Jewels (39 page)

“Just exactly what are we doing?”

Emanuelle grinned broadly. “Maybe I’m going to get rich and you’re going to get a lot of very nice jewelry.” Sarah couldn’t help smiling at her. It was all a little mad, but fun and touching at the same time. And the next day they bought the extraordinary pearls from the woman in Chambord so she could rebuild her house. The pearls were fabulous, and William insisted that she wear them.

By the end of the summer, Sarah had ten emerald bracelets, three necklaces to match, four ruby suites, a cascade of beautiful sapphires, and several diamond rings, not to mention a very lovely turquoise tiara. They had all come to them from people who had lost fortunes or houses or children, and needed money to find lost relatives, or rebuild their lives, or simply put food on their table. It was philanthropy neither could have described to their friends without feeling foolish, and yet it helped the people they bought from, and Emanuelle was indeed growing rich from her commissions. She had begun to look very sleek. She was getting her hair done in town, and buying her clothes in Paris, which was more than Sarah had done since before the war. And next to Emanuelle, she was beginning to feel positively dowdy.

“William, what are we going to do with all this stuff?” she asked one day, as she upset the balance of half a dozen Van Cleef and Cartier boxes in her closet, and all of them fell on her head, and he only laughed at her.

“I have absolutely no idea. Maybe we ought to hold an auction.”

“I’m serious.”

“Why don’t we open a store?” William asked good-naturedly, but Sarah thought the idea absurd. But within a year, they seemed to have more inventory than Garrard’s.

“Maybe we really ought to sell it,” Sarah suggested this time, but now William wasn’t as sure. He was involved in planting extensive vineyards around the château, and didn’t have time to worry about the jewelry. Yet it kept coming to them They were too well known now for their generosity and kindness. In the fall of 1947, William and Sarah decided to go to Paris to be alone and leave Phillip with Emanuelle for a few days. They’d been home from England for a year and a half and hadn’t left the château, they’d been so busy.

Paris was even more wonderful than Sarah had expected. They stayed at the Ritz and spent almost as much time in bed as they had on their honeymoon. But they found lots of time for shopping, too, and they went to dinner at the Windsors’ on the Boulevard Sachet, in yet another lovely house decorated by Boudin. Sarah wore a very chic new black dress she got at Dior, her spectacular pearls, and a fabulous diamond bracelet they’d bought months before from a woman who’d lost everything at the hands of the Germans.

And everyone at dinner wanted to know where she got the bracelet. But Wallis was wise enough to spot the pearls, and told Sarah kindly she’d never, ever seen any like them. She was intrigued by the bracelet, too, and when she asked where it was from, the Whitfields said “Cartier,” without further explanation. It even made Wallis’s jewels look a little pallid by comparison.

And much to her surprise, for most of their trip to Paris, Sarah found herself fascinated by the jewelers. They had some lovely things, but so did they at the château; in fact, they had a lot more, and some of what she had was even better. In fact, most of it was.

“You know, maybe we really ought to do something with it sometime,” she said vaguely as they drove home, in the special Bentley that had been built for him after they left England.

But it was another six months before they thought of it. She was busy with Phillip, and wanted to enjoy him before he left for Eton the following year. Sarah really wanted to keep him in France with her, but in spite of having been born there, and having lived at the château all his life, he had a passion for all things English, and he was absolutely begging to go to Eton.

William was too busy with his wine and his vineyards to think much about the jewelry. It was the summer of 1948 before Sarah absolutely insisted they do something with the mountain of jewelry they’d collected. It was no longer even a good investment. It just sat there, except for the few pieces she wore, and they were lovely, but not many.

“After Phillip leaves, we’ll go up to Paris and sell it all off I promise,” William said, distractedly.

“They’ll think we robbed a bank in Monte Carlo.”

