Adelia had arranged the match between Felicia and Percy though she would not have forced them to marry if Felicia had been against it. But Adelia knew her daughter very well, and Felicia fell for the dashing adventurer on first sight, just as Adelia had predicted she would. They were made well for one another, with her breathless enthusiasm and his energy and zeal. Adelia had hoped that his energy would carry her daughter through her rocky patches when the world seemed to overwhelm her.
Yet he was not here. And there was just a hint of something threatening to overwhelm Felicia. Underneath her bright smile and her shining eyes, she was carrying a darkness. From time to time, her hand shook. Sometimes she drew in a deep breath and then almost immediately another one as if she were struggling to fully breathe. Mid way through sentences she tailed off, looked at the far corner of the room, and blinked rapidly. The others talked over her and no one remarked upon it. Adelia cast her mind back. Had she always been this way? Perhaps.
Theodore had stopped regaling them all with his tales and was asking The Countess about her earrings. This was surprising, as Theodore was not known for his interest in jewellery and fashion. Then Adelia realised what his main point was.
“Ah, lapis lazuli! I had wondered about the hue. A rare jewel indeed,” he said.
The Countess preened and smiled, turning her head this way and that to let everyone admire the blue pendants. They didn’t catch the light as blaringly as sapphires did, but there was a remarkable depth of colour to them that other gems simply could not match. Theodore was leaning across the lobster, peering at them as closely as he could. If he had not been at a formal dinner, he would have been reaching out to touch them. “Afghan, I assume. I can see no flecks, no calcite at all...”
The Countess touched her fingers to her ears. “Afghan, of course! We do have standards, dear boy.”
Adelia smiled at the man in his fifties being called a boy.
The Countess went on, her voice piercing and her tone condescending. “Inferior jewels might pass to the untutored eye as the real thing but those who know, know. And of course our family was built on this ... ah, forgive me for using this vile word trade but ... well, anyway,” she said, ending with a laugh, “That was before the curse fell upon us. And here we are!”
“Mother...” Lady Agnes hissed.
Felicia clattered her fork against her plate and Adelia was not sure if it were deliberate or not. She was either rattled, or trying to distract everyone. But who would be distracted from ignoring the word “curse”? Unless the real word of concern was “trade”.
Theodore seized upon The Countess’s words instantly. Smiling, he asked, “What curse is that?” He looked around the dining room, stocked from floor to ceiling with artefacts from around the world. A Persian rug covered most of the floor, yards wide. Display cases were brimming with porcelain, ivory, carved wood, scrimshaw and knick-knacks made from precious metals. A shaggy brown bear dominated the alcove between two leaded windows, thankfully thrown into shade by the bright lights to either side. Felicia’s hobby of decoupage covering anything wooden with cut outs of pictures of fairies and flowers, had not been allowed in this particular room. “This place hardly looks cursed to me.”
“It’s not the place that is cursed, it’s the family,” The Countess replied. But like Theodore, she was also laughing, her eyes narrowed in genuine delight. “We do not ... ahem, trade in lapis lazuli any longer, anyway. We have learned our lesson.”
“Of course, of course. And since Guimet and Gmelin – how many years ago? – since they discovered the new process and they had their little spat and ultramarine was made synthetically, then ... what? What’s wrong?” Theodore had not realised that no one was listening to him beyond his first few words, and it took Adelia kicking him under the table to make him stop. “Sorry, my love. I understand. Not everyone wants to hear about chemical processes.”
“Not everyone wants to hear about trade,” The Countess said.
“Quite, quite. Where were we?”
“More wine,” Felicia said, a shake in her voice as she waved her fingers at Knight, the house steward. He should have been ready to pour before being summoned, but he too had been openly distracted by the talk of the curse. He hurried over and began to twist the bottle to prevent any drips from marring the tablecloth as he poured, but Felicia coughed suddenly and jerked her shoulder, and jolted him. He had been leaning just a little too close to her, Adelia thought, blaming the steward entirely for the spray of red wine that now splattered over the plate, the white tablecloth and Felicia’s satin dress.
But it was Felicia who cried out and began to apologise as the steward tutted – he actually tutted, as if he weren’t a common servant! – and then he moved away. With a distinct lack of hurry he went to the sideboard to place the bottle out of the way before lazily returning with cloths to mop up the mess.
“It doesn’t matter,” Adelia said to break the silence that had fallen.
The Countess shook her
