ornately carved and upon it reposed lovely old silver candlesticks holding white candles and in the centre rested a seventeenth-century carriage clock. The Turner landscape dominated the wall above the fireplace. Redolent with misty greens and clear blues, its romantic bucolic setting was evocative and poignant to Emma and it never failed to stir a nostalgic longing in her heart, as it did now as she turned to admire it.
Portraits of a young nobleman and his wife, by Reynolds, flanked the Chippendale cabinet and a collection of exquisitely rendered miniatures was grouped on the wall behind the desk. Emma’s unerring eye for colour and form and her skill at placing and arranging furniture were in evidence everywhere and yet this was not an overly feminine room, being devoid of useless clutter and bric-à-brac. It was a handsome and gracious parlour where a man could also feel at ease in the softly diffused beauty and great comfort.
When she felt warmed throughout, Emma went over to the small console that held a silver tray of drinks and crystal glasses. She poured out two sherries and carried them back to the fireplace. As she waited for Paula she glanced at the morning newspapers. Her own paper, the Yorkshire Morning Gazette , was looking much better since she had brought Jim Fairley in as managing director. He had made a great number of changes, all of which had improved the paper. He had revamped the format and the layout looked brighter and more modern, as did her evening paper, the Yorkshire Evening Standard , which was also under Jim’s control. Advertising revenue had increased, as had the circulation of both papers. He had done an excellent job and Emma was more than satisfied. Jim Fairley…Paula…She could no longer think of him without thinking of Paula, too. In Emma’s mind the girlwas always fatefully in his shadow. She sighed. The door opened and Emma turned away from her introspection. She looked at Paula with fondness as she walked across the room. ‘I have a sherry here for you, my dear,’ she said, gesturing towards the table.
Paula was smiling cheerfully, having decided in the privacy of her own room to be her most charming self to every one of her unpleasant relatives this weekend. It was the only thing she could do, and under the circumstances her grandmother needed as much support as she could get with the leeches around, as Paula called them, although this was mostly said to herself or her cousins Alexander and Emily, who shared her views.
‘I thought I would go riding this afternoon, if you don’t mind, Grandy,’ she said as she joined Emma by the fire. ‘It’s such a beautiful day even though it is cold.’
Emma nodded, delighted. She wanted to be alone after lunch and she had contemplated sending Paula into Leeds on some invented errand. Now that was not necessary. ‘Yes, you should, darling. It will do you good. But wrap up warmly. I intend to take it easy myself. I have to plan the seating arrangement for the family dinner tomorrow night and then I shall rest.’
‘When are the others coming?’ Paula asked, keeping her voice purposely light and casual.
‘I expect some of them will come tonight. The others tomorrow.’ Emma’s tone was as mild as Paula’s for she had sensed the girl’s unhappiness about the weekend and she did not want her to be more distressed than she already was.
‘It will be quite a houseful, Grandy. We haven’t all been gathered here for years.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Is Aunt Elizabeth bringing her husband?’
‘Does she have one at the moment?’ Emma asked with not a little malice.
‘Oh you are terrible, Grandy!’ Paula laughed. ‘You know very well she does. The Italian count. Gianni.’
‘Humph! He’s as much a count as I’m the Pope,’ Emma retorted disparagingly. ‘More like an Italian waiter to mymind.’ She sipped her sherry. Her green eyes glittered above the glass.
‘Grandy! He’s very nice. Much too nice to cope with
Portraits of a young nobleman and his wife, by Reynolds, flanked the Chippendale cabinet and a collection of exquisitely rendered miniatures was grouped on the wall behind the desk. Emma’s unerring eye for colour and form and her skill at placing and arranging furniture were in evidence everywhere and yet this was not an overly feminine room, being devoid of useless clutter and bric-à-brac. It was a handsome and gracious parlour where a man could also feel at ease in the softly diffused beauty and great comfort.
When she felt warmed throughout, Emma went over to the small console that held a silver tray of drinks and crystal glasses. She poured out two sherries and carried them back to the fireplace. As she waited for Paula she glanced at the morning newspapers. Her own paper, the Yorkshire Morning Gazette , was looking much better since she had brought Jim Fairley in as managing director. He had made a great number of changes, all of which had improved the paper. He had revamped the format and the layout looked brighter and more modern, as did her evening paper, the Yorkshire Evening Standard , which was also under Jim’s control. Advertising revenue had increased, as had the circulation of both papers. He had done an excellent job and Emma was more than satisfied. Jim Fairley…Paula…She could no longer think of him without thinking of Paula, too. In Emma’s mind the girlwas always fatefully in his shadow. She sighed. The door opened and Emma turned away from her introspection. She looked at Paula with fondness as she walked across the room. ‘I have a sherry here for you, my dear,’ she said, gesturing towards the table.
Paula was smiling cheerfully, having decided in the privacy of her own room to be her most charming self to every one of her unpleasant relatives this weekend. It was the only thing she could do, and under the circumstances her grandmother needed as much support as she could get with the leeches around, as Paula called them, although this was mostly said to herself or her cousins Alexander and Emily, who shared her views.
‘I thought I would go riding this afternoon, if you don’t mind, Grandy,’ she said as she joined Emma by the fire. ‘It’s such a beautiful day even though it is cold.’
Emma nodded, delighted. She wanted to be alone after lunch and she had contemplated sending Paula into Leeds on some invented errand. Now that was not necessary. ‘Yes, you should, darling. It will do you good. But wrap up warmly. I intend to take it easy myself. I have to plan the seating arrangement for the family dinner tomorrow night and then I shall rest.’
‘When are the others coming?’ Paula asked, keeping her voice purposely light and casual.
‘I expect some of them will come tonight. The others tomorrow.’ Emma’s tone was as mild as Paula’s for she had sensed the girl’s unhappiness about the weekend and she did not want her to be more distressed than she already was.
‘It will be quite a houseful, Grandy. We haven’t all been gathered here for years.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Is Aunt Elizabeth bringing her husband?’
‘Does she have one at the moment?’ Emma asked with not a little malice.
‘Oh you are terrible, Grandy!’ Paula laughed. ‘You know very well she does. The Italian count. Gianni.’
‘Humph! He’s as much a count as I’m the Pope,’ Emma retorted disparagingly. ‘More like an Italian waiter to mymind.’ She sipped her sherry. Her green eyes glittered above the glass.
‘Grandy! He’s very nice. Much too nice to cope with
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