Gideon focused his attention on the flat cast-iron wheel on his bench. “This wheel spins 3,200 rpm once it’s turned on. If I simply put diamond dust on it, the dust would fly all over. That’s why we need linseed oil—to make the dust stick to the wheel.”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to put the diamond in this tong, Chloe. Watch me now. As you can see, the tong itself is held in position by the arm, which is screwed onto the bench. That keeps it very steady. There, the diamond is now held in place by the tong, which I can move any way I want as I’m cutting the diamond.”
After placing a ten-power loupe in his eye, Gideon moved the tong gently, held it over the wheel, and began to cut and facet the diamond.
She watched him, fascinated, not daring to say a word because he was so concentrated.
“So you’re going to Yorkshire for Easter,” Bruce said, looking across the luncheon table at Chloe. “Gideon tells me you’re driving up on Thursday morning and coming back on Monday.”
“That’s right, Grandfather, but Mom knows all about it,” she answered swiftly. “She said it was all right; she said that I could go.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Of course it is. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go to Yorkshire. Nigel behaved very badly, and he could have created quite serious problems in the business. But he’s still a member of the family…still your brother.”
Chloe nodded, her face suddenly very solemn. “Mom told me all about it. She was really upset, and angry, at first, but she’s calmed down a bit now. Miles said Nigel’s behavior was suicidal, and Gideon says he has a tendency to self-destruct.”
“Quite,” Bruce murmured, picked up his glass of water, and took a sip. “I must say, the twins have a rather dramatic way of describing events.”
Leaning forward slightly, Chloe lowered her voice and said in a confiding tone, “Tamara’s been very upset, you know, Grandfather. I mean about Nigel’s foolishness. She loves Mom, and she told me she was ashamed of Nigel and the way he’s behaved. She thinks he ought to apologize to my mother and ask to come back to work. I bet if he did so, Mom would have him back, don’t you?”
“Perhaps,” Bruce said cautiously, wondering if Stevie would let Nigel return to Jardine’s. Would he if he were still running the company? He was not sure. Nigel’s behavior had been extremely willful, and, as far as he was concerned, rashness was not a laudable trait to have, especially in business. Suddenly realizing that Chloe was staring at him, he cleared his throat and added, “Aside from being brilliant at what she does, your mother’s a very compassionate woman, Chloe, and she still loves Nigel, despite the fact that he’s behaved very badly toward her. So perhaps she will rehabilitate him. One day. Very much in the future, of course. But that’s enough of that unpleasantness for the moment, my dear. Let’s talk about your future at Jardine’s. Do you really want to work in the family business one day?”
“Oh, yes, I do, Grandfather!” she responded enthusiastically. “And I’ve been fascinated by everything I’ve seen so far.”
“And do you know what area of the business you would like to work in, Chloe?”
Chloe exhaled, then smiled at him, holding her head to one side. “I know I don’t have the talent to design jewelry, and I don’t want to be a lapidary like Gideon. But I love stones, Grandfather. Especially diamonds. I’d like to be involved in buying diamonds, and other precious stones, too. That’s what appeals to me.”
Bruce gave her the benefit of a huge smile. “That was always my area of expertise, and your mother’s, Chloe. So, you’re following in our footsteps. When you come back after Brearley’s graduation, I shall ask Gilbert Drexel to take you under his wing. You can spend the summer in his department. You’ll enjoy it and learn a lot.”
“Oh, thank you, that’s wonderful! Oh, here’s lunch, Grandfather.” She sat back in her chair and took a sip of water as the waiter placed the first course in front of them. They had both ordered the same lunch: Morecombe Bay potted shrimps first, to be followed by chicken pot pie, one of the specialties at Claridge’s.
As she slowly ate the potted shrimps and the thin slices of buttered brown bread, Chloe did not say much, and neither did Bruce. When she had finished, she leaned across the table once more and said in a conspiratorial voice, “Nigel resents Mom working at Jardine’s. He’s not only a male chauvinist pig but totally out of date.”
