The Diamond Hunter Page 22

  ‘He was not —’

  ‘Forgive me, Clem. But you must understand my position – on arrival I found my niece, the only heir to a great fortune, living like an urchin and being cared for by a huge Zulu.’

  Will watched Clem frown and nod, doing her best to put herself in her uncle’s shoes. ‘But you didn’t know him as I do.’

  ‘Did, darling. He’s dead now.’

  Will thought the remark harsh, but Clementine didn’t react strongly to Reggie’s bluntness.

  ‘At the time I wanted to see him well looked after, of course, because he had certainly done his best by you, plus he had lost his income.’

  ‘So where is he now?’ Clementine asked. ‘I mean, his grave?’

  ‘How should I know? His spirit is surely running around the jungle in a loincloth, I suppose – hunting lions and dancing with witch doctors.’

  ‘He was living alongside my mother from the moment we met so he was hardly savage,’ she said with appeal towards her uncle.

  Reggie wasn’t letting up, though. ‘Ah yes, alongside your mother, who lived in a tent, d’you mean, darling?’ His tone was on the wrong side of caustic. ‘Savage by Woodingdene standards, I’d suggest.’

  ‘My mother chose her life, Uncle Reggie. And to be fair, as I understand it, she thought she was travelling to live in an Australian city among society. It’s not fair for any us to lay blame.’

  ‘Oh, Clem.’ He reached for her hand and closed his around it. ‘No blame. Just poor decisions. Your parents could have had a fine life here and they’d both still be alive if they’d listened to us all. You’d have both of them in your life – that’s all I mean.’

  Will could see that Reggie had likely spent years soothing Clementine like this. With a soft tone and a kindly manner, generous and affectionate, always looking out for her and her needs.

  ‘I know, Uncle. I just need to learn more. Perhaps I should return to Africa some time?’ It was said casually, as though testing the notion, with a small glance Will’s way.

  ‘What?’ The silverware made a rude sound on the china.

  Tut, tut, Will thought. Reggie was forgetting himself.

  ‘I mean, darling. Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I aim not to be.’

  ‘Africa – certainly that hellhole they now called Kimberley – is no place for women. Your mother’s plight and her terrible end so young should tell you that. Please consider your safety and my health, Clementine. I think I would die of worry if you pursued such a journey.’

  Clever, Will thought, not enjoying his private suspicions.

  ‘On a different topic,’ she said, ‘our guest approves of my business proposition.’

  Reggie turned and Will saw a fixed smile. It was hard to know in this moment whether Reggie was delighted at the news or wished him dead for witnessing what had just unfolded. Perhaps the latter, as he surely hadn’t anticipated Will’s presence stirring a pot that had mostly been left untouched for two decades.

  ‘Well, well, young Axford, that is excellent news. I told you she would surprise you, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did, sir. Clementine’s idea is as inspired as it is relevant. I had no idea about Hatton Garden’s needs – but of course it makes perfect sense now. I will gladly help her.’

  ‘Thank you, Will,’ she said, and her smile threatened to bring a warmth to his cheeks he hadn’t felt since he was a youth.

  He was glad to see Reggie pick up his cutlery again and recommence eating. Will sipped his water and glanced at Clementine over the rim of his glass. He liked the fresh, cool scent of mint wafting from it, but he liked more the smile Clementine Grant directed at him. There was nothing shy about it; nothing unmistakable in the message that spoke of friendship and perhaps more. Romance? he wondered. He hoped so.

  Will swallowed his minted water. ‘Clementine, did you know that in Greek mythology, mint is known as the herb of hospitality?’

  Now she grinned mischievously. ‘Did you know that, Uncle Reggie?’

  He shook his head. ‘I didn’t.’

  Clementine looked back at Will. ‘Well, as we’re on Greek mythology, there was a beautiful water nymph called Minthe who was besotted with Hades and offered herself to him, but Persephone, enraged with jealousy, turned the beautiful nymph into the herb we’re enjoying in our drink.’

  ‘I heard a different version,’ Will responded, ‘but poor Minthe still ended up trodden underfoot.’

