, its peoples, or the determination of Cecil Rhodes, and you'll break your back against a solid wall.”

“Even Rhodes knew little about Africa when he first came here to dally on the rim of the Big Hole, talking of his big dreams to anyone who would listen. And you? How much did you know when you and Carl van Buren began to grovel for diamonds in the pit as young men?”

At the mention of Carl van Buren, Julien turned full face to look at him. It was a searching look that left Rogan wary.

“You misunderstand,” Julien said. “I recognize your potential. You could be a great asset to me, like Darinda, or you could turn out to be nearly useless as Anthony has proven himself to be. The biggest mistake I made years ago was adopting Anthony and making him a son. He hasn't a fire warming his blood. And now we're discussing you, and what can be yours, and what can benefit the entire family dynasty for generations to come.”

Flattery and threats. It was typical of Sir Julien's rhetoric.

“Peter tells me you found Henry's old map. We'll keep it a secret from Rhodes. We'll keep this in the family, and we'll both have what we want. You will have your adventure, and your gold, and whatever
charming young woman suits your fancy. And I shall have the other half. With it we shall sponsor new and even deeper colonies into the Zambezi, even beyond into the Portuguese port at Beit. Rhodes isn't the only pathfinder capable of building empires.”