The Designer(93)

‘That would have been a happier end to the day,’ he admitted.

‘You’ve never told me how you felt after I left you standing in the cathedral.’

His eyes darkened. ‘I felt like a man who’d had the gates of paradise shut in his face.’

She groaned. ‘Did you hate me very much?’

‘Not for one moment. I hated myself. I knew the fault was mine. And I knew I had to get you back somehow – or never be happy again.’

‘I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was very frightened.’

‘And I was too sure of myself. I’ll never make that mistake again.’

‘Do you understand why I ran?’

‘You thought I would take away your freedom.’

‘Yes. I didn’t realise that you were giving me freedom – the freedom to live my life the way I wanted to; the freedom to express myself. Henry, I can’t think when you’re doing that,’ she whispered.

‘You don’t need to think,’ he said, kissing her thighs. ‘This is a moment we’re stealing from time. It’s ours forever.’

‘But you’ll have to stop if you want to finish this conversation.’

He smiled up at her. ‘What else is there to say?’

‘I want to know that you really forgive me.’

‘Would I be here – doing this – if I hadn’t forgiven you?’

‘Come to me.’ She lay back on the bed as he slid on top of her. ‘I love you, Henry.’

‘And I love you,’ he replied, taking her in his arms. ‘Always and forever.’ They gazed into each other’s eyes in the magical moment that he entered her. And then there were no more words or thoughts.



When Copper next saw Dior, he was in a panic.

‘Boussac has consulted his board, and they’re interested. They want to know details of my proposal.’

‘Then tell them at once,’ Copper said.

‘Why did I ever open my mouth? I never meant this to happen.’

‘Henry will help you draw up a business plan,’ Copper promised. And, indeed, Henry dropped his own work to spend much of each day sitting with Dior in his study, working out figures and projections to show Boussac’s people.

‘Tian knows the fashion business intimately,’ Henry told Copper after one of these brainstorming sessions. ‘The problem is one of temperament. He’s highly strung, and his self-confidence is fragile. He’ll be in the middle of some grandiose scheme and suddenly he’ll be crushed by self-doubt. He’ll bury his head in his hands and cry, and say it’s impossible, it’ll never work. I have to cajole him back to the desk like a child.’

‘He is a child in some ways,’ Copper replied, putting her arm around her husband’s neck. ‘A talented, delicate child. Be gentle with him, darling.’

‘I am being as gentle as I can. But Boussac won’t be.’

But within a few days, Tian had given up.

‘I couldn’t take it anymore,’ he said. ‘I’ve sent Boussac a telegram, calling everything off.’

Copper gasped. ‘Tian, you haven’t.’

‘I have. I’ve told him that it’s impossible; quite impossible. I’m going to stay with Lelong.’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘I was mad to even begin this. Thank God it’s over.’

‘Tian,’ Henry said brusquely. ‘This was most unwise. If you reject this opportunity, it will never come again. And worse than that, you’ll have given yourself a reputation for flightiness that you will never shake off. Nobody else will approach you. You’ll stay in a backwater for the rest of your days.’

But Copper knew that this kind of talk wouldn’t work with Tian. ‘We’re going to see Madame Delahaye,’ she said decisively.



Copper hurried into the hallway to make the call. ‘Madame Delahaye,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m going to bring Monsieur Christian to you for a reading. He’s at a critical point in his career. Not to put too fine a point on it, he’s about to throw away the greatest chance he’ll ever have of success. I hope you understand what I’m getting at.’

‘Bring him to me immediately,’ came the response. ‘You may be sure that I will give him the correct advice.’

That afternoon, Copper found herself once again in Madame Delahaye’s neat little apartment with the potted plants and the lace doilies. The fortune teller laid out the rows of cards in a deathly silence. Dior sat gloomily fidgeting, his eyes following her movements.

‘The Four of Cups,’ Madame Delahaye exclaimed suddenly. She held up the card for Dior to see. ‘Look! He sits with his arms folded, refusing the great gift that is being offered to him.’

‘Is that me?’ Dior asked doubtfully.

‘Of course. The cards show that you are dreaming while your great opportunity passes you by.’

Dior inspected the card anxiously, tugging at his ear. ‘Are you sure that’s what it means?’

‘Have I ever been wrong?’

‘Never,’ Dior admitted.

‘You must accept the offer, whatever the conditions. Nobody will ever make you a better one,’ she ordered sternly. ‘You must create Maison Christian Dior no matter what your fears. It is your destiny.’