  ‘I suppose the moral is not to seduce another woman’s gentleman.’

  ‘Indeed, but if there’s no other female interest, why not make your intention known? Romance can be an ordeal – certainly a confusing labyrinth for most men.’

  A deeper, smokier laugh erupted from Clementine.

  Again, Reggie stood up to pull the cord that summoned staff from the bowels of the grand house.

  ‘Come to London,’ Will murmured to Clementine, barely above a whisper. ‘Please? I know people connected to Kimberley. I can begin some enquiries.’

  Reggie sat down again with a sigh, but not before Will caught a nod from his niece. It was like a candle’s wick catching alight and a strong flame erupting: a juvenile thrill moved through him that they were conspirators.

  ‘Er, that was delicious, thank you both so much,’ he said, to cover his delight.

  Reggie no longer looked at him with intent. ‘Come on, I thought I’d show you around. People take electricity for granted but my father was a pioneer of hydro-electricity. You’ll love the pump station.’

  Will dabbed his mouth with a napkin and obediently stood. His new confidante threw him a glance of sympathy.

  ‘You two go on. I’ll have coffee set up. What time is your train, Will?’

  ‘Just after four o’clock,’ he replied, wishing she would accompany them because he suspected Reggie was going to have a stern word. ‘I planned to be on my way by three, if that’s no burden?’ He looked between them.

  ‘Uncle Reg, leave time for us to get Will back to the railway station. I’ll make sure the carriage is ready.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, following her limping uncle out of the room.

  They’d toured the house and were now inspecting the hydraulic lift. Reggie sounded in awe of it, even though he lived here.

  ‘The servants appreciate it more than any of us, frankly, because it means they can carry coal easily to all of the upstairs rooms.’

  ‘Of course. I hadn’t even considered that. I was thinking more of the ease for you and Clementine.’

  ‘My father used it but my niece and I do not. However, Clementine is always looking out for the staff. It was her idea to let them use the lift and save their backs. And not just for coal, mind – washbasins, hot water, heavy trays to and from bedrooms.’

  ‘And to save time, no doubt.’

  ‘Well, there’s eight of them on permanent staff so Clementine is all about keeping them happy.’

  ‘I’m betting no one wants to leave your employ, Reggie.’ He’d dropped the polite ‘sir’ since they’d left the dining room, but he was still careful to show respect.

  ‘None at all in recent years. Clementine has ensured that the youngest, especially, are taught their reading, writing and arithmetic. She teaches many of them herself, determined that these young women will grow up with skills that can help them later.’

  ‘She’s rather amazing, your niece,’ Will admitted, instantly wishing he hadn’t shown his feelings so obviously.

  ‘She’s about loyalty, Will. So am I.’ He didn’t hide the barb in his tone. ‘The gamekeeper here has been with this family for a quarter of a century, and the head gardener has a decade more service on him. We demand loyalty by looking after those who look after us.’

  Will sighed. ‘Reggie, I can’t guarantee that our firm can —’

  ‘No, but you can guarantee not to turn my niece against me, Will.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He knew, of course, but needed time to formulate a response.

 
; ‘She’s sensing that you might be a confidant.’

  ‘She admitted to me that she would like to return to Africa.’

  ‘Don’t put notions into her head that could turn around and bite her. She’s so vulnerable on the topic of Africa, Will. Just don’t prod it. Only pain awaits her. I know, because I was there.’

  It sounded a reasonable enough request, but Will couldn’t ignore Clementine’s secret. How could he not help her?

  ‘I won’t raise it again,’ he assured Reggie, hoping that she would raise it herself and so not make a liar of him.

  ‘Very good, Will, thank you.’ Reggie’s tone changed, instantly relaxed. ‘So, what do you think of Woodingdene, then? Worth fighting for, eh?’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ he agreed. ‘I understand your passion.’

  ‘So, you’ll . . .’

  Will smiled. ‘I’ll talk to my father about your idea. I recommend you put together a written proposal – if he won’t consider it, I will.’

  Reggie looked delighted.

