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“Thank you for your time, Mr. Stockton. I will be in touch if I require further assistance.”
“You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer to leave your items with me?” He eyed her reticule with what looked like longing. “I can promise to see them safely displayed.”
“No, thank you.” Norah forced a smile. “Good day.”
She stalked out of the office on the fourth floor of the building with her maid and a footman following. Her grandfather insisted both servants accompany her unless one of her sisters did.
Ella, her eldest sister, was busy planning her wedding and her new life as the Countess of Marbury. Of course, Ella continued to encourage Norah to find a husband as well. That had been the entire reason behind them coming to London.
But Norah wasn’t ready for marriage. She’d only started to enjoy her new life and wasn’t prepared for that to end. Not after seeing how narrow her mother’s world had been. And she had yet to meet a man who made her reconsider. The conversations she’d had with various gentlemen since their first ball nearly a year ago only confirmed her opinion. They either flirted and flattered outrageously or spoke of how important they were.
She had hinted to Ella that she wasn’t interested in marrying yet, though it had fallen on deaf ears. Was it so wrong to want to relish the taste of freedom she’d experienced thus far? London was far from perfect, but there was much to see and do here compared to Oak Island, where she’d been raised.
Lena, her younger sister, insisted she was done visiting museums for the time being, although she appreciated Norah’s efforts to see their father’s artifacts displayed. Ella did as well. While Norah valued their support, she wanted—needed—to be the one to do this for her father. To make a gesture to show how much she loved, supported, and believed in David Wright and his work. And she had.
It was just that life on the remote island hadn’t been easy. They’d lived an isolated existence that focused on her father’s efforts to the exclusion of all else. One that she had started to resent when their father died. If only she hadn’t chosen the morning of his death to quarrel with him—ironic given that she was considered even-tempered and the peacemaker of the family.
Guilt had her rolling her shoulders as they descended the stairs. The disagreement with her father was a secret she kept from her sisters. Had that argument contributed to his death? Had it made him careless or distracted and therefore caused the accident that had taken his life?
The worry made her desperate to find a way to honor her father and his work. It was the only way to make amends.
Norah glanced about the museum as they went, her frustration mounting. She’d been so certain this was the right place for the sort of exhibit she had in mind.
The Museum of Antiquities had been open for less than five years. It had a fine reputation, and she could see why. Each exhibit told a story, and that was exactly what she wanted for her father’s artifacts.
Not one exhibit spoke of pirate treasure, which would make her father’s exhibit special and unique rather than one of several. That was the reason she and her sisters hadn’t been there the previous year when they’d toured so many museums in search of their father’s missing journal.
The house had been the former residence of the late Marquess of Vanbridge, the uncle of the current marquess. Located on Parker’s Lane near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, its exterior was nondescript—a four-story townhouse of neoclassic architecture. The first two levels of the white stone building had arched windows and a narrow wrought-iron fence that lined the front. However, it was the interior that had one looking about with admiration.
The curving stairs of the residence looked as if they floated, lending an other-worldly atmosphere. Arched passageways echoed the exterior, and the golden-colored paint, along with an impressive amount of natural light, brought a rich look to the inside, making visitors feel as if they’d entered a special place—and they had.
Several rooms were set up to mimic an actual archaeological site. One held the 3,000-year-old sarcophagus of an Egyptian king along with many artifacts that had been found in the burial chamber. Another held Greek statues and décor that made one feel as if they had wandered into an ancient Grecian home. Yet another contained a plaster model of the Temple of Vesta in Italy.
Norah had been so fascinated by the museum that she’d already toured it twice, the second time with her sisters. She appreciated history, and by the look of the museum, she had to assume the Marquess of Vanbridge did as well, as he’d been the one to design the displays. That level of attention to detail and creativity was exactly what she wanted. Vanbridge honored the stories of the discovery of the relics as much as he did the items themselves, another reason Norah wanted to speak with him directly.
Unfortunately, he no longer spent much time there. In Norah’s opinion, his absence was beginning to be reflected in the rather dusty displays and numerous cobwebs. The director didn’t seem to bother with those issues. Was it any wonder she didn’t trust Mr. Stockton to see her artifacts shown in the proper manner?
Although the marquess was a member of the Royal Geological Society along with Marbury, he rarely attended meetings or social engagements. The Society focused on matters of exploration and sharing information among its members. He didn’t feel the need to bother with polite Society or anything that went along with it, according to Ella’s betrothed. The idea nearly made her shudder. How did he spend his time without friends and gatherings to occupy him?
Norah might value history but had no intention of immersing herself in it. Still, she had a certain curiosity about the man who had created the unique exhibits. And she was determined that today would be the day she satisfied it.
“Shall I advise the driver we’re returning home, miss?” James, the footman, asked after he assisted her and Dorothy inside the carriage.
“No. Please have him take us to the Marquess of Vanbridge’s residence.”
James paused with his hand on the door, watching her as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Miss?”
“I do believe it’s in Mayfair.”
James heaved a sigh as he shared a look with Dorothy. “Yes, miss. I believe you’re right.” He closed the door slowly, continuing to watch her as if hoping she’d change her mind.
Norah glanced out the window as the conveyance rolled forward. A tingle of nerves simmered inside her at the idea of going to the marquess’s home. She dearly hoped neither Ella nor her grandfather found out about the meeting.
This was only business, she reminded herself. Yet her nerves refused to settle.
*
Simon Webb, theMarquess of Vanbridge, turned the oddly shaped stone in his hand to better catch the light and make out the faint carvings softened by time. He copied the markings as precisely as he could onto the paper on his desk.
