avid Kallinski leaned back against the sofa in the kitchen-parlour behind Emma’s food shop and thoughtfully regarded the last of her sketches. He held it away from him, his eyes narrowing perceptively.

As he continued to gaze at it David experienced a flash of excitement and his hands tightened on the drawing. If anything, her designs for their winter collection were even more striking than her summer outfits. They were superb, in fact. The lines were understated and elegant, balanced by fine detailing, and she had cleverly combined the colours for wholly different effects. Her colour sense was extraordinary, even if it was a little daring. Only Emma could have conceived of such unusual mixtures—burgundy trimmed with bright pink, navy blue highlighted with apple green, vivid cyclamen flashed with lilac, and, on the other side of the spectrum, a mélange of rich autumnal tones enlivened by pure white, misty greys, and blues combined with violet, plus fir green sparked with rose. And they all worked beautifully together. Not only that, because of the simplicity of their basic construction, their clean lines and general lack of fussiness, her creations were ideal for the mass-manufacturing techniques he was employing at the factory.

David smiled with pleasure and pride in Emma. He did not know where her artistic gifts sprang from, but they were indisputable and her taste was matchless, her flair unrivalled. He had long come to recognize, and with not a little wonder, that Emma possessed natural genius. There was no other term appropriate to describe her incredible talent and, coupled with her prodigious energy, it made her formidable. Apart from her brilliance as a designer, she had an innate understanding of the public’s whims, an uncanny knack of discerning ahead of time what they wanted and, more importantly, what they would buy. It was as if she had a daemon telling her things, and all of her ventures were instantaneous successes. David suspected that Emma Harte would make money at whatever she decided to turn her hand to, for her touch was golden. Both he and his father had been staggered at her total grasp of financial matters and her capacity for structuring complex monetary schemes, all of which stood up to their accountant’s scrutiny and won his astonished approval. She read a balance sheet the way other people read a newspaper and she could pinpoint its flaws and its virtues in a matter of minutes. She was only just twenty-one and already she was scaling ambition’s ladder with the swiftest and most determined of steps. It seemed to David that nothing could hold her back—it would have been like trying to harness lightning, he had long ago decided. She continually managed to amaze him and he dare not speculate where she would be in ten years’ time. At the top of that ladder, he conjectured, and the prospects were dizzying.

David placed the sketch with the others and lit a cigarette. Things were proceeding on schedule and exactly as he had planned. He had been in business for four months, with Emma and Joe Lowther as his partners. Emma also acted as the designer and stylist, and his brother, Victor, was the factory manager. In one month David would be twenty-five, and he had no doubts whatsoever about the future of the Kallinski Clothing Company, or his own destiny. He intended to be a rich and important member of the community; and the whole of Leeds, indeed if not Yorkshire, would take notice of him one day. That was a promise he had made to himself years ago and he had every intention of keeping that promise.

David had launched into business on his own with flair, assurance, and aggressiveness and it had been a fortuitous start. At the initial showing of the summer collection, the first samples had been received with enthusiasm by the buyers from the big emporiums in Leeds, Bradford, Sheffield, and Manchester, who had fortunately followed up their accolades with surprisingly large orders. The tremendous energy that Emma, Victor, and he had expended, and the long hours they had put in to get the first collection under way, had certainly been justified.

David could not resist shuffling through the sketches once more. He spread them out on the floor and his excitement was barely contained. Yes, by God, she had done it again! This new line could not be bettered by any other manufacturer in Leeds, or even London for that matter. He was absolutely confident that after the winter showing the orders would be huge. He had heady visions of tripling the amount of business he would do in the next few months, for, like Emma, David Kallinski was a born salesman—charming, suave, and utterly dedicated to business.

