A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘No, we won’t,’ Emma said firmly. ‘There’s a war on now. Merchandise is going to be in short supply and hard to come by. I can use up those stocks in the store if necessary. In fact, I’ll probably need them. Many of the manufacturers we buy from will be turning their factories over to the production of government supplies. Uniforms and such, and so I’m not at all concerned about the stocks in the warehouse. In a sense, they’re a godsend.’
‘Yes, I see your point,’ Hartley conceded, wishing he had thought of that himself. But Emma Harte was always three jumps ahead of everyone else. Now he said, ‘There’s another problem I wanted to mention. Two of our commercial travellers, the ones covering Scotland, have given notice. They’re joining up today. That leaves us short-staffed. Shall I take on some new men to replace them?’
‘No, don’t bother. The two working Manchester and London will be sufficient. As I said, I may well need that merchandise for the store and I don’t want the warehouse to be completely depleted. Get on to those overdue accounts on Monday and let me know the results at the end of the day. I expect you to be tough about this, Vince. I don’t have time to deal with it myself, but I will if necessary.’
‘Please, Mrs Harte, don’t worry. You can rely on me,’ Hartley said nervously, knowing she meant every word.
‘Until Monday, Vince. Goodbye.’ Emma sat back in the chair, wondering if she should let the two remaining travellers go and cease all selling to other retailers, to reserve the stocks for herself in case of shortages. A knock on the door interrupted her musings. Emma looked up as Gladys Barnes, her young secretary, poked her head around the door.
‘Mr Ainsley has arrived, Mrs Harte.’
‘Show him in, Gladys, please.’
‘Yes, Mrs Harte.’
Emma stood up, smoothed her skirt, and automatically patted her hair, walking across the floor to welcome her solicitor, whom she had been expecting. She was therefore taken aback, and also irritated, when Ainsley’s son, Arthur, appeared on the threshold.
Arthur Ainsley, tall, slender, and with the blond good looks of a juvenile lead, was conscious of his physical attributes and the effect they had on most women. Elegantly dressed in a somewhat dandified manner, he played the part of the dashing young buck to the hilt and now he sauntered in with debonair aplomb.
He’s forgotten his tennis racquet, Emma thought disparagingly, but she proffered him a charming smile. ‘Good morning, Mr Ainsley.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Harte. You look as splendid as always.’ Ainsley flashed his perfect teeth and took her outstretched hand, his clasp lingering too long for Emma’s comfort.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Ainsley. Please, do sit down.’ She glided to her desk and sat behind it, still smiling, sheathing her annoyance. In her opinion, Arthur Ainsley was a fop and she regarded him as his father’s errand boy, even though he was a junior partner with the law firm. ‘Is your father joining us?’ she asked in an even tone.
‘No, I’m afraid he can’t. He came down with a frightful cold last night. Hence my presence instead of his,’ Arthur replied, suavely apologetic.
‘I am sorry,’ Emma murmured.
‘However,’ Arthur went on quickly, ‘he did ask me to tell you that you may telephone him at home, if you consider it necessary after our meeting. That is, if you feel I am not able to help you with your—er—er—problem.’
‘I don’t have a problem, Mr Ainsley,’ Emma said coolly. ‘I merely wished to bring to conclusion a certain matter I have been discussing with your father. I think you will be able to handle it quite adequately, since all the major work has been done already.’
Arthur Ainsley ignored her patronizing tone, although he winced. He had been trying to ingratiate himself with Emma Harte for the past year without success, and this infuriated him. Nevertheless, he responded with studied charm. ‘I sincerely hope I can, Mrs Harte. I always aim to please, you know.’
