Jamie would have been furious had he been aware that the servants in the house spent hour upon hour discussing him and his son. They all agreed that the master was behaving unreasonably, but they also knew that even to mention the subject would mean instant dismissal. Jamie McGregor was not a man who took kindly to advice from anyone.
The following evening Jamie had a late business meeting. He had made an investment in a new railroad. It was a small one, to be sure, running from his mines in the Namib Desert to De Aar, linking up with the Cape Town-Kimberley line, but it would now be much cheaper to transport his diamonds and gold to the port. The first South Africa Railway had been opened in 1860, running from Dunbar to the Point, and since then new lines had been run from Cape Town to Wellington. Railroads were going to be the steel veins that allowed goods and people to flow freely through the heart of South Africa, and Jamie intended to be a part of them. That was only the beginning of his plan. After that, Jamie thought, ships. My own ships to carry the minerals across the ocean.
He arrived home after midnight, undressed and got into bed. He had had a decorator from London design a large, masculine bedroom with a huge bed that had been carved in Cape Town. There was an old Spanish chest in one corner of the room and two enormous wardrobes which held more than fifty suits and thirty pairs of shoes. Jamie cared nothing about clothes, but it was important to him that they be there. He had spent too many days and nights wearing rags.
He was just dozing off when he thought he heard a cry. He sat up and listened. Nothing. Was it the baby? It might have fallen out of its crib. Jamie knew that Mrs. Talley was a sound sleeper. It would be dreadful if something happened to the infant while it was in Jamie's house. Then it could become his responsibility. Damn that woman! Jamie thought.
He put on a robe and slippers and went through the house to Mrs. Talley's room. He listened at her closed door and could hear nothing. Quietly, Jamie pushed open the door. Mrs. Talley was sound asleep, huddled under the covers, snoring. Jamie walked over to the crib. The baby lay on its back, its eyes wide open. Jamie moved closer and looked down. There was a resemblance, by God! It definitely had Jamie's mouth and chin. Its eyes were blue now, but all babies were born with blue eyes. Jamie could tell by looking at it that it was going to have gray eyes. It moved its little hands in the air and made a cooing sound and smiled up at Jamie. Now, that's a brave lad, Jamie thought, lying there, not making any noise, not screaming like other babies would do. He peered closer. Yes, he's a McGregor, all right.
Tentatively, Jamie reached down and held out a finger. The infant grabbed it with both hands and squeezed tightly. He's as strong as a bull, Jamie thought. At that moment, a strained look came over the infant's face, and Jamie could smell a sour odor.
"Mrs. Talley!"
She leaped up in bed, filled with alarm. "What - what is it?"
"The baby needs attention. Do I have to do everything around here?"
And Jamie McGregor stalked out of the room.
"David, do you know anything about babies?"
"In what respect, sir?" David Blackwell asked.
"Well, you know. What they like to play with, things like that."
The young American said, "I think when they're very young they enjoy rattles, Mr. McGregor."
"Pick up a dozen," Jamie ordered.
"Yes, sir."
No unnecessary questions. Jamie liked that. David Blackwell was going to go far.
That evening when Jamie arrived home with a small brown package, Mrs. Talley said, "I want to apologize for last night, Mr. McGregor. I don't know how I could have slept through it. The baby must have been screaming something terrible for you to have heard it all the way in your room."
"Don't worry about it," Jamie said generously. "As long as one of us heard it." He handed her the package. "Give this to it. Some rattles for him to play with. Can't be much fun for him to be a prisoner in that crib all day."
"Oh, he's not a prisoner, sir. I take him out."
"Where do you take him?"
"Just in the garden, where I can keep an eye on him."
Jamie frowned. "He didn't look well to me last night."
"He didn't?"
"No. His color's not good. It wouldn't do for him to get sick before his mother picks him up."
"Oh, no, sir."
"Perhaps I'd better have another look at him."
"Yes, sir. Shall I bring him in here?"
"Do that, Mrs. Talley."
"Right away, Mr. McGregor."
She was back in a few minutes with little Jamie in her arms. The baby was clutching a blue rattle. "His color looks fine to me."
"Well, I could have been wrong. Give him to me."
Carefully, she held the baby out and Jamie took his son in his arms for the first time. The feeling that swept over him took him completely by surprise. It was as though he had been longing for this moment, living for this moment, without ever knowing it. This was his flesh and blood he was holding in his arms - his son, Jamie McGregor, Jr. What was the point of building an empire, a dynasty, of having diamonds and gold and railroads if you had no one to pass them on to? What a bloody fool I've been! Jamie thought. It had never occurred to him until now what was missing. He had been too blinded by his hatred. Looking down into the tiny face, a hardness somewhere deep in the core of him vanished.
