Once she was alone, Stevie sat thinking for a short while, then finally coming to a decision, she picked up the phone and dialed Nigel’s private extension.
“Hello? Nigel Jardine here,” he said in his usual clipped, upper-class tone.
“Nigel, could you come to see me for a moment, please?”
“No, I can’t. I’m very busy, Mother. Whatever you want to see me about will have to wait.”
“It can’t, I’m afraid. In any case, I think the Sultan of Kandrea is an important enough client for you to stop what it is you’re doing and come in here. At once. We’ve rather a lot to talk about.”
“Oh, all right,” he mumbled, and banged the phone down.
Within the space of a few seconds he was barging into her office. From the doorway he asked, “What about the sultan?” His stance was angry and he glared at her, then he pushed the door closed with his foot.
It struck Stevie that his insouciant mood of a few days ago had completely vanished. She said slowly, “I just wanted you to know that I sold the sultan the yellow diamond necklace, with the matching earrings, bracelet, and ring.”
“The set Peter designed and Gideon made?” he asked, looking slightly taken aback.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“The sultan’s in London?” His brows drew together in a frown.
“Oh, yes, Nigel, he is. And he sent me a hand-written note, inviting me to have coffee with him. You see, he was somewhat baffled at my behavior. He couldn’t understand why I no longer wished to handle his business, after all these years of doing so, of being his personal consultant on stones.” Stevie leaned back in her chair, and she did not take her eyes off her son.
Despite his arrogance and bravado, Nigel found himself flushing under her fixed scrutiny, and this mortified him. He loathed the idea that he had to answer to anyone, and most especially to her. He remained silent, for once in his life at a loss.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” Stevie demanded softly, all of her attention focused on him.
“No, I don’t, Mother.”
“How amazing that you don’t. After all, you’re the one who created the situation with the sultan by telling Gareth James you were now handling my clients.”
“You weren’t in London when Gareth James phoned to set up an appointment,” he snapped at her. “I was only trying to help.”
“A very lame excuse!” she shot back icily, her anger rising to the surface. “It just so happens that I know what you’ve been doing, Nigel. You’ve been courting my personal clients in an effort to take them over yourself. But it won’t work. As long as I’m head of this company, I will handle all of our top customers.”
When he made no response, she said, “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“There’s another thing. I think you owe me an apology.”
“For what?” he asked in an insolent tone.
“For lying to me.”
“I’ve never lied to you!”
“Oh, yes, you have. You did so in New York. On December the tenth, to be exact, when you told me that Bruce had told you that I’d paid too much for the White Empress.”
“You did.”
“Maybe you mistakenly think so, but Bruce doesn’t. Nor did he ever say to you that I had always paid too much for diamonds. That was pure invention on your part, and your grandfather is as angry about this as I am.”
“Oh, who cares what he thinks? You said yourself he’s retired now.”
“I care what he thinks, and so should you. You haven’t taken over from me yet, and as long as I’m here, you’ll respect Bruce. He’s still chairman.”
“In name only,” he sneered.
Ignoring this, she said, “Why did you lie, Nigel? You must have known you’d be found out.”
“It wasn’t a lie. Bruce might not have said it exactly, but he implied it. He’s very forgetful now; he doesn’t remember a thing from one day to the next,” Nigel lied. “Anyway, it’s true, you did overpay. You always overpay. You’ve no judgment.” He walked farther into the room, drew closer to her desk, stood glowering at her.
How unpleasant he can be, and he’s such a lovely-looking young man, she thought, gazing up at him, filled with sadness and regret. She knew now that he was indeed her enemy; he had just declared open warfare.
Quietly, Stevie said, “I don’t like your tone of voice, Nigel, and you will not speak to me in this way. Furthermore, I don’t appreciate your arrogant attitude either. Quite aside from being your mother, and therefore due some respect from you, I’m also your boss. Let’s not forget that. You’d better adopt a different manner and tone immediately.”
“The whole point is, you shouldn’t be my boss!” he cried, suddenly losing all sense of caution. “I should be running this company, not you. By rights it’s mine. Firstly you’re a woman, and secondly you’re not even a Jardine. This company has always been run by Jardines.”
His last statement brought her to her feet. “I am a Jardine, and don’t you dare say otherwise! I’ve been a Jardine for over thirty years, since the day I married your father. Don’t you ever forget that, Nigel.”
“I meant you’re not a Jardine by blood,” he cried, “and you know that’s what I meant.” He flushed, fighting a losing battle with his growing rage. “I hear you’re leaving for the States on Monday. Stay there and do yourself and everyone else a favor. You’re not wanted or needed here. And I’m perfectly capable of running Jardine’s.”
“No, you’re not. Furthermore, you’re not even going to get a chance to run it. You’re fired.”
Thunderstruck, he gaped at her. “You can’t fire me!” he shouted.
“Oh, but I can. And I shall repeat it. You’re fired.”
He drew himself up to his full height and said in a cold, superior voice, “I’m a director of this company. Or had you forgotten that, Mother?”
“No, I hadn’t, and you will remain a director. I can’t take that away from you. However, I can fire you. And I just have.”
