Chapter 17
The next few days, I fussed over my collection, my frustration growing before I finally gave up.
Evalyn and her friends hadn’t bought a single piece of mine, and only one person had so much as admired them.
It was my father’s designs that had truly captured their attention and his pieces they had bought.
Their lack of interest solidified the fear I’d harbored for longer than I wanted to admit but now couldn’t avoid: I wasn’t as talented a jewelry designer as my father and never would be.
I didn’t have the knack for predicting what others would like or discerning tastes and unique styles.
I catered to my own tastes, and given how little jewelry I wore on a daily basis, my taste didn’t amount to much.
I’d tried telling myself that it was about timing.
I needed more time to practice my skills and more access to the larger stones—and perhaps there was a shred of truth in that.
Or perhaps I should no longer waste my time or our supplies designing a collection that no one would want to buy.
I turned my attention to an easier project: another gift for Evalyn.
It was a thank-you for her generosity and for bringing her friends to the boutique.
Though she wasn’t perfect and being in her presence was something of a minefield I had to navigate, she still didn’t have to include me in her excursions and events, and she didn’t have to hire Beaumont Jewelers, but she’d been generous anyway.
Father would say otherwise, but I would do what I must, and for now, that included working with Evalyn.
I’d only spoken to him the bare minimum since our argument.
I knew he was wounded by what I’d said about his abandonment of our business and home, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He’d all but disappeared and left me to fend for myself for months.
I sifted through our smaller gemstones and a set of feathers and added a piece of gold fabric to the pile of things for Evalyn’s gift to make a headband.
I hoped she’d like the headband more than the hair combs, which she’d yet to wear.
Headbands had recently become more popular, and feathers never went out of fashion, or at least that was what I’d heard one of the society ladies say one afternoon.
I carefully sewed a band of elastic to the shimmery gold fabric.
At one end, I attached a long, dramatic ostrich feather.
After, I slipped on the headband and checked my reflection in the mirror.
I looked silly in such an extravagant thing, but I couldn’t deny that it was beautiful.
Once I’d affixed the gemstones, it would glitter brilliantly.
When a knock came at the door, I hesitated, deciding if I should pretend no one was home. It had been a long few days of more socializing than I could usually stomach, and all I wanted to do was hide.
Someone pounded again, more insistently this time.
“Elisabeth? It’s Henry. I know you’re in there!”
My stomach clenched. What was he doing here? When would he accept that I didn’t want to see him?
“Elisabeth!” My father called from the kitchen. “Why aren’t you answering the door?” He bounded down the stairs and pushed past me to the boutique door with a huff, clearly still angry with me. “Hello, Henry,” he said. “Come in, my boy.”
“Hello, Mr. Beaumont.” Henry stepped inside. “Is Elisabeth—” He caught sight of me and stopped, his mouth slightly ajar. “Your hair!”
In a self-conscious gesture, I touched my newly shorn hair. Bea had said I looked like a movie star, but I wasn’t so sure about that. Her compliment had made me feel good just the same. “Is it that bad?” I asked. “You look appalled.”
“No!” he said quickly. “I mean, of course not. It’s just so short.”
“Evalyn had it done.”
“Who is Evalyn?”
“A client.”
His brows shot up, but he didn’t reply.
“And a friend,” I added. It was certainly out of the norm for me to fashion my appearance based on the advice of a client and entirely unlike me to care.
“I see,” he said, looking around. He removed his hat, held it in his hands. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” my father replied. “Elisabeth, get your coat.”
I glared at my father. Why did he believe he could still tell me what to do? I supposed I’d always let him, but things were different now. I was different. “I’m sorry, Henry, but I have work to do—”
“Not today, you don’t,” Father said. “Off you go with Henry. I’ve already promised him you were free to do as you please today.”
Henry cleared his throat. “I wanted to take you to the museum, but if you’re busy, I can call another time.”
