Jewels (43 page)

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Authors: Danielle Steel

BOOK: Jewels
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It was to open on December first, and they had to work like demons to do it. Emanuelle came over from Paris to help, leaving the best of her girls in Paris in charge of the store there. But the shop on Faubourg-St. Honoré took care of itself now. It was the shop in London that was the new baby.

The week before they opened they worked till midnight every night with a crew of tireless workmen, laying marble, adjusting lights, installing mirrors, tacking velvet. It was an incredible scene, and Sarah had never been so tired in her life, but she had never had so much fun either.

She had brought Julian to London with her, and they were staying at Claridge’s again, with a nanny They were too tired at night to make the long drive to Whitfield.

Everyone wanted to give parties for them, but they never had time. They never stopped for an instant, until their doors were finally open. They had invited four hundred relatives and friends, and another hundred of Nigel’s very best customers from Garrard’s. It was a gathering of the titled and the elite, and it made their opening in Paris two and a half years before dim by comparison. It was glittering beyond words, and the jewels Sarah had bought to open with absolutely staggered the people who saw them. She was, in fact, frightened that she had gone overboard, that the pieces she had bought were too important and too expensive Whereas she had some chic pieces in Paris that you could own without hiring an armed guard, in London. She had pulled out all the stops, and stopped at nothing. She had spent every penny left to her from the estate on Long Island, but as she looked around her as the first guests arrived, she knew it was worth it.

And the next day, when Nigel came to her looking stunned and pale, she thought something terrible had happened. “What’s wrong?”

“The Queen’s secretary has just been here.” She wondered if they had committed some ghastly faux pas, and she looked at William with a worried frown, as Nigel went on to explain his visit. “Her Royal Highness wishes to purchase something her lady-in-waiting saw here last night. We sent it over to the palace this morning, and she likes it very much.” Sarah listened in amazement. They had made it. “She’d like to buy the large pin with the diamond feathers.” It looked very much like the insignia of the Prince of Wales, and she had bought it from a dealer in Paris for an absolute fortune. The price tag she’d put on it herself had embarrassed her when she wrote it.

“Good Lord!” Sarah said, impressed by the sale, but what had impressed Nigel was something far more important.

“This means, Your Grace, that on our very first day in business, we have become Jewelers to the Crown,” which meant they had sold something to the Queen. Crown Jewelers were Garrard’s, who were the Queen’s official jewelers, and annually restored the Crown Jewels kept in the Tower of London. But this was a very important feather in their cap in London. “If the Queen wishes it, after three years, she can bestow a royal warrant on us.” He was overwhelmed, and even William raised an eyebrow. They had pulled off a major coup without even trying.

The Queen’s purchase got them off to a royal start, and the rest of the items they sold that month could have kept them in business for a year. Sarah was satisfied that she could go back to Paris and leave everything in Nigel’s capable hands. She could hardly believe it when they flew back to Paris after the New Year. Emanuelle had returned to Paris long since, after the London opening, and her Christmas figures were astounding.

Sarah also noticed that there was a friendly rivalry between the two stores, each one trying to outdo the other. But there was no harm in that. Nigel and Emanuelle genuinely liked each other. Besides which, Sarah wanted the two stores to be similar but different. In London, they sold fabulous antique jewels, many of them of royal provenance from the royals of Europe, and also a smattering of modern designs. They sold antique jewelry in Paris, too, but they also sold a great many new pieces that were both chic and striking.

“What new frontier now?” William teased her as they drove back to the château. “Buenos Aires? New York? Cap d’Antibes?” The possibilities were limitless, but Sarah was satisfied with what they had. It was manageable, and fun. It kept her busy, but she could still enjoy her children. Julian was eighteen months old by then, and keeping everyone around him very busy, as he climbed onto tables, and teetered on chairs, fell down stairs, and disappeared out the door into the garden. Sarah kept an eye on him constantly, and he was a handful for the local girl who came to help her. They always took her to Paris with them, and in London they hired temporary nannies. But most of the time Sarah liked taking care of him herself, and he loved to sit on William’s lap and speed around in the wheelchair.

“Vite! Vite!”
he squealed, urging his father to go faster. It was one of his few words, but for him it was a good one, and he liked to use it often. It was a happy time for them. All of their dreams had come true. Their lives were busy and full and happy.

Chapter 20

OR
the next four years, Julian and both shops kept William and Sarah extremely busy. Business in both places grew, Sarah gave in and agreed to enlarge the Paris store eventually, but they kept the London store the way it was in spite of their excellent business. It was elegant, discreet, and extremely important, and it suited the British. And both Emanuelle and Nigel had continued to do a splendid job of it. Sarah was well pleased as she blew out the candles on her cake on her thirty-ninth birthday. Phillip was at the château with them then, he was just turning sixteen, almost as tall as his father, and itching to get back to Whitfield. He was going to visit friends, and he had stayed on for Sarah’s birthday only because his father said he had to. She wanted him to stay and celebrate his own birthday with them, but he wasn’t interested in that. And he had managed to forget Julian’s fifth birthday in July as well. Family did not appear to be of major importance to Phillip. In fact, he seemed careful to avoid it. It was almost as though he had to put a barrier up, and he never let anyone cross it. When he left again, Sarah was philosophical this time. Over the years, she had slowly learned something from William.

“I suppose we’re lucky he comes here at all,” she said to William the day he left “All he ever wants to do is play polo, be with his friends, and stay at Whitfield.” They had finally agreed to let him go there alone on weekends and occasional holidays, and he could take friends, as long as he invited one of his teachers to go with him. It was an arrangement that seemed to suit everyone, most especially Phillip. “Isn’t it funny, how he’s so British, and Julian is so French?” Everything about the little boy was incredibly Gallic. He preferred to speak French with them, he loved his life at the château, and he much preferred Paris to London.

