Blood Diamond Part 2 Chapter 8

The newspaper billboards all over Johannesburg apparently hailed: “SHAW IS THE GRANDEST WEDDING”.

When she looked out of her window on her wedding day, she saw no billboards. She only knew of them at all from her personal maid, Charity. Neither did she see any of the pedlars and prostitutes on Pritchard Street. She missed them. This was so beautiful, but she missed them.

Frances had insisted she move to the cottage on the Shaw estate the moment Esson and Hector’s engagement was announced. It had seemed sensible, since there was so much to be done and decided. And if she were to be honest, Esson found it hard to resist Frances – indeed, she was rather afraid of her.

She missed Em too, since it had been politely made clear that Em was not welcome at the estate. And she was kept so busy with bridal preparations that she had no time for visiting. She had sent Em a note but had received nothing back from her friend. Perhaps Em disapproved of her choice, Esson thought sadly, and wished to make a clean break.

All three Shaws brought the diamond to her cottage that morning. Frances had decided she should wear it on her wedding day rather than receive it after her vows.

“It’s a demonstration of our faith in you,” she had said. Esson found it irksome to have her character tested in this way, but she supposed she ought to be grateful to them. Hector could probably have attracted almost anyone to be his bride. And although Frances wasn’t exactly warm, she had welcomed her graciously, as a young woman of family, rather than an “adventuress”.

Frances could nonetheless not restrain herself from commenting on Esson’s strange reaction to the stone when the box was opened.

“I must say, I find it strange myself,” Esson replied, embarrassed by the feelings it invoked in her. “But the light draws the eye in a most extraordinary way.”

“You’re not alone there,” Royston Shaw told her kindly. “If truth be told, I have never seen anyone respond to that diamond in a casual way. I found it in a cave in the mountains somewhere in the northern territory, but sometimes I wonder about it.”

“Don’t scare the child with your old tales of witchery now, Royston,” Frances said. “She is to wear it on her wedding day.”

“I just remember that, when I was a boy, I believed there to be something supernatural about that diamond,” Hector said, and his mother added: “I remember. You wouldn’t come near it. Leapt back when I held it out to you. Silly boy you were.”

“Well, not quite so silly, Mother. When I took it to be set, old Mr Piguet the goldsmith leapt back at the sight of it. At first I thought it was its size . . . but then he said he’d seen many diamonds, but never that particular depth of colour and glow.”

*    *    *

Esson stood now at the window, wearing that colour and glow. The view she saw from her cottage was of a rolling lawn, leading endlessly towards the rose garden and, beyond, towards the wilderness where a river marked the distant boundary of the Shaws’ estate.

To her relief the cottage was quite some distance from the manor house. From the house, the cottage was out of sight and from here, the house appeared small and insignificant. After the wedding, Esson and Hector were to occupy the left wing of the manor house. But Esson had come to enjoy living alone in the cottage and she was sorry about the move. The cottage had an attic, where she loved to sit and think.  It had narrow windows with pink and yellow glass panes, so that daylight always felt like dusk.

She had also turned the dining room into her own private study, and had placed there her typewriter and collection of books. Frances naturally had plenty to say about a woman writing. “It is no career for a wife of Hector’s,” she had told Esson the day she moved in, “and we’ll thank you not to shame the family by having our friends see you in print.”

“In truth I have always wanted to be in print.”

“What we want and what is good for us are two separate matters.”

Esson had stood up to Frances that time. But she found it increasingly difficult as time went on. Frances was relentless, implacable in having her way. But Hector soothed her, saying the wedding of her only child was important to her. That Esson should be patient. He would speak to his mother, he told her, but it was best to wait until they were married. All would be well after the wedding.

She had confessed her ambitions to Hector and he had approved – even going so far as to say that writing was a wonderful pastime for a woman. He thought it would be fine for her to continue using the cottage as a writing room – once his mother got used to the idea.

“As long as you read everything you write to me first,” he had teased. Her affection for Hector had grown considerably that day. She still loved William. She suspected she always would. But for Hector she felt growing warmth. She felt safe.