  ‘I would be lying if I didn’t admit the idea to insure against fire and the closure of theatrical productions makes excellent business sense.’

  ‘I’m thrilled.’

  ‘But Reggie, if I’m to defy my father and become involved on the strength of my own funds, it will require a commitment from you. A financial commitment.’

  Reggie’s delighted expression fell.

  ‘I’m in the business of risk but it’s not feasible without some security. You will need to come up with fifty per cent.’

  ‘Fifty . . .’ Reggie muttered.

  ‘I have to insist. Then we really will be partners, our commitment will be fair, and both of us as eager to protect it.’

  ‘I don’t know where you expect me to come up with that sort of money, Will.’

  Will shrugged, and while he didn’t say the words he essentially reflected the query back on Reggie. He tried to soften its effect. ‘I will insist on the same for Clementine, if we go ahead with her plans. For something this innovative, I think we all must protect ourselves from exposure.’ He tapped Reggie gently at the top of his arm. ‘Think about it. I’ll look forward to your proposal in writing.’ He slipped out his pocket watch. ‘We’d better not keep your niece waiting.’

  Clementine had organised for coffee to be set up on the garden terrace.

  ‘It’s a bit cool, I’ll admit, but I’ve brought out rugs. It’s just too beautiful a day for us to ignore.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Reggie said, sounding cheered, although Will suspected it was for the benefit of his niece.

  ‘Enjoy your tour?’ she asked, pouring steaming coffee from a swan-necked silver pot with an ivory handle. It was ornamented with a brightly crested crane on its side. Will recognised the work of London silversmiths Garrard.

  She saw him admiring it. ‘This was my mother’s gift from my grandparents on her sixteenth birthday. It’s an odd present for a young woman but I gather my mother fell in love with the bird engraving. My grandmother was always one for practicality. She’d have preferred to give her this instead of jewels.’

  ‘Of course, my father didn’t agree,’ Reggie chimed in. ‘He lavished my sister with a breathtaking pearl necklace – part of a Byzantine collection from an eleventh-century harem in old Constantinople. Apparently, it was made for the murad’s second-favourite wife.’

  Clementine chuckled. ‘You should hear about the pearl item he gave his favourite before it was stolen – it was extraordinary. They say it was to be worn naked, and there was a massive jewel that pointed to . . . well, let’s just say it pointed south.’ She grinned. ‘The story goes that the chief eunuch stole that magnificent piece and sold it off. No one seems to know to whom or even where in the world it has ended, but oh, the young nubile odalisque who wore that in the harem would —’

  ‘Now, now, Clem. Keep that for tea with the ladies.’

  Will enjoyed the wicked glint in her eye. ‘Your uncle was telling me about how well you look after the servants. The hydraulic lift obviously makes life much easier for them.’

  ‘Will, have you ever lifted a full basket of ironed linens?’

  ‘I can’t say that I have,’ he replied, taking an exquisite porcelain coffee cup and saucer.

  ‘Probably heavier than me without all my clothes on.’

  Reggie chuckled at Will’s cough of embarrassment.

  ‘Yes, well, I can only imagine.’

  ‘Do you mean you can imagine the laundry, or me without clothes on?’ she queried, straight-faced.

  ‘Clem, stop! Don’t tease our guest, please. Will, she’s been doing this since she was a little girl. Don’t go up against her – she’s always one step ahead.’

  ‘I shall be very careful,’ he admitted and drained his delicious coffee. ‘I think I must make tracks.’

  They all stood. ‘The carriage is ready to take you back to Widdrington station,’ Clementine said.

  ‘What a splendid day it’s been. Thank you for being such generous hosts.’

  ‘It’s been our pleasure,’ Reggie said, although Will knew he was leaving each Grant with a separate dilemma.

  He bent over Clementine’s hand to kiss it. ‘Thank you. I hope we shall see each other again.’

  ‘I am sure we shall. In fact, I have to be up in London in a few days. Did I mention that, Uncle Reggie?’

  Reggie shook his head.

