Chapter 18
I bent down to retrieve a Pierre Cartier leaflet from the carpet in the entryway to my home.
Either the postman had stuffed it through the mail slot in the front door, or my father had dropped it.
I turned it over, reading the advertisement for the recently opened Cartier Mansion on Fifth Avenue in New York City.
Though Beaumont Jewelers would likely never reach the same heights, I knew my father’s designs easily competed with the Cartiers’.
I’d always thought as much when I’d seen pages of Cartier designs.
I wondered what my father thought of the advertisement.
Likely not much, given it had been left in the doorway where feet would surely tread upon it.
I trudged upstairs and changed into my smock and trousers after the trip to the museum.
Rather than work on the collection I was beginning to loathe, I retrieved the unfinished headband I’d been making for Evalyn.
I hadn’t seen her wear anything like it, but given her propensity for flash and glamour, I guessed she’d like it.
Despite the unease I felt in her presence—and despite the unease I felt working near the Hope Diamond—I was grateful for her patronage.
I carefully affixed tiny diamond and sapphire chips to the headband fabric.
Concentrating intently on the detail-oriented nature of the work, I lost track of time.
When a knock came at the boutique door, I nearly leapt out of my skin.
I peered at the clock. It was almost suppertime.
I wondered who could be calling so late on a Saturday afternoon, especially unannounced.
I swung open the door—and stepped back in surprise. Carrie Wellington perched on my doorstep in pale green, her torch-like hair tucked under an enormous white hat.
“Hello, Lizzie, I was hoping you were home,” she said. “May I come in?”
“I… Hello, yes, of course,” I said, though my stomach lurched wildly at the sight of her. Perhaps we could finally talk about Julien.
“I saw Sharon’s pair of earrings and the lovely brooch you sold to Bea and thought I might pop by to see if you had any other pieces for sale. It’s my mother’s birthday next week. She’s been so blue since Daddy died, so I thought something pretty might cheer her up a little.”
Naturally she assumed buying her mother’s affections was the key to making her feel better.
I clamped down on my tongue. I was in the business of selling luxury items, and the Wellingtons and others of her ilk were the kind of people I had to do business with, whether I liked it or not.
More importantly, she was a close friend of Evalyn’s, and not serving her could potentially raise questions.
“Come in,” I said, forcing a smile.
As I led her inside, I thought of the pendant she’d worn that Julien had made, and then the way she’d encouraged Evalyn to hire me, and I couldn’t help but think something more was going on between her and my brother.
A harmless flirtation was likely all, given how the others had all said so, but something about her set me on edge.
I retrieved the jewelry trays from the safe and laid my father’s latest collection—now thoroughly picked over after the others’ visit—as well as my own collection and a handful of other pieces on the counter for her perusal.
“If you’re looking for a fresh design, I could show you some of our loose gemstones and our sketchbook. I can also design something new for you if there is a particular style or stone you like, but it would take some time.”
She flashed a winning smile that probably charmed most people. I saw only feigned interest and the same competitiveness the others displayed when trying to outdo each other.
“This is fine,” she said. “There are so many beautiful pieces. I’m sure I’ll find something my mother would like.”
I watched her as she picked through the choices and half listened to her prattle on about her mother and Evalyn’s party the next evening, all the while trying to discern if she and Julien had been involved in any way.
After the third mention of Evalyn’s name, a memory from the past emerged, hovering like a specter in my mind’s eye.
* * *
It had been a sticky southern October day, the lingering heat of summer at last fading into a balmy night with a cooling wind lovely enough to open the windows.
Julien had been frustrated, concerned. His emotions were always as evident as the weather, sketched clearly on his features.
He’d come home uncharacteristically disheveled.
His jacket and shirt were wrinkled, his usually combed blond hair sticking up in the back.
“Are you all right? Where have you been?” I demanded as he breezed into my bedroom and closed the door behind him. I was already in my nightgown, reading in bed—and trying not to worry about him. “It’s late.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to dip.