Looking at her alertly, Bruce agreed. “Yes, I think he is, too. Women are involved in every type of business all over the world these days.” A tiny amused smile flickered as he continued, “Why, even I have been properly educated to accept women as businessmen. You see, your mother always chided me about being old-fashioned, and years ago she decided to really straighten me out. However, it strikes me that she didn’t do so well with her son, now, did she?”
“Nigel just slipped through the cracks,” Chloe murmured, then added as an afterthought, “Or maybe it’s yet another attitude he has developed for himself.”
“What do you mean?” Bruce asked, frowning slightly, pinning her with his eyes.
“Well, he would always take a particular stance, when we were growing up, adopt a certain attitude. That’s just the way he is…attitudinal. And his attitudes change very quickly. Personally, I think he’s mad at Mom.”
Again Bruce looked at her with enormous interest, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “Why on earth would he be angry with your mother?” he probed, curious to hear what she had to say.
Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know, Grandfather, maybe something from the past. He can be so touchy about things, that I’m really aware of.”
Bruce merely nodded, thinking that she had turned out to be a very bright young woman. He himself had often thought Nigel was harboring a grudge as far as Stevie was concerned. As for Chloe, he felt a sudden rush of pride in her. She was such a beautiful girl with her glossy hair, shining dark eyes, and her faultless complexion. And she had a lovely, warm, outgoing personality that was very beguiling. Sparkling was the word that best described her, and her appearance as well. He suddenly wished he weren’t so old, eighty-three next birthday, because he wanted to be around to watch her become a grown woman. She was so very special to him, and he loved her dearly. That was the trouble with dying; you missed so much of the future.
“What’s the matter, Grandfather?” Chloe reached out, put her hand over his.
“Nothing, my dear. Why do you ask?”
“You looked so sad just then,” she replied, sounding worried.
He smiled again and placed his hand over hers. “I was wishing I were younger, so that I’d be here to watch you growing up a little bit more, see you getting married, having children. Not to mention succeeding at Jardine’s.”
“But you will be here, Grandfather!” she exclaimed.
“I’m an old man now, Chloe.”
“You’re not to me.”
“But you call me Old Bruce behind my back,” he teased.
Her eyes opened wider and she flushed, then explained quickly, “But it’s an affectionate nickname; it’s not meant to be unkind.”
He nodded and smiled, looking into her earnest young face, and his heart clenched. She was so very dear to him, this lovely young woman who had come into his life far too late. She touched the deepest part of him, brought out a tenderness in him no one else ever had. And it had been like that since the day she was born, since she had been a baby in her mother’s arms.
22
IT WAS A BLUSTERY DAY.
There was a high wind that blew the trees, bending them backward and shaking free many of the new green leaves that were sprouting on the branches. These swirled around her feet as she walked along the narrow path across the moors, heading back toward the farmhouse.
It was a chilly morning, but the sky was a clear cerulean blue, filled with bright sunlight and puffy white clouds that raced across the great arc of the sky.
Chloe loved it up on these wild untenanted moors that rolled a
way toward the distant horizon. The awesome vastness had always appealed to her, held her in its thrall, and she loved coming back to this place where she had spent so much time as a child.
Aysgarth End dated back to the turn of the century; the rambling old farmhouse was built of local gray stone, and it stood on top of the moors in Coverdale, above the picturesque village of West Scrafton, near Coverham.
When she arrived at the gate leading onto the farm property, Chloe paused, turned, and stood looking out at the panoramic vistas stretching in front of her. They were breathtaking in their austere beauty. Thrusting high into the soaring blue sky were the great Whernside fells, massive formations that had an aloof majesty to them, and looked as if they had been sculpted by some almighty hand.
The farm itself was surrounded by green fields divided and defined by old dry stone walls built by the crofters long ago. These fields sloped down into the valley below, where the River Nidd was a shining silver thread against the green in the far, far distance.
Chloe squinted in the sunlight and shaded her eyes with her hand, staring down toward the river. After a moment, she swung around, opened the gate, and went along the dirt road. As she approached the farm, she realized how hungry she was. She took a quick look at her watch and saw that it was almost eight. Time for breakfast. She increased her pace. And a few seconds later she was pushing open the oak door that led into the small front porch.
