“Given the type of setting, my best guess would be the mid-18th century.”
The sisters exchanged a startled glance, and Joanna knew they were all thinking the same thing. How in the world had their mother come to be in possession of a ring that was nearly one hundred and twenty years old?
“The ruby itself is likely to be much older than that,” Mr. Bernard continued. “It’s a marquise cut, four carats, framed in twelve half-carat diamonds. Absolutely top grade. What’sinterestingis that the designer of such a magnificent piece of work would usually leave a signature mark. Not unlike an artist signing his painting. What makes this ring very unique, aside from its size and clarity, is that there is no such signature mark. It is, for all intents and purposes, anonymous.”
“And that’s rare?” said Evie.
“Exceedingly so.”
“Then you don’t know who made the ring?” asked Claire.
“No, I am afraid not,” Mr. Bernard said quickly.
Tooquickly to Joanna’s way of thinking.
As the fine hairs on her nape stood straight on end, she snatched up the ring and closed it protectively in her fist. She still couldn’t pinpoint the source of her uneasiness, but she’d learned to trust her gut a long time ago. And right now, it was telling her something wasn’t right.
“What is it worth?” she asked.
“I…” Removing a linen handkerchief from his pocket, Mr. Bernard ran it across his temple. “I would need more time to do a thorough exam. Standard procedure, you understand. It should only take a day or two, three at the most.”
“What sort of exam?” she asked suspiciously.
“Tests,” he mumbled vaguely. “Standard procedure, as I said.”
“Whatsortof tests?”
Again Mr. Bernard swiped his handkerchief along his forehead, which was now beginning to gleam with sweat beneath the soft glow of the light hanging above their heads. “The—the usual sort. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Jo, just give him the ring,” said Evie, her voice tinged with exasperation. “It’s not as if Mr. Bernard is trying tostealit from us. He’s a highly respected jeweler! Aren’t you, Mr. Bernard?”
“H—highly respected,” Mr. Bernard stuttered.
“There, you see?” Then she frowned. “Mr. Bernard, are you well? You’re turning rather red.”
“Very red,” Claire agreed.
The jeweler tugged at his necktie. “I…I…oh, to hell with it. Just give me the ring!”
Evie shrieked when Mr. Bernard lunged across the counter at Joanna. “Bad jeweler!” she cried, striking at him with the parasol she always carried with her regardless of fair weather or foul. “Bad jeweler!”
As her sister bludgeoned the jeweler over the head, Joanna leapt nimbly out of reach of his waving arms. Her heel caught on a fold in the carpet, and she nearly fell. Catching her balance, she tightened her grip on the ring until the point of the ruby cut into the palm of her hand, but she hardly registered the pain over the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
“We’re leaving,” she announced. “Claire, Evie, let’s go.”
“Wait!” Mr. Bernard cried after them as they hurried out the door.
But the sisters didn’t stop. Not before they’d raced around the corner and slipped into an alley carved between two towering brick buildings. Spying a mountain of crates, Joanna ducked behind them and motioned for her siblings to do the same.
Claire immediately followed suit.
But Evie stopped short.
“It’sdirty,” she complained. “Isn’t there someplace else we can go? A nice pastry shop, perhaps?”
Joanna gaped at her sister. “Mr. Bernard just tried to physically assault us in order to steal our most valuable possession, and you want to eatpastries? Get down here before he sees you!”
“I didn’t say I wanted to eat pastries,” Evie grumbled as she crouched gingerly beside Claire. “I’d just prefer a place to hide that wasn’t infested with rats.”