I scooted to my left to make more room for him.
“I lost my wallet and got caught up looking for it.” He reached for the book in my lap and scanned the title.
“Dangerous Days by Mary Roberts Rhinehart. Doesn’t she write mysteries?
The American Agatha Christie or something? ”
He didn’t fool me with his diversion. He was lying. Twins couldn’t lie to each other, no matter how hard they tried. If I couldn’t discern the lie on his face or in his tone, my intuition prickled, and I knew the truth instantly. I reached for the book and shoved it behind my pillow.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re really up to, or are we going to play games with each other?” I asked. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks now. Henry and I have both noticed it.”
He looked down, ran a hand through his hair, and glanced up again.
His blue eyes were feverishly bright, and I knew with certainty that he was hiding something.
“I’ve been working too hard, staying out too late,” he said.
“I’m spending a lot of time trying to secure our footing with these people in Washington. The McLeans and their friends.”
I glanced at the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “You don’t need to work so hard to gain their favor. I’m sure you already have it, and if not, we can look elsewhere. I hate to see you so worn out.” He wasn’t only spending too many hours at the McLeans’, he was going without sleep entirely.
He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
“They know everyone. If we win their trust and secure a spot as their premier jeweler, we’d be set for life. As Cartier has done in Paris and New York. Like Worth has done with his fashions in London and Paris. Don’t you want that?”
I looked at my very ambitious brother, felt his fervor, and I believed him—to a point.
I could tell by the set of his jaw and the way he ran his hand through his hair too often that something else beneath his ambition was driving him.
I couldn’t quite pinpoint what, at least not yet.
But I wouldn’t push him for now. He would tell me everything in time, I knew.
At last, I said, “Is this about the Hope Diamond?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace before changing the subject. “Have you received any strange letters in the mail?”
“Strange letters? What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I believe they were for Father,” he added quickly. “I’m sure they’re new clients.”
He’d replied too smoothly, and his concern felt too slight, feigned. Again, he was lying.
“He hasn’t mentioned anything to me,” I said, watching his face intently.
“Well then. They must not be important,” he said at last, his eyes glazing over, becoming unfocused.
“I suppose not,” I replied, wondering why he’d mentioned the letters in the first place.
His face was pensive, I imagined his thoughts as turbulent and rapid as white water.
I laid my hand on his shoulder. “How about some warm milk to help you sleep?”
“How about a brandy instead.”
We both laughed, and I slipped from bed, following my brother into the kitchen.
My mind whirred with all he’d said and all he hadn’t, and as I looked at his mussed gold hair and beautiful profile and the clear distress stamped on his features, I wondered when—and how—I’d need to rescue him from his foolishness yet again.
* * *
The chime of the grandfather clock startled me, and the remnants of the memory faded.
Tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t properly cried since the night Julien died, but lately I’d felt the urge more and more often.
Still, I wouldn’t allow myself the release the tears would bring—knew I didn’t deserve it.
I carried the burden of grief as both my punishment and to keep his memory close.
I should have stopped him that night, been more vehement about telling the truth.
I should have been there when he needed me most.
I blinked rapidly and refocused my gaze on the items Carrie had spread out across the counter.
“Do you have a mirror?” she asked.
I tried to focus on being a professional, despite the questions swirling around in my head. I pulled out a paddle-size mirror from underneath the counter. She took it, and as she tried on a set of hair combs, a brooch, and a couple of rings, she checked her reflection in the mirror.
By the time she’d finished, I was on edge. “Is there anything else I can show you?”
“I think I’ll take this ruby pendant. Mother would love it. It’ll go nicely with her ruby engagement ring. Perhaps it’ll remind her of the happy times with Father.” She fished in her handbag for her purse. Giving me another bright smile, she asked, “Would you wrap it for me by any chance, Lizzie?”
“It’s Elisabeth,” I said, knowing she’d only called me Lizzie because she’d heard Evalyn use the nickname a hundred times.
But something about Carrie got under my skin.