Emma interrupted his thoughts as she came into the room carrying a steak-and-kidney pie from the storage cellar. David looked up and caught his breath. She had changed into one of their samples and it was enormously becoming to her. Although the style of the dress was not particularly revealing, being tailored and dignified, the fine wool clung to her lovely figure, gently outlining the high curve of her breasts, the rounded smoothness of her thighs, and the length of her graceful legs. The dress was of a dark bottle green and this colour served to emphasize the brilliance of her eyes and the translucency of her skin. He noticed she had done something different with that magnificent and abundant hair. It was pulled back as always, so that the widow’s peak was highly visible, but she had brushed it loose for once and then captured the thick tresses in a dark green net, a sort of snood topped by a small green velvet bow. The netted russet hair fell to her shoulders and framed her incomparable face and it gave her an innocent look. She’s the the most alluring creature in the world, David thought wonderingly.

Uncomfortably aware of his prolonged examination of her, Emma halted, frowning. ‘Don’t you like the designs, David?’ she asked, misunderstanding the expression on his face.

‘Good God, yes!’ he cried. ‘They’re excellent, Emma. No, that’s an understatement. They’re outstanding. You’ve done a fantastic job. Truly.’

Emma smiled. ‘Don’t exaggerate,’ she demurred, but she sighed with relief. After she had placed the pie in the oven, she glided over and sat on the floor at his feet, her back to the fire. She sorted through the sketches, expounding quickly on each one, her face revealing her zeal. She suggested minor changes to some of the designs, explained her ideas on the cutting and manufacturing processes most suitable, and volunteered her thoughts about costing. When they had first started, Emma had applied strict cost accounting to every phase of manufacturing and because of this they would be able to produce more for less than their competitors. She reiterated those points and David leaned forward, eagerness washing over his fine young face. He listened carefully, making mental notes of everything she said. Her advice had proved to be sound, and he always followed it.

When Emma had finished, David said, ‘There’s only one thing we didn’t think about—a name for the line. We must come up with one immediately, because I’ve already put the summer collection into production and I must order the labels. I don’t think Kallinski Clothes is a very exciting name, do you?’

Emma looked up quickly. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she hesitated before saying, ‘Not really. It’s not—well—it’s not very feminine, David. But I don’t have any ideas. Why don’t you ask Victor? He’s very bright about such things.’

David broke into a grin. ‘I guessed you’d suggest that and so I did already. Victor came up with one name this afternoon. I sort of like it, though I’m not sure that you will approve. He suggested we use the name of your famous namesake.’

‘My famous namesake? Who on earth does he mean? I didn’t know I had one.’

‘I didn’t know either, I’m ashamed to admit. Just goes to show how ignorant we are. He meant the first Emma Hart. That’s Hart without the e.’

Undisguised curiosity flickered on to Emma’s face. ‘The first Emma Hart,’ she echoed. ‘Who is she?’

‘The first Emma Hart was quite a famous lady, or infamous, depending on how you look at it. Let me explain. Your namesake married Sir William Hamilton and became Lady Hamilton. That’s the name Victor suggested we adopt.’ David laughed at her bewilderment. ‘Emma Hart was Nelson’s Lady Hamilton. His great love. His mistress. His bequest to the nation in his renowned will, so Victor tells me. Don’t you remember your history books, my girl?’ he teased.

‘Oh, that Lady Hamilton! Mmmmm. It’s not a bad name actually. Not bad at all,’ she mused. ‘Rather distinguished, when you think about it. Lady Hamilton Dresses. No, since We are making suits and coats as well, it would have to be Lady Hamilton Clothes, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes, it would. Do you really like it, Emma? To be honest with you, I took to it at once, but I wanted to discuss it with you before I had the labels made. What do you say?’

Emma pondered, repeating the name in her head. It did have a catchy ring to it and it was rather classy. She remembered that Nelson was Winston’s great naval hero. Perhaps this was a good omen. Maybe the name would be lucky. ‘Yes, I do like it! Let’s use it, David.’

‘What about Joe? Shouldn’t we ask his opinion?’

‘Good heavens, David, surely you know Joe will approve of anything we suggest. You don’t have to worry about him.’ She laughed. ‘What would we do without Victor? We’re such a couple of illiterates, aren’t we?’

‘Perhaps we are, but we know how to make money, Anyway, how about a spot of sherry to celebrate selecting the name?’ David stood up, bending over Emma. He offered her his outstretched hands and helped her up off the floor.

