Emma’s Secret

‘I’m certainly going to think about it,’ Linnet answered, and with a nod and a smile, she rose. ‘Thanks, Maggie,’ she murmured as she left the office.

What was that about? Linnet asked herself as she went back to her own office, baffled by the attitude of the other woman, but determined not to be influenced by anyone. Evan could be of great help to her in mounting the retrospective. Perhaps she would hire her on a trial basis.

The following morning Linnet spoke to Evan on the phone. ‘I’d like you to come in and see me again, Miss Hughes. Around eleven. We can talk some more, and I’ll take you to see the collection of clothes we’ve already assembled.’

Evan was thrilled. ‘I’ll be there, Miss O’Neill, and thank you very much.’

Always punctual, Evan arrived at Linnet’s office exactly on time.

After chatting to Evan about the retrospective and her needs, Linnet said, ‘I’d like to offer you the job, on a trial basis, Evan.’

Evan beamed. ‘I accept, Miss O’Neill. Thank you.’

Linnet took Evan to a storage room on the seventh floor, behind the haute-couture fashion department. Pausing at a large metal-clad door, she took out a set of keys, and turned to Evan. ‘Only India and I have keys to this room. That way we’re the only two people responsible, and only we can be blamed if anything goes wrong. Or goes missing.’

‘I understand.’

Linnet unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped inside. She paused for a moment on the threshold until she found the light switch on the wall. A split second later many overhead lights came blinking on; she beckoned to Evan to follow her and walked into the cool, temperature-controlled storage space.

There were dozens and dozens of racks of clothes hanging in cotton bags, and when Linnet saw Evan’s face she exclaimed, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to show you everything right now. There’s far too much to look at. But perhaps you’d be interested to see a few choice pieces that belonged to Emma.’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

Hurrying to the far end of the room, Linnet moved a rack or two around and explained, ‘There are a couple of outfits here that are just knock-outs.’ As she spoke she began to untie the drawstring at the top of a cotton bag which held the garment.

Evan watched her taking out a black suit on a padded hanger, and she remarked, ‘What a marvellous idea these cotton bags are. Did you have them made?’

Linnet swung around. ‘Not these, no. They came from Paris. But we have had similar ones copied for the other clothes hanging here. Actually, the bag is called an “oooss”.’

‘An oooss,’ Evan repeated slowly. ‘What a strange name.’

‘That’s the way it’s pronounced, but it’s spelt h-o-u-s-s-e. It’s the French word for “cover”, in fact.’

‘They’re certainly effective for storage purposes,’ Evan replied, thinking they looked like voluminous tents.

‘Look at this suit.’ Linnet held it out. ‘It’s by Cristóbal Balenciaga. Emma had it made in 1951.’

Evan inspected the suit closely, and nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a piece of haute couture, is there? The cut, the shoulderline, the overall silhouette. It’s simply impeccable, a masterpiece of workmanship.’

Linnet pulled a dress out of another cotton bag. ‘And this is a cocktail dress by Balenciaga. Emma also bought it in 1951. I happen to think it’s fantastic. Here, Evan, hold it against yourself.’ She handed her the cocktail gown on its padded hanger; Evan did as she instructed and held it against her body, looking down at the dress, which was made of black tissue taffeta. ‘I love the way the skirt is flounced in tiers and the bodice wrapped around. It’s unique. And the wonderful thing is that, like the suit, it’s not a bit dated.’

‘I agree with you. There’s a picture of Emma in the dress, and it looks as if it was taken only yesterday. Over there –’ Linnet swung her head, gestured toward more racks – ‘are some couture outfits lent by my mother, India’s mother, and my aunts Emily and Amanda. Their pieces will also help to flesh out certain years in design.’

Evan helped Linnet put the two garments back in their cotton covers and, as they stood at the rack, Linnet remarked, ‘I think you’re going to enjoy working on the retrospective, Evan. Even though we have a tough road ahead, I believe that the three of us will be able to pull it together most effectively.’