Mingled aromas of coffee, warm bread, and bacon cooking assailed her as she took off her Barbour and red wool scarf and hung them up. Opening the front door, her nose twitched and her mouth watered as she stepped into the kitchen.
Tamara was standing at the big Aga stove, turning bacon in the frying pan.
Looking up, smiling warmly, Tamara said, “Did you have a good walk, Chloe?”
“It was great, thanks.” Chloe laughed. “It blew the cobwebs away, that’s for sure. And it’s given me an appetite.”
“Good. Is it cold today?” Tamara asked, turning more bacon with a spatula, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke.
“Brisk. But I think it’ll warm up if the wind drops. It’s lovely and sunny though, a nice day to be outside as long as you’re well wrapped up.”
Chloe walked across the large kitchen, which her mother had decorated so effectively years before. Nothing had been changed, and it always pleased her to see it looking the same. Standing at the counter near the refrigerator, she poured herself a mug of coffee, added milk and sugar, and carried the mug back to the big wooden table in the center of the room. This was covered with a green-and-white-checked cloth that matched the curtains at the windows; she remembered the day her mother had brought them up to Yorkshire and hung them at the windows herself.
Sitting down, Chloe asked, “Who’s the bacon for, Tam? It smells so delicious, I can hardly bear it.”
“Anyone who wants it. There’re also some other grilled things…tomatoes, mushrooms, sausages, and scrambled eggs. And I’ve got a bread cake warming in the Aga. Would you like me to prepare you a plate, darling? Give you a bit of everything?”
“That sounds good, really yummy. Thanks, Tam. And where is everyone?”
“Nigel went upstairs to look for his wallet. He and the children have already had their breakfast. He’s going to take them to Ripon with Agnes. To do some shopping for me. I need a few things. And Gideon’s in the back parlor, phoning Lenore. He’s driving over to Lindenhill later, to bring her back here for lunch.”
“Oh, good, I’ve always liked Lenore. I’m so glad she’s going to marry Gid, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. It’s the best thing that’s happened to him…I mean, that she came back to him. But that awful Malcolm Armstrong is throwing spanners in the works all the time as far as the divorce is concerned.”
“Oh, I know. Mom says it’s ridiculous.”
“Somebody’s going to have to pay him off, I think.”
“I agree. Mom says everyone has a price, and it’s not always money.”
Tamara laughed at this pithy comment as she turned her attention to fixing Chloe’s plate, enjoying mothering the eighteen-year-old.
Chloe sipped her coffee, glancing around the spacious kitchen. She had always loved this room; it was her favorite in the old farmhouse and very special to her, from its beamed ceiling to the terra-cottatiled floor. There was a warmth and a homeliness about it that was most appealing and reassuring. Her mother had filled it to overflowing with comfort over the years, placing a big sofa and two armchairs covered in rose-colored linen at one end, near the big picture window facing the moors. She had included two pine chests within the seating arrangement, and these held charming old lamps; the large table in the center of the room was surrounded by eight wooden chairs with rose linen cushions, and it was there that they ate most of their meals, unless they had guests.
The huge stone hearth, where a fire burned brightly, was another addition her mother had made, and it was the focal point of the room. The many copper pots and pans that hung on the hearth gleamed and winked in the firelight, which gave the room a lovely glow on this cold March morning. Logs were piled on one end of the hearth; on the other there was a big copper bucket filled with dried flowers. Facing the fire were two old grandfather chairs with high wooden backs and rose linen cushions, the chairs linked by a colorful rag rug. At the other side of the room, the big Aga stove gave off additional warmth, making the kitchen the coziest of places, one where everyone loved to gather at all hours of the day. In a sense, it was the core of the house.
“Good morning, Chloe,” Gideon said, striding into the kitchen, bending down and kissing his sister. Straightening, he added, “And don’t you look bonny. Your walk on the moors has brought some color to your cheeks. Do you want to come with me later? I’m going to Lindenhill to fetch Lenore.”
