"You're a handsome little fellow, aren't you?" she was saying. "You're just an angel. Yes, you are. An angel."
The baby cooed again. Jamie walked over to Mrs. Talley's open bedroom door and looked inside. From somewhere the housekeeper had obtained a crib and the baby was lying in it. Mrs. Talley was leaning over him, and the infant's fist was tightly wrapped around her finger.
"You're a strong little devil, Jamie. You're going to grow up to be a big - " She broke off in surprise as she became aware of her employer standing in the doorway.
"Oh," she said. "I - is there something I can get for you, Mr. McGregor?"
"No." He walked over to the crib. "I was disturbed by the noise in here." And Jamie took his first look at his son. The baby was bigger than he had expected, and well formed. He seemed to be smiling up at Jamie.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. McGregor. He's really such a good baby. And healthy. Just give him your finger and feel how strong he is."
Without a word, Jamie turned and walked out of the room.
Jamie McGregor had a staff of over fifty employees working on his various enterprises. There was not an employee from the mail boy to the highest executive who did not know how Kruger-Brent, Ltd., got its name, and they all took fierce pride in working for Jamie McGregor. He had recently hired David Blackwell, the sixteen-year-old son of one of his foremen, an American from Oregon who had come to South Africa looking for diamonds. When Blackwell's money ran out, Jamie had hired him to supervise one of the mines. The son went to work for the company one summer, and Jamie found him such a good worker that he offered him a permanent job. Young David Blackwell was intelligent and attractive and had initiative. Jamie knew he could also keep his mouth shut, which is why he chose him to run this particular errand.
"David, I want you to go to Mrs. Owens's boardinghouse. There's a woman living there named Margaret van der Merwe."
If David Blackwell was familiar with the name or her circumstances, he gave no indication of it. "Yes, sir."
"You're to speak only to her. She left her baby with my housekeeper. Tell her I want her to pick it up today and get it out of my house."
"Yes, Mr. McGregor."
Half an hour later, David Blackwell returned. Jamie looked up from his desk.
"Sir, I'm afraid I couldn't do what you asked."
Jamie rose to his feet. "Why not?" he demanded. "It was a simple enough job."
"Miss van der Merwe wasn't there, sir."
"Then find her."
"She left Klipdrift two days ago. She's expected back in five days. If you'd like me to make further inquiries - "
"No." That was the last thing Jamie wanted. "Never mind. That's all, David."
"Yes, sir." The boy left the office.
Damn that woman! When she returned, she was going to have a surprise coming. She was going to get her baby back!
That evening, Jamie dined at home alone. He was having his brandy in the study when Mrs. Talley came in to discuss a household problem. In the middle of a sentence, she suddenly stopped to listen and said, "Excuse me, Mr. McGregor. I hear Jamie crying." And she hurried out of the room.
Jamie slammed down his brandy snifter, spilling the brandy. That goddamned baby! And she had the nerve to name him Jamie. He didn't look like a Jamie. He didn't look like anything.
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Talley returned to the study. She saw the spilled drink. "Shall I get you another brandy?"
"That won't be necessary," Jamie said coldly. "What is necessary is that you remember who you're working for. I will not be interrupted because of that bastard. Is that quite clear, Mrs. Talley?"
"Yes, sir."
"The sooner that infant you brought into this house is gone, the better it will be for all of us. Do you understand?"
Her lips tightened. "Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"
"No."
She turned to leave.
"Mrs. Talley..."
"Yes, Mr. McGregor?"
"You said it was crying. It's not ill, is it?"
"No, sir. Just wet. He needed a change."
Jamie found the idea revolting. "That will be all."
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.