‘Stop all this, Eddie,’ said Belle when the door closed. ‘Please. You’ve punished me enough.’
The pain of losing the paintings of Luke paled beside this new threat. She simply couldn’t live in the city. Her heart, her very soul, belonged to the wild mountains of Hills End.
She watched for the hard line of his mouth to relax. Waited for the warmth to return to his eyes, signalling forgiveness. They’d had arguments before and Edward always came round. But this time his expression didn’t soften.
‘My mind is made up.’
‘Your mind. I have a mind as well, Eddie, or have you forgotten? You can’t dictate the terms of our marriage merely because you’re the man.’
‘Did Emily tell you that?’
‘She didn’t have to. Marriage is supposed to be an equal partnership.’
‘Not this time.’ He turned his back, moved to the door, paused once. ‘Oh, and Emily is dismissed.’
CHAPTER 49
Luke looked up at the towering headframe and took a deep breath. The stink of dynamite. The shattering roar of the blast-hole drills. It all conspired to take him back to that terrible day at Hills End when Angus died. Normally he avoided visiting the mine at all costs, but Tau was away on his honeymoon with Sizani, and somebody had to inspect the new works.
Luke had decided to sink a third shaft in a last-ditch attempt to make the operation more profitable. With only a trickle of small, substandard diamonds coming in, he’d been barely breaking even. He certainly wasn’t making enough for Eli to extend him more credit, and more credit was exactly what he needed. When they discovered a new pipe of diamond-bearing blue ground, he’d put the last of his borrowed funds into it.
The engineer started the motor and the windlass ground into action. Fighting the inevitable claustrophobia, he stepped into the cage and began his halting journey underground. The new shaft wasn’t finished, only extending one level down, but so far the men had done a good job. The reef walls were dry, tiered for stability and the pumping equipment was operational.
The cage hit dirt. Luke started off down the short tunnel, glad it was so shallow. It meant some natural light from the surface still penetrated the gloom. Not enough though. He switched on his new patent-pending battery-powered lamp, the very latest in mine safety. Electric lamps were odourless, smokeless and emitted less heat than combustion-powered lighting. They could be instantly turned on and off, and avoided fire risk. He’d provided one for each of his miners.
Everything looked good. The modern tram trolley system was in place. It removed ore for crushing, speeding up production and lightening his workers’ load. The rock walls looked promising. Pure Kimberlite, the name given to such coarse blue ground after rich finds were made at Kimberley. Everything was in place to make this mine a success. Everything except the diamonds.
Luke turned to go, well-satisfied with the inspection and eager to return to daylight. He’d almost reached the cage when something caught his eye: a glint reflecting in lamplight on the tunnel wall a few feet above his head. He found a ladder and used his pocketknife to prise the shiny object out. This wasn’t possible. A diamond? Or was somebody fooling him with a piece of glass?
Heart racing, Luke returned to the surface to inspect his find. It looked real enough, except for its improbable size; it was as big as the palm of his hand. Luke took it to Scotty in the mine office, whose job it was to weigh and assess every diamond.
Scotty whistled through his teeth and cleaned the stone. Released from its grimy prison, it shimmered with the light of a thousand stars. ‘This came from the new shaft?’ He examined the crystal with a jeweller’s loupe more slowly than Luke had ever seen. ‘No detectable flaws, exceptional clarity, and it has that rare blue-white quality so treasured by buyers.’
Luke swallowed hard. The year before, a large diamond had been discovered at the struggling Toti Mine, after many years of fruitless operation. The Pietersen Diamond weighed in at over six ounces, or more than eight hundred and fifty carats. Thomas Pietersen became an overnight millionaire.
‘Now for the weight.’ When Scotty looked up from the scales, his eyes shone with tears. ‘Fifteen ounces. Fifteen fucking ounces. That’s two thousand, one hundred and twenty-five carats.’
What?
