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

‘How little ye be knowing her, Laura, if ye think anything I say would do any good. She won’t listen,’ said Blackie regretfully.

‘You mean we just have to stand by and watch her kill herself with work!’ cried David heatedly.

Blackie could not resist chortling. ‘Don’t let Emma hear ye say that,’ he said through his laughter. ‘She doesn’t believe hard work killed anybody. Sloth, maybe. And ye know yeself what she said about moderation, David.’ Blackie shook his head, his eyes still merry. ‘Aye, she’s unique, Emma is.’

David gazed at him for a moment and then he turned away and sat puffing on his cigarette, attempting to evaluate Blackie’s words.

‘You know, I thought Emma’s idea about having a shop was foolish at first, Blackie,’ Laura ventured, ‘but now I am beginning to think it might be the best thing. It would get her out of the mill. She hates that place.’

David said, ‘I had hoped she would come into partnership with me. By this time next year I will have saved up enough to start my own factory. I intend to make a line of women’s clothes, as well as take on outside contracting, like my father does. Emma has already designed a line for me.’ His face lit up. ‘Have you seen it, Laura?’

‘Yes, Emma showed me her sketches. Her ideas are marvellous. I think. Why, that coat with the detachable cape, and the reversible jacket are brilliant and her maternity clothes – well – they are revolutionary, wouldn’t you say? I don’t know of anyone making those wraparound skirts, blouses, and dresses that expand to fit the figure as it gets larger. Do you, David?’

‘No. She’s far ahead of her time as far as styling is concerned.’

‘I can’t argue with ye about that,’ interjected Blackie. ‘Listen, both of ye, don’t let’s be looking on the black side. Emma will be all right in the long run. She’s a real survivor. But if it makes ye both feel better, why don’t we all talk to her tonight. Careful like, so we don’t upset her. Perhaps we can get her to slow down for a bit. The three of us together might be able to make some headway.’ Blackie was not convinced Emma would pay any attention to them, but he wanted to alleviate their worry, Laura’s in particular.

‘Yes, let’s do that,’ agreed David. He now looked at Blackie guardedly before commencing in a cautious voice, ‘Look here, Blackie, I know this is none of my business, but where the hell is that husband of Emma’s? It seems a bit queer to me that he hasn’t been home on leave. Emma came to work for Dad in August of 1905. That’s almost two years ago and her husband has been noticeably absent all that time.’

Blackie had been anticipating this question, dreading it, in fact, for months. He had warned Emma time and again to prepare a plausible story. Last week she had told him she was soon going to announce that her sailor husband had deserted her. Taking a deep breath, Blackie now decided to save her the trouble. ‘Ah, David, I’m glad ye asked me, sure and I am.’ He turned swiftly to Laura and took her hand in his. ‘And ye might as well be knowing, too, me love. Emma has been a trifle embarrassed, not knowing how to be telling ye both her news. Ye see, that bleeding husband—’ He stopped short and squeezed Laura’s hand apologetically. ‘Sorry, love, I know ye don’t like me to be swearing. Anyroads, that rascally husband of hers has done a bunk, ye might say. He deserted Emma some time ago.’ Blackie, praying he was being convincing, went on, ‘Seems he wants a big naval career, sure and he does. He told Emma he didn’t want to be tied down by a wife. I don’t expect we’ll see hide nor hair of him in these parts. No, he won’t ever be back. That’s my guess.’

‘Oh, Blackie, how terrible for poor Emma and the baby,’ Laura cried, and he felt her hand tremble in his.

Blackie put his arm around her. ‘Now, mavourneen, there’s no reason for ye to be getting all worked up. Emma isn’t that bothered, not at all, at all. ’Tis glad, she is, I am thinking. Sure and did she not say to me, “Good riddance”, after she be telling me all the details,’ he lied smoothly.

David was utterly still, but his heart was beating rapidly and a tingling excitement surged through his veins. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he remarked in an even voice that did not betray the jubilance he was feeling. ‘Still, if Emma is not unhappy, then perhaps it is for the best.’ He wondered, as he spoke, how much a divorce cost.

Blackie nodded. ‘Aye, ye are right.’

David sprang up. His despondency had vanished. ‘Shall we make our way back and then listen to the music for a while, before going on to the house?’

‘Sure and why not,’ agreed Blackie. He helped Laura up off the bench and they walked slowly in the direction of the bandstand. And Blackie thought: I must warn Emma I’ve neatly disposed of that sailor husband of hers.

Whilst these discussions had been taking place in Armley Park, Emma was not at home sewing, as her friends believed. She was on her way to see Joe Lowther, who lived in another part of Armley.

