Free Unknown by Unknown

nothing to lose!”
    Suddenly he moved, barring her exit to the outer hall.
    “And you have?” he queried. “Perhaps you can tell me what it is, now that you’ve no doubt seen our final terms.”
    She looked up at him, aware of his anger and the uncompromising line of his stem mouth as he waited for her reply.
    “I’ve made up my mind to agree to your terms,” she told him without flinching, “but nothing you could ever say will make me feel happy about them.”
    “I didn’t ask that.” His dark eyes held hers relentlessly. “I wondered what you had to lose, apart from your independence.”
    “I would only forfeit my independence if I agreed to work for you, Mr. Elliott,” she told him stiffly, “and I don’t have to do that. If this deal goes through, I intend to find work elsewhere.”
    “In opposition to Denham’s?”
    “In opposition to Elliott’s, if you like!”
    “You appear to have very little loyalty to Denham’s,” he told her ruthlessly. “Your designs have always been popular, I believe—best-sellers, in fact. Does that mean absolutely nothing to you?”
    She hesitated, because he had struck at her most vulnerable spot.
    “I think it does,” he said before she could answer him. “When this merger goes through we will need more new designs than ever. It’s going to be a challenge—a tremendous incentive for us all. Denham’s and Elliott’s will both have to pull their weight, and you’d be letting the side down to quit at the very beginning.”
    So all he really wanted was for her to tide them over until he could replace her without it affecting the new company ‘in the beginning’! That was typical of the man, she supposed. Big Business at its most astute.
    “We’ve had one spring showing,” she explained, “and my new designs for the autumn are almost complete. We work so far ahead in the couture world that I couldn’t possibly be inconveniencing you till next spring, at the very earliest. Long before then you would probably have replaced me, in any case. I can’t imagine us working amicably together for very long.”
    “The first time we met,” he reminded her, “we spoke about Border feudin’ and fechtin’, and I guess this must be a sample of it, but it shouldn’t have to be war to the knife, Susan, unless you’re determined to fling down the gauntlet every time you see me. I’m not here uninvited,” he added a trifle grimly. “Your stepmother asked me to come.”
    Evelyn appeared at the door of the study.
    “Max, you angel!” she exclaimed, “I’ve never seen such lovely flowers. I’m absolutely enchanted!”
    She meant what she said, Susan thought, as she made her escape. Evelyn was, indeed, enchanted!
    The thought of Max Elliott’s visit to Denham pursued her for the remainder of the day, even when a batch of new yam colours came up from the dying shed for her approval. They were lovely shades, soft and muted to tone with the autumn tweeds, and her delight in them was unfeigned, but she couldn’t quite reject the thought that she might never use them. She had told Max Elliott in no uncertain terms that she could never work with him, but this was more than work. It was truly part of her. The noise of the heavy frames and the cheerful singing of the girls on the finishing machines had been woven into the fabric of her life for so long that it would be a kind of dying to go away. Yet how could she possibly stay?
    At five o’clock she went home by way of Fetterburn Mains because she hadn’t seen Fergus since Evelyn’s return a fortnight ago and she had always sought the comfort of the Mains when she felt troubled. But Fergus had gone to Berwick for the day and his housekeeper didn’t know when he would return.
    Disconsolately she drove back towards Denham House, but as she crossed the hump-backed bridge she saw her stepmother walking along the riverside. Evelyn had come out into the last of the afternoon sunshine for some exercise, but, by Susan’s