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.”