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‘But—’
Mr Beamish cleared his throat over Summer’s protest and pushed on. ‘A provision has been set aside for any expenses needed for your endeavours—expenses that I will be able to approve and release as requested. The last stipulation is that one of you must remain in residence at the estate for the entire two months.’
Mr Beamish sucked in a discreet lungful of air as if he’d had to force the words out in one go, no matter how distasteful he had found them.
‘You can, of course, choose to refuse the terms, upon which the entire estate and entail will revert immediately to the National Trust. It is clearly a lot to think on. Rooms have been made available for your use this evening, and we will meet again in the morning to hear your final decision.’
With another firm nod, the man left with barely a goodbye—running for the hills, Skye thought. The room was silent until a gasp of horrified laughter erupted from Summer.
‘Missing diamonds! How romantic,’ Star said on a dramatic sigh.
‘That’s what you took from all this?’ Skye demanded of her whimsical middle sister. ‘Romance?’
‘Yes! It’s so romantic,’ she insisted, even as Skye shook her head.
Summer had already pulled the thick file which promised to contain details of Elias’s attempts to uncover the location of the Soames diamonds towards her from across the table.
‘I can’t take two months off. I have a job,’ Skye insisted, already torn between practicalities and the possibility of what the terms of the will meant.
‘A job from which you’ve never taken a holiday,’ Summer said absently, already scanning through the pages of the file. ‘Rob would give you anything you asked, and you know it. You just don’t ask.’
‘Well, it’s not long until school’s out for the summer,’ Star pressed on, covering the need for Skye to respond to Summer’s unusually blunt observation. ‘I’m sure they’ll let me take the rest of the term off. And Summer’s just finished her degree so... Oh, this could be so much fun.’
Fun wasn’t what Skye was thinking. She was thinking that if they did manage to find the missing jewels, then perhaps they’d be able to cover their mother’s medical bills. Pay for even better treatment. And perhaps... But she stopped her mind from going there. Skye had never put much faith in wishes and prayers like Star had.
‘If we found them, we could sell the estate...’ Summer said. ‘Or at least mortgage it?’
‘A mortgage we’d never be able to pay back,’ replied Skye.
‘But how are we supposed to find jewels that have been missing since...?’ Star said, ignoring the practicalities as usual.
‘1871,’ Summer said, glancing up from the folder for the first time.
‘And, even if we did, how would we sell it?’ Skye asked.
Summer looked away, as if considering. ‘I might...know someone,’ she said with a shrug of her shoulder.
r /> ‘You might know someone who happens to have...what? Several hundred million in the bank to buy all this?’ The look in her sister’s eyes made Skye feel bad about her apparent scepticism. ‘Summer—’
‘I do,’ she replied, ignoring the bite of Skye’s words. ‘It’s a long shot, but yeah. And besides, we don’t need several hundred million. We just need enough.’
Skye nodded in return. Just enough to cover Mariam’s medical bills.
‘Oohh, I love an adventure.’
Skye and Summer shared an eye roll over their sister’s excitement.
‘So, we’re actually doing this?’ Skye asked, tempering the unwanted excitement beginning to build in her stomach. She might have spent her life grounding her siblings to counter the airy dreams of their mother, but even she couldn’t deny that there was something thrilling about the idea of going on an actual treasure hunt. It was a silly feeling, something that was almost naughty, as if it were a guilty pleasure her heart just couldn’t deny as it thrummed quickly in her body.
When Summer and Star nodded, sharing looks of excitement and hope, just for once Skye allowed herself to imagine that this could be the start of a thrilling adventure.
CHAPTER ONE
TWO WEEKS LATER, Skye was finishing up her final search of the last room in the west wing and decided, pulling cobwebs from her hair, that there was nothing thrilling about fruitlessly searching through decades of dust. Beamish hadn’t been lying when he said the two wings had been closed for years.
By the time she pushed open the door to the library that had become the Soames sisters’ base of operations, she found Star hauling a portrait that must have been nearly one hundred and fifty years old across the room.
‘Should you be doing that?’ Skye queried.