‘I know we will,’ Evan answered, crossing her fingers, stepping away from the clothes rack and picking up her purse.

‘Let’s go and see Maggie and get you properly hired as my assistant,’ Linnet said, leading the way out of the storage room.

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_013f7ea5-259b-5dea-bb0c-f97b675cc3ad)

Evan felt as if she were walking on air when she left Harte’s several hours later. She was not aware of the cold, frosty weather and the biting wind, nor did she feel hungry, even though it was turning two. I’m on cloud nine, she thought, hurrying towards the cab she had hailed, and which had suddenly slithered to a stop close by.

Once inside, she sat back against the leather seat, her thoughts on her father. All she wanted now was to get back to the hotel so that she could put in a call to him.

Since today was Wednesday she knew he would be at the antique shop in New Milford; he always did his books when business was slower. She could hardly wait to tell him her news; he would be surprised, she was certain of that. She could scarcely believe it herself: that she actually had a job at Harte’s was something quite incredible to her.

Once she was in her quarters at the hotel, she shrugged out of her red scarf and long black coat and put them away in the cupboard. And then, after turning on the electric fire in the small sitting room, she sat down next to it in the big easy chair. Picking up the phone, she dialled his Connecticut number and waited for it to ring through. A couple of seconds later, her father answered the phone.

‘Good morning. Hughes Antiques.’

‘Hi, Dad! It’s me, Evan.’

‘Evan, honey, you sound great! You’ve made a good recovery, I can hear that.’

‘I’m feeling like my old self, more or less. But listen, Dad, I’ve got some great news. I’ve got a job.’ She paused for maximum effect, and then cried, ‘At Harte’s! I’ve got a job in the fashion department at Harte’s.’

There was a moment’s silence at his end of the phone, but in her excitement and enthusiasm Evan paid no attention.

‘Well,’ he said, at last and rather slowly. ‘That’s good news.’

It struck her then that his voice was flat. Certainly there was no enthusiasm in it, and she exclaimed, ‘You don’t sound a bit excited, and I thought you’d be thrilled for me …’ Her voice died away on her, and she clutched the phone a little tighter, frowning.

‘Oh I am, Evan, I am. I was simply taken aback, that’s all. I hadn’t realized you’d already been there and applied for a job.’

‘I didn’t. What I mean is, I hadn’t been there before, I just wasn’t up to it until yesterday morning. But I felt so much better that I got ready and went to the store. Basically to see Emma Harte, as Grandma told me to do.’

‘Yes, I know what she told you. And did you see Emma Harte?’

‘Dad, she’s dead! And for thirty-one years. So I don’t know what Gran was going on about. If they’d been friends she must have known. Anyway, I was startled. And upset. But, you know me, I bounced back after I’d had a cup of coffee and time to think. I liked the look of the store, it’s very beautiful, so I decided to go up to management and apply for a position. I mean, what did I have to lose?’

‘Nothing. And so they hired you just like that. Is that what you’re saying, honey?’

‘I was lucky yesterday, very lucky. I happened to be in the right place at the right time.’

‘Were you now,’ he murmured. ‘So go ahead, tell me all about it.’

‘What happened was this …’ Swiftly, but graphically, Evan told her story, finally finishing, ‘And before I knew it, Maggie Hemmings, of Human Resources, was taking me to see Linnet O’Neill. She’s the head of fashion and the great-granddaughter of Emma Harte.’

‘It does sound very fortuitous,’ Owen remarked softly. ‘And this Linnet O’Neill was impressed enough to hire you on the spot, is that it?’

‘Not exactly, I had to go back today for another chat with Linnet O’Neill and then she hired me on a trial basis.’

‘Congratulations, I’m pleased for you. And who was the nice young man you mentioned?’

‘His name’s Gideon Harte, and I found out later that he works at the family’s newspaper company. He runs the London Evening Post.’

‘I see. Well, Elayne and Angharad are going to be thrilled when I tell them the news later.’