She wouldn't be included in the talks, of course, Jessica reflected, but it wouldn't be too difficult a task to occupy herself for a couple of hours—in fact she would enjoy seeing how such beautiful fabrics were made.
Although Colin had not suggested that she did so, she dressed with particular care for the visit— an outfit chosen from their new season's designs, a cream silk blouse and a russet velvet suit with a tiny boxy jacket with narrow puffed sleeves and scrolls of self-coloured embroidery down the front. The skirt fell smoothly in soft loose pleats from the narrow waistband, and it was an outfit that Jessica knew suited her.
Colin obviously thought so too, because he beamed with approval when he saw her.
'Very apt,' he approved as he looked at her. 'The jacket has a certain matador air, very much suited to this part of the world, and I must say I'm very pleased with the way that embroidery has worked out. The colour suits you as well.'
'I thought about the tweed,' Jessica told him, referring to a tweed suit which was also part of the new collection, 'but as it doesn't compare favourably with their fabrics, I thought…'
'Quite right,' he approved. 'Now, I've ordered a taxi for us, we've just about got time for a cup of coffee before it arrives.'
He looked more like an Old Etonian than a famous designer, Jessica reflected, eyeing his sober Savile Row suit and immaculate silk shirt. Colin belonged to an older generation that believed in dressing correctly and that one could always tell a gentleman by his clothes; in Colin's case expensive and discreet clothes—Turnbull & Asser shirts and handmade shoes.
The factory was situated just outside Seville, surprisingly modern and with access to the river and the port. It was, as Colin pointed out, very well planned, close to main roads and other facilities, and when he gave in their names at the gates they swung open to allow their vehicle to enter.
They were met in the foyer by a smiling dark-haired young man, dressed formally in a dark suit, his glance for them both extremely respectful, although there was a gleam of male interest in the dark eyes as they discreetly examined Jessica.
Having introduced himself as Ramon Ferres, he told them that he was to escort them round the factory.
'Unfortunately the Conde cannot show you round himself,' he explained in the sibilant, liquid English of the Spaniard, 'but he will be free to have lunch with you as arranged,' he informed Colin. 'Forgive me if I stare,' he added to Jessica, 'but we did not realise when Senor Weaver mentioned an assistant that he was talking of a woman. I'm afraid you might find the chemical processes of the factory a little boring…'
'Never,' Colin interrupted with a chuckle, while Jessica suppressed a tiny flare of anger at their escort's chauvinistic remark. Of course in Spain things were different. On the whole women were content to take a back seat to live their own lives, especially in the more wealthy families. No doubt someone such as Sebastian de Calvadores' wife, if indeed he had one, would never dream of interfering in her husband's life, or of questioning him about it. That was how they were brought up; to be docile and biddable, content with their families and their homes.
'You'll find that Jessica is far more knowledgeable about the manufacturing process than I am,' Colin added to their guide. 'In fact I suspect she prefers designing fabrics to designing clothes, if the truth were known.'
'Both fascinate me,' Jessica said truthfully.
The next couple of hours flew past. There was so much to see, so much to learn. The factory was the most up-to-date she had ever seen, the equipment of such a sophisticated and superior type that she could only marvel at the technological advances made since she had left college.
They were shown the dying vats, but prudently Ramon Ferres said nothing about how they managed to produce their delicate, subtle colours. All he would say in answer to Jessica's questions was that in the main they used natural and vegetable dyes.
'But surely there's always a problem in stabilising such colours?' she pressed him.
He smiled and shrugged slim shoulders. 'This is so,' he agreed, 'but we have been lucky enough to discover a way of stabilising them—I cannot tell you how, you understand, but be assured that we have done so.'
'And next s
eason's range?' Jessica queried. 'Could we…'
Again Ramon Ferres shook his head. 'That is for the Conde to decide,' he explained. He glanced at his watch. 'I will escort you back to the foyer, it is almost time for lunch.' He glanced at Jessica. 'Originally it was intended that we should lunch together, but as I explained, we had expected Senor Weaver's assistant to be a man.'
It was plain that he had expected Colin's assistant to want to talk shop over lunch, and it exasperated Jessica that he should think that simply because she was a woman she was merely paying lip-service to appearing interested.
'I should love to have lunch with you,' she said firmly. 'There are several points I should like to clarify regarding the manufacturing processes; problems you might have in maintaining the quality of your wool, for instance…'
They were back in the foyer, and an elegant, dark-haired secretary came to conduct Colin into the Chairman's private sanctum, leaving Jessica with Ramon Ferres.
A little to her surprise he guided her out to car, explaining that although the factory had a restaurant, they operated a scheme similar to that adopted by the Japanese, in that all the staff dined together.
'While the food is excellent, the atmosphere is no conductive to a serious discussion. However,there is a restaurant not far from here.'
'And the Chairman?' Jessica asked curiously, visions of Colin in his Savile Row suit sitting down to eat with several hundred noisy Spaniards.
'He has a private dining room in his suite which he uses for business entertaining.'
As Ramon Ferres had said, the restaurant was not very far away. It had once been the shipping office of a wine exporter, he explained when Jessica expressed interest, but had now been converted into a restaurant.
As they walked inside the unusual barrel-vaulted ceiling caught Jessica's attention, and as they were shown to their table Ramon told her that there were deep cellars beneath the ground.