The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
the mills flourished, as did the Kallinski clothing factories; the Emeremm Company, now known as Harte Enterprises, blossomed into an enormously rich organization with diverse holdings throughout the world. By following her own shrewd instincts and listening to Paul’s advice, Emma invested her money wisely and multiplied her worth threefold, as well as that of Winston and Frank, whose personal financial affairs she supervised. By the time she was forty-six years old she was a millionairess many times over and a power to be reckoned with, not only in London and the north of England, but in international business circles as well.
Despite her happiness with Paul and her family, and as preoccupied as she was with her gargantuan business enterprises, Emma’s interest in the Fairley family had not waned one iota. Their affairs continued to obsess her as they always had. Gerald Fairley, after she had ruined him in 1923, spent the last few miserable years of his life depending on the largesse of Edwin, since the brickyard was not a profitable concern. He died in 1926, ‘obviously from the gross excesses of his nature’, Emma had remarked to Blackie on hearing the news, and in the ensuing years her icy gaze had rested solely on Edwin. She followed his career with undivided interest. How she had longed for him to be a failure! But he had made a name for himself as a criminal lawyer of great brilliance, and there were constant rumours in the Temple that he would be made a K.C., although this had not yet happened. He resided and practised in London, but he had not entirely severed his ties to Yorkshire. He was often in Leeds, where he devoted an unflagging amount of energy to the Yorkshire Morning Gazette, just as Adam Fairley had done before him. He was chairman of the board and the majority shareholder, and thus wielded the power on the newspaper.
Emma wanted that paper and she would stop at nothing to get it. Both Winston and Blackie pointed out that she had done enough to cripple the Fairley influence in Yorkshire, and remonstrated with her to drop her vendetta and forget about the newspaper. But Emma, as self-willed as always and still vindictive about the Fairleys, would not listen. She was determined to acquire their only remaining holding. Gradually she began to buy up the common shares as they came on to the market, moving with her usual stealth, and waiting patiently until she could find the right opportunity to move against Edwin. Although the paper was losing money, Edwin somehow managed to keep it operating and he clung to his shares, much to Emma’s frustration. Until she could wrest those shares from him she was powerless to move in and take over. She dreamed about the day she would oust Edwin. Only then would her revenge be complete.
‘And I do have the patience of Job,’ she told Winston one day in the summer of 1935. ‘I won’t rest until I own the Yorkshire Morning Gazette, and I will own it one day.’
‘I know you will,’ Winston said, and shifted in his chair. He lit a cigarette and went on, ‘I had a call from Joe Fulton yesterday. He’s prepared to sell you the remainder of his shares in the Sheffield Star. If you buy, you will have control. Do you want them?’
‘I do indeed,’ Emma declared, and her face brightened. ‘I also think you should talk to Harry Metcalfe again. He’s been hankering to sell the Yorkshire Morning Observer for a long time. I think I’d like to own it, after all. I can certainly use it as a vehicle against Edwin Fairley. Give him a run for his money and a lot of stiff competition. If we do buy the shares in both newspapers, I will really have a foothold in publishing in the North.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Let’s start a new company, Winston. What shall we call it? How about the Yorkshire Consolidated Newspaper Company?’ she suggested, and rushed on, before Winston could reply, ‘Yes, that’s a strong-sounding name. Let’s do it!’
‘I can’t think of any good reason why you shouldn’t take over both papers, Emma,’ Winston said, suddenly infected by her enthusiasm. ‘They can easily be turned around. All they need is good management, an infusion of money, and some top-notch journalists to inject new life. Maybe Frank can recommend the right men. I’ll get on to it first thing tomorrow.’
‘I do wish we’d thought of this before,’ Emma exclaimed, hardly able to contain her excitement at the prospect of becoming a publisher, and going into competition with Edwin Fairley.
‘Obvious ideas are generally the last ones we think of, you know,’ Winston remarked casually, and stood up.
He walked slowly across the lovely upstairs parlour at Pennistone Royal, the great house near Ripon, which Emma had purchased three years before, and stood in front of the oriel window gazing down into the grounds. It was a glorious August Sunday, the sky a blaze of crystal blue above the clipped lawns, fanciful topiary hedges, and luxuriant abundance of trees, so verdant and lush and shimmering in the summer air. The gardens were spectacular, Elizabethan in design and so very English with their overwhelming greenness and profusion of vivid flower beds.
In the distance, he heard the plopping of tennis balls and he wondered how Paul found the energy to play three sets on such a gruelling day. His thoughts now turned to the news he had to impart to Emma, edging out all else as he sought the simplest way of doing it. His common sense told him to be direct. He looked at Emma sitting on the sofa, coolly beautiful in a white shantung dress and with her russet hair falling to her shoulders. Well, he might as well tell her. He said, ‘I spoke to Edwina yesterday. She’s getting married.’
‘Married!’ Emma repeated, sitting bolt upright on the sofa. She put down the balance sheet she was reading and gave him her full attention. ‘To whom, might I ask?’
Winston cleared his throat. ‘To Jeremy Standish.’
Emma stared at him open-mouthed. ‘Jeremy Standish? The Earl of Dunvale?’
‘That’s right. The wedding is in two weeks. In Ireland, of course, at his estate, Clonloughlin.’
‘But he’s so much older than she is, Winston,’ Emma said. ‘I’m not so sure about this marriage.’ She frowned. ‘It’s not a very likely match, in my opinion.’
‘There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it, Emma,’ Winston pointed out, relieved her reaction had been so mild. ‘After all, she is twenty-nine. Besides, it might just be the stabilizing influence she needs. And he does have pots and pots of money, you know.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Emma mused. She looked at Winston. ‘I don’t suppose she is inviting any members of the family.’
Winston shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid she’s not. But she did ask me to give her away. How do you feel about that? Do you mind, dear?’
Emma leaned forward and clasped her hand over his. ‘Oh, darling, of course not. I think it’s wonderful of her to ask you. It would please me enormously. She won’t seem quite so alone if you’re there.’ Emma paused and then asked hesitantly, ‘Did she mention me?’
‘No, Emma, she didn’t. I’m sorry.’
‘I must send a nice wedding present, of course.’ Emma changed the subject, realizing there was nothing further to add, but her eyes were reflective as she continued her business discussion with her brother.
When Winston returned from Ireland, Emma was full of questions about Edwina, the Earl of Dunvale, and the wedding. Winston satisfied her curiosity, and assuaged her anxieties about Edwina’s marriage to the man, who was twenty years her senior. It had been apparent to him that Edwina was deliriously happy, although he was not absolutely certain whether this was because she had become the Countess of Dunvale and a member of an ancient and celebrated Anglo-Irish family, or because she truly loved her husband. Dunvale, for his part, was besotted with Edwina, and Winston had no doubts about the bridegroom’s feelings in the least.
A year later Emma became a grandmother, when Edwina gave birth to a son, baptized Anthony George Michael. As the first-born he had the courtesy title of Lord Standish and was heir to the earldom. Emma wrote to her daughter congratulating her, and sent her a gift, as she had done at the time of the wedding. Emma received a courteous but cool thank-you note from Edwina and she was hopeful that it would lead to a complete reconciliation one day. And she determined to enlist Winston’s help to effect this. Kit was not so positive. Feeling slighted at not having been invited to his sister’s fancy society wedding, he took to making derogatory remarks about