“Les anglais me font peur,”
he always said. “English people scare me.” Which Sarah told him was silly, since his father was an Englishman, and he was English, too, although as the second son, he would never inherit the title. He would be merely Lord Whitfield when he grew up. Sometimes British traditions seemed incredibly quixotic. But she didn’t think Julian would ever care. He was so happy and good-natured, nothing ever bothered him, not even the indifference of his older brother. He had learned as a very little boy to steer clear of him, and keep to his own doings, and that seemed to suit them both to perfection. He adored his parents, his friends, his pets, the people who worked at the château, he loved visiting Emanuelle. Julian loved everyone and everything, and in return, absolutely everyone who knew him loved him

Sarah was thinking about it one afternoon in September, as she tended the flowers over Lizzie’s grave. She still went there regularly, kept it looking tidy, and she couldn’t help herself, she always cried when she went there It was incredible that after eleven years she still missed her. She would have been fifteen by then … so loving, and so sweet. … She had been a little bit like Julian, only softer, not as strong. … Sarah’s eyes were filled with tears as she cut back some of the flowers and patted the soft earth they grew on, and she didn’t hear the wheels of William’s wheelchair approaching. He hadn’t been quite as well recently. His back had been bothering him a great deal, and he never complained, but Sarah knew that the rheumatism in his legs had gotten worse during the past winter.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and turned, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and she reached out to him, as he gently brushed the tears from her cheeks and kissed them. “My poor darling… ” He looked at the well-tended grave, “… poor little Lizzie …” He was sorry, too, that Sarah had never had another daughter, to bring her comfort, although Julian was a great source of joy to both of them, and he accepted Phillip for what he was. But he had never known his only little girl, and without ever having seen her face, he missed her.

Sarah turned, and finished her work, and then came to sit next to him on the ground, accepting his perfectly pressed handkerchief from him.

“I’m sorry … I shouldn’t, after all this time….” But always, always, she felt the little warm body next to hers, the little hands around her neck, until she had grown so still and had stopped breathing….

“I’m sorry too.” He smiled gently at her. “Maybe we should have another baby.”

She knew he was only joking and she smiled at him. “Phillip would really love that.”

“It might do him good. He’s a very self-centered young man.” Phillip had annoyed him this time, being so impatient and unkind with his mother.

“I don’t know who he takes after, you’re certainly not like that, I hope I’m not … Julian adores everyone … and your mother was so sweet. My parents were pretty nice too, and my sister.”

“There must have been a Visigoth king somewhere in my past, or a savage Norman. I don’t know. But Phillip is certainly Phillip.” All he cared about now was Whitfield, Cambridge, and the shop in London. That fascinated him, and whenever he was there, he always asked Nigel ten thousand questions, which amused the older man. He answered all of them, taught him what he knew about the stones, and showed him all the important points about the size, quality, clarity, and the settings. But Phillip had a lot of other things to do before he could think about going to work at Whitfield’s.

“Maybe we ought to go away somewhere this year.” Sarah was looking at William, and she thought he looked tired. At fifty-two, he had weathered a lot in his lifetime, and there were times when he looked it. He chased after her tirelessly, from Paris to London and back again. But the following year, when Julian started school in La Marolle, they would have to spend more time at the château. This was the last year they could really travel. “I’d really like to go to Burma and Thailand and look at some stones,” she said thoughtfully.

“You would?” William was surprised. She had gotten incredibly knowledgeable about stones in the six years since they’d started the business, and she was very choosy about what she bought and from whom. But because of that, Whitfield’s had an impeccable reputation. Business had grown in both London and Paris. In London, the Queen had bought from them again several times, as had the Duke of Edinburgh, and soon they were hoping to be able to hang a sign with the royal warrant.

“I’d love to go away. We could even take Julian with us.”

“How romantic.” William teased. But he knew full well that she always liked to have him near her. “Why don’t I organize something for the three of us then? And we should probably take a girl with us to help with Julian. We could probably get out to the Orient and back before Christmas.” It would be a long, long trip, and she knew it would be tiring for him, but it would do them both good too.

They left in November, and arrived back in England on Christmas Eve, when they met Phillip at Whitfield. They had been gone for more than six weeks, and they had endless tales to tell him about tiger hunts in India, and visits to the beach in Thailand, and Hong Kong, and temples, and rubies … and emeralds… and fabulous jewels. Sarah had brought an absolute fortune of beautiful stones back with her. And Phillip was fascinated by them, and all the tales they had to tell him. For once he was even agreeable to his little brother.

The following week, when Sarah showed all her treasures to Nigel, he was in awe of them. And assured her that she had bought well. And Emanuelle was thrilled with some of the Indian maharaja’s jewels she took back to Paris, and so were the ladies who bought them.

It had been a fabulous trip, and a productive autumn for them, but they were all happy to return to the château. The girl they’d taken with them had wonderful stories to tell her family, and Julian was thrilled to be back home, with his friends, as was Sarah. She had said very little about it, but while William’s health had improved on the trip, she had picked up a bug in India and just couldn’t shake it. It ravaged her stomach continually, and she did her best not to complain, but by the time they got back to the château she was worried. She didn’t want William to be concerned, and she tried to make light of it, but even once they were home she could barely eat. And finally, the next time they were in Paris in late January, she went to the doctor. He ran a few tests, and saw nothing serious and then he asked her to come back again. But by then, she was feeling a little better.

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