‘Indeed,’ Emma said dismissively. ‘When I spoke to your father yesterday morning I did not explain why I wished to see him today, so obviously he was unable to brief you. Let me fill you in. Several weeks ago I started negotiations with Mr William Layton, of Layton’s woollen mill in Armley. Mr Layton has wanted to sell for some time. He’s getting too old to run the mill efficiently and his business has fallen off drastically. Mostly due to the poor quality of the cloth he has been producing and indifferent selling. In fact, it’s my opinion he’s only a few steps away from bankruptcy. Mr Layton agreed to sell the mill to me for fifty thousand pounds. I considered this a fairly reasonable figure, although the mill is small, there’s virtually no good will to speak of, and his customers are few. He’s also stuck with an enormous quantity of shoddy cloth which I will have to practically give away, simply to get rid of it—’
‘It doesn’t sound like a good proposition to me,’ Arthur cut in, hoping to impress her.
Emma frowned and held up her hand. ‘Please, Mr Ainsley, let me finish!’ Her voice was chilly. ‘The machinery is good and the building is sound, if in need of a few renovations. Also, Layton’s is carrying huge stocks of raw wool, of major importance to me. Anyway, to come to the point, Mr Layton agreed to my terms, which were fifteen thousand on signing of the purchase agreements, ten thousand after three months, and the final payment of twenty-five thousand pounds at the end of six months. That is approximately the length of time I require to turn the mill around. We were about to go to contract when Mr Layton backed down. His excuse was that he no longer wanted to sell. I found this hard to swallow, but naturally I had to respect his decision.’
‘You probably could have held him to that agreement, you know, even though it was verbal,’ Arthur interjected. ‘I’m sure my father told you that, didn’t he?’
‘He did indeed,’ Emma said. ‘However, I decided at the time not to do so. Mr Layton is an old man and I didn’t want to back him into a corner. After all, it was his prerogative to change his mind. I told your father I would look around for another suitable mill, since I was anxious to acquire one. Then a few days ago I discovered, through a reliable source of my own, that Mr Layton had received another offer,’ Emma explained. ‘This offer was not higher than mine, but the terms were seemingly more appealing to Mr Layton. My competitor was prepared to make two payments instead of three, each one of twenty-five thousand pounds. The first on signing, the second after six months. I am not an unreasonable woman, Mr Ainsley, but Mr Layton’s duplicity appalled me. After all, we had shaken hands on the deal and then he turned around and reneged. Moreover, he did not have the integrity to inform me of that bid, and so give me the opportunity to match it.’
‘I appreciate your feelings, Mrs Harte,’ Arthur said with a fawning smile. ‘I suppose you want to match this new bid?’
‘No, better it, in a sense. I have decided to pay the purchase price in full. On Monday.’
Arthur Ainsley sat up smartly, rubbing his chin nervously. ‘But that’s not bettering it, is it? You’re simply changing the payment schedule, that’s all. What makes you think the other party won’t do the same thing? Then you’d be faced with an impasse, and Layton still might not sell to you. Also, how do you know they haven’t concluded the transaction?’
Emma smiled confidently. ‘They haven’t, and I happen to know that the party in question does not have the ready cash to make payment in full at this moment. He has just modernized the mill he owns and has put in costly machinery. I realize, of course, that he could borrow from the bank to purchase Layton’s. That would have been very good business practice a week ago, but today, with the bank rate up to 8 per cent, I think the rival buyer may well have second thoughts about doing that. I’ve been informed that he’s over-extended and well into the bank already. They may not wish to oblige him with further credit. It is my belief that if I move swiftly I can knock him out of the picture completely.’
‘Yes, perhaps you can,’ Arthur agreed cautiously.
‘It is also my understanding that Mr Layton does not want protract
Arthur nodded, obviously impressed. She was constantly surprising both him and his father. Then another thought struck him. ‘Look here, let’s think about this for a second. Are you sure you want to invest fifty thousand in a new business at a time like this? Since we are at war. I’m not so sure this is a moment for taking risks.’
‘I’m not taking any risks and, furthermore, this is exactly the right time to buy Layton’s, because I intend to obtain government contracts to produce cloth for the armed forces. Cloth for uniforms, Mr Ainsley. With those contracts I can have that mill on its feet and in profit overnight!’
