Diamonds are for Marriage. Margaret Way
deeply. That was right. In and out. She had the sudden delirious notion that her dress had turned transparent. Her glance shot away to Rupert, who was smiling his approval. Rupert was standing with his son in front of the fireplace, with its white marble surround and magnificent eighteenth century English mirror. Both men were of a height, both possessed of a charisma that commanded attention.
The fireplace when not in use in spring and summer was generally occupied by a large Chinese fish bowl filled with masses and masses of flowers and greenery. Tonight the big blue and white bowl held a profusion of pink Oriental lilies, with twisting dried branches, spear grasses and a fan of palms. Leona noticed abstractedly that the lilies matched the colours of her dress—pink with speckled golden-apricot throats.
Geraldine, seated on one of the damask upholstered sofas in conversation with one of the Blanchard wives, waved her over. She presented a vision of striking eccentricity in her favourite imperial purple with diamond and amethyst earrings as big as chandeliers swinging from her ears. Tonya was half turned away, as though Leona’s entrance had been staged and in any case was of no interest to her. Champagne glass in hand, she looked very glamorous in a short evening gown of a deep glowing shade of fuchsia. All the women had made a real effort to sparkle and glow. Simon’s serene Emma wore blue to match her eyes. It was a comparatively modest gown given the evening wear around her, but she wore it with unselfconscious ease, certain of her place in the scheme of things.
And here was Jinty, the hostess with the mostest. That certainly applied tonight. No one, but no one could hope to outshine Jinty, Leona thought as Jinty flowed towards her. She had gone all out tonight. Money simply wasn’t an issue. She wore a couture black satin strapless gown, above which her creamy bosom swelled proudly. Her thick blonde hair was coiffed to perfection, swept up and back. She would have a hairdresser in residence. But everything was simply a backdrop to showcase the “Blanchard Diamonds”.
They were so glorious that the owner of the most magnificent collection of jewels in the world, the Queen of England might have envied them. The suite comprised three pieces—necklace, pendant earrings and bracelet. All white diamonds, they were colourless and flawless. A double row of pear-shaped diamonds encircled Jinty’s neck. Appended to the bottom row was a large square-shaped diamond enhancer enclosing a huge canary diamond that Leona knew weighed in at over thirty carats. The earrings alone featured two nine carat drops that flashed and scintillated with Jinty’s every movement. Everyone in the family knew the suite had been acquired at the turn of the twentieth century from a famous South African billionaire who had plenty more where they’d come from. The diamonds had been mined at De Beers, Cecil Rhodes’ first diamond mine. So the suite had a history.
The last time Leona had seen the whole suite Aunt Alexa had been wearing it at a grand state ball. Jinty often wore the superb earrings. Sometimes the bracelet. But so far the necklace hadn’t had an outing. Tradition had it that the suite was to be handed down through the generations for the use of the current wife of the head of the Blanchard family. Which made Jinty merely a custodian, which was a blessing. If Rupert and Jinty ever split up, her share would be in multiples of millions, but she would never get away with the “Blanchard Diamonds”.
“Jinty, you look simply marvelous!” Leona said, because she did.
“Why, thank you, dear!” Jinty responded brightly. “The diamonds make me feel like a goddess.”
“They look wonderful on you. They really do.” And she meant it.
“And you look perfectly beautiful as usual,” Jinty responded graciously. “Where did you get that dress? The colour is extraordinary. Especially with your hair.”
“Bea picked it out,” Leona said.
Jinty gave a faint shudder. “Can’t stand the woman, though I know she’s a genius of sorts. Ugly though, don’t you think? Rupert won’t hear a word against her. Now, I must get you a glass of champagne.” She turned away in time to see Boyd approaching. “Ah, here’s Boyd with one,” she said brightly.
Boyd stopped in front of them, handing a glass of champagne to Leona. “No need to tell you you look ravishing, Leona,” he said, an unmistakably caressing intonation in his voice.
“That she does,” Jinty seconded rather abruptly. “Where’s that stepbrother of yours, Leo? We can’t go into dinner without him.”
“There’s plenty of time,” Boyd murmured, looking towards the entrance hall. The circular library table that stood in the middle of the spacious hall, which was paved in a diamond pattern of marble and stone, was the perfect spot for another stunning flower arrangement, this time a profusion of roses, gerberas, lisianthus and leaves. “Here he is now,” Boyd said as Robbie suddenly hove into view.
“Slowcoach!” Jinty spoke crisply, a little afraid of Robbie’s satirical tongue. She didn’t linger, but moved off as though her husband had beckoned. He hadn’t.
Leona stood with the fragile crystal wineglass in her hand.
“Come and sit down,” Boyd said.
“Geraldine was looking out for me.”
“Geraldine can have her moment later. You’re mine now.” His hand slipped beneath her elbow. Maybe she was becoming paranoid, but she had a sense that the whole room had snapped to attention. Tonya of the high slanting cheekbones was looking daggers at her. Tonya was having a lot of difficulty accepting Boyd was as good as spoken for. Ignoring the competition, especially in the form of Chloe Compton, was a heroic effort or a piece of madness on Tonya’s part so far as Leona was concerned, but Tonya had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the hunt.
Maybe all we women are delusional, Leona thought. Seeing signs and intentions where there were none.
Robbie, looking gratifyingly handsome and very Italian in his formal gear, which any discerning eye could see was Italian and a perfect fit, met up with them in the centre of the drawing room with its apple-green and gold upholstery and curtains and a splendid duck-egg blue, white and gold plated ceiling.
“Sorry I’m late,” he apologised. “Usually I don’t have a problem, but I had trouble with my tie. You look wonderful, Leo.” His dark eyes moved over her with pride and admiration. “Doesn’t she, Boyd?” he queried, not so artlessly.
Boyd just smiled. “I don’t know if wonderful quite says it, Robbie. Magical comes to mind.”
Robbie suddenly caught sight of Jinty. “Good grief!” he breathed. “What’s she got on, the Crown Jewels?”
“Those, my man, are the Blanchard Diamonds,” Boyd corrected him. “Not the same thing.”
“You’ve seen the earrings before,” Leona reminded him. “Jinty often wears them.”
“But the necklace!” Robbie was looking dazzled. “I’ve an overwhelming desire to go over and take a closer look, but I don’t know what would happen. Our Jinty has a mean streak. She might punch me in the nose. I have to say those diamonds look great on her, but think what they would look like on you, Leo!” He turned to her.
“No, no, no!” Leona shook her head vigorously, making the deep waves and curls dance. The Blanchard Diamonds were destined for Boyd’s wife. She wasn’t wearing a necklace anyway. She had nothing that could remotely match the jewellery around her in any case. But she was wearing her mother’s lovely earrings, a daisy wheel of pink sapphires and tiny diamonds with a silver baroque pearl appended from each.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream!” Boyd suggested. “You don’t need diamonds, Leo. A crown of flowers on your head would be perfect.”
Robbie stared up at the taller man. “That’s it exactly. God, you’re a romantic guy, Boyd. No wonder the women love you. You say really romantic things.”
“To Leona, I think you mean?” Boyd’s voice was vaguely self-mocking.
Robbie was still staring back at Boyd thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, yes. To Leona.” He made a sudden move. “Listen,