“It does look a bit like that.” He grinned. “Doesn’t it?” But when they went back to Paris in the fall, they suddenly realized that there was clearly too much to take with them. They took a few pieces, but they left the rest at the château. Sarah was feeling bored, and a little lonely, with Phillip recently gone. And once they’d been in Paris for two days, William looked at her and announced that he’d found a solution.

“To what?” She was looking at some new suits at Chanel with him when he told her.

“The jewelry dilemma. We’ll start a shop of our own, and sell it.”

“Are you crazy?” She stared at him, still looking very handsome in his wheelchair. “What would we do with a shop? The château is two hours from Paris.”

“We’ll let Emanuelle run it. She has nothing to do now with Phillip gone away, and she’s gotten a little fancy to do housework.” She’d been buying her clothes at Jean Patou and Madame Grès, and she was looking very elegant.

“Are you serious?” She had never even thought of it, and she wasn’t sure if she liked the idea. But in some ways it might be fun, and they both liked jewelry. And then she began to worry. “You don’t think your mother will think it’s vulgar?”

“To own a shop? It is vulgar.” He laughed. “But such fun. Why not? And she’s such a good sport, I daresay she’ll love it.” At over ninety, she seemed to get more and more open-minded with the years, rather than less so. And she was enchanted with the prospect of having Phillip stay with her for holidays and weekends. “Who knows, one day we can call ourselves Jewelers to the Crown. We’ll have to sell something to the Queen to do that. And I daresay Wallis will go mad, and want a discount.” It was a totally insane idea, but they talked about it all the way back to the château, and Sarah had to admit that she loved it.

“What’ll we call it?” she asked excitedly, as they lay in bed and talked about it the night they went back to the château.

“‘Whitfield’s,’ of course.” He looked at her proudly. “What else would you call it, my dear?”

“Sorry.” She rolled over in bed and kissed him. “I should have thought of that.”

“You certainly should have.” It was almost like having a new baby. It was a wonderful new project.

They wrote down all their ideas, inventoried the jewelry they had, and got it appraised by Van Cleef, who were staggered by what they’d collected. They spoke to attorneys, and went back to Paris before Christmas and rented a small but extremely elegant shop on the Faubourg-St. Honoré, and set architects and workmen to work, and even found Emanuelle an apartment. She was beside herself with excitement.

“Are we totally mad?” Sarah asked him, as they lay in bed at the Ritz on New Year’s Eve. Now and then she still got a little worried.

“No, my darling, we’re not. We’ve done an awful lot of people an awful lot of good with the things we bought from them, and now we’re having a little fun with it. There’s no harm in that. And who knows, it might turn out to be a very successful business.”

They had explained it all to Phillip, and William’s mother, when they’d flown over to England to spend Christmas at Whitfield with them. William’s mother thought it was a fine idea and promised to buy their first piece of jewelry, if they’d let her. And Phillip announced that one day he’d open a branch in London.

“Wouldn’t you want to run the one in Paris?” Sarah asked, surprised at his reaction. For a child who had grown up abroad, and was only half English anyway, he was amazingly British.

“I don’t want to live in France ever again,” he announced, “except for vacations. I want to live at Whitfield.”

“My, my,” William said, more amused than distressed. “I’m glad someone does.” He could never imagine living there again. And like his cousin, the Duke of Windsor, he was happier in France, and so was Sarah.

“You’ll have to tell me all about the opening.” The dowager duchess had made them promise when they left. “When is it?”

“In June,” Sarah said tremulously, looking at William with excitement. It was like having a new baby, and since that had never happened to them again, Sarah threw herself into it with all her energy for the next six months, and the night before the opening, everything looked smashing.