Suddenly the idea of an afternoon at the museum felt like much-needed air in my lungs. If Henry broached a subject I didn’t want to discuss, I could always tell him I wasn’t interested in rehashing the past. He’d respect my wishes. He always had.
“Fine,” I said at last. “Let me change.” I quickly changed out of my work trousers and pulled on a lavender dress with a handkerchief hem. In minutes, I met him at the door.
“Goodness,” Henry said. “That’s quite a dress.”
“Evalyn bought it for me,” I said. “She pays for all her employees’ uniforms, so she insisted she buy her jeweler some new things.”
“So I see,” he said.
“What do you see?”
“Nothing. You look lovely.”
“For a change.”
He shook his head. “You’ve always been attractive but…”
“I look like a woman for once.”
He rolled his eyes, clearly becoming exasperated with me. “You’re as beautiful as ever. Can you stop putting words in my mouth? The changes surprised me, that’s all. Are you ready to go?”
We walked silently in step to the nearest tram stop. It was another perfect spring day with sunny skies and the scent of lilacs infusing the air. Everyone on the streets appeared light on their feet, in a good mood.
“You seem…different,” he said. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with the people who got Julien into trouble—” He stopped abruptly, shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up. And it’s your business, not mine. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
I stiffened at what felt like a criticism. I didn’t need this, not right now.
“You’re right, it isn’t your business,” I said, my tone biting, angry.
“I need to make a living until my father is back to full-time work, and if this is what it takes, I’ll do what I have to do.
We almost lost the house, Henry.” I climbed into the tram car warily, wishing I had decided not to go with him after all.
If we were going to argue or I was going to field criticisms from him, it would be a long afternoon.
He raised his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re doing what you can. Which is one reason I wanted to bring you to the museum,” he added. “You deserve a break and time doing something that makes you happy.”
I glanced at him long enough to catch the sincerity in his eyes and felt guilty for being testy with him. “Thank you,” I said at last.
As he settled in the seat next to me, his familiar spiced cologne laced the air. A scent I knew intimately and had loved for so long that I fell back in time, the present day fading like the colors of a quilt bleached by too much sunlight.
* * *
One afternoon, I’d opened the door to see Henry on my doorstep, as I had so many hundreds of times before, but that day, my heart skipped a beat. He was smiling broadly, and a special gleam shone in his eyes.
“Julien isn’t home,” I said as Henry bounded into my living room. “He’s out with Father, on business.”
The smile on Henry’s face didn’t wane. “I know. I didn’t come here to see him. I came to see you, to rescue you from working too hard. Julien said you needed someone to force you to take a break.”
“Oh,” I said, oddly disappointed by the omission. It was Julien who’d sent him, of course. Henry hadn’t come of his own volition. I removed my protective goggles from atop my head and set them on my workbench.
“How about lunch?” he continued. “I have an hour before I have to go back to the office, and I’d like to talk you about something.”
I glanced down at my filthy clothes and knew I must look a fright. “You want to take me to lunch looking like this?”
He chuckled. “Somehow, you look most like yourself with dirty trousers. Even filthy, head to toe, you’re the prettiest of the Beaumonts.”
I blushed hotly, as was my way. What he said simply wasn’t true.
Julien looked as if he were the offspring of a Greek god and a mortal.
Though I resembled my brother in bone structure, my features were more exaggerated somehow.
My nose was more pronounced, my high cheekbones almost sharp, and the solitary dimple in my right cheek formed a deep-set groove.
Along with the differences in features, Julien’s fair hair and light eyes to my dark tones made us look more like cousins than brother and sister.
Luckily, I wasn’t the jealous type. I was proud of my beautiful, ebullient brother—as proud of him as he was of me.
“Come on, don’t act as if you’ve never heard a compliment before.
” Henry’s lips quirked up at the corners into an amused smile.
“You’ve got a strand of hair sticking straight up.
” He reached out to brush away the hair, but assuming he’d make a mess of it the way he and Julien always had done to be funny, I stepped out of the way.
As his hand fell to his side, his eyes dimmed.