Lucy did not go to her bedroom, or to the library, or to the kitchen where she could have had her way with the remaining half of the Victoria sponge that Emma had baked on Friday. Instead she went to Edward’s studio in the Mulberry Room. Even as she pushed open the door she was uncertain as to why she had come, only that it had somehow seemed the only place to go. Lucy was fast learning that she knew a lot less about her own motivations than she did about the way the internal combustion engine worked.
Having arrived, she found herself at a loss. She was out of breath from running and embarrassed for fleeing. She felt rejected but at the same time cross with herself for having let the others see her disappointment. And she was tired, very tired. There had been so much excitement and such a lot to comprehend.
When no better option came to mind, she sank to the ground in self-pity and curled up like a cat.
It was approximately two and a half minutes later that her gaze, which had been sweeping generally across the floor of the room, fell upon Edward’s leather satchel, leaning against the leg of his easel.
The satchel was new. Lily Millington had given it to him for his birthday and Lucy had been envious when she saw how much he loved it. She had been confused, too, for never before had a model given Edward a gift, let alone a fine, prized gift. She understood more clearly now, after what she’d seen last night.
Lucy decided that she no longer had the necessary commitment required for self-pity. The urge had been replaced by another, stronger impulse: curiosity. She righted herself and went to pick up the satchel.
Lucy undid the buckle and flipped it open. She could see Edward’s current sketchpad and his wooden pen holder, and with them something else, something less expected. It was a black velvet box of the same sort that Mother kept on her dressing table in Hampstead to safeguard the pearls and brooches that Father had given her.
She slid the box out of the satchel and with a shiver of nerves lifted the lid. The first things she saw were two pieces of paper. They had been folded together but opened in the space created when the lid lifted. They were Cunard tickets for a Mr and Mrs Radcliffe, travelling to New York City on the first of August. Lucy was still considering the implications of this discovery when the tickets fell to the ground.
As soon as she saw the large blue gem beneath, Lucy knew that she had expected all along to find the Radcliffe Blue within the jeweller’s box. Edward hadn’t imagined the diamond onto Lily Millington’s neck: he had taken it from the bank’s safety deposit box. And without permission, she was sure, for there was no way Grandfather would have allowed such a terrifying breach of protocol.
Lucy lifted the pendant from the box and held it in her palm, draping the fine chain over the top of her hand. She was shaking a little, she noticed.
She glanced back at the painting of Lily Millington.
Lucy was not the type of girl who longed for frills and lace and shiny gems, but over the past two weeks she had become more aware than ever of the distance between herself and beauty.
Now she took the necklace with her to the looking glass above the fireplace.
She stared squarely for a moment at her small, plain face and then, with a slight tightening of her lips, lifted the fine chain and attached it at the nape of her neck.
The pendant, sitting cool against her skin, was heavier than she had imagined it would be.
It was wondrous.
Lucy turned her head this way and that slowly, observing the way light caught the diamond’s facets and threw flecks upon her skin. She inspected each of her profiles in turn, and then every position between, watching the lights dance. This, she thought, is what it is to be adorned.
She smiled tentatively at the girl in the mirror. The girl smiled back.
And then the girl’s smile dropped. In the mirror behind her was Lily Millington.
Lily Millington did not bat an eyelid. She neither admonished nor laughed. She merely said, ‘I’ve come on Felix’s behalf. He insists that you must be in the photograph.’
Lucy did not turn around but spoke instead to the mirror. ‘He doesn’t need me, not with Fanny. There are four of you already.’
‘No, there are four of you. I have decided against being in the photograph.’
‘You’re just trying to be kind.’
‘I make a point of never trying to be kind.’ Lily Millington was before her now and she looked closely at Lucy, frowning. ‘What on earth?’
Lucy held her breath, waiting for what she knew must follow. Sure enough, Lily Millington reached out and brushed the side of her neck.
‘Well, now, look at that,’ she said softly, unfurling her fingers to reveal another silver shilling in her palm. ‘I had a feeling you’d turn out to be a valuable friend.’
Lucy felt a sting of tears threaten. There was a part of her that wanted to hug Lily Millington. She reached up to unhook the necklace. ‘Did you think about whether you’re going to tell me how it’s done?’
‘It’s all to do with this part of your hand here,’ said Lily Millington, pointing at the skin between her thumb and forefinger. ‘You have to hold the coin firmly, but be careful to keep it concealed.’
‘How do you get the coin in there without being seen?’
‘Well, now, that’s the art, isn’t it?’
They smiled at one another then and a wave of understanding passed between them.
‘Now,’ said Lily Millington, ‘for the sake of Felix, who is becoming more frantic with each passing minute, I suggest that you get yourself down to the woods at once.’
‘My garland, I threw it—’
‘And I gathered it. It’s hanging on the back doorknob.’
Lucy glanced down at the Radcliffe Blue pendant, still in her hand. ‘I should put this away.’
‘Yes,’ said Lily Millington, and then, when hurried footsteps sounded suddenly in the hallway, ‘Oh, dear – Felix, I fear.’
But the man, when he arrived at the door to the Mulberry Room, was not Felix. It was a stranger, someone whom Lucy had never seen before. A man with brown hair and a wet smirk that set Lucy against him from the start. ‘The front door was unlocked. I didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘What are you doing here?’ said Lily Millington in an anguished voice.
‘Checking up on you, of course.’
Lucy looked from one to the other, waiting for an introduction.
The man was standing in front of Edward’s painting now. ‘Very nice. Very nice indeed. He’s good. I’ll give him that.’
‘You must go, Martin. The others will soon be back. If they find you here, it will likely cause a disturbance.’
‘“Likely cause a disturbance.”’ He laughed. ‘Listen to the hoity-toity lady.’ His mirthful expression dropped suddenly and he said. ‘Leave? I don’t think so. Not without you.’ He reached out to touch the canvas and Lucy drew breath at the sacrilege. ‘That’s the Blue? You were right. She’s going to be very pleased. Very pleased indeed.’
‘I said a month.’
‘You did. But you’re a fast worker, one of the best. Who can resist your charms?’ He nodded at the painting. ‘Seems to me like you’ve got on ahead of time, sister dear.’
Sister? Lucy remembered then the story of Edward meeting Lily Millington. The brother who had been with her at the theatre, the parents who had needed convincing that their daughter would not be risking her respectability if she were to pose for Edward’s painting. Was this horrid man really Lily Millington’s brother? Why, then, hadn’t she said so? Why hadn’t she introduced him to Lucy? And why was Lucy filled now with a sense of dread?
The man noticed the tickets on the floor then and scooped them up. ‘America, eh? The land of new beginnings. I like the sound of that. Very clever. Very clever indeed. And a travel date so soon.’
‘Run ahead, Lucy,’ said Lily Millington. ‘Go and join the others. Hurry, now. Before anyone else comes up here looking for you.’
‘I don’t want to—’
‘Lucy, please.’
There was an urgency to Lily Millington’s tone, and reluctantly Lucy left the room, but she didn’t go back to the woods. She stayed on the other side of the door and listened. Lily Millington’s voice was soft, but Lucy could hear her saying, ‘… more time … America … my father …’