Chapter 1 #2
I nodded. “Yes, I apologize for that and for the surprise visit here today. My father has taken ill. I hope you won’t mind working with a woman in his stead. I know it’s untraditional—”
She held up her gloved hand. “I’ll stop you there. This world is modernizing after all, and it’s high time women do as they wish. Isn’t that right?”
I warmed to her words. If she only knew how often I’d been denied or pushed aside at festivals and showrooms. Women were to wear jewelry, not design it or—God forbid—make it.
They simply didn’t have the skills or the strength to hammer metals or solder or use heavy tools.
Thankfully my immigrant father wasn’t so traditional in that sense; he’d never believed a person’s sex determined their abilities.
He’d always been my champion. But he would never champion this—a reunion with the McLeans.
For once, though, my dear father didn’t have a say in the matter.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I design jewelry as well as maintain collections. Should we work together, I’d clean and polish each piece in your collection.
Examine the prongs to make sure the stones are secure.
If you had questions or needed advice about purchasing a new piece, I would also be on retainer for your needs. ”
Evalyn peered at me, taking in my clothes, my hair, my features before speaking. “I don’t keep my collection here. We only use this house for serious entertaining. Speaking of which, I really should get back to it. I’ll have guests arriving soon. It was nice to meet you, Miss Beaumont.”
I gripped my handbag more tightly. She was already sending me on my way.
We’d lost our chance to remain her designated jeweler when Father didn’t show to his appointment or reply to Evalyn’s inquiries months ago.
But I had to try again—even if the curse was real, even if the Hope Diamond had everything to do with our sorrow.
I needed to know what happened the night of the accident and the weeks leading up to it.
In my gut, I knew my brother’s death had something to do with this family and their friends with whom he’d done business for months.
I only hoped learning the truth would silence the nightmares, the resentment, the fathomless well of loss.
First, I had to convince Evalyn that my services were indispensable.
“We could set a schedule to meet as often as you’d like,” I said, my desperation bubbling to the surface.
“I’d be available to you at a moment’s notice.
We’re also working on a new collection that I’d be delighted to share with you in an exclusive showing before it is open to the public.
” A lie of sorts, but I knew the wealthy expected to be treated differently, special, as if their money placed them above everyone else.
Her smile had edges. “I’ll be in touch should the need arise.” Without hesitation, she swished away in a sparkling blur.
As I met the butler’s gaze, I felt my face fall. His eyes were contrite. I guessed he knew all too well what it was to be at the mercy of the McLeans’ whims.
“Right this way, Miss Beaumont,” he said.
A pit formed in my stomach as I left. Nothing awaited me at home but an evening of vast emptiness.
* * *
The early part of the evening I spent stewing, wishing for a different outcome to my visit to the McLeans’ home.
I stared up at the fat orange moon beckoning me as if I were under a spell, the tapping of the oak branch at my window interrupting the slurry of my thoughts and the muted color of my evening.
I pictured the diamond and the curse itself, its slippery tendrils wrapping around my wrists and tugging me toward the great rare stone I so longed to touch.
I wondered if it was too late for me as well, if I, too, would face some unexpected dark fate.
I didn’t know, couldn’t see the future. I only knew one thing: My beloved twin brother had once worked for Evalyn McLean, and he was dead.
I had no choice but to put myself directly into the stone’s dark orbit and risk everything I had left in this world.
As a new plan sparked to life, I pushed aside my dinner of congealed potatoes and cold fish, collected my father’s sketchbook from the workshop, and pulled on my coat.
Soon, I’d made my way through town across the grassy square to the very spot where I’d stood only hours before, as if some inner engine had fueled my movement.
I paused as I faced the McLean house. Nearly every window glowed, and a steady parade of people floated across the front walk or stepped out of their Model Ts and streamed to the door.
The guests were glamorous in their smoking jackets and cravats, their shimmering silk gowns and glittering hair barrettes, laughing politely, gripping their cigarettes with long, lean fingers.
