Page 64 of Margins of Love
“I’d do anything to ensure that Alli... Please, she’s my only one,” Bustle-smith pleaded. She had been bested.
Eve turned and looked at Gustav, her hands folded before her.
Gustav looked at Bustle-Smith. Rachel could not tell, but it seemed they were looking at her neck. They certainly had her by the throat. Rachel felt excitement in her clandestine corner, starting to enjoy her recently perfected eavesdropping skills. Maybe she could be an agent of the Crown if they took Jews… or girls.
“Is this the emerald? Still the same one?” Gustav pointed at her neck.
“This is all I have left of my late husband,’ Bustle-Smith said. ‘It was his last—”
“Oh, stop it, Carol,” Eve snarled.
“How many carats is it? Five? Six?” Gustav eyed it expertly.
“Eight!” Bustle-Smith responded with the much-practiced flair of a grand dame.
“Seven point six,” Eve corrected.
“Not possible.” Gustav tilted his head.
“It is deep. It’s the cut.” Eve took the pendant in her hand and turned it for Gustav to see.
He looked at Eve. She shrugged as if to leave the decision to him.
“I may take it in lieu of—”
“Brockton House,” Bustle-Smith asked hopefully.
“Either…” Gustav waved and held his arm out. Eve nestled hers and let him lead her out.
Bustle-Smith sagged into a pile of fabric and boneless blubber. Had she just lost her house and her emerald? She mumbled something Rachel could not hear and left within a few seconds.
Once alone, Rachel remained in place for a few more minutes. Afraid to creep out of the broom closet and cause a commotion, she peeked through the keyhole before she stepped out and stretched her back. She could not believe what she had just heard. Granted, it mattered little for her feelings for Fave. If anything, her admiration of his family had only grown. She had resigned herself to proceed with the arranged marriage. What did they mean by “impostors among our own”? Her heart raced. She had to find Fave.
She stormed off and into the corridors of Bustle-Smith’s house, or was it the Pearlers’ house now?
CHAPTER41
Rachel was hurrying through a dark corridor back to the ballroom when she heard a commotion. She still wanted to find Fave, but she could hear a kling on a glass and then the music stopped.
“Dear guests,” Bustle-Smith’s voice assumed a grand announcement tone, “it is my special pleasure to…”
“It’s a match made in heaven,” Fave’s voice suddenly whispered in her ear from behind.
“A match made in hell,” Rachel said.
“Come with me.” He smiled. Fave’s invitation sounded as if their fight had been forgotten. She stiffened and turned to meet his gaze. With her newfound admiration for his parents, she felt daring in the darkness, so she followed him.
“Trust me?” he asked.
She could not take her eyes off his, and a mischievous smile bubbled to the surface. She must not trust him, she told herself, but it was as if she could not hear her voice of reason. He had used her, and her heart was shattered. But her sadness made her reckless. She had despaired already and wanted a last glimpse of happiness. She wanted to take it and tuck it away as a memory for her uncertain future.
“I saw your parents,” she whispered. “I have to tell you something.”
“Not now.” Fave led her through a long elegant corridor. She had not made up her mind to go with him, but her feet seemed to float after him on their own accord, without even making any noise.
He opened a door covered in damask wallpaper, the hinge invisible behind the curtain next to it. A hidden passageway. Another secret for her to keep. Her head was spinning with excitement, her heart racing as she stepped into the private staircase.
He ushered her up some modest stone stairs, holding her hand firmly in his, a candle in the other. Two floors up, they emerged through another door. When he closed it, she saw it was covered in wallpaper too, maroon this time. They walked two more steps along the hallway, and he opened a heavy wooden door with intricate embellishments. He bowed and waited for her to enter ahead of him.