"Move Jamie's crib into my bedroom, Mrs. Talley."
Three days later when Margaret appeared at the front door of Jamie's house, Mrs. Talley said, "Mr. McGregor is away at his office, Miss van der Merwe, but he asked me to send for him when you came for the baby. He wishes to speak with you."
Margaret waited in the living room, holding little Jamie in her arms. She had missed him terribly. Several times during the week she had almost lost her resolve and rushed back to Klipdrift, afraid that something might have happened to the baby, that he might have become ill or had an accident. But she had forced herself to stay away, and her plan had worked. Jamie wanted to talk to her! Everything was going to be wonderful. The three of them would be together now.
The moment Jamie walked into the living room, Margaret felt again the familiar rush of emotion. Oh, God, she thought, I love him so much.
"Hello, Maggie."
She smiled, a warm, happy smile. "Hello, Jamie."
"I want my son."
Margaret's heart sang. "Of course you want your son, Jamie. I never doubted it."
"I'll see to it that he's brought up properly. He'll have every advantage I can give him and, naturally, I'll see that you're taken care of."
Margaret looked at him in confusion. "I - I don't understand."
"I said I want my son."
"I thought - I mean - you and I - "
"No. It's only the boy I want."
Margaret was filled with a sudden outrage. "I see. Well, I'll not let you take him away from me."
Jamie studied her a moment. "Very well. We'll work out a compromise. You can stay on here with Jamie. You can be his - his governess." He saw the look on her face. "What do you want?"
"I want my son to have a name," she said fiercely. "His father's name."
"All right. I'll adopt him."
Margaret looked at him scornfully. "Adopt my baby? Oh, no. You will not have my son. I feel sorry for you. The great Jamie McGregor. With all your money and power, you have nothing. You're a thing of pity."
And Jamie stood there watching as Margaret turned and walked out of the house, carrying his son in her arms.
The following morning, Margaret made preparations to leave for America.
"Running away won't solve anything," Mrs. Owens argued.
"I'm not running away. I'm going someplace where my baby and I can have a new life."
She could no longer subject herself and her baby to the humiliation Jamie McGregor offered them.
"When will you leave?"
"As soon as possible. We'll take a coach to Worcester and the train from there to Cape Town. I've saved enough to get us to New York."
"That's a long way to go."
"It will be worth it. They call America the land of opportunity, don't they? That's all we need."
Jamie had always prided himself on being a man who remained calm under pressure. Now he went around yelling at everyone in sight. His office was in a constant uproar. Nothing anyone did pleased him. He roared and complained about everything, unable to control himself. He had not slept in three nights. He kept thinking about the conversation with Margaret. Damn her! He should have known she would try to push him into marriage. Tricky, just like her father. He had mishandled the negotiations. He had told her he would take care of her, but he had not been specific. Of course. Money! He should have offered her money. A thousand pounds - ten thousand pounds - more.
"I have a delicate task for you," he told David Blackwell.
"Yes, sir."
"I want you to talk to Miss van der Merwe. Tell her I'm offering her twenty thousand pounds. She'll know what I want in exchange." Jamie wrote out a check. He had long ago learned the lure of money in hand. "Give this to her."
"Right, sir." And David Blackwell was gone.
He returned fifteen minutes later and handed the check back to his employer. It had been torn in half. Jamie could feel his face getting red. "Thank you, David. That will be all."
So Margaret was holding out for more money. Very well. He would give it to her. But this time he would handle it himself.
Late that afternoon, Jamie McGregor went to Mrs. Owens's boardinghouse. "I want to see Miss van der Merwe," Jamie said.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," Mrs. Owens informed him. "She's on her way to America."
Jamie felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. "She can't be! When did she leave?"
"She and her son took the noon coach to Worcester."
The train sitting at the station in Worcester was filled to capacity, the seats and aisles crowded with noisy travelers on their way to Cape Town. There were merchants and their wives, salesmen, prospectors, kaffirs and soldiers and sailors reporting back for duty. Most of them were riding a train for the first time and there was a festive atmosphere among the passengers. Margaret had been able to get a seat near a window, where Jamie would not be crushed by the crowd. She sat there holding her baby close to her, oblivious to those around her, thinking about the new life that lay ahead of them. It would not be easy. Wherever she went, she would be an unmarried woman with a child, an offense to society. But she would find a way to make sure her son had his chance at a decent life. She heard the conductor call, "All aboard!"
She looked up, and Jamie was standing there. "Collect your things," he ordered. "You're getting off the train."
He still thinks he can buy me, Margaret thought. "How much are you offering this time?"
Jamie looked down at his son, peacefully asleep in Margaret's arms. "I'm offering you marriage."