“What sort of business did you want to discuss, Mr. Vandemeer?” Alice asks, accepting the coffee the footman brings her with a cool nod. “I can certainly make introductions, if it’s a trade agreement you have in mind.”
“Of a sort,” he says. “Listen, I won’t waste your time beating around the bush. That necklace you gave my Mimi? I had it evaluated.”
She raises her eyebrows as if amused. “Did you?”
“He’s a fellow who dots his i’s and crosses his t’s, don’t you know.” Ward chuckles.
Mr. Vandemeer leans on his knees. “My man called that emerald ‘eye-clean,’ one of the clearest, highest-quality emeralds he’d ever inspected. He was very interested to hear about these mines in Württemberg. Said that stone was as green as a Colombian emerald.”
Given that it really did come from Colombia, by way of the Financial District, Alice is far from surprised, which adds to the effect as she shrugs politely.
Vandemeer’s eyes widen. He sits back. “Fellow wanted to invest in those mines himself.”
“Oh dear.” Alice laughs. “I’m not sure what Mr. McAllister has told you, but I’m afraid the Württemberg mines are far from an investment opportunity. They’ve been in my family for ten generations, perhaps more. We will happily export them again once our political unrest has ended, but as to—”
“I’ve heard as much from Ward, yes,” Vandermeer says, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But we both know the real money’s in ownership.”
“It is not merely a matter of money, Mr. Vandemeer.” Alice shuffles in her chair.
She turns to Ward, as if for help.
He winces, hands spread wide. “As you say, Your Grace, but may I gently argue that it’s also a matter of... friendship?”
She goes still, ceding the floor to McAllister.
“You’ve come to our shores in search of allies,” he says, hisvoice taking on the cadence of a politician giving a stump speech. “And you’ve found them. A group of friends so moved by the plight of your fine people that they’ve opened up their pocketbooks and granted you their help. With nothing asked in exchange, mind you.”
Alice frowns. “For which I am very grateful.”
“What I’m sayin’ is that now is the time to strengthen those alliances, so nothing like this ever happens again to your proud nation,” Ward declares.
“You’re suggesting I open up what has been a privately held mining company from time immemorial to anyone who wants to invest?” Alice sputters. “I-I couldn’t—”
“Not to anyone,” Vandemeer cuts in. “That’s the last thing we’re suggesting. Don’t want the hoi polloi getting their dirty hands into this, no, far from it. An extremely select few. Even just me, if you like. And, ah, Mr. McAllister here, I suppose.”
McAllister nods in thanks, valiantly ignoring the poorly disguised look of dislike on Vandemeer’s face. “You’d be one of the primary foreign investors, Vandemeer. Perhaps the veryfirst. If I myself can scrape together enough for a share, it would be paltry, a mere token of my affection for the people of Württemberg.”
Alice stands up, affronted. “Gentlemen, you are letting this idea run loose. As I have said, our mines have been in the family for—”
“I’ll give you a million,” Vandemeer blurts. “Write you a check today. Ward here knows I’m good for it.”
A million.
Alice’s awed reaction is a real one. That’s a sizable chunk of the man’s net worth to throw out in afternoon conversation.
But it’s too soon. And only a small fraction of what she’s after.
“Mr. Vandemeer, Mr. McAllister,” she says quietly. “You have given me much to ponder. But if you want an answer today, then I am afraid my answer is no. I’ll bid you good day now.”
As she leaves in a feigned huff, seen out to the foyer by the maid, she passes Mimi, who’s positioned herself in a carefully conspicuous spot in the conservatory. In the little chit’s hands is the emerald necklace, which she dangles this way and that, casting refractions of green upon her hands.
“Lovely little plaything,” Mimi drawls lazily. “Thanks again, Your Grace.”
It takes all of Alice’s composure not to snatch the necklace out of Mimi’s hands. The maid brings her coat just in time. She smiles at Mimi and carries on outside.
Ward trots out, close on her heels, buttoning himself hastily into his own winter garb. “You played that one rather severely. Thought for a moment you’d decided to call the whole thing off.”
“Far from it,” Alice says, accepting his hand up into his waiting carriage. “People like Vandemeer need to hear the wordnoin order to insist upon ayes. It must feel like his idea. Better yet, his secret.”
