Free A Woman of Substance by Barbara Taylor Bradford Page B

they would never be able to comprehend that the Harte chain had been built on something as fundamental as honesty, spirited courage, patience, and sacrifice.
    Sacrifice. That word was held in her brain like a fly caught in amber. For indeed she had made tremendous sacrifices to achieve her unparalleled success, her great wealth, and her undeniable power in the world of international business. She had given up her youth, her family, her family life, much of her personal happiness, all of her free time, and countless other small, frivolous yet necessary pleasures enjoyed by most women. With great comprehension she recognized the magnitude of her loss, as a woman, a wife, and a mother. Emma let the tears flow unchecked and in their flowing a measure of her agony was assuaged.
    Slowly the tears subsided. As she gathered her senses, in an attempt to calm herself, it did not occur to Emma that she had willingly renounced all the things for which she now grieved, through her driving ambition and overriding desire for security, a security that always seemed beyond her grasp, however richshe became. There was a dichotomy in her character which she had never been able to come to grips with. But such thoughts evaded her this night, as she struggled with an unaccustomed sense of loss, feelings of loneliness and despair mingled with remorse.
    Within a short time she was totally in command of herself again, and she was mortified that she had given way to such negative feelings, such self-pity; she despised weakness in others and it was an emotion she was not familiar with in herself. She thought angrily: I am living what I alone created. I cannot change anything now. I simply have to go on to the end.
    She pulled herself up, erect and straight-backed and proud. She thought: Too much of me has gone into this. I will not let it pass into the wrong hands, unworthy, careless hands that will tear it down. I am right to plot and scheme and manipulate. Not only for the past and for what it has cost me , but for the future and for all those who work here and take pride in this store just as I do.
    The events of the past few weeks had proved to her that great dissension about the control of the business and the distribution of her wealth would arise within her family after her death, unless she circumvented the dissident members of her family before she died. Now she would finish the last of the legal documents which would prevent the dissolution of this store and her vast business empire; documents carefully drawn which would unalterably preserve all of this and her great personal wealth as well, ensuring its passing into the right hands, the hands of her choice.
    The following Monday morning, the pains in her chest were so intense and her breathing so impaired Emma was unable to leave her bed. It was then that she allowed Paula to call Dr Rogers, her London physician. The preceding weekend, most of the documents had been signed, witnessed, and sealed, and now Emma felt she could allow herself the indulgence of being ill. After Dr Rogers had examined her, he and Paula had been huddled at one end of her bedroom, their voices muffled and barely audible. She overheard a few words, but she did not have to eavesdrop; she had suspected for the lastfew days that she had again contracted pneumonia, and what she overheard only served to confirm her own diagnosis. Later that morning, they took her by ambulance to the London Clinic, but not before she had elicited a promise from Paula to bring Henry Rossiter to see her that same day. Henry arrived in the late afternoon, aghast to find her in an oxygen tent, surrounded by all manner of equipment and fussed over by starchy, antiseptic nurses and concerned doctors. She smiled inwardly at the sight of Henry’s white face and worried eyes that betrayed him so easily, since she was aware of Henry’s dependency on her or, rather more accurately, her business. He clasped her hand and told her that she would soon be