  ‘I’m going to see Jennifer Hepburn for lunch and Penelope Ireland for dinner and a show. I’m also rather hoping to see the French artists on display at the new Grafton Galleries. Have you heard of it, Will?’

  ‘I have. I saw its first exhibition of paintings and sculptures, and more recently the Society of Portrait Painters held an exhibition there.’

  She looked impressed. ‘Well, its latest is its first of French decorative art.’

  ‘Sounds deeply boring,’ Reggie remarked. ‘Please don’t ask me to come, Clem.’

  ‘I shan’t, Uncle Reggie. I know how you become. Besides, you couldn’t possibly go down to London with your knee in such poor shape.’ And now Will understood: she’d trapped her uncle in the north with the most innocent-sounding remarks. He could hardly deny her statement after his sighs and limps all day. ‘Perhaps you’d like to accompany me, Will? I mean, only if you can spare the time.’

  And there it was. Clementine was clearly a match for anyone who aimed to manipulate her.

  ‘I’ll make the time for you, seeing as your uncle is not available. I shall be delighted to escort you, but no doubt you’ll want a chaperone.’

  ‘Such a bore, but easily fixed.’

  ‘Are you staying at your uncle’s house in London?’

  ‘That would be Clementine’s house in London, Will,’ Reggie reminded him, just a fraction tersely. A nerve had been hit.

  ‘Well, we shall meet again at Holland Park, then. Have you been to the house?’ Clementine asked.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Then you’re in for a treat or a shock, Will, depending on how you lean.’ She handed him her card. ‘I shall be there on Friday, staying through the weekend.’

  He smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Jane arrived with Will’s hat and coat. ‘Sir,’ she said, nodding. ‘The driver is here, whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Will walked over to shake hands with the head of the household. ‘Hope you recover soon, Reggie, and no doubt we shall speak shortly.’ He slipped into his coat.

  ‘We shall.’

  He turned and gave a small bow. ‘Clementine, enchanted. Thank you again for the lovely day. Until the weekend.’

  19

  LONDON

  November 1894

  Clementine could not regret that she’d taken Uncle Reggie’s advice to meet William Axford. There was no doubt he’d had a less progressive upbringing, likely with few of the freedoms she’d enjoyed, yet already she sensed he privately railed against conservatism.

  It was easy to fall for his appearance. I
t wasn’t just youth keeping him trim; she suspected he took good care of himself. His clothes, she’d noted, were immaculate, although anyone could achieve the look of a gentleman with the right barber, tailor and address. Being a gentleman came from the inside, her mother had taught her, and Clementine had so far found his directness and also his tender manner charming.

  She had expected to have to navigate around conceitedness, and yet she had seen no sign of it getting in the way of his companionable manner. Even his moustache, begging to be waxed, refrained from that ostentation and was instead neatly clipped. His hair was not overly coiffed but neatly parted, although he couldn’t hide its lustre or the golden glints that remained from the summer sun. Everything about Will had seemed contained to her, and she sensed he was simply cautious with words and honest with them when he let them free. It was refreshing. Will was a surprise of the most pleasant kind. He was also waiting; the bell at the door had chimed.

  She didn’t wait for Mrs Johnson to answer the call on her behalf. She wanted to enjoy Will’s expression when he first clapped eyes on her grandfather’s other folly. She smoothed the front of her forest-green skirt, which she had chosen carefully today, and unlocked the door, surprising Will but also herself at the unexpected pleasure of seeing him again. She’d anticipated enjoyment at his arrival, but not this deep feeling of connection, or the sense of anticipation of being near to him now that she looked upon him once more.

  He was broader than she recalled; taller, as well. She’d even convinced herself that his hair was receding, but what a lie!

  ‘I don’t much care for standing on ceremony,’ she said, responding to the silent question in his expression. ‘I was already in the sitting room, and ready.’ The explanation was too complex. Goodness, she must be nervous – how unlike her.

  He grinned, removed his hat and leaned slightly on the umbrella he carried. ‘I think you’re just impatient to get on with life.’

  ‘That too,’ she admitted. ‘Now, are you braced for the onslaught?’