“Yes, I’d love to, thanks, Gid.” Chloe rose, walked over to the oven, and took the plate from Tamara. “This is awesome, Tam. And so yummy-looking. Thanks.”
Gideon went and got a mug of coffee and joined Chloe at the kitchen table.
Tamara asked, “Do you want something to eat, Gid?”
“A bacon butty, if you don’t mind making it.”
“A pleasure,” Tamara answered, and flashed him a bright smile.
Chloe asked, “Is Lenore bringing her children to lunch?”
“God forbid, I’ll never cope. Not with hers as well as mine!” Tamara cried, and made a face of mock dismay.
Gideon laughed. “Of course you would; you always cope with everything, Tam. But actually she’s not bringing her brood. They’ve already gone riding with their Brindsley cousins, over near Middleham. Lenore said they wanted to go up on the gallops with the stable boys who exercise the race horses from the racing stables in Middleham. Apparently they really enjoy it, and have a lot of fun competing with the boys.”
“It’s the best place to ride,” Tamara remarked, putting the thick bacon sandwich on a plate and bringing it to him.
“Thank you, Tam. Aren’t you having anything to eat?”
“The same as you, Gid.”
After serving herself a bacon butty, Tamara finally sat down and went on. “I’m sorry to bring up lunch when we haven’t even finished breakfast yet, but I thought I ought to cook fish, since it’s Good Friday. However, Nigel’s not very fond of fish, so I’m going to make a shepherd’s pie as well. I also have a baked ham which I brought up from London. I’ll do vegetables and a big salad. What do you think?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Gideon murmured. “But I’d prefer the shepherd’s pie, too, like Nigel.”
“Fish for me, with a salad,” Chloe said, glancing at Tamara. Then she asked, “Is Mrs. Entwhistle coming up from the village to help today?”
“No, I told her she didn’t have to come. You see, her grandson’s arriving from Portsmouth for twenty-four hours’ leave. He’s in the Royal Navy, you know. Well, anyway, I didn’t want to spoil it for her, encroach on that special time. I can manage.”
r /> Chloe turned to Gideon. “I think I’d better stay and help Tamara make lunch.”
“All right. And I’ll come back from Lindenhill quickly, and Lenore and I will both pitch in.”
Nigel said from the doorway, “We’re all set to go, Tamsy darling.” He walked over to his wife, kissed the top of her shining silver-gilt hair, and said to Chloe, “Good morning to you, miss. What’s the weather like?”
“Morning, Nigel, and it’s windy, chilly, but very sunny. A pretty day.”
Agnes, the young nanny, followed him into the kitchen, holding Natalie and Arnaud by the hands. She greeted Chloe and Gideon; the children broke free and bounded toward Chloe, threw themselves against her legs.
“Hello, little ones,” she said, and bending over, Chloe hugged them to her.
“Come with us, Auntie Chloe,” Arnaud said. “Please.”
“I’d love to, darling, but I can’t. I’m going to stay here and help your mummy make lunch for us all. But I’ll play hide-and-seek with you this afternoon. How does that sound?”
He nodded, beaming at her.
Natalie said, “Me too hide seek.”
Chloe rumpled her hair, thinking how adorable they looked in their dark green loden jackets and matching pants worn with red sweaters and red Wellington boots.
“Let’s go, Pumpkins.” Nigel made for the door.
Tamara caught up with him, linked her arm through his, and accompanied him out to the Jeep parked in front of the farmhouse. “Try and find the hot cross buns if you can, Nigel; it’s such a bother to have to make them.”
“I will, darling, don’t worry,” Nigel answered, drawing her closer to him. “If they don’t have any in Ripon, I’ll pop over to Harrogate and stop in at Betty’s Cafe. They’re bound to have loads of them there.” He looked into her eyes, his own full of love, and then he kissed her on the mouth.
“See you later, angel,” he said as he strode over to the Jeep, opened the doors, bundled the children and Agnes onto the backseat.