Page 60 of Margins of Love
Gustav circled his desk twice and then stopped. He looked at Fave and Arnold with a bitter smile. “You are both my sons, do you know that?”
Fave’s heart squirmed, and Arnold’s look softened.
“There is nothing I would not do for you, Arnold. And I know you feel the same about us.”
Arnold inclined his head, and Fave knew his father spoke the truth. It was painful to resign to second best, but it was better to be second to Arnold than anyone else. Fave loved him like a brother, and he could not imagine a better friend in the world.
“Favale, you need to embrace reality. Your head being stuck in those books does nothing for our business. I have indulged your perusal of mythology and all those stories for too long. I am afraid that the moment has come for you to assume your place.” Gustav still looked at Arnold even though he spoke to his son.
Fave was alert. He was not used to his father lecturing them quite like this—he was at a juncture and the Pearler legacy was at stake.
He thought about what his family had done for him. All their sacrifices. His mother’s forced peonage to Bustle-Smith to attract business and guard their secret. His father’s dangerous journeys to procure gems from far away mines. Lizzie’s pledge to the cause by preparing herself for a childless marriage with a nobleman. Fave’s heart splintered with every thought. He willed himself into the position his father had prepared for him. A carefully crafted future lay ahead, sparkling with riches on the outside, rotten by society’s pressures on the inside. He gathered his stored energy and concentrated on restoring the honor of his family.
And then an idea formed, clearing the path ahead where every player had a role to play. His heart broke free, as if shedding its shell like a baby lobster, leaving him raw and soft. But he knew that time would help him to harden—not heal, just harden. Fave willed himself to believe he could ignore his broken heart and find solace in his family’s faith. His father had built a fortune, and Fave had a chance to forge the legacy through the King’s competition. Arnold was the best partner he could imagine. Lizzie and his mother would prance their jewels among the ton, anchoring their footing in England’s nobility.
“Arnold, do you remember Carol’s necklace in Brockton House?” Fave asked.
Arnold looked up, confused, as if Fave had woken him from a nightmare. “The one with the emerald?”
Gustav caught on quickly and his interest piqued. “Son, what is the meaning of this?”
Fave began to pace the room. “How much does she owe us now?” he asked Gustav, who blinked at his son’s use of the collective “us”.
Gustav stepped to his ledgers to add the numbers.
Arnold rose and said to no one in particular, “It has to be the color of the Scottish Highlands.”
“It has outstanding clarity. I’ve noticed that much.” Fave looked at him and shrugged. Whether it would meet the King’s preference, he could not predict. He had never inspected it up close.
“She won’t part with it,” Gustav said, “your mother and I already asked.”
“Then we will try harder,” Fave snapped, “and give her an incentive to relinquish it.”
“It is at least seven carats, probably bigger than Pavel’s,” Gustav said.
Fave’s face broke into a slow smile. Arnold’s eyes assumed a sparkle that he usually had in a fencing competition. They had a chance if their emerald could trump Pavel’s in the King’s competition. Fave could preempt Bustle-Smith’s gossip. He had to find a way. And with her emerald, he could win the first round, assuring fame and success for his family’s business. He had several designs readily sketched. It was a risk all around but necessary for his family.
Gustav snapped the ledgers shut and sprang into action. “For extra pressure…” He clipped two of the books under his arm with an air of anticipation.
“You are bringing the ledgers to the ball tonight?” Arnold asked with a face-splitting grin.
Fave smiled back. “Let’s go and get her emerald.”
* * *
Fave’seyes were stuck to the clock in the foyer. Arnold and Gustav had been pacing past him what seemed like a thousand times. Finally, the ladies emerged and descended the great staircase of the Pearlers’ palatial home.
In preparation for the ball, Eve and Lizzie donned opulent evening gowns and intricate updos. Eve, as usual, wore a single exquisite jewel, the focal point of her ensemble. She was the advertising of the family’s business after all, a job she carried out with grace and dignity. Tonight’s choice, a ruby collier, had a three-carat red stone at the center surrounded by pavé diamonds, followed by smaller medallions, each with a ruby at its center. The opulent jewel complemented her dark green gown perfectly.
“Mother, you look… majestic!” Fave placed a hand on his heart, bowed deeply, and then gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“It is your work, my dear. I thought a little pomp would suit this night.”
“Is this the collier you made twice, one for the Swedish monarch and this?” Lizzie asked.
“Yes, Charles XIV John, crown prince of Sweden—”
“Oh my”—Lizzie’s hands flew to her stomach as if she had been hit—“you are dressed for battle, Mother!”
