Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"How the mighty have fallen!"

The words were followed by a series of giggles that Celestina tried to block out as she stepped up to the counter in the jeweller's shop and placed her carry case upon it. She opened it with shaking hands and laid out each piece, one by one, onto the velvet the jeweller had placed down.

"Ignore them," Sylvia whispered.

But Celestina couldn't ignore them. The words rang in her mind over and over. They were right. She had fallen from a great height, but now her punishment felt harsh.

"Do you think any of them are worth anything?" she asked.

The jeweller did not even smile as he picked up each piece and examined it through his loupe. Celestina held herself as still as she could, gripping the counter to stop herself from shaking.

"I heard she's got to sell everything," the voice from behind her said. "Her husband left her absolutely destitute."

"She's had a fair run of things, though," another voice said. "That husband of hers had everything, and she was nothing but a spoiled wife for years. It's about time she experienced some hardship."

"Ignore them," Sylvia said again, turning the words into something of a mantra.

"How?" Celestina snapped, her voice a hiss.

It was a small, neat little shop that seemed like a giant jewel. With the sun pouring in through the large double windows, light glinted off the hundreds of pieces lining the walls. Celestina wondered how many of those had been pawned by widows left in distress. How many ruined lives did that wall represent?

"Well, I suppose I could offer a couple of pounds for this one," he said, holding up the rose Celestina so loved. "But the rest are not worth what you think they are."

Celestina ground her teeth. She was prepared for this. Jewellers were, after all, renowned for it, trying to undervalue pieces to make a greater profit when they came to sell them on.

"I can assure you, Mr Stone, that these diamonds have great provenance. My husband assured me they are the best diamonds a person could buy."

Mr Stone lowered his loupe and gazed at her, unfazed by her words. "Was your husband a jeweller, Mrs Courtenay?"

"Well, no, he wasn't, but—"

"Hmm."

The jeweller put the loupe back to his eye and continued his examination. Celestina bit the tip of her tongue to stop herself from saying all the rude words that came to mind. She had to remind herself that she needed this man. Or rather, she needed his money.

"She deserves everything that comes her way," another voice said behind her, not from the same group but from another one this time. Celestina felt her cheeks redden.

"Such an ice queen," said another. "No wonder she has no friends to turn to now. Take it as fair warning that you shouldn't isolate those around you. You never know when you need someone to fall back on."

"I never did such a thing," Celestina whispered to Sylvia. "What do they mean? Why would I isolate people around me?"

"Ignore them," Sylvia repeated, this time with more emphasis and raised eyebrows. "They know not of what they speak."

"Ignored every invitation," came the voice again. "As if she were too good to socialize with us."

"What invitations?" Celestina said, the dread gnawing at her heart growing. "I never received such a thing."

She had, in fact, long suspected David went through her correspondences, filtering out those he didn't wish her to read. It was not that he was a cruel man. But he was jealous and possessive.

He loved her so much that he couldn't bear to see her even talking with anyone else. Celestina had put up with it because he was her husband, and he was kind enough. Their home life was pleasant and calm, even if she had not made a single friend since arriving in London.

Celestina desperately wanted to turn around, see these gossips, and face them. But she felt rooted to the spot like she couldn't move. Instead, she gripped the counter even harder, waiting for the jeweller's response.

Please, please, please.

She had long ago learned to hate being in public. It always ended in upset somehow. If David weren't jealous, then something would go wrong. And today was no different. She could feel eyes upon her as if she were standing naked in the shop, and she was certain it was busier today than normal as if passersby saw her in the shop and entered only to ogle.

"They're probably not even talking about you anyhow," Sylvia tried.

Celestina scoffed. "I am not that stupid, thank you very much. Apart from the comments, there are the stares. Of course, they're talking about me."

"Poor Mr Courtenay deserved a better wife than her ," came a final voice. "No wonder he left her with nothing."

When the sniggering started, Celestina could take no more. She lunged forward, grabbing the jewellery and shoving it roughly back into the carry case. She snatched the last piece from the jeweller's hand.

