Chapter 10
The next morning, I climbed the steps of the tram, paid the fare, and took a seat on an empty bench.
As the conductor rang the warning bell and we began to move, my mind circled back to the events of the previous day and Ned’s comment.
I’d been too stunned by the new information to react quickly, to probe him with more questions about his friendship with Julien.
I silently berated myself for not being quick enough on my feet.
I also worried I’d embarrassed Evalyn by departing so quickly.
She’d given me a chance, brought me into the fold of her home and friends, and I might very well have ruined it.
If I wanted to remain a part of her circle, I needed to tread a careful path between “friend” and “the help,” appear amiable and clever and not sensitive or too sharp-tongued.
I had to be infinitely useful or at the very least be entertaining, something I was learning to do a little more each day.
But the thought of such careful calculation exhausted me.
It wasn’t in my nature to put on airs or to attempt to mimic the kind of society that made me uncomfortable.
And yet here I was, trying to be someone of whom Evalyn and her friends might approve.
I pressed my forehead against the cool, smooth glass of the windowpane.
I thought again of the ladies’ reaction to Julien’s death and their whispered concerns about the curse.
The idea of a curse was a silly notion made for novels and treasure hunts, and yet I could not seem to dismiss it.
Despite my skepticism and my logical need to explain the why and the how through concrete evidence, I found my mind opening to the possibility.
There were simply too many coincidences: Evalyn’s own family tragedies and the stories she’d shared, the outrageous number of letters she’d received in the mail, and then there was my brother…
I wondered if there were other mishaps that had taken place in her household or among her friends.
There had to be at least some grain of truth in the notions of bad luck.
I’d felt the pull of the diamond myself from the first moment I’d seen it.
Instantly, my logical brain attempted to find reason, a rational explanation for dark omens and the draw of an object.
Perhaps the owner of a relic shared a magnetic field with the item, and as the person passed on, they left behind a trace of their energy.
This made sense to me; particles and energy and electricity, the tiniest components of all things living and inanimate objects, interacted with one another.
This was a concept Albert Einstein had discovered a decade and a half before.
Since then, his work had become an essential aspect of scientific study, and I had read everything I could about it.
I mulled these thoughts for the rest of the journey.
Possibilities and impossibilities and Julien’s time in that house with all those people.
When I reached my stop, I joined other pedestrians in the street.
As I walked down Maryland Avenue to a cluster of homes and small offices, a warm breeze carried with it the promise of summer ahead.
As motor cars, bicycles, and taxi cabs whizzed past me, I admired the small plots of greenery dotting the homes and boutiques featuring trees and shrubs that flowered in a brilliant riot of color.
At last, I reached the home of scientist and friend Ken Davis. I needed a distraction and a little inspiration, and the Davis home was just the place to find it.
“Elisabeth, great to see you,” Ken said, running a hand over his hair.
His mop of silver curls was unruly as usual, his shirt and trousers rumpled.
He’d never put much stock in his appearance; he was far too busy with his work.
His wife, Maye, was similar in mannerisms and appearance.
They were almost comical in how well they resembled each other.
“It’s been quite a while since I saw you last. I hope you’ve been well? ”
“I’ve been busy with new clients,” I said. If Ken had learned of Julien’s death, he didn’t let on, and I had no intention of mentioning it. I appreciated that about Ken. He didn’t pry.
“Lovely to see you, Elisabeth,” Maye said while reaching for her umbrella in case the predicted afternoon rains came. “I was just on my way to work.” Maye worked as a lab assistant with a chemist in the north end of the city.
“Next time we’ll have tea,” I said, kissing her cheek before she disappeared through the door to join the rush of pedestrians outside.
“I’ve got some new specimens in,” Ken said as he closed the door behind his wife. “If you’d like to see them?”
“That’s why I’ve come,” I said eagerly. “I could use some inspiration.”
He showed me to his half-study, half-laboratory room in the back of his home.
I’d met Ken two years before while reading up on the historical and geological origins of the gemstone peridot.
