‘What more do you want from me?’ Théo asked, flinging out his arms. ‘Most women would love to live in this house, to live this life, to be my muse. They would fall over themselves to have my children! You’re lucky I’m even allowing you to keep designing at all.’
Evelina laughed. He actually thought she would be content spending the rest of her life at home, like a bird in a gilded cage, giving up the one thing in the world she truly loved to do? It would simply be a different version of what she’d run away from. Not to mention that he needed her. His designs had becomestaid and uninspired when she’d met him, but with her help, his new collections had been lauded as everything the modern Parisian woman could want.
‘I’ve indulged you for long enough, Evelina. This is my decision, and you will stay home from now on. I don’t want you in the shop unless you’re there to parade my new designs,as my wife. Am I clear? If anyone finds out what you’ve been doing, it will be the end of my career. I’ve built my business on being one of the best designers in France, and I won’t have anyone jeopardise that, not even you. I cannot let anyone find out that I’m not creating my own designs.’
My designs. They are my designs, Théo. Mine!She wanted to scream at him and beat his chest, to scratch at him as if she were a wild animal, but instead she forced a smile and kept her face impassive.‘Théo, we’ve discussed this. I am not like most women.’ Théo didn’t realise that she’d been here before. She’d been given an ultimatum by her father, and she’d walked away from the only home she’d ever known to follow her dreams. Her husband certainly wasn’t going to tell her what to do, no more than her father could. ‘I won’t be content at home, and I will not design under a cloud of secrecy. We are either partners in all aspects of our lives, or not at all.’
‘Evelina, you’re being unreasonable. This is ridiculous. This is my reputation on the line!’
‘Unreasonable is telling the woman you married that she can’t follow her dreams!’ she said, her voice rising even though she was trying her hardest not to let him see her anger. ‘When we met, you said you’d let me design my own dresses, that you would?—’
‘Youhavedesigned your own dresses, Evelina. You’re making a fuss about nothing. I’ll allow you to continue, I’ve already said that. And besides, women aren’t made for business.’
‘Underyourname! No one knows they’re mine, Théo. You assured me that I could have my own collection, but three years later and I’m still waiting! I’m telling you that I won’t agree to this, not now, not ever.’
He crossed the room and took the bottle of cognac from the stand they had there, pouring himself a few splashes and drinking it down quickly. She knew that she had to tread more carefully when he started to drink; to hold her tongue instead of speaking her mind, no matter how much she wished to hurl insults at him. Her anger simmered as she forced herself to breathe slowly and calm down.
‘You are nothing more than a little country mouse, chérie,’ he said. ‘I have humoured you, let you play with your designs, but make no mistake—Iam the designer. Your name will never be on a garment, do you hear me? Everything you do will be credited as being mine, because I am your husband. Mine is the name on women’s lips, not yours, and it never will be. This is the way of the world, and it will be the way of our house and our marriage from this day on.’
She felt tears prickle at the backs of her eyes, but Evelina simply smiled through her pain. There would be no tears shed for Théo, not by her; she wouldn’t allow it. She would disappear in the morning when Théo was gone for the day, letting him believe that she was obeying him by staying at home instead of getting up and joining him. She would pack her things into the Louis Vuitton bags he’d so generously bought her when they were first married and in the heady days of early love, the ones with her initials stamped in gold on the butter-coloured leather tags, and she would disappear. No one, not her father and certainly not her husband, would dictate how her life would look, or how she would spend her days. Her mistake had been trusting that any man could accept her dreams, that her husband would ever let her step out from his shadow.
‘I imagined we might establish the greatest fashion house in Paris together,’ she said, joining him at their drinks stand, giving him one last chance. ‘That we would stand side by side. That we would be united in a partnership like no other, with both our names synonymous with luxury women’s clothing.’
‘Ishall build the greatest fashion house in Paris,’ Théo boasted, sloshing more amber liquid into the glass and downing it as fast as he had the first. ‘And youshallbe by my side as I do so, as my pretty youngwife. I’ve gone about this all wrong. I should have been showing you off more and not letting anyone guess that you were capable of anything more than clinging to my arm.’
She smiled and took a glass, pouring her own cognac and slowly sipping it. The liquor burnt a fiery trail down her throat all the way to her belly. The trouble with Théo was that he had once been a great designer, but he was so small-minded. And Evelina had bigger dreams; she didn’t just want to design dresses, she wanted to follow in the footsteps of the House of Chanel and design jewellery and perfume, perhaps even bags. She wanted it all, and nothing was going to stop her.
Evelina finished her drink and set the glass back down on the stand, leaving her husband and going to change into her pyjamas. She’d designed and made them herself, in silk, and so luxurious against the skin—another collection she wished to create with her own name on the label.
‘Darling, leave your new sketches out in the morning, will you?’ Théo said, as she heard him collapse into bed. He’d be snoring within minutes, and she’d be certain to stay in her dressing room until then, to avoid having him paw her the moment she lay in the sheets.
‘You liked them?’ she called back.
‘They will need refining, of course, but I think I’ll use them for my new collection.’
Evelina bristled. He always said they needed refinements, before going ahead and having them made without changing so much as a button.
She looked at the racks of clothing in her wardrobe, felt the thick carpet beneath her toes. She’d given up her life once to follow her dreams, and she was prepared to do it again. Only this time, she wouldn’t let anyone distract her from achieving what she’d set out to do.
Evelina padded into the bedroom after waiting a few minutes, relieved to hear her husband breathing deeply. She went to the adjoining bedroom, where she had her designs strewn over the floor, fabric swatches, buttons and zips placed haphazardly over the bed. She’d been working for weeks on what she’d hoped might behernew collection, and she wasn’t going to let him steal her ideas come morning.
She carefully gathered everything, smiling at her designs, knowing in her heart that what she’d created was something special. Evelina had no doubt that Théo would threaten her, that he’d tell her no one in Paris would open their doors to her if she wasn’t married to him. But she also knew that he was overestimating his importance. Fashion loved fashion, and she had something that Théo didn’t: designs that would rival the best in the industry.
Evelina also had money. She’d carefully saved every penny Théo had ever given her, and she would sell every piece of jewellery if she had to. She would buy fabric, make her own samples, and show the world exactly why her husband’s designs had been so bold this past year.
The only thing she didn’t know how to obtain, without his permission, was a divorce. But she had something he wanted, so she couldn’t see that it was going to be a problem.
Evelina looked at two of her dresses that had already made it from sketch to conception, both to be worn mid-calf, figure-hugging and skimming the curves of the women who would wear them.I can design something else. Once I’m gone, I will have all the time in the world to add more to my collection. And that was precisely what she’d do.
Men had been holding women to ransom for years, but that’s how she’d get her husband to agree to a divorce. She would give him her latest designs, when and only when he handed her the signed papers, and then she would start all over again.
She’d done it once before, and she had no doubt in her mind that she could do it again.
12
PRESENT DAY
Blake felt strange not having the sketch with her. She had the little wooden box sitting on the private cocktail counter in her room, with her plane ticket home and an assortment of other bits and pieces, but it didn’t feel right knowing that she was missing one of the clues.