As Emma rose she lifted her head and smiled into David’s face. Their eyes met and held. They stared at each other for a suspended moment, unable to look away, bright blue gaze impaled on one of vivid green. Emma felt an internal quivering, as she always did these days whenever David touched her. A flush rose to her face, and her heart began to pound unreasonably. She continued to stare into his adoring face, hypnotized by that sapphire blaze so full of yearning.

Long aware of her hesitancy and reserve, David moved swiftly. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers. His lips touched her lips and he parted them gently but firmly. Emma felt the warm sweetness of his tongue and her senses overwhelmed her. Her fingers flew to the back of his head involuntarily and ran through his crisp black hair, and it was as if her touch was a firebrand. David held her closer to him, his strong hands sliding down over her shoulders to the small of her back. His palms pressed her slender body into his own muscular one and, as his embrace tightened, Emma felt the rise of his own desire against her thigh. It had been like this for several weeks now—the kissing, the touching, the ardent glances. Every time they were alone together they were both engulfed by a consciousness of their bodies straining for fulfilment in each other.

David assaulted Emma’s emotions in a way that made her breathless and reeling. Her latent ardour, only tentatively and fleetingly awakened years before and then submerged, was surfacing with increasing persistency when David kissed her and held her in his arms. Emma trembled with a mixture of apprehension and alarm, old familiars that constantly assailed her in his presence. She tried to fight her clamouring feelings, but her mind floundered and she gave herself up to his sensual kisses.

They gravitated to the sofa without releasing their hold on each other and fell on to it. David bent over Emma, his eyes locked on hers and brimming with longing. His image filled her vision until she was lost in it, and she closed her eyes. David stroked her face and kissed her eyelids, her forehead, and her lips. Very carefully, he untied the green velvet bow and removed the net so that her hair was released in a cascade over her shoulders. He ran his hand through it, marvelling at her beauty and the fervency of the passion she aroused in him. He burned to possess her fully, and he knew he would never let her go.

David’s vivid eyes roved over her body, lying so languorous on the sofa, and he was unable to restrain himself further. He began to caress her face, her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, and a choking sensation filled his throat when her nipples hardened under his touch through the fine fabric of the dress. His desire spiralled into an exquisite pain that was almost unendurable.

Emma opened her eyes and she saw a fleeting flash of anguish smudge out the blueness of his eyes so that they became dark and intense. David moved closer to her and gripped her shoulders, and his mouth was demanding and hard on hers. He covered her body with his own, pressing down on her, and Emma rejoiced in the weight of him.

His voice was rasping in the hollow of her neck. ‘Oh, Emma! Emma, darling! I can’t stand this!’

‘I know, David, I know,’ she murmured. She smoothed his darkly curling hair and held his head against her breast, cradling him in her arms. Her hand stroked his broad shoulders and a cry of longing trembled on her lips. She bent her head and rested it on his and her hair drifted down around them like a silken veil. A long sigh rippled through her and she acknowledged that she loved David Kallinski and wanted him for herself, for the rest of her life, but her natural rectitude, coupled with her terrible fear of the consequences of sexual intimacy out of wedlock, would not permit her to succumb to her overwhelming emotions. It was not that she did not trust David. She did. She knew he would never betray her. He was no Edwin Fairley. And yet she bit down on those insistent desires, stifling them, and finally she denied him in her mind if not in her heart.

Very quietly Emma whispered into his hair, ‘We have to stop this, David. It’s getting worse every time, and it’s not fair to you. We must not let the situation get out of hand.’ She pushed him away from her with the utmost gentleness and sat up, dizzy and shaking.

David leaned back against the sofa and picked up a strand of her hair. He kissed it and then let it fall. He half smiled. ‘Emma, I love you so much. Don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. Ever.’