Two years of digging up spotty little pebbles, as Tau called them. Two years of worrying about Themba’s animals, and people’s jobs, and when the money would run out. And now this? He would be rich again. Not just rich – wealthy beyond measure. He hadn’t been able to send his family much money lately. He pictured Mama and Becky in the little cottage behind the school. He could buy them a mansion now. Hell, he could buy them the whole school. And to think Herman Smit had lost this miracle of a mine for the sake of a four-carat stone.
Luke exhaled. The engagement ring that would never grace Belle’s finger lay at home, in the darkness of his desk drawer. He would take it out tonight, let its light shine. In a very real way, Belle and that ring were responsible for his change of fortune. How he longed to share this news with her. But that was impossible. She didn’t even know he was alive. For her sake, and the sake of their son, it had to stay that way. A wave of emptiness washed over him, and he closed his eyes. Strange, how all the money in the world couldn’t buy him what he most wanted.
‘Congratulations, Colonel.’ Scotty kissed the stone. ‘You have just unearthed the biggest diamond in the world.’
Expert analysis in Cape Town confirmed it – the Buchanan Diamond was the largest, rough gem-quality stone ever found. The papers were full of the discovery. It was front-page international news.
‘See how perfectly smooth it is on one side?’ The buyer from Rothschild’s bank ran his finger down the diamond’s shining surface. ‘Sheared off from a much larger stone by natural forces deep underground. It is only a fragment, Colonel, probably less than half of an octahedral crystal. The other portion, and more stones like them, still await discovery in your mine. Cecil Rhodes himself will be green with envy.’
The buyer was right. Shaft three produced gem after gem of exceptional size and quality, though none equalled the sheer grandeur of that first find. The price of diamonds increased exponentially according to their weight. With stones of over one hundred carats, Luke could ask what he liked. For princes and potentates, price proved no object.
At just twenty-seven years of age, Colonel Lucas Buchanan had become a household name, and joined the illustrious ranks of South Africa’s richest men.
CHAPTER 50
‘There’s trouble brewing in Europe,’ said Edward, his head buried in The Mercury. ‘Germany is building a high seas fleet to compete with our British navy.’
Belle buttered her toast. ‘I’m going away for a few days, Eddie. With Grace. To see Robbie and do some shopping.’ She refilled Edward’s coffee cup. ‘We sail on the Pateena this Thursday.’
‘You’ll miss the Premier’s Ball. I was counting on you to rescue me from Neil’s insufferable stories.’ He lowered his newspaper. ‘Robbie will be home in a few weeks.’
‘I don’t want to wait that long.’
He sighed. ‘Always the impatient one. You know I miss our boy too, Belle. The holidays can’t come soon enough for me.’
Then why did you send him away? she wanted to ask. Why did you tear him from his home and family, from all that was familiar? Was it to punish me for the paintings? But she knew she’d get no sensible answers. Just platitudes about building character and learning to be a man. Eddie loved their son, she knew that, and in his own misguided way was trying to do the best for him. But Robbie didn’t cope well with change, and boarding school had been an unnecessary ordeal. He was different, vulnerable, and children were cruel.
Almost thirteen now, growing tall and handsome, with a heart-wrenching likeness to Luke. Robbie had the physical strength to stand up for himself, yet he seemed more than ever like a lost soul. Especially lost without his father. In some ways, Eddie was equally lost without his son. Those two
shared such a special bond. They’d both be so much happier if Robbie could come home. It was maddening, this Abbott tradition of squeezing each male child into the same box.
‘The weather’s turning, Belle. Spring sailings can be rough. I’d rather you didn’t go.’
‘Sorry, Eddie, but I simply must. I’ve promised Grace.’
‘Oh, very well, I suppose the girls and I will manage.’
Belle escaped the breakfast room before Edward could think up any more objections. She hadn’t been entirely honest. The main purpose of her trip to Melbourne wasn’t shopping, or even seeing Robbie. It was to visit Emily, who’d secured a teaching position at Ruyton Girls’ School.
Since Edward had summarily dismissed Emily three years ago, they’d secretly kept in touch through letters, exchanged via Elizabeth. For Belle, receiving these letters opened a wonderful window on the world, a world beyond insular Hobart society. Emily led a bold, charmed life. She travelled, had adventures, experienced things Belle herself had once dreamed of. Camel journeys across Zanzibar. Gondola rides through Venice. Women’s suffrage protests in London’s Hyde Park. All as a single woman, with neither the protection nor governance of a man. Belle longed for a similar freedom.