“I’m going to see Grandfather about this,” he spluttered, his face turning bright red. “He won’t stand for this; he’ll reinstate me.”
“No, he won’t, Nigel; you’re quite wrong about that. Very frankly, I doubt that he’d want to, even if he could. And actually he can’t. You see, as managing director of Jardine’s, I have the last word.”
“We’ll see about that,” he blustered.
“Hear me, Nigel. You are fired. Please vacate your office by the end of the day.”
He stood looking at her stupidly for a split second, hating her more than ever, and then he shouted, “You’re going to live to regret this!” And so saying, he stomped out.
Alone, Stevie poured herself a glass of water; her hand shook uncontrollably, and this annoyed her. She endeavored to calm herself, but it took her almost an hour to do so. Finally, just when she was settling down to do some work, there was a knock on the door.
As she glanced up and said “Come in,” the door opened to admit Miles. Hovering on the threshold, he said, “Hello, Ma, am I intruding? Do you have a couple of minutes to spare?”
“Yes, darling,” she said, smiling at him in relief, discovering that she was rather happy to see her favorite son. “Come in and shut the door. Do you want a cup of tea or anything?”
He shook his head and came into the room after closing the door carefully behind him. “I came in to see Gid, and I couldn’t leave the store without popping by.” Seating himself in the chair at the other side of her desk, he peered at her intently, and then said, “You look as white as a sheet. Are you all right?”
She nodded, for a moment unable to explain. Finally, taking a deep breath, she said, “I fired Nigel.”
“Good God! When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Why?” He suddenly laughed. “Do I need to ask!”
Stevie took another deep breath, slowly explained w
hat happened, told him everything, not leaving out any details. When she had finished, she shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but there was nothing else I could do. He was so terribly rude to me, on top of everything else. He said I had no right to be running Jardine’s because I was a woman, and also because I was not a Jardine.”
“What a bloody nerve he’s got, Ma. Talk about an ingrate, and after all you’ve done for him over the years. I’m glad you fired him; he deserves it. He’s a bigger fool than I thought.” Miles held her eyes for a moment. “Imagine how stupid it was of him to go courting your customers. They all want to deal with you, because you’re the head of Jardine’s. They view Nigel as a junior, your underling, albeit the heir apparent. Imagine if they’d taken offense, thought you were palming them off on Nigel. They’d be taking their millions elsewhere, like Cartier’s, for instance. That would please Old Bruce no end, now wouldn’t it?”
She half smiled. “Nigel certainly jeopardized an important area of our business, no two ways about that.” She shook her head. “Anyway, that’s that. Let’s move on…. Why did you come in to see Gideon?”
“I owed him some money.” He laughed wryly. “For your earrings.”
“You were both very extravagant. And you didn’t have to buy me something so expensive, you know.”
“We wanted to, Ma, and they came with a lot of love from us both. Gideon did spend a lot of time on the design of them with Peter. He wanted them to be perfect for you, and so did I.” Stretching out his long legs, Miles went on. “Miss Chloe’s all sweetness and light, and very happy today. She says you’re letting her come to London for the Easter break, after all.”
“It seemed rather mean not to, she wanted it so much.”
“What about you? Will you be spending Easter here?”
“I don’t think so, Miles. But she’ll be all right; she can stay with my mother and Derek.”
“I’m planning to come over around that time, so I’ll bring her with me.”
“Oh, Miles, that’s wonderful; you’ll be company for each other on the plane.”
He nodded. “Gideon tells me he’s confided in you…about Lenore.”
“Yes. To tell you the truth, I was only startled for about half a minute. I always expected them to marry, you know.”
“But without her having to drag herself through the divorce courts, right?” Miles grinned at her. “They really must love each other a hell of a lot. I wouldn’t want to tackle that tough old bugger Malcolm Armstrong.”
“He is tough, Miles, and I gather you don’t like him any more than I do.”
“I can’t stand him, Mother. He’s a phony. I’m actually surprised he’s not come a cropper before now. He’s another one, just like Julian Saunders, Margot’s brother, always skating on thin ice in the City.”
“Really,” she exclaimed, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know. But he was always sneaky even when he was younger.”
“I don’t know what Lenore ever saw in him,” Miles muttered.
“Do you think Gideon and Lenore are going to make it work? The presumption being that they will marry once she is free.”
“They will, Ma. You know they’ve always loved each other, and I for one never understood why she married Armstrong in the first place. After all, she’d had a crush on Gideon for years.”
“What do you mean?” Stevie asked, raising a brow.
“Well, Gideon was about eleven, so she was thirteen. For all I know, it may have started even earlier. They were always messing around with each other, undressing each other when we played in the attics at Lindenhill. It began when Gid and I were about seven. They used to make me leave, so they could be alone, to play doctors and nurses.”
“Miles, I never knew!”
“Well, I wasn’t going to come and tell you then, but there’s no harm you knowing now.” He couldn’t help chuckling. “Oh, Mother, if only you could see your face…you look so shocked.”
“But they were just children.”