The Beaumont pendant she wore, her flirting with Julien the first time she met him, her otherworldly beauty.
My instincts prickled every time I saw her.
“I’ll put it in a velvet drawstring bag if that suits. ”
“Doesn’t Evie call you Lizzie?”
“Well, she’s a friend. I don’t usually go by that name.”
Her blue eyes filled with false pity, and even I could see the act she put on. She clucked her tongue and said, “Evalyn is everyone’s friend and no one’s. She cares only about herself. Haven’t you noticed?”
Evalyn had been kind to me as well as generous.
In fact, she’d been generous with everyone around her.
But I knew there was something that rang true in Carrie’s words.
Evalyn had a frivolity about her, a desperate need for excitement and thrills, and at times, a competitive cruelty that she willingly stoked between her and the others.
Many in her circles were the same—including Carrie, given the way she was talking about her longtime friend to someone she scarcely knew.
Anger curled around my words. “Did you come to purchase a gift or to be rude about one of our mutual friends?”
A false, if contrite, smile touched Carrie’s ruby lips. “She isn’t your friend, darling. You work for her, remember? We all do in our way. And when she tires of you, she will cast you aside and move on to a new pet project. It’s better you understand that now.”
Her words stung. Numbly, I didn’t reply and carried out the rest of the transaction, accepting her check and placing the jewelry in a bag along with our calling card.
At last, I could hold my tongue no longer.
“I don’t understand why you recommended that Evalyn hire me if you believe I’m just another pet project that will be easily cast aside. ”
“I wanted to help you and your family,” she said, dropping the jewelry inside her handbag. “I’d heard your brother passed away unexpectedly and that your father’s company was struggling.” She looked past me as if I weren’t there. Or perhaps she was avoiding my eyes.
“But why? Evalyn said she’d met with two other jewelers. Why help me? Help us?” I searched her face for some semblance of truth, but her expression had shifted again, become closed, her eyes flat.
“Your brother was a kind man. It was a true tragedy that he…he passed away, so young,” she said.
“You flirted with him,” I blurted, unable to hold back the accusations I longed to hurl at her.
“Excuse me?”
“At the jewelry show last autumn. When you first met Julien and you invited him to Evalyn’s for a house party.”
She touched her hair gingerly, smoothing a curl out of her eyes. “A warm smile never hurt anyone. Besides, ask the girls. I like to flirt a little, but I’m a very married woman.”
“So there was nothing between you?” I pressed.
“Come now, Lizzie. Your brother lavished every one of us with attention. You must have expected that. It was who he was.”
I stared at her a moment, trying to read her, but she met my eyes without so much as a flicker of hesitation. Either she was an excellent liar, or there really wasn’t anything between her and my brother.
“I hope your mother enjoys the gift,” I said at last, in an attempt to smooth things over between us. I didn’t need an enemy. I would still get to the bottom of things, one way or another. “Thank you for your business.”
She took the package and streamed to the door. “You should be careful, Lizzie. You don’t want to find yourself as the rest of us have, beholden to Evalyn and her whims. She doesn’t play fair. She plays to win. She knows everyone and can make things very difficult for you.”
“I’ll never be beholden to anyone,” I said, my tone defensive.
She smiled grimly. “If only that were true. Everyone is beholden to someone or something. You just don’t know what it is yet, darling. Oh, and, Lizzie? You should be careful with Ned most of all.” With a quick backward glance, she closed the door softly behind her.
She’d been watching my interactions with Ned?
But she hadn’t been there at any point when I’d been speaking with Ned or in the car with us.
She must have talked to Evalyn about it or perhaps spoken with him?
But nothing had happened between Ned and me.
I wondered why Carrie would be warning me off someone with whom I’d spent so little time, especially when I was of no consequence to Ned or any of them.
But as I remembered the way he’d smiled at me and his flirtatious compliments, my stomach dipped. Maybe she was onto something after all.
I suddenly felt sick as I watched Carrie strut to her car in her designer dress, hem flapping prettily around her calves, and drive away.