Everyone Here Rented Their Diamonds

How it begins

Violet Bell counted fourteen diamonds on the necklace she had delivered and fifteen on the necklace around the countess's throat.

That was the first problem. The second was that none of the fifteen were diamonds.

She knew the substitute stones. Her employer bought them by the tray for theatrical engagements and ladies who wanted insurance claims to remain hypothetical.

Across the ballroom, the countess accepted compliments with the serenity of a woman wearing someone else's monthly income. Violet watched the clasp. Wrong again.

'You're counting,' said the dance instructor.

'It's my job.'

'Usually people count beats.'

Edmund Lane stood beside the orchestra platform, waiting to rescue guests from one another's feet. Violet had met him at three previous functions, always in the narrow space where workers waited to be needed.

'That necklace isn't ours,' she said.

'Is that good?'

'No.'

He looked at the countess, then at a woman crossing the floor in a blaze of sapphires.

'Neither is that one,' Violet added.

'The sapphires?'

'The confidence.'

A waiter passed carrying champagne. Edmund took two glasses, gave one to Violet and quietly turned them both so their faces were reflected in the window instead of visible to the room.

'What would you like me to do?'

She appreciated the question. Most men offered solutions before learning how much trouble they might cause.

'Find out who handles the cloakroom keys.'

On the stage, the chairman began thanking the patrons for their extraordinary generosity. Behind him, a painted thermometer showed the charity fund rising toward its target.

Violet had seen the donation cheques laid out in the office. Their paper was real. She was no longer certain about anything written on it.

The countess touched her false diamonds. For an instant she looked directly at Violet and stopped smiling.

Violet lowered her glass. The woman was frightened, and it was not of losing the necklace.