Page 16 of Margins of Love
April 7, 1813.
“Prêt!”Arnold shouted.
Fave blocked Arnold’s blade with his own.
It was only five past six in the morning. They had snuck behind the stables to get their morning exercise. Both had brought their foils, the lighter quadrangular blades, for practice away from home, and they would make less noise in the silent morning hours.
“No, no, cous.” Arnold shook his head as Fave tried to hit him with the side of the blade, a foul in fencing. “Rules are rules, even in the country.” He patronized Fave as a sport. Their age difference of all but eight weeks made Arnold feel like the wiser of the two of them.
“Yes, rules, of course.” Fave swung again and turned swiftly in an impressive athletic pose.
“Where did you learn that?” Arnold asked.
Fave grinned. “I have my sources.”
“By the way, speaking of sources, Cous. We need to talk about where to source the gems. I have a lead on the pearls already, but it is really all about the emerald,” Arnold said, referencing the King’s jewelry competition. While Fave was supposed to assemble a set of emerald earrings, with a ring and tiara to match, Arnold had been trying to procure evenly-matched pearls. They were earmarked for a similar set endowed with pearls and diamonds. The contrast of the pieces was supposed to shine and sparkle in different ways, alluding to the facets of the King’s empire—yet attributing exquisite brilliance in flattery of the Crown’s reach. Fave had little doubt that the King would capture the implied compliment of his designs, but he planned to sketch some ideas with optical illusions for the aha-effect of each jewel.
“Are we traveling somewhere?” Fave imagined himself eating spiced rice with his fingers and wearing a turban on an adventurous quest for jewels in some faraway country.
“No need, London’s the epicenter of trade.” Arnold erased Fave’s daydream with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“So you need my sketches?”
“Will you get your head in the game, Cous?” Arnold snapped.
“I can adjust its internal reflections with the surrounding stones—”
“It’s not as simple as that this time. You can’t swirl your little compass and do some geometry to cut this stone because thereisno stone!”
Arnold stepped up to Fave, slid his mask upward, and placed his hands on Fave’s shoulders. “His Majesty has specifically asked for an emerald the same shade of green as the Scottish Highlands.”
“Surely he was jesting?”
“Are you listening? It’s a competition, and he will decide who wins. The winner ultimately gets to make the Crown jewels. The Crown jewels for the King’s collection. Do you know what this means?”
It was dawning on Fave how important the competition would be for their family. His father’s dream of a storefront on Oxford Street came to mind.
“A royal appointment!” Arnold added dreamily.
“And we can truly participate?” Fave was skeptical that Jews could enter the competition because no Jews had been Crown jewelers before, as the winner of this competition would be.
“Yes! There is to be a final show of sorts, where only the pieces are exhibited. The King will pick the winner. Don’t you see, it is merit-based.” Arnold’s excitement was contagious, but Fave was slow to catch on.
“Merit-based in subjective terms. Whatever the King fancies goes, is that right, Arnold?”
“That’s not the problem,” he said. Arnold rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead, frustrated with Fave’s cynicism.
“I know you can work your magic to make it shine, Cous. Your sketches alone shine brighter than the masterpieces at the British Museum, every jeweler in London is jealous of your skill. You’re the artistic genius. But, this time, I need your help,” Arnold said.
Fave had always been suspicious; he knew there was always another layer to a story. Oh, how he wished he could read his beloved myths rather than talk about an impossibly precious gem with his overly enthusiastic cousin. His mind drifted to the collectible book and then to Rachel. Her delicate frame in the candlelight and the way her heat had radiated toward him when he kissed her hand.
“It’s not just Pavel, every other self-respecting jeweler in town is after emeralds, and the bigger, the better!” Arnold drove his hands through his hair, just as Fave did when he was frustrated. They really were like brothers. “Get your head in the game, will you?” He worked harder than anyone Fave knew, besides his father, of course. But Arnold also played harder—much harder—than anyone he knew.
“All right, all right.” Fave knew what he had to do. A few contacts in the city could get him emeralds from Brazil. If he remembered correctly, Pavel knew how to reach Goiás and Minas Gerais traders. There was little to do but burn his energy with fencing until he returned to London.
CHAPTER14
The day had been long and Rachel was exhausted. After dinner, she and her mother had been invited to have sherry in the drawing-room with the other ladies. It was a cold night and Rachel regretted her choice of dress, one with short puffy sleeves. Rachel chose a seat by the fireplace and felt the warmth on her bare arms. It had rained again, this being England, of course. The raindrops skirted hurriedly down the windows. Outside, the shadows from the lit rooms reflected on the rustling leaves. Rachel turned to warm her other arm by the fire. It was too bright to look at directly, so she shut her eyes. Behind her, the room filled with voices. With an exhale, she let the heat of the fire spread over her body and tuned into a conversation behind her.