The minute Laura and Blackie had departed, Emma had quickly changed into her black silk dress, donned her Leghorn straw bonnet, and taken sixty pounds out of the black tin box, that contained her savings. She had rushed out of the house, close on the heels of her friends, a look of resolve on her face.

Quite by accident, when she had been shopping for groceries yesterday, she had seen it. The shop. Her shop. It was one of three that adjoined each other in a small block that fronted on to Town Street, and it was vacant. Emma had stopped abruptly, gazing at it hypnotized. It appeared exactly right for her in every way. The timing was perfect; she now had the money required for the rent and the stocks. The large empty window had been whitewashed, but there was a small clear space in the centre, where a notice had been neatly stuck on the inside. TO LET, it had read, and underneath was printed the name of the landlord, Mr Joe Lowther, and his address. Emma had memorized the details and hurried home late on Saturday afternoon, determined to be the first applicant the following day. She did not care that this was Sunday, a day when business was not normally conducted, since she was prepared to do business any day of the week.

Now as she walked briskly through the labyrinth of streets, almost breathless with mounting excitement, she half regretted selecting the black dress. It was really too warm for this scorching day. But in spite of the heat and the warmth of the dress, Emma did not slow her pace, and within fifteen minutes she was approaching the street where Joe Lowther lived. She found the house and marched up the stone steps resolutely. She knocked soundly three times and waited. A few moments elapsed before the door was opened by a tall, sturdily built young man. He was fair, with large grey eyes and light brown hair, and his pleasant face was open and honest. He was in his shirt sleeves and his hair was rumpled.

He stared down at Emma, obviously surprised to see a visitor. ‘Yes, miss, what can I do for you?’ he asked gruffly.

‘I’d like to see your father, please,’ Emma said politely, and proffered a tentative smile.

‘My father? I think you must have the wrong house, miss. My father’s been dead these past six years.’

‘Oh dear, perhaps I’ve made a mistake. I was looking for the home of a Mr Joe Lowther.’

‘Then you’ve found it, miss. I’m Joe Lowther.’

Emma was surprised. ‘Oh! Well, please excuse me, but I thought you seemed a bit young to be the landlord of the shop on Town Street. The shop that’s to let,’ Emma said with her usual forthrightness. She saw at once that the young man was bristling and she rushed on, ‘Are you that Mr Lowther?’

‘That’s me, all right,’ said the young man. His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you interested in the shop, then? For your mother?’

‘No,’ Emma said, faintly amused. He was apparently stinging from her reference to his youthful appearance, and so she smiled that radiant smile and her unwavering green gaze, warm and self-assured, did not leave his face. ‘Actually, I want to rent the shop for myself.’

Joe Lowther said, ‘Oh, you do, do you! Aren’t you a bit young? What experience of retailing do you have, miss?’

Emma considered this to be none of his business, but refrained from telling him so, being canny enough not to brush him the wrong way again. Instead she said, ‘I have some experience, and I’ve also done a lot of dressmaking and catering here in Armley. I have a nice business going, and now I want a shop so I can conduct it from there.’ Her voice vibrated with enormous confidence as she added, ‘And I’m certainly not too young, Mr Lowther.’

Joe shook his head. ‘No. No. It wouldn’t work. I can’t say I’d be willing to rent the shop to you, miss,’ he said with a certain brusqueness.

Emma ignored his blunt retort. ‘But I am willing to take the the shop off your hands now, Mr Lowther. At once. Today.’ Emma climbed up two steps until she was on a level with Joe Lowther. She stared at him, exercising all of her considerable charm, smiling beguilingly. ‘Can’t we go inside and discuss this, Mr Lowther?’ she asked in a voice as smooth as silk.

‘I can’t see the sense in that, since I won’t change my mind,’ he declared stubbornly. Her proximity was distracting him and as he looked into her face, only a few inches away from his, Joe felt himself growing hot around the collar.

Emma opened her purse, resorting to the one stratagem in which she had absolute belief. ‘I can pay in advance, Mr Lowther.’

Joe reluctantly brought his gaze up to meet Emma’s and he discovered he was mesmerized by those brilliant eyes observing him with such cool concentration. Whatever will the neighbours think if I invite her in? he asked himself. But since he was not generally discourteous, Joe was now ashamed of his rudeness and he found himself saying in a kinder voice, ‘Well, you’re right about one thing, we had better go inside.’ This was really prompted by his concern for the gossips in the street and, so she would not think he had changed his mind about the shop, Joe felt obliged to add, ‘It’s not very fitting to discuss business on the doorstep at the best of times, and especially on Sunday. I don’t usually do business on Sundays, miss.’

‘Well, there’s always a first time for everything, Mr Lowther,’ said Emma, eyeing him with amusement from under her thick lashes. She was aware that Joe was ill at ease and she intended to use this to her advantage.

