Page 86 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“I am Mr. Schmidt.” He signaled to a room at the back of the shop. She led the way and was relieved when he left the door ajar.

She pulled out the boxed brooch—a reminder of her past wrongs, a keepsake of her most precious memories, a beacon prompting her to better judgment—and handed it to Mr. Schmidt. There was no need to explain. He extracted a telescope and examined the large diamond center.

“Beautiful.” He rolled it in his palm, opened the latch, and snapped it closed. The diamond was large, nearly five carats, and it had been in the family for generations spanning back to when Louisa’s maternal ancestors had prospered. With no direct male heirs, most of the property had passed to a distant relative, but the brooch and Stillwater Cottage had been handed down from mother to daughter with a solemnity comparable to a queen relinquishing her crown. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry Louisa had ever seen, even on Lady Halverton.

He looked at her, his eye large behind the scope. “When do you need the money?”

“As soon as may be. Now.”

Mr. Schmidt scribbled a figure on a card and gave it to her. It was more than she needed but far less than the value of the diamond. Louisa countered.

The man scoffed and made another offer, but not raising his bid as high as she had hoped.

“You know it is worth twice that sum.”

“You are in a hurry.” He meant her desperation was expensive.

“My urgency is not so great that I cannot go across the street to your competitor.” Though she feared she had no time for such an excursion, she did not allow her anxiety to cross her expression.

His eyes darted out the window. “I will grant your price, but you must take it partially in jewelry.”

She agreed but picked up the keepsake, committing its weight, the oval diamond, and lacy filigree to memory before dropping it into Mr. Schmidt’s proffered hand. With swift fingers, he boxed it and left the room to retrieve payment. She would never see it again. Would her mother understand? Her grandmothers?

She swallowed and stood quickly, the room swirling around her. She leaned over the desk and pressed her hand to her stomach. She hadn’t eaten all day but now was no time for weakness. She withdrew a fan and cooled her damp face.

By the time she stepped back into the hackney, her reticule weighted with coins, notes, and jewelry, she was recovered. With rising spirits, she returned to Mr. Gilford and paid him.

“Should I apply to you should Mr. Thorpe find himself in trouble again?” Mr. Gilford asked.

“That will not happen. He is leaving London.”

“Let us hope so.”

She had no reason to depend on so flimsy a thing as hope after accomplishing her objective so well and so thoroughly. To punctuate her success, Louisa stopped at an inn, begged writing implements, and sent a farewell letter to Charles, enclosing a half-guinea to see him comfortably home. Though her fingers missed tracing the beloved brooch, she smiled as she rode back to Grosvenor Square. At last, her future was secured: no one need discover the Great Misjudgment.