Adelia spotted where it was going. “You’ve volunteered me to help out, haven’t you?”
“Yes! You love helping to organise things.”
“I would rather be relaxing and spending time here with my family. And speaking of that, we simply must talk about Felicia. You thought that there was nothing wrong with her last night, but I saw an awfully disturbing sight this morning. Listen...”
He listened and he believed her. She was grateful for that, as she was every time she unburdened herself and he accepted it without question. He said, as she finished, “Why are you smiling? It sounds quite awful.”
“Sorry. Because you listened to me.”
“I have no choice,” he replied archly. Then he sighed heavily. “Poor sweet Felicia. I wonder if Percy listens to her?”
“How can he? He’s hundreds of miles away, a thousand, maybe more. When he comes back I shall wring his neck.”
“Then he won’t be able to listen to her at all.”
“I shan’t kill him. Lightly maim, perhaps, just enough to teach him a lesson.”
“Oh, Adelia, you cannot blame him for travelling. It is what he does; you’ve always known that.”
“Yes, but he ought to be here at the moment. I don’t know what event Mrs Rush was alluding to but I can certainly guess – can’t you? Ah, no, I see that you can’t. Well, I do hope that I am wrong.”
“Now it is you, my love, who is holding half the conversation privately in your head. Tell me what is on your mind.”
Adelia shook her head. “Not until I know for sure. Oh, Felicia is too sensitive for this world, poor lamb.”
“She will learn to navigate its rougher waters, I am sure.”
“Yes but she needs the guidance of a husband for that. Oh, that damn fool Percy!”
“He’s not too much of a fool,” Theodore said. “In fact, his collections are remarkable.”
“Dead moles?” She allowed her attention to be turned from the problem of Felicia and her secret sadness. Perhaps, Adelia thought, a simple holiday was all that was needed. A break away from the foul air of the castle in the swamp would surely work magical healing for Felicia. Perhaps Percy could even be persuaded to take her with him on his next trip. She filed that idea away for definite perusal later.
“Not just moles,” Theodore was saying. “Look here at this – here’s another great jewel of lapis but this one is shot through with calcite and pyrite. See?”
“It’s beautiful!”
“It’s flawed. For some, that’s the beauty but it fetches a far lower price. The Countess would be horrified if she knew this was here.”
“She surely knows everything that happens in this household. Anyway, she would be wrong. To be it looks like stars glittering in a midnight sky!” Adelia took the polished gem in her hands and held it up. Deep within, gold and silver veins sparkled. The stone itself was more of a greenish-blue than the violet hue that made The Countess’s earrings so vibrant. Yet to Adelia’s eyes, this gem was even more beautiful. “Why is it less valuable?”
“Those sparkles are considered imperfections,” he told her.
“What do you think about the curse that got mentioned? Are these stones cursed?”
He laughed. “I doubt it. I would imagine it’s to do with the collapse of the market for lapis lazuli back in the twenties.”
“Oh, yes, that was mentioned. What happened? Why would a trade in such wonderful jewels simply collapse? The jewels are as beautiful as they ever were. Was a large mine found, and the market flooded?”
“Not exactly but you are close. Now, you like a fine painting as much as anyone; what colour are the Virgin’s robes?”
“Blue, always. Don’t they say that rosemary has blue flowers because the bush sheltered the Virgin Mary on her flight to safety?”
“They may say it but I can’t imagine it’s remotely true. Now, throughout the ages, artists have used the most costly pure blue pigment for her robes. Ounce by ounce, ground lapis lazuli was once more expensive than gold.”
“Goodness me!”
“Indeed. Though it is a pale sort of thing when first applied, the artist builds up wash upon wash, and the result is a depth of blue unparalleled by any other means. Until two chemists, working independently, rivals if you will, discovered a way to make a synthetic version. Ultramarine, it is called. And the market quite collapsed, at least for the ground pigments.”
“Oh, I see! But they must still be worth something, as jewellery and gemstones.”
“Of course, but not nearly what they once were.” Theodore took the large stone from her hands and looked at it with a smile. “Even so, it is strange, is it not, how we assign value to things, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.” It was a philosophical query too far for a Saturday and she didn’t pursue it. “I wonder if The Countess will be attending the ball? Her earrings, if she wore those, would look like the sea and sky around the ship.”
“So you do agree to help Mrs Carstairs?”
“I did not say that!”
Theodore’s face fell. “Have I got things wrong? I have not promised you to her, not exactly, I think – you might easily wriggle out of it, I am sure.”
“Perhaps I can make it work.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think about Lady Agnes?” she asked him, knowing already that his answer would be non-committal.
“I don’t know. She is dutiful and talks intelligently when given the chance, and she does not gossip.”
“All good things. Yet she is condemned to a life of spinsterhood and I think it is such a waste...”
“Oh, oh no, no, Adelia, you cannot match-make for her!”
“Why not?”
“She is ...”
“She is not too old.”
“I wasn’t going to say that, but now you mention it...”
“Plenty of people find suitable companionship in later life. And she deserves some happiness.”
“How do you know she isn’t already happy? She
