Page 17 of The Granddaughter's Irish Secret
‘Well this woman with black hair in a navy off-the-shoulder dress was wearing that necklace – or an identical one – in oneof the photos. As I said, I’m interested in antique jewellery and that’s why I remember it.’
‘Do you know who this woman was?’ Rose asked.
‘No. It was one of those huge parties and I didn’t recognise any of the other guests. It seemed like a fun evening though.’
‘I’m sure it was.’ Rose looked at Vicky thoughtfully. ‘Are you sure it was the same necklace? I mean it could have been something similar.’
‘I’m quite sure. It was something you couldn’t help notice. And when you showed me yours, it rang a bell. I have a very good visual memory for things like that.’
‘I don’t know, I think you must have remembered wrong,’ Rose declared.
‘Maybe,’ Vicky mumbled, not looking very convinced. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you.’
‘You didn’t really,’ Rose replied, touched by the contrition in Vicky’s voice. She couldn’t know what Rose had just found out about the necklace, or how shocked she had been to hear it was fake. Was the one Vicky had seen the real necklace? Rose felt dizzy. She suddenly got up and gathered her bag and jacket. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’m expected somewhere in about half an hour.’
‘Oh,’ Vicky said. ‘So nice to meet you. Maybe we can do lunch or something soon?’
Rose smiled. ‘That’d be great. Let’s exchange phone numbers and I’ll give you a shout when I have some free time. And please don’t feel bad about what you told me. No hard feelings at all. I’m sure it was a genuine mistake.’
‘Yes, probably. But I could try to find out the name of that woman if you like,’ Vicky offered. ‘I’ll go back to the hairdresser to see if I can find that issue of the magazine.’
Rose nodded. ‘Yes, that’d be great. Not that I think it really was the same necklace, but it would be interesting to see it.’
‘I’ll try my best,’ Vicky promised.
They exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up for lunch very soon.
After their goodbyes, Rose walked across the lawn, thinking about what Vicky had said. When she thought about it, she felt in her bones that Vicky had not been mistaken. There was another necklace out there. It had to be the real one, and it had to be found. But how? She had to dig deeper. It would be tricky, but it had to be done.I’ll catch up with Vicky after the wedding, Rose thought.I have to get through that ordeal first. Meeting everyone again and pretending to be fine, with a new life, a new job and, well, if not a new boyfriend, at least a man who is ready to stand by me, even for a few hours. The best revenge is to live well, they say. If that’s true, I’ll make sure it’s a hell of a revenge…
8
Rose had a few run-ins with Henri during the following week as they worked together on the marketing plan, but she found sparring with him oddly enjoyable. He didn’t manage to get to her with his little digs, which seemed to annoy him. But her mind was on other things – the wedding, and then the possibility that she had found a clue as to where the real necklace was. She had tried to push that to the back of her mind, but it kept popping up, especially at night, when she found it hard to sleep.
When Sylvia gave Rose the key to the storeroom in the attic, she felt she could at least find some clues. As she made her way up the winding back staircase to take a look at what was there, she decided how she would conduct her search. The storeroom contained a mish-mash of old ledgers, photo albums, piles of letters and diaries, all stacked on shelves and packed in cardboard boxes, nothing labelled or organised in any order. She would start with the photo albums, then flick through the letters and go on to the diaries later, most of which seemed to have belonged to the men of the family. The albums were the most important items, she decided, and they would also be the most interesting.
On Saturday afternoon, after a long root around the storeroom, Rose ran into Henri on her way down from the attic. Covered in dust, she was carrying a stack of photo albums and trying not to drop any as she went down the stairs. Henri, on his way up, nearly bumped into her and stopped in his tracks, looking surprised.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he asked, catching one of the albums that had escaped from her grip. ‘Clearing out the attic before the building work starts up there?’
‘Well, yes. In a way,’ Rose said, feeling flustered. ‘I’m trying to sort the family archives and put them in order, starting with the photos.’
‘Why?’ he asked as he handed her the album. ‘That must be hard work. I had a look in that room but it was all such a mess. Why not burn the lot and be rid of it?’
‘Burn it?’ Rose asked, horrified. ‘Are you mad? Of course we don’t want to get rid of all our family’s memorabilia. I want to sort it all, and then—’ Rose stopped, not wanting to give away her secret about the necklace, or let him know what she was planning before she could present it at the next board meeting.
‘Then – what?’ he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
‘I’m going to write a section on the website about the history of the Fleury family,’ Rose said, sticking out her chin. ‘Anything wrong with that?’
‘Nothing at all. If anyone would want to read it. The Fleurys seem so boringly well behaved. Except for your great-grandfather Cornelius, they all look like butter wouldn’t melt in those portraits. But I’m sure you don’t want to write much about old Cornelius, do you? He nearly caused the illustrious Fleurys to be without a roof over their heads, paying his gambling debts by giving the house away.’
‘And you tried to use that against us,’ Rose retorted. ‘Bringing up old letters to prove my great-grandfather had giftedMagnolia Manor to your granddad Etienne. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your part in all of that.’
‘Why not? Everyone else has, we’re all friends now.’
‘I’ll never be your friend,’ Rose declared.
‘But we work so well together,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘I think we’re quite alike, actually. Like peas in a pod.’
