Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
‘Just like us, all muddled up together and the other two clans thrown into the mix for good measure,’ Linnet pointed out. ‘Anyway, I’d forgotten about ETS. Preoccupation with work.’ A sudden thought occurred to her, and leaning forward, she exclaimed, ‘Gideon, you said your Miss Hughes was an American. So how could I employ her immediately? A work permit has suddenly loomed large in my mind. Oh God, all that red tape to go through!’ she groaned.
‘Not necessary, my pet. I should have mentioned that she was born in London, has a British passport and dual nationality. No work permit required.’
‘That’s good to know, and I must say, you certainly found out a lot about her in only a few minutes.’
He grinned. ‘You are now in possession of the sum total of every blessed thing I know about Miss Evan Hughes.’
T
wo things were instantly apparent to Linnet, after Maggie Hemmings had introduced Evan Hughes and then left her office.
Firstly, the young woman was the same type as her mother–slender, willowy, dark-haired, pale of skin and exotic looking, just as Paula was. And, by an odd coincidence, Linnet thought, there was a curious likeness between the two of them.
Secondly, Gideon and Evan were transfixed in the middle of the room, staring at each other as if mesmerized, completely oblivious to her presence. They were very taken with each other, that was patently obvious. But hadn’t she known that because of the way he had spoken about Evan earlier?
Certainly she had never seen this particular look on Gideon’s face before: it was a dazed look, and she felt a sudden twinge of jealousy, of possessiveness. He was her favourite cousin, her best friend since childhood, the closest to her in the family, closer even than India. And he belonged to her.
No, stop thinking like that, she told herself, immediately pushing these unexpected and destructive emotions aside. She wasn’t like her sister Tessa; she did not suffer from ETS, as Gideon called it. For a moment she was stricken that she could be so…petty…so self-involved and selfish, she who took pride in her kindness and understanding, her fair-mindedness and integrity. Silently, she chastised herself.
She loved Gideon, only wanted the best for him, and of course he
would
meet someone special one day, someone that mattered, and he would get married. It hadn’t happened thus far, and so he was available. And she had come to rely on him more and more of late, ever since she had put her relationship with Julian on hold.
Linnet reminded herself that Gideon had never been jealous of Julian, but then the three of them had grown up together, and Julian was Gideon’s greatest male friend. Her father had called them The Three Musketeers when they were kids, because they were always together, inseparable, and devoted to each other.
Julian.
He had been part of her life for as long as she could remember, part of her, and he was always there, hovering at the back of her mind, however much she tried to block him out. Was he her one true love, just as Robert Dudley had been Queen Elizabeth’s soul mate? Had she made a terrible mistake in turning away from him for, well, for so many reasons actually? Perhaps those reasons were not quite as valid as she thought. She couldn’t help wondering about this from time to time. But not now, an inner voice suddenly cautioned. Now it’s time to concentrate on this young woman, to concentrate on work, on the retrospective.
Linnet dropped her eyes to the folder that Maggie had just left on her desk, opened it and looked at the application forms and the detailed résumé.
But, riddled with curiosity as she was, she glanced up after only a split second, focusing her eyes on Gideon and Evan Hughes.
Now he was solicitously shepherding the young American to the chair near Linnet’s desk, the glazed expression having been replaced by a most beatific smile. Evan was looking slightly flushed, a little shy, perhaps even flustered, but her eyes held a distinct sparkle.
Clearing her throat somewhat noisily, Linnet looked directly at Evan as she came over to the desk, and said pleasantly, ‘I’ll finish reading your résumé and application forms later.’
Evan nodded, looking pleased. Inside she was thrilled, excited to be sitting here; she could scarcely believe her luck.
Returning Evan’s steady gaze, Linnet noticed that the young woman’s resemblance to her mother was stronger than she had realized a moment ago. Evan’s face was the same shape as Paula’s, finely sculpted and the dark brows sweeping along the broad forehead were identical. But her eyes were not the colour of pansies, as her mother’s were. Evan’s were a light, bluish-grey, large and translucent. At this moment those eyes were full of eagerness, and there was a sense of earnestness about her that Linnet couldn’t help liking. In fact, there was something truly appealing about Evan Hughes, and Linnet smiled at her warmly, approvingly.
Evan smiled back, and was just about to say something when she was cut off by Gideon.