Emma flinched at this deadly echo from the past. ‘I’m not afraid of you, David,’ she answered quietly. ‘I’m afraid of myself when I’m with you like this and what might happen when we get so—so—’

‘Please don’t.’ He placed a finger on her lips ‘I agree with you. We can’t go on like this. It’s insanity. But we must be together, Emma. I can’t bear this torment for much longer.’ He grasped her hand, his face earnest. ‘Marry me, Emma. As soon as possible,’ he implored. ‘We must get married, you know that.’

‘Married!’ she cried.

David smiled. ‘Yes, married. Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve wanted to marry you for the last few years. I’ve only held myself in check because of your circumstances.’ He chuckled. ‘Did you think I had dishonourable intentions, Emma? I would never attempt to compromise you. I love you far too much—’ David stopped abruptly, staring at her, his eyes wide with surprise. ‘Emma, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet!’

‘I cannot marry you, David,’ Emma said in a low strangled voice.

‘But why not? Don’t be ridiculous!’ He actually laughed, so disbelieving was he of her words. ‘I told you I love you and I know you love me. It’s the most natural outcome, isn’t it? For us to get married. That’s what people do when they love each other, Emma.’

Emma stood up unsteadily and moved across the floor. She looked out of the window and her eyes filled with tears. She discovered she was unable to answer him.

David gaped at her stiff back, her tensely set shoulders, baffled by her behaviour. ‘What is it, Emma? For God’s sake answer me!’ he demanded.

‘I cannot marry you, David. Please, let’s leave it at that,’ Emma said blinking back her tears.

‘Of course you can!’ David asserted fiercely. ‘There is nothing to stop you now. Your husband is dead. You are free.’ David paused, and when he spoke again it was with quiet intensity. ‘Emma, I love you more than anyone or anything on this earth. I want to cherish and protect you with my life, for the rest of my life. We belong together, Emma. I know that deep in my heart. And so do you. There is something very special between us—an unbreakable bond.’ Still she did not respond and another thought occurred to David. ‘Is it because of Edwina?’ he asked quickly. ‘You don’t have to worry about her. I’m not afraid of responsibility. I will adopt her, Emma, and the three of us can live together. We’ll be happy and I—’

‘It’s not because of Edwina.’

‘Then give me a good reason why you won’t marry me!’ he commanded, his face pale and washed with anxiety.

‘David, I cannot marry you because your mother would never accept me. She would never approve of you marrying out of the faith. Surely I don’t have to point that out to you. She wants you to marry a Jewish girl who will give her Jewish grandchildren—’

‘To hell with all that!’ David interrupted, his voice rising angrily. ‘I don’t care what my mother wants, Emma. I want you for my wife and that’s all that counts.’

‘I can’t hurt your mother,’ Emma whispered. ‘She’s been wonderful to me, almost like a second mother. I love her and I won’t betray her. You’re her eldest son, David. It would kill her if we married. I admit she’s very fond of me, but it would not be quite the same thing—welcoming me as a daughter-in-law. Me a Gentile and she so Orthodox. Please listen to what I say, David. It’s the truth and you must face it.’

David leaned forward on the sofa, his hands tightly clenched. ‘I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you do not love me, Emma. Turn around and tell me that.’

‘I can’t,’ Emma said quietly.

‘Why not?’ he shouted, his voice breaking.

‘Because I do love you, David. Just as much as you love me.’ Emma swung around slowly and crossed the floor. She knelt down at his feet and stared up into his face. She touched it fleetingly.

He clasped her tightly in his arms, smoothing her hair, kissing her tear-stained cheeks. ‘Then that’s all that matters, my darling. That’s all that matters.’

‘No, David.’ Emma pulled away and rose, seating herself next to him. ‘Other things matter in life. I am not going to be responsible for creating heartache and pain for your parents. I will not divide your family. They have been too good to me. Besides, I couldn’t live with myself.’ She searched his obdurate face. ‘David, don’t you understand that it’s not possible to build happiness on other people’s misery? It might be all right at first, if we did marry, but eventually their anguish and disappointment would come between us. It would chip away at what we have, and finally destroy it.’

