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“Shall I reach out to him?” the earl offered.
“Allow me to make another attempt first.” Norah wanted to do this on her own. Involving Marbury might encourage him to take over in an attempt to help. Norah didn’t want that.
However, what if the guests arrived at the museum and the exhibit wasn’t ready because Vanbridge had forgotten?
Come tomorrow, she would visit the museum to see how it was coming along. This event was too important to leave in the hands of the absent-minded marquess.
*
The following day,Simon stood back and wiped his hands on a rag as he studied the effects of his efforts. The display was unconventional. Perhaps too much so. Yet…
He liked it. Would Miss Wright? That remained to be seen. She’d sent several messages, and he’d finally responded with the hope of keeping her away until he made significant inroads on the work. In truth, he was rather nervous about her reaction. He didn’t want to offend her by suggesting her father’s efforts lacked results.
Rather, he hoped to place the visitors viewing the exhibit in the footsteps of a treasure hunter. To experience the confined space in which David Wright had worked for so many years. To make people wonder what might be found if they dug a little deeper. To suggest questions more than answers and create a sense of wonder in those who experienced it.
He’d done a fair amount of research on Oak Island to learn more than what Norah Wright had shared. He also wanted to verify her information. After all, he couldn’t create an exhibit based on one person’s account, regardless of the artifacts in her possession.
The interesting thing about Oak Island was that something had happened there. Something significant. But what exactly remained to be seen. There were so many differing theories, from treasure Marie Antoinette had deposited there to Captain Kidd doing so, and it was impossible to find a common thread to give a definitive answer.
The island was a puzzle, and he liked puzzles. He hoped those experiencing the exhibit did as well. With so few artifacts to display, he thought this was the best way to show them.
The sound of a throat clearing behind him had Simon turning to see Stockton standing near the doorway with a puzzled look on his face as he glanced around the roped-off area. “How much longer will this mess need to remain?”
Simon followed his gaze to the pile of dirt, buckets of water, plaster, and tools that sat on a large canvas cloth. “I’m nearly done.”
“Truly?” The man’s doubtful tone matched his expression. “What is it supposed to be?”
Unease filled Simon as he looked back at the exhibit. He’d thought it obvious. Was the display so far off the mark? An all-too-familiar feeling of uncertainty washed over him, something he’d experienced often in the years after his parents’ deaths. Back then, it had been an almost crippling experience. One that had made it difficult to function and had made him the object of much teasing by his peers.
He wished he could say he’d outgrown it. Each time he thought he had mastered the feeling, it came creeping back. Even now, his skin was prickly, and a tight ball of tension formed in the pit of his stomach.
The unveiling party was less than a week away. Should he think of a better way to show the items? He’d been so certain this had been the right one. He tossed aside the rag and ran a hand through his hair as he considered his options.
“Oh, my.” The feminine tone had Simon looking to see Norah Wright standing in the doorway just behind Stockton, her servants nearby, and her gaze riveted on the exhibit. Her eyes were round, and her mouth formed a perfect O as she took it in.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Wright,” Stockton began with a pointed look at Simon. “As you can see, the exhibit is far from being ready for—”
“It’s perfect.”
Simon stiffened. Had he heard her whispered words correctly? As he watched, she walked forward, ignoring the pile of dirt and other items he had used to build the exhibit.
Then she cast her sparkling gaze on him, her expression one of wonder and excitement, before she looked again at the display.
“It’s just as I remember.” She reached out a gloved hand to touch the dirt wall he’d created using a mixture of mud and plaster to build three sides of a shaft that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Rough-hewn timbers were placed evenly apart as if holding the earth back. A pickaxe and shovel rested nearby.
In the wall about eye-level, Simon had half-buried a replica of the coin she’d given him. A copy of the stone with its strange markings was waist-level.
“You were in the shaft?” he asked.
“When we were younger. But only the ones that weren’t overly deep. Father dug several, trying to find the Money Pit. Mother insisted the deeper ones were too dangerous for us children.” Miss Wright walked to the nearby display case, which held the other items she’d given him.
Printed signs above the case provided a timeline of events. Some were connected to other discoveries, and some were solely David Wright’s. Hopefully, that left the observer to decide for themselves whether the events were related.
The sailor’s story that Miss Wright had told him was posted in large print. The display case held the original coin and the publication she’d given him of Captain Kidd’s trial. An artist he often worked with had copied some of the pages to make them look like the original documents so they could be viewed separately without anyone having to touch the original.
He’d also had maps drawn of the area as well as of Nova Scotia and had pinned them to the wall.
“It’s so much more than I could’ve hoped for.” Miss Wright blinked back tears as she looked at him again. “Unbelievable. I can’t wait for my sisters to see it.”