By contrast, she’d never been further than Melbourne. Eddie seemed perfectly happy to stay in Hobart, and expected Belle to do the same, even jealously opposing her spending time at Binburra. Accusing her of seeking out Luke’s memory. When was the last time she’d ridden alone into the mountains, or spent time with her parents? She had to wait until they came to Hobart. Papa had been unwell lately with a lung complaint, so even these brief visits had stopped.
The truth was that Eddie had no spirit of adventure. It frustrated Belle beyond measure. Whatever happened to his youthful dreams of exploring the world? He’d once wanted to explore the coasts of Africa and India. Now, he was disinclined to let others oversee his local business interests and, in the last year, had turned down invitations to London and New York. Not that she really wished to travel with Eddie by her side any more. The gulf between them yawned too wide. He spent more and more time away from home. Neglecting his daughters. Working late. Evenings at the club. Sometimes he didn’t come home at all. Impossible to believe that he’d once been her best friend. Marriage had become a boring, lonely trap.
It was the year nineteen hundred, a brand new millennium. So much she wanted to see and experience. The World’s Fair in Paris, showcasing the art, inventions and architecture of the future. Puccini’s acclaimed opera Tosca was playing in Rome. The Olympic Games had opened in France and someone had invented a ship that could fly. This coming century was one of magical possibilities. Yet here she was, already thirty years old, and life was passing her by.
There was more. Hateful gossip had reached her ears. Rumours that Eddie was gambling and drinking too much, although he didn’t bring it home. Rumours of other women. Perhaps it was her fault. How long was it since she’d welcomed him to her bed? So long that he’d ceased asking.
As Belle went upstairs to pack, she heard the front door close. Eddie wouldn’t be home until late that night, perhaps not at all. Though she told herself she didn’t care, a surprise tear rolled down her cheek.
She roughly wiped it away. No sense feeling sorry for herself. Not when she had something to look forward to for once. Something more than garden parties and croquet and vacuous talk. Emily was as different from the stuffy Hobart set as night was from day, and it wasn’t only Emily who Belle was excited about seeing. Luke’s mother and sister also lived in Melbourne. Edward had insisted she not make any contact, and she understood why. The world must not suspect Robbie was Luke’s son.
But it had been long enough. Becky taught with Emily at Ruyton. The universe was conspiring to bring them together. A shiver ran up her spine. Seeing Becky and Alice Tyler would, in some small way, reconnect her with Luke. Her breath caught in her throat. Damn that man. Dead thirteen long years. Why, oh why, couldn’t she let him go?
‘How lovely to see you, Mrs Abbott. Won’t you sit down?’
Luke’s mother was a tall woman, about sixty, with warm hazel eyes and cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. Still handsome, despite greying hair and a careworn face. She wore an elegant blue afternoon gown, of textured satin with turquoise accents.
‘Please, Mrs Tyler, call me Belle.’
‘And you must call me Alice.’
Belle took a seat in the French wingback chair. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this beautifully appointed drawing room, handsome enough for the wealthiest banker. The floor boasted carpet of a rose pattern design. Curtains of shot silk hung at the windows. Bouquets of lilies graced sparkling crystal vases on the marble mantle. Papa must still be helping them, and most generously. She hadn’t realised.
‘I’ll pour us some tea. Becky and Emily should be here any minute. They finish teaching at four.’
‘What a beautiful pin,’ said Belle.
Alice’s fingers felt for the butterfly brooch at her neck. ‘Isn’t it?’ Her voice swelled with pride. ‘Luke gave this to me.’
Luke? The diamond looked real enough, but it was hard to tell these days. The more interesting question was, when had he given it to Alice? As far as Belle knew, Luke had never travelled home to Hobart after he escaped the prison camp. He’d been concerned about putting his family in danger. Before he went to gaol then? No. The brooch was a quality piece, and even as costume jewellery it would have been pricey. How could a poor boy have afforded it?
