“I don’t know,” Evie said, pushing Joanna’s arm away with a grimace. “You’rethe one who wrote it.”
“We need to find Truman Avenue.” Stopping in the middle of the busy sidewalk, Claire flattened a hand against her temple and stood up on her toes in an effort to see above the crowded swarm of pedestrians. “I see it!” she said, her face brightening with relief. Unlike Joanna, who loved the business of the city, and Evie, who was in awe of the fashion, Claire much preferred the quietness of Somerville. She’d been visibly overwhelmed ever since they’d arrived, and was eager to have the ring appraised as fast as possible and return home. “Right over there, beside the bakery, just like Grandmother said.”
“Then over there we shall go,” Joanna announced, barely contained excitement adding an extra bounce to her step as she linked arms with her sisters and half-walked, half-dragged them past the bakery and into a small, narrow shop with a gold sign above the door that readBernard’s Fine Estate Jewelry and Antiquities.
In the two days since they’d decided to have the ring appraised and possibly sold, Joanna had felt light as a feather. Finally,finally,there was a potential solution to her dilemma of marrying to save her family instead of marrying to fulfill her heart’s desire. Because if she had to—if shereallyhad to—she would accept Charles’ proposal. Or the one that had come before it. Or the one that had come before that. Somerville had plenty of men from wealthy families, with no exceedingly remarkable traits to distinguish them from each other. Oh, John Yardley preferred fishing to hunting and Henry Wellsboro had never met a deer he didn’t want to kill, but in their bones and their blood they were all cut from the same cloth.
Except for Charles, who preferred silk.
If she said yes to any of them, she’d be saying yes to all of them. It wouldn’t matter which suitor she chose. But with the ring and the money it brought, she wouldn’t have to. With the ring, she could pursue her dream of traveling the world without being weighed down by the guilt of letting her family down. With the ring, she could fall in love with whomever she wanted. With the ring, she could choose someone because ofwhothey were instead of howwealthythey were. With the ring, she could be free.
A plush green carpet muffled her footsteps as she followed her sisters into the jewelry shop and allowed the door to swing closed behind her. At once, she was assailed by the overwhelming scent of a heavy floral perfume. The kind their grandmother kept on her dressing table but never used.
At first glance, there was no one about. As Joanna’s eyesight adjusted to the dimly lit interior, she noticed a long, glass case that ran the entire length of the back wall. Inside the case was jewelry of all sorts, from necklaces to earrings to an enormous sapphire brooch that immediately captured Evie’s attention.
“Oh,” she sighed, pressing her face to the glass, “it’sgorgeous.”
“You’ve an excellent eye, Miss. That particular piece belonged to the Duchess of Knoxleigh,” said a short, middle-aged man as he stepped out from behind a velvet curtain on the other side of the case. Wearing a pleasant smile and an old-fashioned waistcoat with a gold pocket watch tucked in the front pocket, he inclined his head in greeting. “Mr. Bernard at your service, young ladies. How can I help you today?”
As the eldest, Joanna was accustomed to taking the lead. “We’ve come to have a ring appraised. It belonged to our mother.” Opening her purse where she’d carefully secured the ring inside a leather pouch, she placed it in the middle of her palm and held out her arm. Evie and Claire crowded on either side of her, and all three sisters held their breath as Mr. Bernard leaned forward to examine the ring.
“Exquisite,” he murmured. “Positively exquisite.” His head lifted sharply. “How did you say the ring came to be in your possession?”
“It was our mother’s,” Joanna repeated. “I found it in the attic a number of years after she had passed.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” said Mr. Bernard without taking his eyes off the ring. “You’d like to know its worth? Are you interested in selling it?”
“We haven’t decided,” Claire said with an anxious glance at Joanna, who took her sister’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
She knew Claire still harbored some reservations about parting with the ring. She also knew why. While Joanna and Evie still retained some memories of their mother, however obscure and fleeting they may have been, Claire had none. The ring was an attachment to the woman who had given birth to her. The woman she was incapable of remembering. The woman she’d always yearned to know.
If Claire did not want to sell the ring after they learned its monetary value, then they wouldn’t sell it. It was as simple as that. In the Thorncroft family, sisters came first. No matter how much they bickered on small matters, they always presented a united front on the things that were most important.
While selling the ring was the easiest and simplest solution to all of their problems, if one of them didn’t want to do it, then none of them would do it.
They’d find another way.
They always did.
“We’d like to have it appraised first,” Joanna said matter-of-factly. “Then discuss possibly putting it on consignment. Our Grandmother, Ruth Thorncroft, told us you sold several pieces of jewelry for her.”
“Mrs. Thorncroft. Yes. I remember her very well. Very well, indeed. Lovely woman. Drove a hard bargain, I will admit.” Mr. Bernard rocked onto his heels and tucked his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat. “Her granddaughters, did you say?”
“I am Joanna, this is Evie, and Claire.” Joanna’s eyes narrowed as she studied the jeweler. She didn’t know why, exactly, but she didn’t like the way his gaze kept darting to the ring. Or how his tongue ran across his bottom lip every time he stared at it. “Can you tell us anything about the ring?”
“I’d have to examine it, naturally. May I?” Opening a drawer, Mr. Bernard removed a square piece of black velvet and laid it flat across the top of the glass case.
After a moment’s hesitation, Joanna placed the ring in the middle of the velvet and then watched, nibbling on her bottom lip, as the jeweler slipped on a pair of heavyset spectacles with what appeared to be miniature magnifying glasses attached to the ends.
“What are those?” Claire asked, nodding at the unusual spectacles.
“These,” said Mr. Bernard as he grasped the ring with a pair of tweezers and held it up to his right eye which appeared comically large, “are called a jeweler’s loupe. Think of them as a telescope, except they’re used to look at gemstones instead of planets and stars. Interesting.” He turned the ring from side to side. “Quite interesting.”
“What is?” Evie said breathlessly.
Carefully returning the ring to the velvet, Mr. Bernard pushed his jeweler’s loupe to the top of his head. “Your mother’s ring was undoubtedly custom made and in pristine condition for its age.”
“Its age?” Joanna’s brow creased. “How old is it, precisely?”
