Emma’s Secret

He wondered if she was worrying about her relationship with Julian, and he asked, as casually as possible, ‘Want to talk about it?’

Linnet hesitated fractionally, then answered in a slightly hesitant voice, ‘It’s Tessa. I’m worried about her. What I mean is, I’m concerned about her attitude towards me, Gramps. She’s so hostile these days.’

‘Nothing new about that, is there?’ he asked, a snowy brow lifting quizzically.

‘Not really … I suppose. She’s often been odd with me at different times. Somewhat bullying when I was little, as you well remember. And bossy since we’ve been working at Harte’s.’

‘Competitive with you, Linnet, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I suppose so,’ she agreed finally.

Bryan was silent for a moment, ruminating, and then he remarked softly, ‘Ants in her pants, I’m afraid.’

Linnet threw her grandfather a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Mentally she has ants in her pants; can’t be still in her mind. And I’m quite sure that’s because she’s full of anxiety about her position at Harte’s. She desperately wants to be reassured that she will one day succeed your mother.’

Linnet nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely. She thinks she will. She expects to, actually.’

‘And what do you think, mavourneen?’ Bryan probed, his dark eyes resting on her with great interest.

‘I don’t know what my mother plans to do. But Tessa is the eldest of Paula’s children, and I suppose she’s entitled to inherit my mother’s job when she retires.’

Bryan shook his head vehemently. Then, taking hold of her arm, he led her towards the sofa placed nearest to the fire. ‘Let’s sit down,’ he murmured, and after settling himself in a corner against the tapestry cushions, he continued: ‘Your mother doesn’t operate that way, she’s not into those kind of rules, or the law of primogeniture as far as inheritances are concerned. I’m certain Paula will choose someone she wants to be her successor in the family business. After all, she is the largest single stockholder, not to mention CEO.’

When Linnet made no comment, Bryan added, ‘Let’s not forget she was trained by Emma Harte for many, many years, and that was her policy. She gave the key jobs to those who deserved them and could handle them. Paula will do the same.’

‘I guess you’re right, Gramps, but Tessa does very well at Harte’s, you know. She’s a pretty good executive.’

‘Could she run the store in Knightsbridge? And the whole chain as well?’ Bryan asked, looking at her keenly.

Linnet bit her lip and glanced away, acutely aware of her grandfather’s penetrating gaze, thinking of the discussions she’d had with Gideon about this very subject. And with her cousin India Standish, who worked at Harte’s. They believed that Tessa would never be able to cut it, but she fully acknowledged they were prejudiced, having suffered at Tessa’s hands in the past. Especially when they were children.

Clearing her throat, Linnet said, ‘As an executive Tessa’s very good, well organized, practical, and she handles the daily problems with skill …’ Linnet’s voice suddenly trailed off as she thought of the rows her mother had with Tessa about the future and planning ahead. She stared at Bryan, then sighed. ‘Oh gosh, Gramps, Tessa’s my sister and I love her …’

‘There’s a big but, I suspect, when it comes to certain things to do with her work.’

‘I think so. She’s great on a day-to-day basis, as I said. But Tessa never considers the future or plans ahead.’

‘No real vision, perhaps,’ Bryan pronounced. ‘There’s got to be vision in any business, but especially in retailing, otherwise the stores will go nowhere. Except down the drain eventually. That’s always been one of your mother’s strong suits, Linnet. Paula has had tremendous vision over the years, still does, and Emma often commented on it to me. It made your great-grandmother very proud, and she felt secure about leaving Harte’s to her.’

‘Mummy’s a genius in so many ways. You know, she’s really been annoyed about Tessa’s attitude regarding my project. Tessa thinks my idea for a fashion retrospective is ridiculous, that it won’t succeed. But I know it will, and Mummy’s given me her blessing.’

Bryan frowned and shook his head, his expression startled. After a moment’s thought he murmured, ‘But your fashion retrospective is a natural. It’s bound to bring in hundreds of women, and when they’re in the store they’ll spend money on the fashion floors.’

‘Exactly, Gramps! That’s the whole idea, but Tessa doesn’t get it.’

Or doesn’t want to, Bryan thought, but said, ‘The main thing is that it’s going to be a big success. You mustn’t worry about what Tessa says or thinks … only your immediate boss, and that’s your mother.’

She nodded. ‘Mummy’s thrilled I’m using such a lot of Grandy’s haute-couture clothes. Vintage clothes are very in these days, and the retrospective does cover eighty years. It’ll be fabulous and will pull in a lot of young women. India agrees.’

‘I do too, as I just said. And tell me, how is little India working out?’

‘Very well, grandfather, and she’s not so little either. She’s quite the dashing young woman.’

