Free Dorothy Eden by Speak to Me of Love Page B

if she wished.
    She remained perfectly calm, however. She was reflecting on the advantages and disadvantages of power. One could inflate or diminish a person by a few words. It was a dangerous thing. She must use it with discretion.
    She was glad to seek out Miss Brown in her little den behind the screen of bonnets and hats and lace caps flowering from slender gilt stands.
    “I thought you would like to know, Miss Brown, that Mr Featherstone has just left.”
    “Oh, thank heaven! That dreadful man! We were all so worried. Fancy you, Miss Beatrice, dismissing him!”
    “I’m perfectly capable of doing things like that. From now on, I intend coming in every morning until Papa is better. I can’t make it a whole day because I don’t think my husband would care for that. I have to think of him as well.”
    “Dear Miss Beatrice! You with a husband.” Miss Brown allowed herself a moment of romantic reflection before saying more practically, “Won’t he object to you coming in to the shop at all? You such a new bride.”
    Beatrice said airily, “Goodness me, no. William and I are a very modern young couple.” She looked at the silver watch that hung from a chain round her neck.
    “If I leave now I’ll have time to look in on Papa on the way home. I must set his mind at rest about this morning’s affair. Oh, no. I don’t think my husband will object at all to my morning occupation. He isn’t strong and I’m insisting that he rise late. Besides, he’s planning to begin his book on art. He’s had it in his mind for a long time. He’s very knowledgeable about paintings and sculpture. So he will be happily occupied while I am here. I think a great many married women could benefit from some extra occupation.”
    “Goodness me, how you’ve changed, Miss Beatrice.”
    “How have I changed?”
    “You’re so alive.”
    “That’s because I’m happy.”
    “Bless you, my dear. I hope it will last a long time.”
    “It will last forever. I’ll make it.”
    I’ll make Bonnington’s the best store in London, and I’ll make William fall in love with me… she thought buoyantly.
    “We must employ more women, Papa,” she said, at Papa’s bedside.
    “Nonsense! I’ve never trusted ’em. Their nerves are too unreliable. They have attacks of the vapours.”
    “They understand their own sex, though, and since the majority of our customers are female, it’s logical.”
    “I don’t agree,” Papa growled. He was sitting up in bed looking decidedly alert. Ever since Beatrice had come bursting in, pushing aside the twittering nurse in the passage, he had grown livelier by the minute. He had been pleased with her. He had said, “Well done, Bea. Now you can go home to your husband.”
    He was watching her carefully, however, and visibly relaxed when she said that she was on her way home now, but that she would be back in the shop tomorrow morning. He must know that the presence of the owner was vital for the morale of staff and customer alike. Besides, she had some ideas she wanted to put into practice. The façade of Bonnington’s was too drab. Shoppers, especially women, could be persuaded to indulge in impulsive spending if the right atmosphere were present. As a beginning she suggested a banked display of hothouse flowers at the main doors to give an appearance of luxury. And something must be done about the banal style of window dressing. She would like to find a bright young man with originality who would help to carry out her idea about introducing a theme of historical events into their window displays. There was always something happening in the far-flung Empire. It wasn’t enough to have an Indian room to outfit all those streams of women who set out for Calcutta or Delhi either to join their husbands or to find husbands. There were other countries constantly in the news. What about the discovery of diamonds on the Rand. Or the Zulu wars. Or the occasion of a royal wedding. With the old Queen’s numerous