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Автор: PENNY JORDAN
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современная зарубежная литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007371686
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a faint American drawl that was as sensual as her clothes. ‘Perfect for travelling as it doesn’t crease. Olivia bought the darlingest pieces from her leisurewear collection when we went out shopping together.’

      Although she was speaking to Emerald, Ella’s real attention was on her sister. Janey worked so hard, Fitton Hall was a demanding mistress, and she certainly wouldn’t have wanted to share her husband with it. They’d flown over first class and she’d taken advantage of the extra luggage allowance to fill a large case with clothes for her sister. In New York, heading up a charity meant attending a constant succession of society events and maintaining a high profile, and that meant a constantly renewed wardrobe. She’d have to wait until she could catch Janey on her own, so that she could do things discreetly. Janey had her pride, after all, and no one was more prickly about this than John. ‘We were just talking about the business,’ Emerald told her. ‘We really need to get a foothold in the American interior design market.’

      Emerald had always had a good head for business, Ella acknowledged.

      ‘If we go ahead, with profits being so low at the moment it will mean us not taking anything out of the business this year, especially if we do expand,’ Polly pointed out.

      ‘Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?’ Emerald shrugged impatiently.

      ‘For us, yes,’ Cathy agreed, ‘but it might not suit Janey’

      Amber had made the business over to all of them in equal shares shortly after Jay’s heart attack, and although neither Ella nor Janey worked in the business, their share was the same as everyone else’s – a mutual decision from everyone concerned.

      ‘I can sort something out about that,’ Ella said quietly. ‘And I’ll speak to Rose,’ Emerald told them.

      

      ‘Right that’s the scones done,’ Rose told Janey. ‘What’s next?’

      ‘There’s some cream for those who want it, and some homemade jam. I don’t want to overface everyone now, otherwise no one will want any supper, which I thought we’d make help yourself this evening.’

      ‘Good idea.’

      ‘Heavens, who on earth is going to eat all these scones?’ Emerald demanded.

      ‘The children,’ Janey and Rose said together, both laughing.

      ‘Speaking of children, I take it, Rose, that Nick and Sarah have gone up to Scotland?’ Rose’s heart sank a little. She didn’t really want to discuss the failure of Nick’s marriage but she didn’t have much option.

      ‘Sarah has, but Nick’s gone to the Bahamas. Things haven’t been very good between them for a while and they’ve decided to separate for a while to give one another some breathing space. Sarah’s father never approved of her marrying Nick and I suspect that she feels torn between the two of them.’

      ‘Oh, well, he wouldn’t. Sarah’s mother came out the same season as me, and I remember him from then. Aunt Beth was touting him as one of the debs’ delights but there was nothing remotely delightful about him. He was frightfully dour, as they say in Scotland, with red hair and dreadful skin. And he was a terrible snob, always going on about his title.’ Emerald pulled a face. ‘I was astonished that Sarah actually defied him to marry Nick in the first place…Rose, there’s something I want to discuss with you about the Walton Street business.’

      Rose nodded. ‘And there’s something else we should all discuss whilst we’re here, perhaps.’

      ‘What’s that? Ella queried.

      ‘Well, it will be Amber’s eightieth birthday next November. I know that’s nearly a full year away, but since we’re all together it seems a pity not to take the opportunity to discuss how we might celebrate the event.’

      ‘Well, of course we shall have a family party,’ Emerald agreed. ‘Drogo and I could host it.’

      ‘A party, yes, but I was thinking of something else, a special gift,’ Rose said firmly.

      ‘That means that you’ve already thought of something,’ Emerald guessed shrewdly.

      ‘Yes,’ Rose agreed, ‘but what I’ve got in mind is rather a large project and it would need us all to agree and to contribute to it.’

      ‘So what is it?’ Polly demanded.

      ‘Well, this does in a way tie in with what Emerald has been saying about the need for us to look in new directions to promote the business. As you all know, through my own private practice I deal with clients who want new interior designs for their shops, hairdressing salons, et cetera, and I’m beginning to see a move away from the pretty-pretty to something more dramatic.’

      ‘And…?’ Emerald urged impatiently.

      ‘I’m wondering if we could introduce a new design to Denby Mill’s existing portfolio, based on the length of silk featured in The Silk Merchant’s Daughter. I know that Amber has that piece of silk, and I’ve always thought how wonderful the colours in it are, all those rich dark ambers, plums and charcoals, shot through with lighter colours.’

      Emerald had heard enough. She could never and would never feel comfortable about the famous painting of her mother, the work of the French artist Jean-Philippe du Breveonet, and which she herself had once tried to destroy.

      ‘That piece of silk is priceless and antique. It could never be replicated.’

      Rose nodded in agreement. She had expected resistance to her idea from Emerald, who for some reason was always antagonistic to anything to do with the French artist and the paintings he had done of Amber.

      ‘You’re right,’ she agreed, ‘but what I was thinking was more along the lines of us creating an entire new range of designs, using the colours from the silk and incorporating them into modern styles – stripes, block prints, architectural designs – the kind of patterns that would appeal to interior designers and really stand out from what’s on offer at the moment.’

      ‘That’s a terrific concept, and I love it already,’ Cathy announced, joining the conversation. ‘Rose is right about the colours in the silk. Every time Sim and I go to the National Gallery we look at the painting and marvel at it all over again.’

      ‘It sounds a good idea,’ Janey concurred.

      ‘I thought that if we could work on it in secret so that Amber doesn’t know, we could with luck have it ready for launching by her birthday. I thought we’d name it and launch it in her honour.’

      ‘Name it? What?’ Emerald challenged, unable to conceal her dislike of the idea. She couldn’t help it. Anything to do with the artist who had secretly been her mother’s lover and her own father made her feel angry and vulnerable. The last thing she wanted was attention being drawn to the series of paintings, which were currently on loan to the National Gallery and which the artist had given into her mother’s care during the war, just prior to his own death. For years those paintings had remained shut away, but Sim, Cathy’s husband, had persuaded Amber to let him show them in his own small gallery in Cornwall, where they had attracted such a lot of interest that the National Gallery had asked to borrow them.

      ‘We could call the range “Amber”, I suppose,’ Ella suggested.

      Rose shook her head. ‘You don’t have to agree with me – this is only a suggestion – but what about calling the entire range simply 1912 as in “The 1912 Range”? That is the year Amber was born, and I think using that date will set the range apart from the current crop of floral patterns and names, if you’ll all forgive the pun.’

      ‘Rose, that’s a brilliant idea,’ Janey approved, clapping her hands together.

      ‘It is very stylish,’ Ella agreed. ‘I can see that appealing to the high-end American market.’

      ‘It does sound rather elegant,’ Emerald agreed reluctantly, ‘but you’re forgetting something important,