I’d ventured first to the Capitol building downtown, where the Smithsonian library stored its vast collection of records in a fireproof vault.
There, the librarians had directed me to Ken, one of the Smithsonian’s premier mineralogists.
When I’d asked about the Capitol and why the Institution didn’t store records on-site, he’d told me about the original Smithsonian Institution building, nicknamed the Castle, where two massive fires had destroyed far too many precious items and files.
Those that could be salvaged were quickly transferred to the only location large enough that was also fire resistant.
Despite the library at the Capitol, many curators like Ken housed most of their own records due to the library’s limited capacity.
Since the Smithsonian Institution was rapidly expanding into an extensive network of museums, record centers, and laboratory spaces, there was talk of building a much larger central archive center and library.
Ken pulled out a tray of stones, each carefully labeled.
“They’ve found a large pocket of lepidolite at the Harding Pegmatite mine in New Mexico.
See its deep purple color? It comes from the lithium inside the stone.
” He went on to explain several of the other stones found recently, how the veins of color within the stones were a result of their mineral composition, as well as their various other properties, including hardness, porosity, strength, and optical qualities.
I listened intently while furiously writing notes.
As he described the expedition where they were discovered, I felt the familiar sense of wistfulness I hadn’t felt since Julien’s death.
I’d always dreamed about what it would be like to trek over unfamiliar landscapes, meeting with miners and collectors who knew the earth better than anyone, toting samples to examine in my lab just as Ken did.
My imagination swept me away as I wrote the last of my notes.
After he showed me all his new items, we enjoyed a cup of coffee.
“I have a question for you,” I said. “I’ve taken a new job with Evalyn Walsh McLean. She owns the Hope Diamond.”
He removed his spectacles. “She has quite the collection from what I’ve heard.”
I nodded. “She does. It’s impressive. What do you know about the Hope Diamond?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. My focus is more on mineralogy rather than gemstones, though of course I’ve heard it’s said to be cursed.”
I nodded. “Evalyn insists otherwise, but there are a lot of rumors and many stories of things going awry… I don’t know. Do you believe in such things?” I asked, hoping he didn’t find the question foolish.
He shrugged. “I would say it’s a ridiculous idea, but as soon as I call anything nonsense, I uncover some reason why it isn’t nonsense after all. That’s the way of science, isn’t it?” He leaned forward. “Science isn’t only a tool used to prove a hypothesis. It is a pathway to infinite possibility.”
As I internalized his words, I thought about the rumors I’d heard and of Evalyn’s losses. He was right. If there was one thing people like Ken and people like me tried to do, it was to keep an open mind and to look for possibilities until a hypothesis could be disproven.
“I’ll be right back.” He left the room and reappeared a moment later. “Take this.” He placed a smooth stone in my palm.
I peered at the dark-green stone dotted with irregular red dots. “Heliotrope?”
He nodded. “Bloodstone. Keep it. You might find you need it.”
It was a stone known in the ancient East as a way to increase higher consciousness and clarity, but it was also used for something else entirely: as a protector against evil.
* * *
At home, I sorted through my own collection of stones stored in the desk drawer of my worktable.
I’d found most of them on my walks, during trips to the quarry with Father, during the handful of vacations we’d taken in Maryland along the Chesapeake Bay, or in Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley that stretched between the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east and the Ridge-and-Valley Appalachians to the west. Many of the stones were smooth, worn by time and the elements.
Granite, limestone, quartz, a piece of amethyst, several seashells with pink and cream whorls, and many others.
I’d even found a nearly perfect flint arrowhead in the quarry.
I ran my thumb along the arrowhead’s sharp edges, picturing the man who’d made it in his leather clothing with long black hair and intelligent eyes.
I added the piece of purple lepidolite Ken had given me to my collection.
As for the bloodstone, if it did bring good luck, I could use plenty of it, so I tucked it into my handbag.
