“An aigrette, an homage to the Tiffany piece.”

“I remember,” he said. “That was quite lovely.”

“I thought so. I paid almost a hundred thousand euros for it.”

“And you have never regretted the purchase,” he said, proudly.

Hugh smiled. “Indeed, I never have. And it is that level of beauty—or something approximating it—that I wish to sell.”

“We are to start a company,” Sophie said, “which will make multiple pieces, lines of jewellery, using the more inexpensive but natural stones, and which will sell only classic designs. There will not be any white or rose gold used, or any platinum or titanium; we will make purely traditional pieces. Of course, they will not be as perfect as the aigrette. But I want to bring fine, classic jewels to those who cannot afford the prices of House Massot.”

“We are preparing financing,” Hugh added. “And we wish you to be the chief designers; to design the signature collections and to train the younger designers who we will hire, at your direction.”

They glanced at each other.

“Mr. Montfort, we are getting old.”

“Mme Massot, you have provided for us so well, to live in our old age . . .we are looking forward to our retirement.”

“But aren’t you still employed at House Massot?”

“You are joking, no?” Heinrich’s old face creased further in disgust. “We resigned, Madame. As soon as we heard you were forced out.”

“And not only us. Mlle Claudette Chiron, and Edouard Peguy, they also resigned. Mr. Stockton cut salaries for the staff—”

“They are moving Mayberry collections in with House Massot.”

“They are trying to sack many of the expensive Massot designers, other than us. Lillian Brooks, they fired her . . .”

“If you would hire Mrs. Brooks, you may do so if you work for us. We would only give you a budget. The design, the materials, everything would be sourced through you,” said Hugh.

“I love jewellery,” Sophie said passionately. “When it’s truly beautiful. And it’s a dying art. If you work for us now—for a year, maybe two—you can train the next generation, you can ensure that your work will survive.”

“And meanwhile, we will see to it that you get the credit you deserve. For too long, you have toiled in anonymity. Our first collection would be entitled the Brandt Designs.” Hugh was extemporizing, but he saw the excitement on their faces; he ploughed on. “I will arrange a private exhibition at an exclusive London gallery. And we will invite the world’s press.”

“Like your party to relaunch House Massot?” Gertrud asked Sophie, timidly.

Sophie smiled. “Bigger, far bigger. That was only a practice run.”