Barbara Bradford - A Woman of Substance

Winston nodded, a proud look on his face. ‘How much do you think she’s worth?’ he said with a spontaneity he instantly regretted, since he could not tell the truth.

‘I couldn’t even hazard a guess.’

Winston took a sip of brandy to hide his hesitation. He could not admit Emma’s true worth, because he dare not reveal the existence of the Emeremm Company and her ownership of it. Therefore he selected a conservatively low figure and said, ‘A million pounds. That’s on paper, of course.’

‘Jaysus!’ Blackie exclaimed. He knew Winston was not lying or exaggerating and he was immensely impressed. Blackie lifted his glass. ‘That deserves a toast. Here’s to Emma. She has surpassed us all, I do believe!’

‘To Emma.’ Winston eyed Blackie thoughtfully. ‘Yes, she has. Do you know why? Do you know the secret of my sister’s great success?’

‘Sure and I do. I attribute it to a number of qualities. Shrewdness, courage, ambition, and drive, to name only a few.’

‘Abnormal ambition. Abnormal drive, Blackie. That’s the difference between Emma and most people. She won’t allow anything to stop her and she will go for the jugular with a business adversary, especially if her back is against the wall. But those are not the only reasons for her success. Emma has the killer instinct to get to the top.’

‘Killer instinct! That’s a hell of a thing to say about her. You make her sound ruthless.’

‘She is in some ways.’ Winston could not help laughing at Blackie’s startled expression, and said, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never recognized that trait in her!’

Blackie pondered, recalling incidents from the past. ‘At times I have thought her capable of ruthlessness,’ he murmured slowly.

‘Look, Blackie, enough of all this. I hope I’ve alleviated your worries about her.’

‘Yes, you have. I’m glad we had this talk, Winston. I’ve been concerned about that commodity lark ever since she mentioned it. Scared the hell out of me, if you really want to know. Well, now we’ve got that out of the way, shall we go back to the party?’

‘Whenever you wish. Incidentally, talking of killers, I notice the lady killer is on the prowl tonight. He can’t take his eyes off Emma and he’s certainly fawning all over her.’

Blackie was alert and interested. ‘Who are you talking about?’

‘Why, Arthur Ainsley, of course. The great hero of the war-according to him. Conceited bastard.’

‘I always thought Emma didn’t like him.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that. I wasn’t around, remember? But she did tell me that he’d changed and she seems unperturbed by his attentions tonight.’

‘I hadn’t really noticed,’ Blackie said curtly, and stood up with abruptness. He was preoccupied as they returned to the drawing room. Immediately upon entering, Winston drifted off to join Charlotte and Frank, and Blackie ambled over to the piano. He leaned against it nonchalantly, but his full attention was focused with intensity on Emma, who was engaged in conversation with Frederick Ainsley and his son Arthur.

Blackie thought Emma looked particularly lovely tonight, if a little paler and wistful. Her hair was worked into a coronet of plaits atop her head and the upswept style made her face seem more delicate than ever. She wore a white velvet gown, cut low and off the shoulder, and pinned on to one of the small sleeves was the emerald pin he had given her for her thirtieth birthday. It was the exact replica of the cheap little green-glass bow he had bought for her when she was fifteen, but larger and more exquisitely worked. He had been gratified at her obvious surprise that he had remembered a promise made so long ago, and thrilled at her delight in the costly gift. Now, to him, it looked like a trumpery bauble in comparison to the magnificent emerald earrings that sparkled with such brilliance at her ears.

Automatically his hand went into his pocket, his fingers curling around the jewellery box that reposed there. It contained the diamond ring he had purchased last week. He had intended to ask Emma to marry him tonight. After their recent conversation about Edwina’s birth certificate and the dilemma it posed, he had finally made the decision he had been toying with for months. Lately he had come to understand that if he did not love Emma in quite the same worshipful and spiritual way he had loved his Laura, love Emma he did. He had always loved her, ever since she had been an innocent child, his starveling creature of those bleak and misty moors. Her happiness was important to him. He found her physically alluring, she amused him, and he valued her friendship. Apart from his own deep attachment to her, Bryan adored her and his darling Bryan needed a mother. Also, Blackie had concluded, if he married Emma perhaps the sting would be taken out of the blow Edwina would receive when she discovered her illegitimacy. He would be like a father to the child, would try to replace Joe in her affections. If she learned to love him in return, then she might not be so resentful when she saw his name on the birth certificate, and he would willingly give her his name legally.

All in all, he had thought his idea foolproof-until Winston’s revelations a few minutes before. Suddenly Blackie saw Emma in a wholly different light, saw her now as a woman of undeniable power and enormous wealth. He had never underestimated her, for he was too intelligent by far for that. He had simply not realized or, in fact, recognized exactly what she had become, being too subjective to focus on her as a woman of the world and a successful tycoon. He himself had done well, but she had more than outstripped him, and David Kallinski, and in the most staggering manner. Furthermore, he now admitted that she would never be like a normal woman, dedicated to a husband, a family, and a home. She could never be wrested from her business. In many ways it was her.

Blackie was no longer sure she would accept him as a husband and, perhaps more cogently, he was uncertain of his ability to handle her. And so Blackie O’Neill, thirty-three years old, charming, rich, and hitherto a man of self-assurance and élan, lost a fraction of his confidence because of Emma’s incredible achievements. And he faltered in his determination to propose.

He caught Emma’s attention and she excused herself from the Ainsleys and glided over to him. ‘It’s a lovely party, Blackie, and I can’t get over the house. It’s superb. ‘She looked up at him, her eyes glittering vividly in that pale oval. ‘And it is exactly as you said it would be, with your light greens and blues and fine Georgian furnishings.’ She laughed. ‘Do you remember when I asked you who Hepplewhite, Chippendale, and Sheraton were?’

‘I do. I also remember I told you then that you would be a grand lady one day. My prediction came true.’

She smiled.

Blackie became aware of Arthur Ainsley’s eyes on them and he said with a frown, ‘I always thought you couldn’t stand young Ainsley, but tonight you appear to be quite kindly disposed towards the fellow.’

‘Oh, he’s not so bad. He’s much more intelligent than I thought and amusing. Actually, I find him rather charming as well.’

Blackie’s eyes flared. ‘Aye, he is. If he weren’t a Sassenach I’d swear he’d kissed the Blarney stone,’ he pronounced.

Emma laughed at Blackie’s sarcastic retort and admitted, ‘Yes, I suppose he is a bit too smooth sometimes. But at least he’s entertaining and easy to be with.’

‘Have you been spending a lot of time with him?’ Blackie asked evenly enough, although he experienced a twinge of jealousy.

‘No, not at all. I only see Arthur on business matters. Why?’ She gave him a puzzled look.

‘No particular reason. I just wondered. Incidentally, talking of business, where do you intend to build your store in London?’