‘Well, I must say, you certainly think of everything!’ He had no doubts she would get the contracts, yet he felt compelled to say, ‘Are you sure? Really sure you can get them? It occurs to me the established cloth manufacturers in Yorkshire will be after the same contracts. They could beat you to it.’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Ainsley,’ Emma said softly, and with a self-assured smile. ‘Naturally they will go after them, but I have connections in London. And, in any event, the government is going to need plenty of cloth for uniforms, believe me. There will be enough business to go around.’
Dazzled, Arthur said, ‘My father has always considered you to have remarkable vision and certainly you seem confident. What would you like me to do, in regard to the Layton mill?’
‘Telephone Mr Layton and tender my offer as soon as you get into your office on Monday. Arrange an appointment with him for Monday afternoon. I will go with you and we can sign immediately. And make sure he has his solicitor there. I don’t want any procrastination.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Arthur said, echoing her businesslike tone.
Emma picked up the papers on her desk and handed them to him. ‘These are the original contracts. I have made various changes, those I considered necessary. However, I am sure they are in order. In fact, the changes are so minor you should be able to redraw the contracts by noon.’
She certainly knows how to give her orders, Arthur thought with a stab of resentment, but nodded. ‘That’s no problem,’ he asserted
‘And here is my cheque for the full purchase price.’ Emma gave him the envelope and went on, ‘I want you to take it today so that you can tell Mr Layton, in all truthfulness, that you have it in your hands when you speak with him.’ Emma’s green eyes, now brilliant, rested on Arthur. To her amusement he appeared to be dumbfounded. ‘I don’t think you will have any problems with Mr Layton. I am making him an offer he will find extremely difficult to refuse under the circumstances,’ she said. ‘I know my rival will not be able to move as rapidly as I can.’
‘Oh, I endorse that wholeheartedly!’ Arthur then said, with a disarming smile, ‘May I invite you to lunch on Monday, before we go to Layton’s? It would be my pleasure.’
Emma feigned dismay. ‘Oh dear, I can’t. It’s very kind of you to ask me, but I already have an appointment for lunch that day. I will meet you at your office at two o’clock, if that is convenient, and we can go over the contracts before our appointment with Mr Layton.’
Arthur concealed his disappointment, aware that his charm had no effect on her. ‘Yes, that’s fine. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?’ he asked, anxious to prolong his visit.
Invariably pressed for time and having no use for idle chatter, Emma said, ‘No, that’s about it.’ She rose abruptly. Arthur jumped up, reaching for his briefcase. Emma accompanied him to the door. ‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Ainsley. And do give my best to your father. I hope he feels better soon.’ She stretched out her hand, shook Arthur’s quickly, and opened the door. He found himself whisked out of her office with such speed he barely had a chance to take his leave of her courteously.
Emma smiled when she was alone. Arthur Ainsley fancies himself, she thought, and then forgot all about him, turning her attention to the store’s business. A few minutes after Ainsley had left the office Joe marched in unexpectedly. Having determined, the night before, to be her most affectionate with him in every way, Emma greeted him warmly, only to be rebuffed by a gruff response. Despite her irritation at this intrusion on her busiest morning, and her bafflement at his obnoxious manner, the smile on Emma’s face did not falter. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was upset when he saved her the trouble.
‘What the hell was Arthur Ainsley doing here?’ he growled, flinging himself into the chair recently vacated by the young man.
‘Because he’s our solicitor. Don’t tell me that has slipped your mind, Joe.’
‘His father is our solicitor,’ Joe snapped.
‘Frederick Ainsley is ill. I had some urgent business to be dealt with and he sent Arthur in his place.’
‘I don’t like that chap!’ Joe announced.
Joe’s tone was so harsh Emma was further startled. ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t be so snappy, dear. Arthur Ainsley is pleasant and also able, I think.’
‘He’s charming to you, Emma. You wear skirts. That chap’s a real womanizer. He’s a rake!’
Emma laughed. ‘Oh, Joe, don’t be so silly. Anyway, his private life is his own affair, I think.’
‘Well, I don’t like the way he behaves around you, Emma. I’ve noticed how young Ainsley dances attendance on you, and he positively leers at you. He’s too bloody cocksure of his so-called fatal charms, if you ask me.’
