Ernest’s brows twitched. ‘Why would you do that dear girl?’
‘Because I have a conscience.’Maybe not as solid as I used to, but she couldn’t steal from the Church.
He leaned back in his chair, a breath escaping through his nose, as if he was letting go of something heavier than air. ‘You’ve always known what we are doing.’
She shook her head. ‘I thought I did. I thought we were ... you promised me we were selling to wealthy people who could afford the loss if they ever uncovered the truth. But this isn’t Robin Hood. It’s theft from innocent people.’
‘Innocent?’
‘Ivy would have trusted Malcolm without question.’
Ernest waved a hand. ‘One mistake in two years–’
‘One that Isaw,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘What about the ones I didn’t?’
Silence settled between them, heavy and still.
‘We’re just redistributing things. The lion’s share of our pieces go to wealthy collectors.Que será, será.’
Christina closed her eyes for a moment. It was all so familiar, another one of his eloquent stories about people with too much money, punctuated by his pet phrase:what will be, will be– but in Spanish, like the famous pop song. At least he didn’t quote Latin at her like Hamish.
She opened her eyes. ‘I want out.’
He tilted his head, almost amused. ‘No, you don’t.’ He smiled but there was a cruel edge to his voice. ‘Because where does that leave you? You’re still not one of them, Christina. Neither of us are. But with the money you’re earning with me you might be able to get a bit closer.’
She hesitated, and that was all he needed.
‘You know what they think of you. The same as they think of me. Polite smiles. Silent judgment. I keep this whole place going, and they still look at me like I ought to have come in the tradesman’s entrance. You’ve spent eleven years trying to be a good wife for Hamish, and it’s still not enough. Not without the right name, the right vowels or the right house.’
She wanted to deny it. She couldn’t.
‘Keep helping me,’ he said, soft now, persuasive. ‘And I’ll put in a word with Flora about Chase Lodge.’
Chase Lodgethought Christina wistfully.More space for Elspeth; room for Hamish’s books; a long history for Hamish to get lost in. Would a proper house finally bring acceptance from her sneering in laws? And would that bring Hamish back to her?
Her gaze met Ernest’s, and he handed her a small silver spoon. ‘Have a look at that for me sweet pea.’ Instinctively, her fingers reached for the loupe that hung round her neck, and she studied the lion passant, the spacing, the maker’s mark. ‘That hallmark is off.’ she said.
‘Is it?’ he replied, his tone mild.
‘Yes. I can tell; it’s like someone offering me a wink instead of a handshake.’
‘But you can fix it for me?’
She put the spoon down gently and looked at her hands – the hands that had smoothed and soldered and polished so many “enhanced” pieces. She pictured her, Hamish and Elspeth sitting happily around a large table at Chase Lodge, but the image was replaced swiftly by one of Ivy’s furrowed brow, as she weighed up the cost of the salver. Christina looked up at Ernest. ‘I told you. I don’t want this anymore.’
‘You don’t want the guilt,’ he said. ‘But live with it a little longer and you’ll earn enough to get a seat at their table.’
She didn’t answer.
‘You’re close, lass. They’ve let you through the door – just. If I put in a good word and you buy Chase Lodge, could be they even start thinking you’re one of them.All you have to do is finish the pieces we’ve got, and one more commission – let’s make it something special, eh? What about a piece of Paul Storr?’
She gaped at him. Storr. The name alone carried weight; Storr, a master silversmith, his neoclassical pieces gracing the tablesof royalty, every line and flourish executed with a precision that had made him England’s most celebrated silversmith in the early 1800s.
‘Go out on a high,’ he coaxed, ‘You’re good enough. One more piece, eh?’
She felt something cave inside. It wasn’t exactly agreement – more the sheer, gravitational pull of habit. It would only take a week – then she’d be free of him. Of Frank. Of the duplicity.
‘All right,’ she said, trying to sound firm. ‘Just the pieces I have, and one more commission. Then, no more.’