Hovering behind Evan’s chair, his hand resting on the back, he exclaimed, ‘Well, I’d better skedaddle, leave you both to get down to the nitty-gritty.’ Striding purposefully towards the door, he finally swung around before exiting. Blowing a kiss to Linnet, he said, ‘I’ll give you a ring later, so that we can discuss the big bash in June. And Miss Hughes, I wish
you
lots of luck at Harte’s.’
Before either woman could make any kind of response, the door closed softly behind him.
‘I’ve been looking to hire another assistant,’ Linnet explained to Evan, once they were alone. ‘I already have one, actually. Her name’s India Standish, and she’s my cousin. We work well together, we run the fashion floors and we have for several years. Unfortunately, India’s off sick right now, she has the flu. So does my secretary, Cassie Littleton.’ Linnett stopped, shook her head helplessly, and then, making a face, she glanced around the room. ‘Hence this
mess.
It’s not usually like this, I’m a fairly tidy person. Anyway, I don’t think either of them will be in this week. I just hope I don’t come down with it. I can’t afford to be sick right now.’
‘I think there’s a bit of an epidemic,’ Evan warned in a worried voice. ‘I’ve just recovered from a bout of the flu myself.’
‘I’m glad you’re better,’ Linnet murmured. ‘Anyway, not to digress. I understand from Gideon and Maggie that you studied design, and had a career in fashion in New York.’
‘That’s correct. I was a student at the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan, and then later I was an apprentice with the couturier Arnold Scaasi for a year. I even worked in the fashion department at Bergdorf Goodman for a while.’
Evan shifted slightly in her chair, and continued, ‘I also helped Pauline Trigère with a retrospective of her couture which she was putting on. That was about six years ago, when I was still at F.I.T. She’s a friend of my father’s, and he asked her if I could help her with the exhibit, just to gain experience, and she said yes. I learned a lot from simply being around her. She has great personal style, and her clothes are marvellous.’
‘That I know. My great-grandmother was a fan of hers, according to my mother, and the clothes I found in storage are proof of that. There are a number of Trigère gowns, suits and coats in Emma’s vast collection.’
Evan’s face lit up as she exclaimed, ‘That’s wonderful. They will be in the fashion retrospective, won’t they?’
‘Yes, they will. Obviously Maggie Hemmings told you about the exhibit which India and I are planning.’
‘She did touch on it, yes. How comprehensive is it going to be?’
Leaning across the desk, Linnet explained in an enthusiastic voice, ‘Very comprehensive. We’re going to be showing eighty years of fashion, going all the way back to 1920 and coming forward to the year 2000. We’re basing part of the exhibit on the clothes which belonged to my great-grandmother. She was Emma Harte, the founder of the Harte stores.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Evan said, and then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, ‘I saw her portrait in the corridor. You certainly look like a younger version of her.’
Laughing, Linnet opened the centre drawer of her desk, and murmured, ‘Oh yes, I know…everybody tells me that. I just hope I’m a little bit like her in other ways, particularly in character. She was pretty special; a very brilliant woman.’
Bringing out a sheet of paper, Linnet handed it to Evan. ‘These are some of the designers we’re planning to feature. The clothes that belonged to Emma are also listed, and they’re from her
haute-couture
collection.’ She laughed. ‘Actually, I think I’ve taken
all
of the collection.’
Quickly scanning the list she was holding, Evan read out some of the names in an awed voice. ‘Pierre Balmain, Coco Chanel, Cristóbal Balenciaga, Christian Dior, Trigère, Lanvin, Vionnet, Hubert de Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Scaasi, Cardin. Heavens, what fantastic names. Your great-grandmother must have had wonderful taste,’ she finished, looking across the desk at Linnet.
‘
I
think she did.’
‘I notice you’re also listing separately Valentino, Oscar de la Renta, Karl Lagerfeld, Zandra Rhodes, Lacroix, Versace and many other designers. Do you have their clothes already?’
‘Only some. We have Emma’s collection, of course. That’s recently been brought down here from Pennistone Royal, my mother’s house in Yorkshire where they are stored. And we do have a certain number of items by other designers. However, I think we do need to find more clothes, additional vintage pieces, and I was hoping that you could handle that. Naturally I’m assuming that you would like to work on the retrospective, if you come on board at Harte’s.’
Leaning forward urgently, her face full of that engaging eagerness Linnet had noted before, Evan exclaimed, ‘I’d love to work at Harte’s, and I’d be thrilled to be involved with the retrospective. A project like this is always challenging, Miss O’Neill.’