Chapter 18

HE
opening of the shop was a huge success. The interior had been exquisitely done by Elsie de Wolfe, an American who conveniently was living in Paris. The entire shop was done in pale-gray velvet. It looked like the interior of a jeweler’s box, and all the chairs were Louis XVI. William had brought a few small Degases and some Renoir sketches from Whitfield. There was a lovely Mary Cassatt that Sarah loved, but it wasn’t the art one looked at as one sat there. The jewelry was absolutely staggering. They had weeded out some of the less exciting pieces, but they themselves were amazed by how remarkable most of it really was. Each piece stood out on its own merits, fabulous diamond collars, and enormous pearls, remarkable diamond drop earrings, and a ruby choker that had belonged to the czarina. The jeweler’s marks were clearly discernible on everything they sold, even those of Van Cleef on the turquoise tiara. They had pieces of Boucheron, Mauboussin, Chaumet, Van Cleef, Cartier, and Tiffany in New York, Fabergé, and Asprey. Their inventory was truly staggering, and so was their reception by the Parisians. There had been a little discreet press that the Duchess of Whitfield was opening a shop called “Whitfield’s” on the Faubourg-St. Honoré, offering remarkable jewels to extraordinary women.

The Duchess of Windsor came to the opening, as did most of her friends, and suddenly
le tout Paris
was there, all of Paris society, and even a few curious acquaintances from London.

They sold four pieces the night of the party they gave, a lovely pearl-and-diamond bracelet by Fabergé with little blue-enamel birds, and a pearl necklace that was one of the first things Emanuelle had brought them. They sold Mrs. Wertheim’s emerald set, too, and it brought a handsome price, as did a huge cabochon ruby ring made by Van Cleef for a maharaja.

Sarah stood looking in wonder at all of it, unable to believe what had happened, as William looked on, with obvious pleasure. He was so proud of her, and so amused by what they’d done. They had bought all of it with kind hearts and the hope that they’d helped someone. And suddenly it had turned into this most extraordinary business.

“You’ve done a beautiful job, my love,” he praised her warmly as waiters poured more champagne. There had been cases of Cristal for the opening, and endless tins of caviar.

“I just can’t believe it! Can you?” She looked like a girl again, she was having such fun, and Emanuelle looked like a grande dame as she made her way among the elite, looking very beautiful in a black Schiaparelli.

“Of course I can believe it. You have exquisite taste, and these are beautiful things,” he said calmly, taking a sip of his champagne.

“We’re a hit, aren’t we?” She giggled.

“No, my darling,
you
are. You’re the dearest thing in life to me,” he whispered. His years as a prisoner had taught him more than ever what he held dear, his wife, and his children, and his freedom. His health hadn’t been as strong as it had once been, since he’d been home again. But Sarah took good care of him and he was getting stronger. At times he seemed as vital as he once had been, at others he looked tired and worn and she knew that his legs pained him. The wounds had finally healed, but the damage to his system never would. But at least he was alive and well and they were together. And now they had this remarkable business. It really was fun for her, and she thoroughly enjoyed it.

“Do you believe this?” she whispered to Emanuelle a few minutes later. Emanuelle had been looking very cool showing a handsome man a very expensive sapphire necklace.

“I think”—Emanuelle smiled mysteriously at her
patronne
—“we are going to have a great deal of pleasure here.” Sarah could see that she was, and she was doing a great deal of very subtle flirting with some very important men, and it seemed to mean nothing at all to her if they were married.

In the end, David bought Wallis a very pretty little diamond ring with a Carrier leopard on it, to match those she was already wearing, and that made their fifth sale of the evening. And at last, everyone went home, and they locked their doors at midnight.

“Oh, darling, it was wonderful!” Sarah clapped her hands again, and William pulled her down on his lap in the wheelchair, as the guards locked up, and Emanuelle told the waiters where to leave the remaining caviar. She was going to take it home and share it with some friends the next day. Sarah had said she could. She was having a little cocktail party the next day in her apartment on the rue de la Faisanderie, to celebrate her new position as manager of Whitfield’s. It was a long way from La Marolle for her, from her days in the Resistance, and sleeping with German soldiers to get information about what munitions depot to blow up, and selling eggs and cream and cigarettes on the black market. It had been a long road for all of them, a long war, but it was a good time now, in Paris.