Margaret Way - Diamonds are for Marriage - The Australian's Society Bride

“Chloe won’t go away. Dearie me, no!” Geraldine offered, somewhat darkly.

“Go away?” What was Gerri going on about?

“Don’t be dense, child.” Geraldine had actually pinched her. “It doesn’t suit you. Every last member of the Compton tribe is campaigning for Chloe to become Mrs. Boyd Blanchard.”

“But I thought you all were!” Leona answered in amazement. “Let’s face it. It’s Rupert’s dearest wish.”

“Bugger Rupert!” said Geraldine.

Bathed, make-up and hair done, Leona looked down at the two evening dresses spread out on her Versailles-style bed. One was a beautifully draped emerald-green georgette silk with a faux diamond brooch detail at the waist. Green, after all, was her colour and the dress was definitely sexy. Maybe too sexy. The other was chiffon of a colour that defied description. Neither pink nor apricot but a marvellous blend of the two. Bea had actually picked it out for her.

“This colour was made for you, Leona, my dear, with that magnificent mane of hair. Not many can get away with the ethereal style either, but you can. Take it. It’s a gift!”

Closely fitted to the hip, embroidered to one side with matching flowers and leaves, the neckline plunged, as was the fashion, the skirt flowed gracefully to the floor. No doubt about it, it was exquisite. And it looked even better on.

What kind of statement did she wanted to make? The femme fatale or the springtime nymph? In the end she opted for the ethereal, romantic look. No getting away from it, it did suit her style of looks and she was rather worried about pushing her sexuality. She couldn’t afford to be too obvious about it. Sweet little Leona to Rupert—that was the way he would want her to remain. Rupert wouldn’t hear of any other woman for his son but Chloe Compton. She understood that fully. And Rupert had long since developed the habit of getting everything he wanted.

But then—Boyd had kissed her. If he never kissed her again, she would remember it for her whole life. And, remembering, live off it. Wasn’t there a law that said one was only allowed one great love in life? She hoped not.

When she walked into the drawing room in her high heeled evening sandals, her chiffon skirt floating around her, everyone with one notable exception, looked at her with open pleasure, Peter Blanchard, one of the cousins, with open adoration. She had known Peter all of her life. He had been her escort on many, many occasions and she was very fond of him. He was good-looking, clever and charming in his way. He had a number of university degrees under his belt, one from Harvard Business School. Like most of the clan, he worked for Blanchards.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t hold a candle to Boyd, who was staring across the room at her, blue eyes glittering. She started to breathe deeply. That was right. In and out. She had the sudden delirious notion that her dress had turned transparent. Her glance shot away to Rupert, who was smiling his approval. Rupert was standing with his son in front of the fireplace, with its white marble surround and magnificent eighteenth century English mirror. Both men were of a height, both possessed of a charisma that commanded attention.

The fireplace when not in use in spring and summer was generally occupied by a large Chinese fish bowl filled with masses and masses of flowers and greenery. Tonight the big blue and white bowl held a profusion of pink Oriental lilies, with twisting dried branches, spear grasses and a fan of palms. Leona noticed abstractedly that the lilies matched the colours of her dress—pink with speckled golden-apricot throats.

Geraldine, seated on one of the damask upholstered sofas in conversation with one of the Blanchard wives, waved her over. She presented a vision of striking eccentricity in her favourite imperial purple with diamond and amethyst earrings as big as chandeliers swinging from her ears. Tonya was half turned away, as though Leona’s entrance had been staged and in any case was of no interest to her. Champagne glass in hand, she looked very glamorous in a short evening gown of a deep glowing shade of fuchsia. All the women had made a real effort to sparkle and glow. Simon’s serene Emma wore blue to match her eyes. It was a comparatively modest gown given the evening wear around her, but she wore it with unselfconscious ease, certain of her place in the scheme of things.

And here was Jinty, the hostess with the mostest. That certainly applied tonight. No one, but no one could hope to outshine Jinty, Leona thought as Jinty flowed towards her. She had gone all out tonight. Money simply wasn’t an issue. She wore a couture black satin strapless gown, above which her creamy bosom swelled proudly. Her thick blonde hair was coiffed to perfection, swept up and back. She would have a hairdresser in residence. But everything was simply a backdrop to showcase the “Blanchard Diamonds”.

They were so glorious that the owner of the most magnificent collection of jewels in the world, the Queen of England might have envied them. The suite comprised three pieces—necklace, pendant earrings and bracelet. All white diamonds, they were colourless and flawless. A double row of pear-shaped diamonds encircled Jinty’s neck. Appended to the bottom row was a large square-shaped diamond enhancer enclosing a huge canary diamond that Leona knew weighed in at over thirty carats. The earrings alone featured two nine carat drops that flashed and scintillated with Jinty’s every movement. Everyone in the family knew the suite had been acquired at the turn of the twentieth century from a famous South African billionaire who had plenty more where they’d come from. The diamonds had been mined at De Beers, Cecil Rhodes’ first diamond mine. So the suite had a history.

The last time Leona had seen the whole suite Aunt Alexa had been wearing it at a grand state ball. Jinty often wore the superb earrings. Sometimes the bracelet. But so far the necklace hadn’t had an outing. Tradition had it that the suite was to be handed down through the generations for the use of the current wife of the head of the Blanchard family. Which made Jinty merely a custodian, which was a blessing. If Rupert and Jinty ever split up, her share would be in multiples of millions, but she would never get away with the “Blanchard Diamonds”.

“Jinty, you look simply marvelous!” Leona said, because she did.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Jinty responded brightly. “The diamonds make me feel like a goddess.”

“They look wonderful on you. They really do.” And she meant it.

“And you look perfectly beautiful as usual,” Jinty responded graciously. “Where did you get that dress? The colour is extraordinary. Especially with your hair.”

“Bea picked it out,” Leona said.

Jinty gave a faint shudder. “Can’t stand the woman, though I know she’s a genius of sorts. Ugly though, don’t you think? Rupert won’t hear a word against her. Now, I must get you a glass of champagne.” She turned away in time to see Boyd approaching. “Ah, here’s Boyd with one,” she said brightly.

Boyd stopped in front of them, handing a glass of champagne to Leona. “No need to tell you you look ravishing, Leona,” he said, an unmistakably caressing intonation in his voice.

“That she does,” Jinty seconded rather abruptly. “Where’s that stepbrother of yours, Leo? We can’t go into dinner without him.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Boyd murmured, looking towards the entrance hall. The circular library table that stood in the middle of the spacious hall, which was paved in a diamond pattern of marble and stone, was the perfect spot for another stunning flower arrangement, this time a profusion of roses, gerberas, lisianthus and leaves. “Here he is now,” Boyd said as Robbie suddenly hove into view.