After a satisfying lunch of omelet, greens, and a hunk of buttered bread, the sting of the embarrassment from the previous day at Evalyn’s had faded, and I knew there was only one thing to do.
I had to call her and pressure her to set a firm date for my services.
With a party of friends ever at her side, I’d learned quickly the talk of business was nearly impossible. A telephone call might be easier.
I dialed the operator, and Evalyn’s voice came over the line. “Hello, McLean residence.”
Surprised she’d answered rather than Jerry, I paused. “Yes, hello. This is Elisabeth Beaumont.”
“Oh, Lizzie, I was just waiting for another call. How are you? I was sorry to see you leave yesterday, but Jerry and Ned told me you had some other engagement.”
“I—yes, I was so taken with meeting your friends and enjoying the conversation that I’d nearly forgotten about it,” I said. “I apologize for leaving in a rush.”
“Not at all. And here I thought it was because the conversation had turned toward your poor brother.”
My cheeks burned. She’d seen right through me. “Oh, yes, well, that was a little uncomfortable. I’m not used to talking about my brother so openly.”
“Of course, darling. Don’t worry one bit about it. I let everyone know the situation yesterday. They all offer their condolences.”
I felt my throat tighten. I didn’t know Evalyn or her friends well, but I’d spent enough time in their presence to grasp they’d likely enjoyed the fact that I’d inadvertently provided them with fresh gossip.
“I meant to speak with you yesterday about setting a schedule,” I said, gripping the telephone receiver a little too tightly.
“Do you have a preference of date and time? I wanted to give you the first choice before I schedule my other appointments.” Another little white lie—there were no others at the moment outside of Rosalee’s necklace, but if there was one thing I already understood about Evalyn, it was her need to feel as if she had some special privilege others didn’t.
“Why don’t you start tomorrow?” she replied. “Ned and I won’t be here in the morning, so you won’t be disturbing anyone. Jerry will let you in.”
I felt a prick of disappointment. Without Evalyn at home, the Hope Diamond might not be there either, and after my discussion with Ken, I could hardly wait to examine it again more closely.
I was also hoping to entice her and her friends to talk about Julien and the friendships he’d developed with them and the men.
I closed my fist around my bloodstone and rubbed a thumb over its smooth surface.
“Does ten o’clock suit?” I asked.
“Fine. And I’ll expect you every two weeks.”
“Wonderful,” I said, relieved we’d finally set a schedule. It was extravagant of her to request my services so regularly, but everything about Evalyn was proving to be extravagant, right down to her generosity.
“Lizzie, I wanted to tell you something,” she continued, her tone suddenly somber. “When I lost members of my family… Well, the grief never leaves us, but it does become easier to manage.”
Surprised by the admission, I paused before replying.
She’d seemed the sort who’d rarely suffered despite her losses, who sought pleasure and excitement as if it were a lifeline to happiness, but perhaps I’d had her all wrong.
Perhaps there was more to her than I knew, more than the spoiled but friendly woman with whom I’d spent a few afternoons.
And it was generous of her to offer the kind words.
“I can’t imagine it ever being easy,” I said softly. “But thank you.”
“It’s best not to spend too much time thinking about things we can’t change,” she said. “Ruminating hasn’t ever helped me with anything, and it certainly hasn’t lessened my grief.”
“I suppose not,” I replied, though I couldn’t imagine putting Julien out of my mind the way she seemed able to do with her deceased loved ones, nor did I wish to.
“One last thing.” She paused. “Don’t you worry about what the others said about Julien or the way he conducted his business. I adored him. We all did.”
“Thank you,” was all I could manage.
I frowned as I hung the receiver on its cradle.
I wondered what she’d meant by “the way your brother conducted his business.” I pressed my lips into a thin line.
Evalyn couldn’t offer a kindness without a thorn.
She also seemed to like playing games with her friends’ affections, pitting one against the other so she could retain the upper hand.
And I would do as she wished for now. I would do whatever it took to remain in her employ to uncover the truth—even if I had to play her games to win.