‘And very hard work,’ Linnet pointed out, giving her a direct look. ‘I hope you don’t mind long hours.’
‘Not me. I’ve been told I’m a workaholic by most people I’ve worked with.’
Linnet burst out laughing. ‘That’s good to know, and join the club! India and I suffer from that same ailment, I’m afraid. Though I think I’m worse than she is sometimes! Anyway, do you have any thoughts about where and how to acquire vintage clothes for the exhibition?’
‘Yes, I do. There are several good vintage clothing shops in New York. The best I think is Ken Valenti. He’s a private dealer of vintage couture, and he has about ten thousand pieces, as well as accessories such as shoes, bags, scarves and jewellery. He has quite a lot of Yves Saint Laurent, I do know that. Anyway, he has an Internet site, and we can pull it up on the computer so you can see some of the clothes. Then there’s Didier Ludot in Paris. He has three shops, but the best is the one in the gardens of the Palais Royal, which is dedicated to vintage
haute couture
dating from the 1920s up to the 1980s. Your time span for your exhibit.’
‘That’s good to know! We do have to investigate, look at web sites. There are auction houses, of course, such as Christie’s and Sotheby’s here in London. In fact, we’ve already bought quite a lot at auction in the past year, which is how long we’ve been working on the retrospective, putting it together.’
‘The William Doyle Galleries in New York also specialize in vintage
haute couture.
There’s probably an auction coming up sometime soon.’
‘You mentioned accessories a moment ago,’ Linnet remarked. ‘And I forgot to tell you that we have shoes and bags from Emma Harte’s collection, which we’ll be putting on display.’
‘That’s always a great idea, to give the whole picture,’ Evan answered. ‘Also, some fashion designers are willing to loan clothes from their archives for a retrospective like the one you’re planning. Have you contacted any of them?’
‘Yes we have, and the clothes have already been lent to us. All those wonderful original models the designers have kept for posterity, which is great. And we have a number of current
haute-couture
pieces in the fashion department which we’re planning to include. But we still need more items to make the exhibit really impressive…’ Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. ‘It’s quite a task, you know.’
After a moment’s thought, Evan said quietly, ‘I have an idea. Why not pick out six or eight, or better still,
ten
really chic women in London, and honour them at the retrospective as Fashion Icons. They’d be a wonderful vehicle for publicity, especially if they’re well known. And they’d probably agree to lend us some of their own couture clothes to put on display. If we had
ten
icons and each loaned the store five or six pieces, that would mean we’d have fifty or so garments in one fell swoop.’
‘Brilliant!’ Linnet exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. ‘Let’s take it a step further…why don’t we have a best-dressed list? Create one of our own. That would engender some publicity for the retrospective—’ Linnet stopped abruptly, suddenly looking concerned. ‘I can see from your expression that you don’t like
that
idea one bit,’ she muttered.
Evan responded swiftly, ‘It’s a good idea, but I must admit I am worried about the use of the phrase “best-dressed list”. I’m not sure whether that’s a registered trademark. The Best-Dressed List was started by Eleanor Lambert in New York, as far as I know, many years ago. It just might—’
‘Belong to her,’ Linnet interrupted. ‘I understand your concern. Point well taken. So let’s skip it then. I don’t want complications, and certainly I don’t want to work on something that might prove to be a waste of time. Let’s go with the Fashion Icons, though. I love it. India will help with the right names, and so will I. We’ll need a long list, a lot more women than ten, because not all of the women we approach will agree to participate. Let’s do some research on that.’
Evan agreed and, encouraged by Linnet’s enthusiastic response to her suggestion, she went on, ‘I can talk to Arnold Scaasi. I’m sure he would lend us a number of his evening gowns. He has a magnificent collection of his own designs, a great archive.’
Linnet nodded. ‘That’d be fantastic. But we will have to buy some of the vintage couture that’s around. Very simply, we just
need
it, no two ways about that, to round out certain years in fashion.’ She sat back, deciding that Evan Hughes was going to be invaluable to her. How lucky it was that Gideon had noticed her in the corridor. But who could fail to miss her? She was an arresting-looking young woman. Unexpectedly, Linnet felt considerably better about properly completing all of the work on the exhibition. The young American woman had been in her office for what? Only half an hour, at the most. Yet she had a truly good feeling about Evan, a positive reaction to her. And in the most peculiar way she felt as if she had known her for a very long time. There was something vaguely familiar about Evan Hughes.