“So they started their sex life when they were in kindergarten. What can I say?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you know something, Ma, I’ve been thinking a lot about Nigel lately, and I believe he really changed when he was a teenager. The time you had that awful blow-up with Alfreda, when he took her side. What a lousy desertion that was. Gid and I have never really forgiven him for that. Choosing the old battle-ax Grandmother Jardine over you. Little sod, he was.”
“I know. But I forgave him long ago. I put it down to extreme youth.” Her private phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello?” As she pressed it to her ear, she went on, “Yes, Bruce, I did talk to him. And I had no alternative but to fire him.”
She listened again, and then murmured, “Well, I could come over for a light lunch, but Miles is with me.” She looked at her son questioningly.
Miles nodded, mouthed, “Okay.”
“Bruce, Miles says yes. So we’ll both come over to Wilton Crescent. See you at twelve-thirty.” After she had hung up she said to Miles, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you know.”
“I do, Ma. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I would like to say good-bye to Grandfather.”
PART THREE
Easter
21
CHLOE HAD BEEN VISITING THE BOND STREET SHOP since she was a small girl, and she loved the marvelous old building which was a famous landmark in London. It was the epitome of elegance, its huge plate-glass windows filled with magnificent jewels and the finest of merchandise. “The best that money can buy,” Bruce Jardine always said, and he was correct.
For as long as she could remember, everyone who worked at the store had made her feel special, from the uniformed doormen who smiled and touched their caps when they saw her, to the sales staff who never failed to have pleasant words for her.
She thought the interiors of the shop were the most impressive she had ever seen; these were a series of showrooms with soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, white marble staircases, and plush, dark blue carpeting stretching everywhere.
To her, the store was grand and stately, and perhaps this was what she loved the most about it. Jardine and Company had always been there, and always would be, and it was a symbol of prestige, dependability, and continuity.
She had been raised on family lore; she knew that Jardine’s had held the royal warrant to be Crown Jewellers since 1843, and that it was Queen Victoria who had given them the warrant. Years ago Bruce had explained to her that Jardine’s had served six monarchs; he had also told her that the staff at Jardine’s had one purpose, one aim—to do the best that could be done anywhere in the world.
It was her mother who had enumerated more about the royal warrants, explaining that they were granted to individuals, not companies. Gideon was the present holder and had the title of Crown Jeweller. This meant, among other things, that he had to take care of the Crown Jewels, which reposed most of the time in the Tower of London, in the new Jewel House which had been built.
As the Crown Jeweller, Gideon was the only person allowed to touch the jewels, and he was personally responsible to the queen for the upkeep of the great Crown of England, the Orbs, and the Sceptre, which Elizabeth II used on state occasions. As her mother put it, “Gideon is responsible for the symbols of the nation.”
The size of Jardine’s was surprising. It was much larger than most people realized, with many different workshops on the higher floors above the showrooms. It was there that some of the world’s great master craftsmen labored on their extraordinary creations, producing objects of stunning beauty in silver and precious metals like gold and platinum. Lapidaries cut and polished diamonds and colored gemstones such as emeralds, sapphires, and rubies; designers created jewelry, the designs fulfilled by other craftsmen.
Last week, when she had come to work at the store, she had walked around the entire building with Gideon. “So that you can familiarize yourself with it, get the feel of it,” he had said.
/> She had been impressed all over again as he led her through workshops filled with these items, as well as antique clocks and watches, modern clocks and watches, and all manner of decorative objects.
Jardine’s was an elegant store and it had an enormous variety of merchandise of the finest quality. Her mother took great pride in everything that was sold, as did her grandfather.
Chloe liked the store her mother had opened on Fifth Avenue in New York, but it was Jardine’s in London that she really loved. She had grown up with the London shop from the time she was born until she was ten. It was to this store she had gravitated when she had decided she wanted to work in the family business.
A week ago, when Gideon had asked her what she actually wanted to do, she had been honest with him and told him she wasn’t sure. For this reason, he had put her in the jewelry showroom, where some of the store’s most magnificent pieces were sold. “Let’s try selling first, see how you like that, see how you like dealing with people.”
Today it was the Monday of Easter week. On Thursday she and Gideon were going to spend the long weekend in Yorkshire with Nigel and Tamara at Aysgarth End. For the next three days, she would work beside Gideon at his bench; he was going to show her in much more detail what he did as a lapidary.
She was waiting for him now, sitting on a stool next to his, wearing a white cotton coat, just the way he did. After a moment’s absence, he returned, carrying a small packet. Putting it on the bench, opening the paper, he said, “This is a diamond I’m going to cut and polish.” He glanced at her, adding, “You can cut a diamond only with another diamond.”
She nodded. “But you don’t use an actual diamond. You told me that a long time ago. You use diamond dust.”
“Good girl, you remembered. And that’s true, we use industrial diamonds crushed to a fine powder.” As Gideon spoke, he reached for a glass jar and showed it to her. “This is it. Gray powder, but it is ground-down diamonds despite the way it looks. I’m going to mix some of it with linseed oil to make a black paste. You see, the diamond dust cuts the diamond, but it’s the linseed oil that makes the dust adhere to the wheel.”