"Excuse me," he said, lowering his loupe and staring at her open-mouthed. "I was—"

"I'm sorry, Mr Stone, but I have to leave."

Bundling her goods to her chest, she curled her shoulders in, kept her head down, and dashed from the shop as quickly as she could. As soon as she reached the street, she sagged, letting out her breath in a long, slow exhale.

"Mrs Courtenay," Sylvia called, scurrying after her. "Wait!"

Celestina turned to her maid and smiled. "Do accept my apology, Sylvia," she said. "I simply couldn't stand there and listen any longer. It was too much."

"You really ought to ignore them," Sylvia urged. "They are petty young ladies with nothing better to do than belittle others and spread gossip. You are a thousand times better than they are."

"That may be so," Celestina agreed, "but that doesn't make it at all pleasant. I was dreading the experience enough, having to sell my beautiful jewellery. It didn't help having such crows wittering behind me."

Sylvia giggled. "Crows they definitely are. Shall we try another jeweller? There is Mr Goldsmith's place just a few streets away."

Celestina looked surreptitiously around. It was a busy street, the sounds of life battling against the heavy clopping of horses and the rattle of carts as they trundled across the cobbles.

It was in streets like this one where all walks of life joined hands, from the poorest of people to the wealthiest. While urchins dashed between legs, going about whatever business brought in a few coins, ladies and gentlemen strolled arm in arm, browsing the shop windows.

Celestina felt conspicuous enough as it was. All eyes seemed to be on her, even from those she had never met. Glances and stares were quickly followed by heavy whispers behind fans and hands. Perhaps she was imagining it, but it felt to Celestina as if the whole of London was gossiping about her and quite openly too.

She sighed. "I'm not sure I can handle it today. Perhaps we can return tomorrow?"

"Whatever you wish, Mrs Courtenay. Let's get back, and I'll put on a nice pot of tea."

Celestina smiled gratefully at her maid. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

She handed the carry case over to Sylvia, then tugged her cloak more tightly around her. Though the day was warm, she felt a chill run through her. As they began walking to the hired coach, she spotted him.

Richard.

To have not seen him in all these years, then to see him twice in two days! It was almost too much. Celestina stopped walking and stared, unable to stop herself. Her heart cried out for him or at least for the friend he used to be.

He was with his mother, who looked to be as sour as she had always been. And then there was someone else. A young lady. She gazed at Richard as if he were the greatest man alive. Celestina knew that gaze. She'd looked at Richard in the same way for a long time.

"Mrs C— Oh."

Sylvia stopped and joined her mistress in watching the small group across the street. Richard seemed entirely uninterested in the young woman, but then Celestina supposed that was how gentlemen always were.

"Do you think they're courting?" she whispered to Sylvia.

Sylvia shrugged. "It's hard to tell."

"The young lady looks completely in love."

Celestina chewed her bottom lip, unable to pull her eyes away. The threesome was looking into a bookshop window, pointing things out, and talking animatedly. Seeing it caused a sharp pain in Celestina's chest. Nothing serious, of course. It was not love nor jealousy but rather a residue of the feelings she used to have for him.

"She's pretty," Celestina said.

"Not a patch on you, though, Mrs Courtenay," Sylvia said.

Celestina chuckled and finally, pulling her eyes away, looked at her maid. "Honestly, you would say anything sweet if you thought it would make me feel better."

"Only ever the truth," Sylvia said. "And besides, is there something wrong with wanting to cheer you up?"

"Not at all." Celestina sighed. "Come along then. I really don't want him to see us."

"Lest he offer you help again?" Sylvia suggested.

"That, and I don't want the embarrassment of meeting his sweetheart. Let's go and have that tea. I'm parched."

They turned to make their way to the carriage then, but it was too late. Over the din of gossip and the clatter of horses, her name was loud and clear.

"Celestina?" Richard called. "Celestina? Is that you?"

She turned and nodded, raising her hand in a small wave before turning to scuttle away. But no, even that was impossible.

"Wait!" He trotted across the road to see her, and Celestina's heart lodged itself firmly in her throat.