Esson asked Charity, to spread out her wedding dress on the divan in the attic, where she would prepare herself for the grand hour.

Frances had insisted on a classic, white wedding dress with its fitted bodice, pinched waist and full skirt. The finest tulle, gauze and silk had been ordered from England. Frances’s personal dressmaker had seen to the rest, including a veil of the finest lace. To this she had added a pair of short white kid gloves, a silk handkerchief embroidered with her maiden name initials, silk stockings and white satin shoes decorated with bows. Fresh orange blossoms made up her bouquet. Frances had been unable to resist telling Esson the ensemble had cost a full three thousand pounds.

Now that the hour was drawing near, Esson ascended the narrow stairs for the last time as a single woman. She entered the attic and looked at herself in the full-length mirror there. Her eyes today shared the same deep scarlet glow as the diamond.

“We both look possessed,” she spoke to the diamond – something she had surprised herself by doing from the moment she received it. On occasion she felt its presence in its box. Solitary confinement for something so animated did not seem right.

A few minutes later, a flurry of servants arrived to help her prepare, followed by Frances. She headed down from the attic to find her mother-in-law staring up disapprovingly.

“Have you gained weight?”

Esson was taken aback. She had no idea whether she had gained or lost weight; it had never been of any concern to her.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” she replied, annoyed that Frances should try to dampen her image of herself on this day. “We shall see if my wedding gown fits.”

Esson had noticed that, whenever she wore the diamond, she became more defiant towards Frances. Like a badge of courage, it spurred her to speak her mind.

It was three hours before the wedding and Esson’s cottage was overrun by maidservants sent to help her dress. Clasping the diamond between her thumb and forefinger she told them all, including Frances, that Charity alone should help her prepare. To her surprise Frances conceded, and ushered the rest of the maidservants out of the cottage.

The dress fit perfectly – clearly she had not put on weight.

“You look very beautiful Miss Esson,” Charity said.

Esson felt excited at last. Up until this moment her thoughts had been filled with William, but today she felt she had done the right thing. She had secured her future and, with time, the pain would lessen.

Come the hour, a carriage was sent to her door. Two white horses were bucking playfully in anticipation of the ride back over the lawns. Esson had no bridesmaids.

She had written to ask Em to stand up with her, but had received no reply. She did still consider Em to be her true friend, and she couldn’t think why Em would simply ignore her, rather than tell her why she was angry. She knew her letters had gone because she had personally handed them to the butler, who was responsible for the post. He had assured her that he, personally, had sent them.
Esson entered the church to the strains of the wedding march. Everyone turned to look at her and she heard a small, collective gasp. She felt invincible, with her stone about her neck. She felt as supernaturally beautiful as it did.

Every seat seemed occupied by high society Johannesburg – each one more high society than the next. Esson had met most of them by now. The church was only large enough to accommodate a hundred of the five hundred people who had been invited to the wedding. The rest would attend the reception in the manor house.

Hector was waiting at the front of the church for her. He did not turn to look at her until she reached his side. “I could feel you coming down the aisle. I couldn’t look,” he whispered and touched her hand.

She felt affection for this vulnerable side of Hector. She could learn to love him truly, she felt certain. All her misgivings about Hector Shaw, all the rumours and silly implications she’d heard over the months faded away as they took their vows “till death us do part”.

In that moment Esson felt a closeness to Hector she had never felt before. It lasted all the way back in the carriage, to the reception.

Copyright Ranulph Moore

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Ranulph Moore describes himself as an explorer, who became a writer to purge himself of the adventures that were crowding his life. He says he has seen it all, in a life spent observing the lives of others. He will travel anywhere – as long as he can make a decent cup of tea and launder a linen jacket. He describes Africa as one of his great loves. He has spent time in every country on the continent. If he can’t find a good champagne, he has been known to resort to gin. He has homes in Paris, Jura and Cape Town. At present, he lives in Madagascar, where he is researching his latest book.

Read an interview with Ranulph Moore.