‘So I noticed on New Year’s Eve.’ He chuckled. ‘I always think of India as being little. You know, in the sense of petite, dainty, very delicate and feminine.’

‘That she is. But getting back to Tessa, Gideon says she doesn’t know how to handle people, that she has no empathy or compassion.’ Linnet sat back and made a small grimace. ‘Mummy’s always said it’s important to feel compassion for people if you’re an employer, and Gideon thinks Tessa lacks that quality.’

‘Do you?’

When Linnet was silent, Bryan knew the answer. But she was a fine young woman and he knew how much she disliked criticizing others. Deciding not to press for an answer, he leaned back against the cushions once more, and studied her for a moment, and quite unexpectedly his throat tightened with emotion. For he saw not Linnet O’Neill, his twenty-five-year-old granddaughter but Emma Harte when she was twenty-seven and his surrogate mother. He had been born in December 1916, and his biological mother Laura O’Neill had died almost immediately after his birth. With his father Blackie away fighting in the First World War, there was only Emma Harte, his parents’ best friend, to look after him. And so she had taken him home from the hospital and brought him up as her own. And it was her face he had gazed up at from his crib, her face he had learned to love at such a tender age.

And now, eighty-four years later, he was staring into that same face at this very moment. Of course it was not Emma he was looking at, it was Linnet, but to him she was Emma Harte reincarnated, and the resemblance between them was uncanny.

‘Gramps, are you all right? You’ve got such a funny look on your face,’ Linnet said, sounding concerned about him.

Sitting up straighter, Bryan blinked several times, then smiled at her. He coughed behind his hand, and after a moment replied, ‘I have some photographs at home of your great-grandmother when she was about your age, maybe a couple of years older than you are now. And you are her, Linnet. Why, it’s as if Emma has been reborn in you. It’s not only that you’re the spitting image of her physically, as everyone tells you these days, but you have so many of her facial expressions and her gestures, and you think like her. Certainly you have her drive, energy and talent for retailing, and you’re a good businesswoman. You’ll get even better, too, with a bit of age on you.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re the best, in my opinion.’

‘You’re prejudiced, Gramps.’

‘Perhaps. But nonetheless, you’re going to be fine … another Emma Harte.’

‘I’ll try to live up to all of the things she was, and stood for. I know she had great integrity, that she was a most honourable woman, one who knew right from wrong, and was just and fair in all her dealings.’

‘That she was indeed, and you’ll do her justice. I’ve no qualms about you, mavourneen.’ He reached out, took her hand in his. ‘My money’s on you, Linnet, and in my opinion it’s you who should take over from your mother when she retires. Harte’s should be yours.’

‘I’d like that very much, but it really is up to my mother.’

She’s probably chosen you already, Bryan thought, but for once he did not confide in his granddaughter. Instead he said, ‘I want you to have those photographs of Emma. I’ll bring them with me the next time I come over.’

‘Oh, thanks, Gramps, I’d love to have them. I’ll treasure them.’

A moment later Margaret came hurrying into the Stone Hall, and in her usual quiet and efficient way, she said, ‘Lunch is ready, Mr O’Neill … Linnet. If you’d like to come into the morning room, I’ll serve it in there, it’s much cosier than the dining room, with the fire an’ all.’

‘Thanks, we’ll come right away, Margaret,’ Bryan said, pushing himself to his feet. ‘Linnet did tell me that you’d be rustling up something special for me. Well, that’s the way she put it. So what’s for lunch?’

Margaret laughed and explained, ‘Oh, some of your real favourites, Mr O’Neill. I had a crock of Morecambe Bay potted shrimps put away for lunch tomorrow, but I thought you’d like to have them today with some of that nice thin brown bread and butter of mine, and I’ve made your real favourite, a cottage pie with fresh ground beef and a crust of mashed potatoes, puréed parsnips and peas. And for pudding you can either have freshly baked apple crumble with warm custard, just the way you like it, or trifle.’

‘Goodness, Margaret, you’ve done me proud! Everything sounds delicious,’ Bryan answered, smiling at the housekeeper. Then, turning to Linnet, as they walked together across the hall, he added, ‘I’m seriously thinking of moving in here.’

‘I wish you would, Gramps!’ Linnet exclaimed, tucking her arm through his, meaning every word she said.

‘The idea is tempting, mavourneen, but I think it’s best I remain in Harrogate. After all, Blackie built that house, and I’ve lived in it forever it seems, and I’m keeping it warm for Desmond, so to speak. It’ll be his one day, when I’m gone.’

‘Let’s not talk about you going anywhere!’ Linnet cried, bustling him forward in the direction of the morning room. ‘You’ve got lots of years ahead of you.’

‘I hope so, Linny, but as Blackie used to say, when you get to be over eighty, a man’s living on borrowed time.’