Georgia waited, not sure what to do with the sapphire—whether to keep hold of it in her palm or return it to its little wooden box.
‘There was a collector putting out feelers, following on from the work of perhaps his father or grandfather, in his search for the missing sapphire. If you bear with me a few minutes, I’ll find his information for you.’
‘You think I should contact him?’ Georgia asked. ‘With the intent of selling it to this collector?’
Thomas paused what he was doing, looked up and, studying her intently, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, said, ‘I think it would be a very good starting point, and he may be the only person able to confirm its authenticity.’
‘What about the newspaper clipping? You mentioned it was in Italian. Are you fluent in the language?’
‘Unfortunately, not fluent enough to translate it, but I would keep both the clipping and the sapphire safe and in your possession. Perhaps contact an Italian language school or even the Italian Embassy to see if someone could assist you with the translation, and then I might suggest a genealogist as well, to help you understand how your family is connected to the stone. Who knows? It could be the clue that enables you to piece everything together.’
The trouble was that she had no idea what she was piecing together. She’d grown up without knowing her grandmother, had very little in the way of family mementos or records, and there was no one she could even turn to, to ask about the past, no matter how badly she wished otherwise.
‘Aha! Here it is. The man you’re looking for is a Luca Kaufmann,’ he said, scribbling on a piece of paper and passing it to Georgia.
‘He’s not in Italy?’ she said, surprised as she looked over the address and saw he was in Geneva.
‘Most of the pieces that were sold were to collectors in other European countries, as was the case with the fall of many European monarchies over the years,’ he said. ‘If you have the resources to travel to Switzerland, then that’s where I would begin.’
Georgia swallowed. ‘Well, it appears I have no excuse not to contact this’—she reread the name—‘Luca Kaufmann.’
‘Good luck, my dear. And please, do let me know what transpires.’ He beamed at her as she placed the sapphire back in the little box, deciding to keep hold of it rather than put it in her bag, now that she knew how valuable it was. ‘I have a feeling you might just be on the cusp of solving a mystery more than half a century in the making.’
5
ITALY, JUNE 1951
Delphine sat at her desk, her back straight as the woman she’d trusted her entire married life stood across the room, facing her. If anyone was prepared to tell her the truth, it would be her lady’s maid, Martina, the one person in her household who felt more family member than staff. The longer she’d waited for her to arrive, the more determined she’d become to ask her questions that had for some time been burning inside of her. It was time for her to understand precisely whom she was married to.
‘Please, come and sit,’ Delphine said. ‘We’ve known each other long enough to forego formality.’
‘Signora—’
‘Delphine,’ she insisted. ‘I’m certain you’ve already heard that my family is moving, no doubt it’s all the staff can talk about, so if this is to be our last month together, it’s time you called me Delphine.’
Martina looked uncomfortable, which wasn’t what Delphine wanted at all, but she was starting to see that perhaps there were questions she should have asked many months, even years, before this.
‘You’ve heard the rumours of our impending departure?’ she asked.
Martina nodded. ‘I have. I don’t know what I’ll do without you, Signora, I mean,Delphine. It’s been such a pleasure working for you all these years.’
Delphine nodded, feeling the familiar prickle of tears but refusing to acknowledge them. Martina had been there when she’d first moved into the house, a new bride who’d been alone and frightened, with a husband who rarely came home. Martina had comforted her when she’d cried for her family, counselled her about how to run the household with a firmer hand than came naturally to her, and had been the first to know when she was expecting. To say she trusted her would have been an understatement.
‘I have a very sensitive question to ask you, Martina, and I want you to answer me truthfully, no matter how difficult the response might be,’ she said. ‘I also want you to know that I understand why you might have kept certain things from me.’
She noticed the other woman positively wringing her hands, but Delphine knew there was no point in stopping, not now she’d decided to come out and ask her.
‘Is there anything I should know about my husband?’ she asked, her voice low and breathy, the question almost impossible to expel. ‘I’ve had a feeling for some time, I just…and one of the maids before…’ Delphine stopped and pressed her fingers to her temples. Perhaps she was going mad. Perhaps she was imagining things. Perhaps…‘I feel as if there are things I should know, things that perhaps everyone else in this household knows, except me.’
Martina lowered her voice. ‘You are asking whether your husband has been unfaithful to your marriage?’
Delphine’s intake of breath was sharp. ‘Yes, Martina, that is precisely what I’m asking. I would like to know if there are anyrumours you’re aware of, any particular reason that he would be so insistent that we move away. Are you personally aware of any…indiscretions?’
Martina held her gaze, woman to woman, and Delphine knew she was finally going to hear the truth. ‘Signor Giovanni has always been very respectful to all members of your household, but I am aware of some talk that he may have a mistress, or mistresses, in London.’
‘In London?’ Delphine’s heart ached. She’d always known he didn’t love her in the way a husband was supposed to love a wife, but she hadn’t thought he would hurt her in such a way. She closed her eyes for a second, realising now why the maid had looked at her sideways earlier, horrified that her staff were talking about her, gossiping about the poor lady of the house as her husband gallivanted about.
She straightened her shoulders, refusing to appear embarrassed. ‘And this is the first time you’ve heard of such a rumour, or is this simply the latest…’ She paused, finding the word hard to utter. ‘Infidelity?’