I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed, once again standing on the edge of a world as foreign as the moon.
My gaze flicked to the moisture pearled on the tender grass of the narrow lawn, reflecting moonlight like a thousand tiny gems. Time unspooled in the shadows beneath the canopy of trees where I stood unseen, unmoving, unfeeling, until a cool breeze nipped at my cheeks and pulled me back into my body where unwelcome sensations awaited me.
A persistent awareness that something, or rather someone, was missing.
As a peal of laughter drifted toward me, I ran my fingers through my hair.
Did I dare disrupt their evening, attend an exclusive formal event without invitation when Evalyn had already turned me away?
As an older gentleman with a crown of snow-white hair was escorted to a waiting car, an image of my father came to mind: him bent over a gold brooch, pliers in hand, followed by one of him in bed, listless, unable to face the day, and I crossed the street without pause. I was here for him, for us.
Like before, I was greeted politely at the door, but my name wasn’t on the guest list, and I was asked to wait.
When the butler had gone, I ignored his order and rushed inside, heart pounding.
I darted through a set of French doors and followed the music and din of voices to a ballroom with burnished oak floors and candlelight, a stretch of windows on the east wall, and clusters of terrifyingly elegant men and women who were enjoying the party.
An enchanting scene, I had the feeling of being somewhere far from Washington, DC, far, even, from America.
As I filtered through the crowd, some of the guests threw curious glances my way.
Who was this woman in plain dress and coat, nose pink with exertion, and dark windswept hair?
I was so very unlike them all. And I was a fool for returning during a party when I’d already been turned away.
I chided myself as I realized I could have waited a day or two.
And yet my instincts had told me otherwise.
To return that night, to catch Evalyn off guard, to tempt her with something beautiful, this was the key.
For there was one thing I knew about her already in my short time inside the mansion among her extravagant things: Her love of beauty and the desire to possess it trumped all.
“Care for a glass, ma’am?” A waiter held a tray of crystal glasses filled with effervescent liquid. Champagne. I’d never tasted it before and was suddenly tempted to try it, to pretend I was made for such elegance.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
I retreated to the farthest corner of the room to search for Evalyn—and to hide from the butler who would escort me out if he found me. I only needed a few moments to speak to Evalyn again and show her my father’s sketches. Perhaps I might persuade her to give me a chance.
For some time, I watched the elite in their finery float across the floor, mingling as the staff attended to everyone like a flurry of worker bees.
I caught sight of Evalyn several times in the midst of what appeared to be impassioned conversations, her face changing only when a staff member approached and skittered away quickly, as if doing their best not to impede their mistress in her fun.
Or perhaps they fled for other reasons I didn’t yet understand.
As murmurings came from a quiet alcove on my right, I turned to see two figures in a heated discussion.
Without warning, the man took the woman in his arms and kissed her.
She gasped and pulled away, and they both laughed softly.
I wondered who they were. They didn’t behave like husband and wife, long married.
Not that I’d had much experience with men outside of friendship.
I was far too busy working, too devoted to the family business and to my stone collection and books, to consider men of any import. Except for one.
I shuttered the thought of Henry Cooper and the piercing stab of regret immediately. What was once between us was over now.
“Here all alone?” I jumped and turned toward the sound of the voice.
A man of average height and build with dark hair and mustache held a highball glass with a generous pour. His elegant tuxedo made me aware, once again, of my modest appearance.
“I don’t know anyone. I–I wasn’t invited,” I admitted. “To the party, I mean.”
He smiled, a crooked thing that I supposed could be charming. Perhaps it was. “You look like the kind of girl we need more of around here. Come, let’s get you a glass of something. A side car, perhaps? Gin and tonic? And there’s always champagne.”
“Ned?” A voice I vaguely recognized drifted toward us. “Where did you get off to?” Evalyn McLean walked toward him with a staccato rhythm.