A murmur of excited voices echoed down the hallway, growing louder, until two people burst into the room. Belle was breathless with anticipation.
Emily hadn’t changed, hadn’t aged at all. She could have just walked in from the porch at Canterbury Downs. Belle recognised the other woman as well, although they’d never met. Belle greeted Becky a little shyly. She was a female version of Luke. The same brown eyes, with a hint of challenge in them. The same thick, dark hair and even features. Classically beautiful. A woman like Becky would not have lacked for suitors, yet apparently she’d never married.
Emily strode forward and gave her a heartfelt hug. ‘So, you’ve finally escaped your husband’s clutches. Don’t look so surprised, dear. Your letters betray your true feelings. I know how things are. He doesn’t even know you’re here, does he?’
Belle had forgotten how blunt Emily could be. She’d been like that herself once: outspoken, unafraid to state her opinion. Yet here she was, shocked to hear a truth so boldly stated. She wasn’t used to it. Years of living within the confining rules of polite society had stripped her of directness.
‘We haven’t known Emily for long,’ said Alice. ‘But we love her already.’
A maid came in with a silver tray, groaning with pastries and other goodies.
‘Thank you, Sylvie. Now sit down, everyone, and try something. Essie bakes the most wonderful cakes, far better than mine.’ Becky nodded in an exaggerated way. ‘There’s no need to agree with me,’ scolded her mother.
Servants, too? Belle took an éclair and gazed around the magnificent room. ‘You have a lovely home here, Alice.’ A harmless enough comment on the face of it, yet she regretted the words as soon as they were out.
‘Mama came into an inheritance. She’s a wealthy woman.’
It seemed Becky was as straightforward as Emily. There was more than a hint of challenge in her eyes now.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean . . .’ But she had. She might as well have said, ‘You’ve come up in the world.’
Alice reached over and patted Belle’s hand. ‘It’s all right, my dear. You’re not the first person to wonder where the money comes from.’
An odd choice of words. Perhaps Alice was the beneficiary of a perpetual trust.
‘This calls for more than tea,’ said Emily. ‘It’s a celebration, a reunion. Alice, shall I bring out the sherry?’
‘Oh yes, dear, and there’s champagne in the icebox. I think we could all use a drink.’<
br />
Wine flowed freely as the afternoon wore on. With Emily in her element, and Alice the perfect hostess, Belle and Becky had the chance to get to know each other.
‘What was Luke like as a child?’
‘A real scallywag,’ said Becky. ‘Got into all sorts of strife, and me with him just as often. Stealing apples from trees for fruit fights. Popping acorns in Mr Wigg’s mouth while he sat snoring on his porch. Unhitching horses from overloaded carts when nobody was looking. When the driver came back and raised his whip, the horses just trotted off, leaving the cart behind.’
Belle giggled. She could see Luke doing that. ‘He loved horses.’
Becky topped up her glass ‘There was a Catholic orphanage near us. The priest used to make the boys stand in the blazing sun for hours while he stood in the shade of an oak tree and preached his sermons. Small kiddies and all. We’d see them faint sometimes. Luke decided to do something about it.’
Alice stopped chatting to Emily and paid attention to the conversation.
‘How old was he?’ asked Belle.
‘Eleven, maybe twelve.’
‘What on earth could a child do?’
Becky paused for dramatic effect. ‘One night he chopped down the tree.’
Alice gasped. ‘You never told me that.’
‘He made me swear, Mama.’
‘What a scandal at the time. And you’re saying it was our Luke?’ A grin split Alice’s face. ‘I’ve never been prouder of my boy than I am right now.’ Alice turned to Belle. ‘Oh, he was a wag. Once he turned all my little china pigs a tiny bit each day until they faced the wall. He had me thinking our house was haunted.’
A warm rush of emotion left Belle weak. ‘Thank you, Alice, and you too, Becky, for sharing these wonderful stories. I feel so much happier, so much closer to Luke.’ Belle felt the first stirring of tears.
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