Chapter 31
I couldn’t remember how I found my way home that night.
I remembered only the pain that had become too large to contain and the rain.
The rain had coated my skin, slicked my hair to my face, pelted my cheeks like a punishment.
I couldn’t believe I’d let Ned kiss me. Worse still, I’d worn the Hope Diamond.
I reached for the diamond at my neck over and over again as I thought of it, my fingers grasping at nothing.
Relief flooded through me each time. I didn’t want to see the stone again or to speak of it.
I reported all I’d learned about Jet Wellington and the chauffeur the night of the accident to the police.
An investigation ensued, but nothing came of it.
There was no evidence, and the Wellingtons had access to the best lawyers in Washington.
But it did what I hoped it would do. It damaged their reputation, and Jet’s business prospects suffered, for a time.
For the first time since Julien’s death, I allowed the cruel capriciousness of the accident to envelop me so entirely, I lost sense of time and space.
I wept great, shuddering sobs for hours, days, weeks until I was weak from the kind of pain that fills one to the brim, that makes it hard to face another moment of living and breathing.
I’d been a ghost for months, a wisp of wind, a hollowed-out tree trying so hard not to feel anything.
I’d thought Evalyn and her world would somehow make me feel less empty, less alone, but the truth was they had made things worse.
I’d been living a life not my own and forsaken everything that was good and real and true about myself.
Evalyn had taken Julien’s place as the figure behind whom I’d hidden. I understood that now.
My father looked in on me as I grieved rather than the other way around.
He lovingly nursed me back to the light.
He said little, but I saw my pain reflected in his eyes and a kind of strength, too, and I reached for it, for him.
We comforted each other, and little by little, I came back to life again.
As I recovered, so did Father. We went for long walks and talked about him.
Julien might not be in the bedroom across the hall any longer, but he would always be one of the best parts of me.
He’d live inside my memories and the part of me that only a twin could feel, that only a twin could know and understand.
But I was at last beginning to embrace the small gift his absence afforded me: I was forced to know myself.
To think about what I wanted outside of my dear brother.
I was forced to examine my own heart and dreams and desires without seeking approval or instruction or even help from the person I’d leaned on too heavily, whose shadow I’d refused to step out of until now.
I’d never known who Elisabeth Beaumont truly was, and I was discovering that I liked her.
I didn’t need the Evalyn McLeans of the world to make me feel worthwhile again.
One autumn day six months after the awful encounter with Evalyn and Ned, I slipped into one of my old familiar dresses that wasn’t of the latest fashion, taking comfort in the soft, worn fabric.
After, I bagged up everything Evalyn had given me to donate to a women’s charity.
I would buy my own clothes in time, those that suited my tastes and, above all, my comfort.
Stomach rumbling, I headed downstairs for a late breakfast. My father joined me in the sunny kitchen in which I’d spent so many of my days laughing and listening to stories told around the table.
That day, it didn’t ache to be there amid the memories.
It was a balm to my rawness, my uneven edges, and my tender new view of the world.
Father made us toast with jam and poured us each a cup of coffee. “Are you going to work on your collection today?”
I took my time chewing a bite and sipped my coffee before answering him. “I’m not going to finish it, Father.” My voice was soft but steady, strong.
The briefest flash of sadness lit his eyes, and then it was gone as quickly as it came. He sighed and nodded. “I thought you might come to that conclusion one day.”
“You did?”
“You did everything I asked and more, but your heart was never in it.”
I was struck by his words and the fact that he’d known all along that I wasn’t a jeweler, would never be, despite my competent skills.
My eyes fell to the dark brew in my cup.
“I can’t do it,” I said. “I can’t peddle jewelry to those people.
I’m not like Julien. He was charming and friendly, and everyone he met loved him.
They wanted to buy from him. All those dreams he had about expanding the business…
They aren’t mine.” I braced for a spike of pain and was surprised instead by the relief saying his name aloud brought.
“Your designs are wonderful, chérie,” my father replied, trying one last time to convince me to stay, to work at his side.
“They’re good, but they aren’t great. You are the true talent, Papa. I am merely the office assistant and a great admirer of craftsmanship, nothing more. We both know that is true, however much we wished it weren’t. I have tried to live your dream, but it isn’t the right one for me.”
He turned his cup round and round. “What will you do?”
I let out a breath, relieved he hadn’t fought me or tried to persuade me to stay.
“I’m going to apply for a position in the labs at the National Museum, through the Smithsonian Institution.
They’re looking for an assistant to the mineralogists.
At least they were a few months ago. I’m hoping they still are, and if not, I’ll apply to be an illustrator until there is another opening. ”
He reached for my hands, a smile brimming at his lips. “My daughter, a scientist! Imagine what she will learn and do and see.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears for the hundredth time in as many days, but this time, they were tears of relief, tears of joy. “Thank you, Papa.” I stood and kissed him on the forehead. “Now, I need to go. There is something I must do.”
* * *
I traveled westbound toward the National Mall.
Taking my time, I strolled along the verdant lawn, the Washington Monument rising high in the distance.
At over five-hundred-fifty feet, the obelisk was the tallest building in the world for a few years, until the French erected the Eiffel Tower.
Still, the monument spearing the Washington skyline was a marvel of engineering dedicated to America’s first president and a symbol of democracy, and yet I’d never cared to visit it.
There were far more interesting places, at least to me.
I turned up the path leading to the National Museum, jittery with nerves.
I paused, allowing a memory to sweep me away for an instant to a summer afternoon after a picnic with my brother and Henry when we’d walked along the banks of the Potomac.
I’d worn a pair of Julien’s trousers rolled at the bottom and cinched tightly at the waist with a belt.
We’d laughed as we told jokes and collected rocks.
Henry and Julien had skipped the flat rocks across the top of the water.
They’d teased me about my heavy collection, weighing down my pockets, and it had felt like we’d be in our blissful bubble of laughter and lazy days forever.
“Look at this one!” I said, finding a small piece of quartz with an irregular shape.
“You’re as brainy as a scientist.” Julien had thought he was teasing me, but I’d taken it as a compliment.
“You really think so?”
“All that note-taking that you do. And you spend more time with the magnifying glass than with any of us.” He’d splashed me then, and I’d chased him, eventually smearing his face with mud.
The three of us had devolved into a full-scale water and mud fight.
By the time we’d made it home, we looked as if we’d been in a war.
Henry had given me a book about mineralogy that year for my birthday. The memory gave me courage as I looked up once more at the impressive museum facade. I inhaled a calming breath and walked through the door.
Julia Wane greeted me in the main hall with an encouraging smile. “I’m glad you’ve come. I wasn’t sure how things would go with your father.”
“He’s happy for me,” I said, all enthusiasm. “Should I get the job, he’s going to hire someone to help him in the shop.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “And you’re going to get the job.”
I bit my lip. “We’ll see.”
“Come, let me show you to the office where you’ll be interviewing.”
An hour later as I answered each question, identified numerous stones, and explained my passion for geological processes, the mineralogist took careful notes. When we’d finished, he shook my hand with a smile.
“It was truly a pleasure speaking with you, Elisabeth. I need to consult with the others, but I won’t keep you in suspense. You’re by far our best candidate. Give us a call on Monday morning, and we’ll get you started with what’s next.”
As I descended the steps into the chill of a beautiful autumn day, my heart full, I knew exactly with whom I wanted to share the good news.