“In the stone,” Mrs. Penstone said. “Hidden. You had to catch the light to see it.”
Gabriel nodded. “One more question. Had the piece changed hands many times?”
“My cousin bought it at a private sale. A friend of a friend. I warned her about such dealings. She warned me about my tone. It hardly matters now.”
“On the contrary,” Gabriel said, calm as ever. “It may make all the difference.”
Mrs. Penstone drew a breath that set her shoulders. “I’m content to have done my part. I shall wear seed pearls and nothing else for the rest of my life.”
Leticia stood. “You’ll make them look regal.”
“You’re kind,” Mrs. Penstone said, her mouth softening. “If you see the woman I described, give her my compliments and tell her I hope her conscience is sharp. It’s the only thing about her that might improve.”
They left with thanks and the sense of a door closing on a story not yet finished.
On the pavement, Leticia looked up at Gabriel. “A raven in a diamond.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t care for birds in jewelry,” she said, as if this were a matterof taste and not a marker that might open a vault of questions. “They seem caged even when they’re free.”
He glanced at her, a hum of appreciation in his throat. “Astute.”
They didn’t push further. The town leaned toward the later hour. A barrel organ played down the street, a cheerful tune with nothing to do with ravens, diamonds, or a quiet woman in a brown gown.
They walked slowly back to Lady Eastbury’s, letting the afternoon do the talking. When the house came into view, Leticia couldn’t deny the tug of competing wishes. Sit with her aunt and say ordinary things. Stay outside with Gabriel and say nothing. Stand alone in her room and breathe.
“Will you come in?” she asked.
“For a moment.”
Lady Eastbury received them with the contentment of a woman whose roses had finally done something right. She praised the small posy of asters on the hall table, teased Gabriel for paying without letting Leticia argue, and asked whether they meant to win every ribbon at the fair or leave some for the less determined.
“Not every ribbon,” Leticia said.
“Only the important ones,” Gabriel said, winning a spark of approval from her aunt.
They didn’t linger. After a few minutes, Gabriel rose. “I’ll send a line to Barrington. We should meet him early.”
“I’ll be ready,” Leticia said.
He helped her aunt with a stubborn window latch, took her thanks, and turned to Leticia with a look that said more than his words. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” she managed, her voice even though her chest was not.
At the door, he paused. “Leticia.”
She met his gaze.
“Thank you for today.”
She didn’t ask which part. “You’re welcome.”
When he had gone, the house settled on its foundations in a way that was both safe and too quiet. Lady Eastbury sent her to rest, promising to send up a tray if dinner was late. Leticia kissed her aunt’s cheek, comforted by the familiar scent of lavender, and went upstairs.
Her room took her in like a friend who required no performance. She set her gloves on the dressing table and paused, fingers resting on the polished wood. The afternoon lined itself in order: tea’s steam, Felix’s nod, the man with the paper, Mrs. Penstone’s velvet tray, a brown gown, a tiny raven inside a diamond.
Her breath caught.