Emma bit back a smile. Joe was jealous, an emotion he had not hitherto displayed before. But then she never gave him any reason to be jealous, nor did she have any inclination to do so. Men were the last thing on her mind.
‘Look here, Joe, you’re getting excited about nothing. I don’t encourage Arthur Ainsley’s attentions. In fact, I’ve never noticed them, to tell you the truth. It’s hardly my fault that Mr Ainsley sends him here on business matters. Come along, love, don’t be childish,’ she said cajolingly.
Joe felt suddenly foolish and he grinned, looking shamefaced. ‘Yes, you’re right, but what was so urgent that you had to deal with it on Saturday?’
Emma told him about her decision to buy Layton’s mill, explaining some of the ramifications and the necessity for moving with a degree of swiftness. ‘Surprise is often the best weapon,’ she pointed out. ‘Percy Lomax thinks he’s got Layton’s mill. He thinks he’s outsmarted me, but he’s wrong. Nobody outsmarts me. Ever!’
Joe was staring at her askance. ‘Don’t you think you’re biting off more than you can chew?’ he cried.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Between the store, the Gregson Warehouse, and Lady Hamilton Clothes it seems to me that you have enough to keep you busy twenty-four hours a day, without that blasted mill.’
She laughed. ‘I’m not going to be running the mill, Joe.’
‘Knowing you, Emma, you’ll want to take an active interest in the administration. You never leave anything to chance, and you’d have to be involved out of necessity. From what I hear, Layton’s needs reorganizing, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does. But I’ve thought everything out well in advance. I’ll get a good manager.’
‘Who? They’re hard to come by, you know.’
‘Ben Andrews. I’ve—’
‘Ben Andrews! Good God, Emma, he’s been at Thompson’s mill for donkey’s years. You’ll never get him to leave.’
‘That’s where you’re mistaken, Joe. I’ve had several meetings with Ben and he wants to leave Thompson’s. I only have to say the word. He hasn’t been too happy there since the new owners took over four years ago. He’s itching to get out, if you want to know the truth.’
Joe grinned. ‘I’ve got to take my hat off to you, Emma. You certainly know how to pick ‘em. Ben is a hell of a good man. The best in the woollen business. He’s made Thompson’s, that’s a certainty.’
Emma nodded. ‘I know. And that’s the secret of my success. Finding the right people and bein
Observing her with grudging approbation, Joe saw her delighted smile turn into one of triumph. He could not help laughing. Shaking his head, he said, ‘I suppose it tickles you to death to be in a position to employ Ben Andrews, considering he was your boss when you worked at Thompson’s. I can’t say I blame you.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Emma said softly and in all truthfulness. It was the idea of luring Ben Andrews, three top foremen, and twenty of the best weavers away from Thompson’s that intoxicated her. Without Ben’s superior management and those experienced workers, Thompson’s output would be crippled and the mill would be in disastrous trouble. A thrill of pure elation ran through her. She had just made her first move against the Fairleys, owners of J. P. Thompson and Son.
‘Congratulations, Emma. You’re a millowner at last.’
‘Don’t congratulate me yet, Joe!’ Emma exclaimed. ‘I’m superstitious about celebrating before a transaction is final.’
‘Oh, it will be, Emma. I don’t doubt that for one minute,’ he said with an odd smile. ‘You always get what you want, don’t you? There’s no stopping you once you’ve made up your mind. You rush in, sweeping everybody to one side, so intent on your purpose you don’t care who gets trampled underfoot.’
Emma looked at Joe, surprised at his harsh words and the sarcastic edge to his voice. Normally she disregarded his taunts, but now she could not help saying angrily, ‘You make me sound ruthless and hard. And I’m not. I’m simply a good businesswoman. Furthermore, nobody has ever handed me anything on a plate. I’ve had to work like a dog for everything I own, Joe.’
‘I can’t deny that. Work is your consuming passion, though, isn’t it?’ His eyes were as hard as pebbles, and condemning.
Emma sighed. She began to shuffle her papers, impatient for him to leave and in no mood to joust. ‘Why are you in town so early this morning?’ she asked gently, changing the subject.