David had been staring at her capable little hand clasping his tightly. It was so small and curiously defenceless. At last he raised his eyes and saw the candour in her green gaze and he knew she had meant every word. But he could not prevent himself from crying, ‘Are you trying to tell me that you are willing to sacrifice our happiness, mine and yours, just because of some religious beliefs that are not only outdated but utterly ridiculous! I can’t believe it. Not you. Not my Emma. The stalwart Emma who would fight the world for anything she wanted!’

‘Yes, I suppose I am. But it’s not really like that, David. Please, try and understand—’ She broke off. She had hurt him profoundly and she could not bear it.

David extracted his hand from hers and moved it across his face. He felt horribly faint to a point of nausea and an intolerable pain moved across his chest. It seemed that his life was draining away. It was as if someone had suddenly snatched his hopes and dreams and the promise of the future from his grasp. But he knew what Emma said was indeed true. He knew, too, that she would not change her mind, just as his mother would not.

David leapt up and paced in front of the fire. Finally, after a few minutes, he stopped and turned to Emma, staring at her. ‘Is that your last word?’ he asked so quietly she could scarcely hear him.

‘Yes, David. I’m sorry, but I can’t destroy your mother.’

‘I understand, Emma. You must excuse me. I have to leave. Sorry about the dinner, but I seem to have lost my appetite.’ He strode out before she could see the tears swimming in his eyes.

Emma stood up swiftly. ‘David! Wait! Please wait!’ The door slammed behind him and she was alone. She gazed at the door for a long moment and then picked up the sketches and placed them in the cupboard. Vaguely she thought of the dinner spoiling in the oven, but such intense feelings of dejection and misery overcame her she did not have the strength to remove the food. Her thoughts centred on David and not on herself, for unconsciously she had always known their relationship was doomed. They could be friends and business partners, but that was all. She had spent enough time with Janessa Kallinski to understand that David’s mother would not tolerate anything else. Emma sat for a long time looking into the empty room and David’s face swam before her. She would never forget that awful look of hurt on his face as long as she lived.

About an hour later Emma was roused from her stupor by a loud banging on the door. David had come back! She flew out into the small hallway, her heart leaping, his name on her lips. She flung open the door with eagerness and found herself staring into the bulbous face of Gerald Fairley.

Emma was so dumbfounded she momentarily lost all power of speech. But immediately her hand tightened on the knob and she stiffened, alerted for trouble. She tried to close the door but he had anticipated her. He pushed himself inside and closed the door firmly behind him.

Emma found her voice. ‘What do you want?’ she asked coldly. How had he managed to find her?

Gerald grinned. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in, Emma?’ he asked.

‘No. I have nothing to say to you. Please leave immediately,’ she said, summoning all of her courage and adopting her iciest tone.

Gerald, after all the years of gorging himself, was revolting in his incredible obesity, a mountain of flesh and powerfully strong. There was a derisive expression on his blubbery face. ‘Not on your life! I have a few words to say to you, Mrs Harte,’ he exlaimed with disdain.

‘I repeat, I have nothing to say to you. Please leave.’

‘Where’s the child?’ countered Gerald, his sly eyes full of malicious intent.

‘What child?’ said Emma coolly, but her legs shook and she longed for help, for David to return.

Gerald laughed in her face. ‘Come on, don’t give me that! I know you had Edwin’s child. There’s no use denying it. He confessed it to me this weekend. You see, I told him I had found you. Quite by accident, of course, since I wasn’t looking for you. The silly fool wanted to come and see you, wanted to help you and his child. But I couldn’t permit that.’ Gerald brought his bloated face closer. Emma drew back against the wall, hardly breathing. Gerald smiled. ‘It’s a small world, Emma. We bought Thompson’s mill last week. Imagine my surprise when I saw your name on the old books. You used to work there as a weaver, before you came up in the world. Went into trade, I see,’ he said disparagingly. ‘Now, where’s the baby?’

‘I did not have a child,’ Emma insisted, clenching her hands by her sides.

‘Don’t lie to me. It would be very easy for me to check it out. Remember one thing, Mrs Harte. I have money and power. I can go to the local hospital—St Mary’s, isn’t it?—and after a few pounds have changed hands in the right quarters I can look at the records any time I want.’