Why, she’s as bold as brass, Joe thought, seething with combined annoyance and exasperation. Nevertheless, he opened the door wider and ushered her into the house. He showed her into the parlour. ‘Excuse me. I’ll be back in a minute. Please sit down,’ said Joe. He closed the door behind him and retreated.

Emma stood in the middle of the room, blinking in the dim light. She grimaced as her eyes adjusted to the dolorous gloom. The room reminded her of Mrs Daniel’s front parlour, all Victorian folderols and a preponderance of overstuffed furniture. But the furniture is good, she thought. There’s just too much of it. She seated herself on an uncomfortable horsehair chair to wait.

Emma had discovered three important things since she had been in Leeds: Money talked in the most persuasive voice. Put cold hard cash down on a table and few people could resist picking it up; payment in advance was another irresistible temptation and the more advance you paid, the stronger you were; and finally, opportunity had to be seized firmly the instant it presented itself, because it did not come knocking on the same door twice in one week. Emma considered all of these things, but mostly she wondered if Joe Lowther could be swayed by money. For some reason she was not positive of this. She frowned, ruminating on Joe, endeavouring to assess him. He was certainly bashful. She also knew she had unnerved him on the doorstep and, in her shrewd opinion, this gave her the upper hand. Still, that did not mean he would agree to rent her the shop. Apparently he believed her youth to be a disadvantage, and yet he did not appear to be much older than she was. He was perhaps twenty or twenty-one. Nonetheless, it was imperative that she convince him she was capable and experienced at retailing, and that she would therefore be a responsible tenant. Perhaps three months’ rent would be a suitable inducement. It would not only reassure him of her serious intentions, but would also illustrate her business acumen over the past year. It then struck Emma that she must be her most charming self. Joe Lowther would succumb to sweetness. Sweetness and money. An unbeatable combination. Emma smoothed her dress, feeling calm as the door opened.

Joe had put on his tie and jacket and his hair was now combed back neatly. Emma could see the water glistening on it. She dropped her head quickly so he would not detect the smile on her face. Joe Lowther had become quite transparent to her. There would be a bit of a tussle between them, but the shop would be hers when she left this house.

Joe sat down opposite Emma and, adopting his brusquest tone, he commenced, ‘Now, about the shop, miss. I’ve been thinking it over, and I have definitely decided I can’t rent it to you.’

‘Why ever not?’ Emma asked in her most dulcet voice.

‘Because two people have failed in it this year, and they’d had a lot more experience than you. I don’t want to sound harsh, miss, but you must understand I can’t take a chance on renting to somebody who’s a novice. I’m seeking a tenant that really knows retailing, who’ll make a go of the shop, so I don’t have to be worrying about it being vacant half the time. I’ve better things to do than play nursemaid.’

Emma gave Joe a smile that would have melted half the ice in the Arctic Circle and made her eyes wide but serious. ‘Oh, I do realize that, Mr Lowther,’ she answered. ‘And, in some ways, I understand your reluctance because of my youth. However, it’s not really of great consequence when you consider that I have been running a business from my home. I have been dealing with people, selling to them. My business has been highly profitable. I’ve made a lot of money with my dress-making and homemade foodstuffs. I have good steady customers, mostly the carriage trade, and they would certainly give me their patronage if I had a shop.’ Emma paused and flashed a brilliant smile. ‘Why, they have assured me of that,’ she fibbed adroitly. ‘So you see, I’m not really as inexperienced as you believe, and I do have expectations.’

‘Carriage trade, you say,’ remarked Joe, not unimpressed. ‘And how long have you been running this little business from your home?’

‘About a year,’ said Emma, leaning forward, eagerness washing over her face. ‘And it’s not so little either.’

Joe regarded her intently. She was direct and sounded businesslike and certainly she was not lacking in assurance. In fact, he had never met a girl as self-possessed as she was. Her spirit and enthusiasm were refreshing, almost infectious, and his doubts about her youth and ability were rapidly diminishing. However, she disconcerted him, but then he had always been awkward around girls and one as beautiful as she was bound to make him feel insecure. Still, she only wanted to rent a shop from him and that was all. ‘Well, I don’t really know what to say,’ he began hesitatingly.

Conscious that he was wavering, Emma held up her hand. ‘Just a minute, Mr Lowther,’ she said authoritatively. ‘I said earlier I would pay you in advance.’ She opened her black reticule and brought out a thick roll of bank notes. ‘As you can see, Mr Lowther, I don’t make idle claims. I am a woman of some substance, albeit a young one, and indeed I can pay you well in advance. I know I can make a go of the shop, Mr Lowther. I expect it to be a success within six months.’

Joe stared at her incredulously. ‘Oh, come on! That’s a bit far-fetched. Do you think I fell off a banana boat? I’m not green, you know.’