THE ADVENTURES OF A LADY PEARL-BROKER
I gave myself a holiday for a few days after my involuntary exploration of the Society of Gentlemen Thieves, and then I turned my attention steadily to work again, and accomplished a great deal of business to my own and Mr Leighton’s satisfaction. It had taken me about three weeks to finish a commission entrusted to me by the head of a Bond Street firm for a necklace of pearls, three rows in graduated sizes, and I was much pleased when after matching those in the last row, over which I had had a somewhat unusual difficulty, I took them to Bond Street, and handed them to the senior partner.
‘These will do nicely,’ he said, ‘our customer is very particular, and will criticise every pearl separately. But these are perfect.’
I was rising to go, when an assistant came in with a small ring-case, and asked for some directions as to its being sent off. The senior partner opened the case, and showed me the ring, asking me if I did not think it very nice.
‘It is splendid,’ I said. ‘It makes me feel quite covetous.’
The five diamonds, as large as could possibly be worn in a ring, were beautifully set and of a most dazzling lustre.
‘A wedding present?’ I said interrogatively, as I handed it back.
‘A betrothal ring,’ he answered, ‘sent for in a hurry. It is the lady’s birthday tonight, and, as the engagement is to be announced at a dinner party, she wished to have her ring. It had to be made smaller for her.’
‘I wonder if it can be Miss Somers-Brand,’ I said, ‘it is her birthday today, and they are giving a large dinner to which I am going. If so, I hope it is to Sir Charles Merivale.’
The senior partner smiled.
‘Sir Charles is an old customer of ours, and his father and grandfather were before him,’ he said. ‘His bride will not need to envy anyone’s jewels. We are doing up the family rubies now.’
I felt sure, though my question had received an indirect reply, that my surmise was correct. Sir Charles’ devotion to Miss Somers-Brand from the first moment of their meeting at her coming-out ball had been apparent to everyone. But though she was very pretty and charming she was undowered, and people had wondered whether such a very desirable parti, both as to rank, and riches, as Sir Charles Merivale would select her from the many eligible young ladies amongst whom he might have chosen.
I saw that I was right in my guess as soon as I arrived at the Brands’ house that night. Amidst a group of men on the hearthrug, Mr Somers-Brand and Sir Charles Merivale stood conversing together with marked cordiality, the latter beaming with the assured and triumphant happiness of a newly-engaged man.
Nellie Brand, all pink chiffon and blushes, came forward to shake hands with me, and when I laughingly lifted her left hand and looked at the ring sparkling in all its pristine beauty on the third finger, she blushed still more, and nodded an affirmative to my unspoken question.
There were a great many people present – it was a party of twenty-four – and I was the last to arrive, so that I had not time to notice all the other guests, and almost immediately after my entrance we paired off and went downstairs.
I was taken in by the son of the house, and as he and I were friends of long standing, and had not met for some time, we were occupied at first in giving a mutual account of ourselves, and getting as it were ‘up to date’ with each other.
Now and then the voice of a man seated on the same side of the table as myself, and hidden from me by the intervening couples, broke in and arrested my attention. It was a familiar voice certainly, but besides that it gave me an odd feeling of anxiety.
Where had I heard it last? It was associated with some uncomfortable experience I felt sure; but when and how?
I glanced in the direction of it once or twice, but I could not catch the man’s face.
At last it worried me so that I said to Tom Brand:
‘Tell me who is sitting on our side of the table? There’s a voice I recognise, and I cannot fit the person to it.’
He mentioned the names of the four couples, and I stopped him at the last.
‘Of course,’ I said, in a sort of surprise, ‘Gerard Beverley! Why, dear me, he is a –’
I broke off suddenly, realising the betrayal of which I was on the verge.
Tom smiled at my apparently unnecessary excitement and confusion.
‘He is a son of old Admiral Beverley,’ he said, ‘and he is a confounded young fool; throws all his money away on betting, and gets into no end of scrapes; but I don’t know anything worse of him than that. Why do you look so horrified about him? You knew him when he was a lad down in Hampshire, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘I knew them all quite well; I loved Mrs Beverley; she was such a sweet, gracious old lady, and so devoted to her boys. What a grief Gerard must be to her.’
Tom laughed again.
‘Oh, he is only a scapegrace; he’ll get over it some of these days, I expect. You seem very down on him, Mrs Delamere, which is not like you – you are generally so charitable. Has he been so unlucky as to offend you?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘quite the contrary. But I happen to know something about him which I would greatly prefer not to know. I would not say even so much as that to you, but it just occurs to me that perhaps you