Emma’s heart sank. She knew he spoke the truth. Despite this, she was determined not to admit anything. ‘I did not have a child,’ she repeated, her gaze unflickering.

‘Oh, come on, Emma, tie one on the other leg and pull it. Edwin wouldn’t confess such a thing if it were not true, especially since he is about to become engaged to Lady Jane Stansby.’ Gerald grabbed her arm. ‘I have the feeling you might use this child to blackmail Edwin later. That’s common practice with tramps from the working class. But I aim to circumvent that. The Fairleys cannot afford a scandal. So come on, out with it. Where’s the little bastard? And was it a girl or a boy?’

Emma glared at him. ‘I told you, I did not have Edwin’s child,’ she said harshly, and her eyes blazed with intense hatred. She pulled her arm away. ‘And if you ever lay a finger on me again, Gerald Fairley, I will kill you!’

He laughed and then his eyes shifted to the stairs illuminated by the dim glow from the bedroom lamp. He shoved her out of the way abruptly and bounded up the steps. Emma recovered her balance and flew up after him. ‘How dare you push your way into my home! I shall go and fetch the police!’ she cried.

Gerald had disappeared into the bedroom, and when Emma hurried in she found him pulling out drawers and flinging their contents all over the room. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she shouted, shaking with rage.

‘Looking for some evidence of the child you say you never had. I want to know where it is and who has it. I want to get to the bottom of this before you can cause any trouble.’

Emma stood rigidly still in the middle of the room, and her eyes held a dangerous gleam. Gerald Fairley was a bumbling fool. He would find nothing here that would lead him to Edwina.

Gerald turned, glaring, his great body swaying hideously as he lumbered across the floor. He grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her with such violence her head flew backwards and forwards. ‘Bitch! You’re nothing but a whoring bitch! Out with it! Where’s the child?’

Spots of bright colour stained her pale cheeks, but nasty insinuations slid over her, leaving no real impression, for Gerald Fairley was beneath her scorn. ‘There is no child,’ Emma said through gritted teeth. ‘And let go of me, you foul monstrosity.’

Gerald continued to shake her harder than ever, his huge hands biting into her shoulders until she winced with pain. Suddenly he released her unexpectedly and threw her from him so forcibly Emma staggered and fell back on to the bed.

Gerald took in the richness of her tumbling hair, her ravishing face, the provocativeness of her shapely figure, and something stirred in him. He began to laugh as he eyed her lasciviously. ‘How about a little of what you so willingly gave to my baby brother, Emma Harte? Women like you are usually ready for it any time of day or night. How about a bit of loving, Mrs Harte? Edwin always did have a sharp eye for a looker. I don’t mind baby brother’s leavings.’

Emma gaped at him, so stupefied she found she was paralysed. He advanced towards her and she saw, to her revulsion, that he was unbuttoning his trousers. She shrank back against the pillows, and then she tried to scramble off the bed. But it was too late. He was on her, his great weight crushing her back. He struggled with her skirt, attempting to lift it. Emma began to kick her legs, and Gerald grinned, holding her down with one arm. His face drew closer and he lowered his lips to her face. Emma moved her head from side to side, fighting with him, pushing him off, but although she was physically strong he was too much for her. He began to roll on top of her, grunting and moaning, pressing his horrendous body against hers, trying to pull up her skirts, without success, for he was hampered by his enormous weight. The grunting and the moaning and the rolling became more violent and then, with a final shudder, he went limp next to her and lay back on the bed depleted. Emma pushed herself up and sprang on to the floor, her breath coming in short, rapid pants. As she moved away from him her hand caught the side of her dress. It was horribly wet. A feeling of repugnance rose up in her throat, and she thought she would vomit. She flew to the tangled mass of clothes and linens scattered on the floor and grabbed a towel. She wiped her dress clean and then leapt to the sewing table. Her fingers curled around the scissors and she picked them up, and swung on Gerald, her eyes filled with murderous lights.

