Page 10 of The Captain of Betrayal
"Yes," Polly smiled at her friend, who was seated in the drawing room of the boarding house that Polly ran sipping on afternoon tea. To Olive's left sat Lady Jane Payne, a slight woman, with thick chestnut tresses, and huge eyes that appeared magnified behind her spectacles. "I was merely thinking of Mrs Actrol's reading this evening."
"That's reason enough for your glazed eyes," Olive laughed, causing Jane to splutter with indignation.
Mrs Actrol was the resident author of the boarding house, whose works Jane greatly admired. Polly, who had always adored reading, also adored the Gothic novels that the acerbic woman wrote, though she knew they were thought of as outlandish in some quarters.
"Oh, I only jest, Jane dear," Olive said with a wave of her hand. "You know that I adore Mrs A--though she does seem to have based a lot of this next work on the first days of my marriage..."
Olive and Polly had originally met under rather unusual circumstances. Olive, who had not wished to marry her betrothed, the Duke of Everleigh, had vanished on their wedding night, when the ship that was to take the newlyweds to France, sank off the Cornish coast. The runaway Duchess had made her way to St Jarvis, where she had taken over the running of a boarding house with a reputation for hosting an eclectic mix of young ladies during the summer months. Her husband, who had discovered his wife's whereabouts, had sent Polly ahead of him to keep a watchful eye over Olive, until such time as he could come to fetch her back. During that time, Polly and Olive had formed a deep friendship, which was sealed when Polly politely pointed a pistol at the Duke on Olive's behalf. Luckily the newlyweds had reconciled their differences, and Polly had been left to run the boarding house.
"Art quite often imitates life," Jane pointed out reasonably, still unwilling to hear a bad word about her favourite author. "And besides, your marriage did have rather a dramatic start--it made the papers for weeks."
"Oh, those rags will make a story out of anything," Olive replied with a wave of her hand, though the pale skin of her cheeks glowed rosily with embarrassment, for--as Polly knew--she now quite regretted the anxiety she had caused her husband. "As your husband well knows..."
Polly snorted with delight--Jane's husband, Lord Payne, had been quite the rakehell before he settled down with the bluestocking Jane. In fact, their marriage had only come about because Lord Payne's father had threatened to cut him off, after one of his escapades had ended in a much-publicised carriage crash. The story of how Lord Payne had smashed his new, extremely expensive Phaeton to smithereens, had graced the papers for weeks. Jane had agreed to pretend to become his betrothed, thus lending him a veneer of much needed respectability, but the mismatched pair had fallen hopelessly in love.
"Yes, he does," Jane rolled her eyes and set her teacup down, "And as does poor Hestia;the papers are filled with her marriage to Falconbridge. I know it must upset her terribly, though she weathers it well. She and the Marquess are so looking forward to the reading later."
"And I am looking forward to seeing them both again," Polly answered honestly, reaching for the teapot and topping up all three cups with a hot drop. Polly had met the new Lady Delaney before her marriage to the Marquess of Falconbridge--when Hestia had worked as Jane's companion. She was looking forward to seeing how the young woman had adapted to her new role as Marchioness.
"What's that Polly?" the Duchess had been watching Polly pour the tea with curious eyes, her gaze fixed upon the ring upon Polly's finger.
"This old thing?" Polly, glanced down at the gem on her finger, which was glittering in the afternoon's sun. "It's a costume piece a friend gave to me, many moons ago. It's made of paste, I think, though I polished it last night and ithascome up lovely."
The ring, even though fake, was a heavy thing. It featured a rather ostentatious yellow stone, set into a false gold setting. It looked years old, which was why Polly had always thought it had weathered so well--craftsmen of old knew how to make things that lasted, not like today's modern wares.
"Are you certain it's costume?" Olive's eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline, and her green eyes followed the arc of Polly's hand with awe as she placed the teapot upon the tray. "It doesn't look it; I swear,I think it's a diamond."
"A diamond?" Polly snorted with disbelief, casting her gaze down to her hand. "The boy who gave it to me hadn't tuppence to rub together, let alone a diamond to throw away!"
"A boy gave it to you?"
"Perhaps he didn't know its worth?"
Both Olive and Jane had spoken at the same time, leaving Polly feeling rather confused. She did not know why she had mentioned that James Black had gifted her the ring; she had not spoken of him since she had watched him walk away, almost a decade before, not even to Emily, who had known him.
"How would one tell if a diamond was real?" Polly asked, not because she wished to know, but because she was more inclined to follow the path that Olive's question led to, rather than Jane's.
"A real diamond can cut glass," Jane, who was practically a walking encyclopedia answered immediately. "May I see?"
Jane held out a hesitant hand and reluctantly Polly removed the ring from her finger and handed it over to her bespectacled friend. Jane held the ring up to the light, squinting at it over the rim of her glasses.
"Goodness Polly--I think it's baroque!"
"Oh, it's not broken, it's just rather old," Polly replied soothingly to her excited friend.
"No, no," Jane's face flushed. "Not broke,baroque. It's a style of design from the seventeenth century. Do you see the detail of the floral carvings along the bezel? It's extraordinary in its detail, it must have taken months to make."
Polly nodded, feeling a little foolish as she looked at the ring with new eyes; it was an extraordinary piece of craftsmanship for a supposed piece of costume jewellery. How had she carried it around for so long not realising what it was?
"Detail like that is typical of a baroque piece," Jane explained cheerfully, "Oh, and I've no doubt that the stone is a diamond, Polly. Do you have any glass that we can test it on?"
"The window pane?" Polly shrugged, "Though I don't know what the landlord will say if he finds out that I've scratched his window."
"I'll deal with Julian if the matter arises," Jane laughed, for Julian, Viscount Jarvis, was Jane's brother as well as Polly's landlord.
Jane walked over to the bay window, closely followed by Polly and Olive, then leaned over and dragged the corner of the ring's bright, yellow stone along the glass window pane. It left a very deep, straight line in its wake.
"Heavens, it is real," Polly whispered, taking a step backward as though the ring was cursed. Heavens knew how much the thing was worth. She thought fleetingly of all the hardship that she and Emily had endured before Polly had entered the employ of the Duke of Everleigh, and how she could have sold the blooming thing and made their lives so much easier. She quickly dismissed the thought, for the path of life that she and Emily had taken had brought them to the safe harbour of St Jarvis, and they were stronger, kinder women for having endured the hard times.
