Looking exceptionally handsome and prosperous in his dinner jacket, Blackie handed Winston a balloon of the cognac. ‘Cheers, Winston,’ he said.
‘Cheers, Blackie.’
Blackie selected a cigar, clipped off the end, lit it slowly. He puffed on it for a few seconds and finally fixed his bright black eyes on Winston. ‘When is she going to stop all this foolishness?’
‘What foolishness?’ Winston demanded with a frown.
‘Throwing money around. She’s gone crazy in the past six months. At least so it seems to me.’
‘Emma’s not throwing money around. In fact, she’s not very extravagant with herself at all.’
Blackie raised a black eyebrow quizzically and a faint smile flitted across his mouth. ‘Now, Winston, don’t play the innocent with me. You know damn well what I mean. I’m talking about the way she’s been plunging into the commodities market. Recklessly so, I might add.’
Winston grinned. ‘Not recklessly at all. She’s made a fortune, Blackie.’
‘Aye, and she can easily lose it! Overnight! Speculating in commodities is the most dangerous game there is, and you know it.’
‘Yes, I do. And for that matter, so does Emma. She is something of a gambler in business, Blackie. We’re both aware of that. However, she’s also astute and she knows what she’s doing—’
‘It’s all much too chancy for my liking! She could easily be ruined!’
Winston laughed. ‘Not my sister. You’ve got to admit it takes real genius to start out with nothing and build what she has so brilliantly built. Only an idiot would be stupid enough to risk throwing it all away. Emma’s nobody’s fool and, anyway, she stopped buying and selling commodities several weeks ago.’
‘Thank God for that!’ Blackie looked relieved, but his tone was worried as he continued, ‘Still, I am concerned about all this rapid expansion she’s undertaken. The new stores in Bradford and Harrogate were admittedly good buys, but the renovations she insists I make are going to be very costly. And I couldn’t believe my ears tonight when she told me she’s thinking of building a store in London. As usual, her ideas are pretty grandiose. To be honest, Winston, I was dumbfounded. How the hell is she going to pay for it all? That’s what I want to know. It’s my opinion she’s over-extending herself.’
Winston shook his head adamantly. ‘No she’s not! She’s as smart as a whip and never does anything rashly. How is she going to pay for it? I just told you she made a hell of a lot of money in commodities. And she has been selling off Joe’s remaining properties for very high prices. In fact, she’s gradually divested herself of all the real estate he left her, except for that plot of land in the centre of Leeds. She’s hanging on to that, because she thinks it will increase in worth, and you know she’s right. The store in Leeds is in profit and, also, this boom in the cloth trade since the end of the war has turned Layton’s into a bigger money-maker than it ever was. Orders are pouring in from all over the world and Ben Andrews has had to put most of the workers on overtime to meet them. The Gregson Warehouse is fully operating again, and don’t forget, Emma is David Kallinski’s partner—’
Pausing, Winston eyed Blackie with amusement. ‘Does that answer your questions about how she intends to pay for everything?’
Blackie had the good grace to laugh. ‘Aye, me boyo, it does.’ He shook his head wonderingly. ‘She’s obviously become a very rich woman – richer than I had imagined, from what you tell me.’
Winston nodded, a proud look on his face. ‘How much do you think she’s worth?’ he said with a spontaneity he instantly regretted, since he could not tell the truth.
‘I couldn’t even hazard a guess.’
Winston took a sip of brandy to hide his hesitation. He could not admit Emma’s true worth, because he dare not reveal the existence of the Emeremm Company and her ownership of it. Therefore he selected a conservatively low figure and said, ‘A million pounds. That’s on paper, of course.’
‘Jaysus!’ Blackie exclaimed. He knew Winston was not lying or exaggerating and he was immensely impressed. Blackie lifted his glass. ‘That deserves a toast. Here’s to Emma. She has surpassed us all, I do believe!’
‘To Emma.’ Winston eyed Blackie thoughtfully. ‘Yes, she has. Do you know why? Do you know the secret of my sister’s great success?’
‘Sure and I do. I attribute it to a number of qualities. Shrewdness, courage, ambition, and drive, to name only a few.’
‘Abnormal ambition. Abnormal drive, Blackie. That’s the difference between Emma and most people. She won’t allow anything to stop her and she will go for the jugular with a business adversary, especially if her back is against the wall. But those are not the only reasons for her success. Emma has the killer instinct to get to the top.’
‘Killer instinct! That’s a hell of a thing to say about her. You make her sound ruthless.’
‘She is in some ways.’ Winston could not help laughing at Blackie’s startled expression, and said, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never recognized that trait in her!’
Blackie pondered, recalling incidents from the past. ‘At times I have thought her capable of ruthlessness,’ he murmured slowly.
‘Look, Blackie, enough of all this. I hope I’ve alleviated your worries about her.’
‘Yes, you have. I’m glad we had this talk, Winston. I’ve been concerned about that commodity lark ever since she mentioned it. Scared the hell out of me, if you really want to know. Well, now we’ve got that out of the way, shall we go back to the party?’
‘Whenever you wish. Incidentally, talking of killers, I notice the lady killer is on the prowl tonight. He can’t take his eyes off Emma and he’s certainly fawning all over her.’
Blackie was alert and interested. ‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Why, Arthur Ainsley, of course. The great hero of the war – according to him. Conceited bastard.’
‘I always thought Emma didn’t like him.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that. I wasn’t around, remember? But she did tell me that he’d changed and she seems unperturbed by his attentions tonight.’
‘I hadn’t really noticed,’ Blackie said curtly, and stood up with abruptness. He was preoccupied as they returned to the drawing room. Immediately upon entering, Winston drifted off to join Charlotte and Frank, and Blackie ambled over to the piano. He leaned against it nonchalantly, but his full attention was focused with intensity on Emma, who was engaged in conversation with Frederick Ainsley and his son Arthur.
Blackie thought Emma looked particularly lovely tonight, if a little paler and wistful. Her hair was worked into a coronet of plaits atop her head and the upswept style made her face seem more delicate than ever. She wore a white velvet gown, cut low and off the shoulder, and pinned on to one of the small sleeves was the emerald pin he had given her for her thirtieth birthday. It was the exact replica of the cheap little green-glass bow he had bought for her when she was fifteen, but larger and more exquisitely worked. He had been gratified at her obvious surprise that he had remembered a promise made so long ago, and thrilled at her delight in the costly gift. Now, to him, it looked like a trumpery bauble in comparison to the magnificent emerald earrings that sparkled with such brilliance at her ears.
Automatically his hand went into his pocket, his fingers curling around the jewellery box that reposed there. It contained the diamond ring he had purchased last week. He had intended to ask Emma to marry him tonight. After their recent conversation about Edwina’s birth certificate and the dilemma