‘Get up and get out, before I kill you!’ she gasped with such venom he looked at her startled and taken unawares. She moved across the floor, the scissors raised in her hand like a dagger. Gerald’s face blanched. She hovered over him. ‘I tell you, I will kill you, Gerald Fairley, if you don’t move that obscene body out of here at once!’

Gerald laughed mockingly. ‘I don’t think you would be foolish enough to do that,’ he said. He sat up and buttoned his trousers, insolently taking his time.

‘Don’t tempt me!’ she hissed.

Gerald heaved himself off the bed. ‘I must say, I like a tiger, Emma. Makes it more exciting. I’ll be back, my girl. And next time you’ll be more co-operative.’ He nonchalantly flicked the collar of her dress. ‘This will be off and everything else. You’ll be ready and waiting for me. I want to savour that beautiful body of yours, enjoy a bit of working-class rutting. I hear you’re all like rabbits.’ He grinned. ‘What’s good enough for the handsome Edwin is certainly good enough for me!’

Emma had the most overwhelming impulse to spit in his face, but she exercised restraint, not wishing to lower herself to his level. ‘Leave my house immediately, Gerald Fairley, and don’t ever come back—unless you want to encounter real trouble.’

He swung around, stumbling down the stairs, laughing raucously. Emma followed him, her rage fulminating. She stood at the top of the stairs and watched him descend, ponderously dragging his immense weight. She flung the scissors after him angrily and they rattled on the stone steps, landing at his feet. He looked up, leering at her. ‘That’s not polite,’ he said.

‘You’re not worth swinging for, Gerald Fairley!’ she screamed. Emma now sped down the stairs, propelled by her mounting fury. When she reached the bottom step she stared up at him, utterly fearless and totally in command of herself, her hatred blazing on her face.

She took a step nearer and said with deadly coldness, ‘But I will ruin you! All of you! The Fairleys will rue the day they ever heard the name Emma Harte. Do you hear me? I will ruin you! I swear I will!’

‘You ruin us! You? A whoring little tramp? Fat chance you have.’ Gerald chucked her under the chin lightly and, infuriated, Emma struck out at him. Her nails clawed his face and brought blood.

‘Why, you bloody little bitch!’ Gerald shouted, and then he threw back his hideous head and laughed. ‘I like a tiger, Mrs Harte, as I said before. Don’t forget, I’ll be back. I’m always in the vicinity. I’ll pop in one afternoon for a bit of fun.’

‘Get out! Get out!’

The moment the door banged behind him Emma turned the key and drew the bolts hurriedly. She went into the parlour and closed the curtains and washed the disgusting stain off her dress, scrubbing it with a cloth until it was spotless. Then she sat down in front of the fire, her body convulsed by dry heaving sobs. She felt sick and shaken and apprehensive. For the first time in years she was once again afraid of the Fairleys. Thank God Edwina was in Ripon. Gerald would never find her there. But he was just stupid enough to come back here and the idea petrified her.

The world’s a jungle, she said, shivering in a huddle before the dying fire. And I’m still vulnerable to the animals in it. I do not have enough money yet with which to build a wall around Edwina and myself. We are painfully exposed. I need protection. She thought then of David with longing and despair. What she needed was a husband. That was most palpably obvious to her now. But David, her darling David, was forbidden to her. As much as they loved each other the objections of his family would drive a wedge between them. Her mind raced. Where could she find a husband who would protect her and Edwina? Whom could she marry? It came to her in a flash. Joe Lowther! She knew he loved her. The problem was, she did not love Joe. She liked him. How could she not? He was decent and kind and dependable. If she married Joe she would be cheating him of that most important of all things in a marriage—love. She also had to face the fact that she would have to share his bed, submit to his sexual advances, and bear his children. She went cold at this prospect. How could she willingly give herself to another man when David filled her heart and her soul? And yet she had no alternative. Emma began to weep, her sobs reverberating in the stillness of the little parlour.

‘Forgive me, David,’ she cried. ‘Forgive me for what I’m about to do, my darling.’