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.
forbade him to discuss Edwina with his mother. He himself encouraged Emma’s belief that she would be on friendly terms with her eldest daughter again, knowing that this was the only possibility acceptable to her, and he dare not demolish her hope.
One of Emma’s greatest assets was her ability to shelve unsolvable problems, and eventually she managed to put Edwina out of her mind. The present was her first priority, her true imperative. Her own life was as demanding as always. There was her work, her relationship with Paul, and the other children. She had no complaints about them and in general things were harmonious. Kit was working in the mills and learning the woollen business. Robin, in his last year of boarding school, was preparing to go up to Cambridge to study law. Elizabeth had expressed a wish to follow in Edwina’s footsteps and was at a fashionable Swiss finishing school. Finally the day came when Daisy left for boarding school, and Emma and Paul were alone in the house in Belgrave Square for the first time.
‘I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, and only me now,’ he teased her one evening when they were having a glass of champagne in the library.
‘I miss them all, particularly Daisy, but I’m glad we have our time together at last, Paul. Just the two of us.’
‘And we do have lots of time, Emma. Years and years stretching ahead.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t know how you feel, my love, but I rather like the prospect of growing old with you.’
It was the first week of September in 1938. And sitting there in the handsome mellow library, talking quietly as the twilight descended to fill the room with soft drifting shadows, it did not occur to Emma and Paul that anything could happen to destroy their security. They were at peace with themselves and with each other, and still deeply in love. And so they spoke for a long time about their future together, and made plans for the Christmas holidays at Pennistone Royal, and discussed their impending trip to America in the new year. Later they went out to dinner at Quaglino’s, laughing and holding hands like young lovers, and it was one of the most carefree evenings they had spent in months.
But the Nazi shadow was spreading itself across Central Europe. Hitler, who gained power in Germany after the burning of the Reichstag in 1933, was on the march. War was inevitable. It was only a question of time.
‘There will be a war in the Pacific, just as surely as there will be a war in Europe,’ Paul McGill said quietly. ‘The facts are incontrovertible. Japan industrialized late, as Germany did, and their success has shaped them both into arrogant, warlike nations with plans for world domination.’ He paused and drew on his cigarette. ‘I know I’m not wrong, Dan. America had better be prepared. Europe isn’t, unfortunately.’
Daniel P. Nelson, one of the most powerful men in the world, and grandson of the most famous of all the great robber barons, nodded thoughtfully. He smiled but his eyes were worried as he said, ‘I don’t doubt you, Paul. I’ve been saying the same thing for months. Told the President, only last week when I was at Hyde Park, that Japan has real aims in the Pacific. Has had since the twenties, to be accurate. Roosevelt’s not blind. He’s aware of the situation. On the other hand, this country’s still recovering from the Depression. Not unnaturally, his thoughts are focused on the domestic scene. There are still ten million unemployed here, Paul.’
‘Yes, I know. What worries me is that since Congress passed three neutrality acts a few years ago the prevailing attitude has been isolationist. It still is, I’m afraid. However, America can’t possibly remain neutral if Britain goes to war with Germany.’
Dan said, ‘But as far as Roosevelt’s concerned, I know he’s not an isolationist himself. I feel he will come to Britain’s aid if the necessity arises. We’ve been natural allies for more than a century, and he’s also aware he can’t let the West sink. But – enough of all this depressing talk of war. Emma is looking far too grave.’
‘I am concerned,’ Emma said, ‘as any informed person is today. My brother is a political writer in London, and he believes Hitler seeks global power and will stop at nothing to get it. Unfortunately, like his good friend Winston Churchill, Frank is patently ignored. When will the world open its eyes and see what is going on?’
Dan smiled faintly. ‘The prospect of another world war is frightening, my dear. There is a tendency to dismiss those with the vision to foresee onrushing disaster. The public has a bad habit of sticking its collective head in the sand, as do a great number of politicians.’
‘I suppose that’s human nature – the desire not to face such a terrible reality as war. But some of us must be prepared—’ She stopped short, as Paul caught her eye. Aware that he wished to discuss business with Dan Nelson, she murmured, ‘Well, I’ll leave you. If you will excuse me, I must attend to my other guests.’
The two men watched her glide across the drawing room, the white chiffon evening gown floating out behind her, the magnificent emeralds blazing at her throat and ears, on her arms and hands. Dan said, ‘I do believe Emma’s the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met. You’re a lucky man.’
‘I know,’ Paul replied. He turned his attention to Dan Nelson and went on, ‘I wanted to talk to you about my oil tankers and a couple of other rather pressing matters. I think we have time before we leave for the opera. Let’s step into the library.’ They slipped out discreetly.
As Emma circulated amongst the other guests assembled in their luxurious Fifth Avenue apartment, the thought of impending war nagged at the back of her mind. She had, only that morning, received a disturbing letter from Frank, who had just returned from a trip to Berlin. He had been full of dire predictions, and, trusting his judgement as she did, she knew he was not exaggerating. He had said Britain would be at war before the end of the year, and she believed him. She glanced at the three other men in the room. They also wielded immense international influence and their combined wealth added up to hundreds of billions of dollars. She saw that their eyes betrayed their fears, even though they, too, were making a show of conviviality that befitted the occasion. Yes, they knew that the world was on the brink of another holocaust. She thought of her two sons with a stab of apprehension. Both of them were eligible to be called up. Another generation of young men in their prime would be sacrificed to the war machine. Despite the warmth of the room she shivered and she thought then of Joe Lowther, and remembered the Great War and the havoc it had wreaked. Had the past twenty-one years been only an armed truce?
Later, when they were seated in their box at the Metropolitan Opera, Emma was temporarily distracted by the anticipation that pervaded the air. Her eyes swept over the opulent red-and-gold décor, took in the glittering beauty of the bejewelled women and the elegance of the men in their tails. And she thought how normal they all seemed, even carefree, as though they were oblivious to the gathering storm.
Emma glanced down at her programme, determined to enjoy the opera. It was from Blackie O’Neill that she had learned about music, and as the breathtaking theatrical spectacle unfolded on the stage she suddenly wished Blackie was here with them to share the experience. She began to relax, captivated by ‘Mignon’. Risë Stevens, the young mezzo-soprano who had made her debut two months before, was magnificent in the title role and at one moment her glorious voice so moved Emma she felt the rush of tears. What a gift that superb voice was. Emma was soon transported into a magical world of make-believe and she let herself be engulfed by the melodic arias, the performances of Risë Stevens and Ezio Pinza, the exquisite sets and costumes, and for several hours her worries were entirely forgotten.
Paul had invited their eight guests to Delmonico’s for dinner, and as they settled themselves at the table Emma looked across at Paul, endeavouring to assess his mood. Despite the grave conversation with Dan Nelson earlier, he now appeared to be unconcerned, and as always he was the expansive host, ordering Dom Pérignon and caviar, and beguiling everyone. He is the most brilliant and handsome man here, Emma thought with a flash of possessiveness. It was February 3, 1939. His birthday. He was fifty-nine years old, but he carried his years splendidly, and the wings of white in his black hair only served to emphasize his dashing appearance.