“I am too, a bit.” He looked chagrined, but it didn’t dim any of the brightness in his eyes.
“Well, you’re both invited to dine at Fenbridge Hall tonight.”
“Are we?”
Tess gestured toward the Americans. “They’ve commandeered the place and Fenbridge is allowing it. Apparently, there’s to be a formal dinner this evening with London visitors and all.”
“Well, I guess Dominic was wrong. They’re going to stay a while.” Tristan’s comment wasn’t about the dinner, but about the fact that two footmen approached across Fenbridge’s field carrying chairs and umbrellas. There could be no doubt who they were for.
Tess groaned. Tristan put a comforting arm of allegiance around her shoulders.
“If only the old curmudgeon had allowed us to dig, he could have saved us all this fuss. Though we would have been a bit poorer.”
“Exactly. We couldn’t have afforded all these men,” Tess admitted, “but, yes, point taken. It’s still a mystery why he refused us and then allowed... this.” Tess waved toward the sight of Mr. Van Arsdale marching down the length of the trench, expecting the workmen to part before him like the Red Sea.
“I wonder what we’ll find today.” Tristan rolled up his sleeves. “That’s what matters, Tess. Not them. It’s the story of the people who built this ship, who put it into the ground, and whoever they meant to honor by its burial.”
It was very like what their father’s sentiments might havebeen but spoken in Tris’s playful style. It resonated inside her chest.
“Yes. You’re right.” Tess rolled up her sleeves too. What mattered was what they’d find. Not the Americans’ meddling, not even the yearning she felt every time she looked Dominic’s way.
Because he would soon walk out of her life, but what they dug out of the mound would endure. Displayed in an American museum, perhaps, but the history they recovered would be better understood. Tess suspected Eveline Prince planned to write about their finds, as she had with other Prince expeditions. Still, Tess couldn’t help but think how their discoveries might bring a fresh depth to her father’s Norfolk history.
She needed to stop replaying last night in her mind and remember: the dig was what mattered today. Everything else had to wait.
The Van Arsdales were hardier than Dom had given them credit for. Even as the sun climbed high in the nearly cloudless sky and the temperature rose, they remained seated in their chairs under umbrellas, partaking of the various drinks and foodstuffs Fenbridge servants delivered to them every couple of hours.
Dom had the gut-twisting feeling he always did during a dig when they were on the cusp of something big. It had rarely failed him, though as the day progressed, his attention was drawn again and again to Tess. Whatever they were about to unearth mattered to him more because they’d find it together.
“Dominic!” Tristan was down in the lower middle end of the trench with three other men, and Dom made his way down the dirt shelf at the edge of the trench to where the three worked.
“What do you make of these?” Tristan cupped his dirty hands together, displaying five coins, gold coins.
“There are more here,” Townsend said quietly, still crouched down, gently unearthing what seemed a purseful of coins, though the container itself had long since decomposed in the soil.
Dom took one from Tristan’s hand, rubbing gently at the dust to make out the engraving.
“Tess,” Tristan called. “Come have a look.”
Even the sound of her name being called set off a little flutter in Dom’s chest, and he watched her approach with a too obvious eagerness. They’d both been so intent on their work that they’d not spoken to each other for the past couple of hours.
“What do you see?” Dom asked, offering her the coin he held.
“It’s gold,” she murmured, then looked up at her brother. “Papa was better with coins than either of us.”
“But you know who’s mentioned there,” Tristan told her.
“Dominus Noster...” she read and then looked up, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “Roman Emperor Justin. Sixth century. Are there more?”
Dom felt a bit dizzy, and he had a sudden wish that Eve was with him. She loved the finds that gave them indications of hard fast dates.
Tristan crouched down and Townsend handed him half a dozen more coins. All gold, from the looks of them.
“An ingot?” Dom reached for a rectangular lump of gold. It was common practice to include coins with royal or special burials, often with the notion of paying a ferryman or paying for whatever the soul might need in the afterlife.
“What have you got there?” Van Arsdale called from the packed dirt ledge above them.
They’d all been too caught up in their find to notice his approach.
