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However, she was pleased to think Simon’s work had created interest and made a difference in helping to ensure that her father and his work be remembered. She shared additional information about the island and why her father had thought treasure was buried there, beyond what had been displayed in the exhibit.
“So, you see, as long ago as 1795, searchers have been digging on the island,” Norah said. “But it is not an easy place to dig. My father and his partner brought a large steam boiler and pumps to the site when I was young to attempt to remove the water that often floods the shafts. Unfortunately, that wasn’t successful.”
By the time she finished, Stanwick leaned forward, appearing to be riveted. “Fascinating,” he said. “I appreciate learning more about the history of the island.”
“What particular type of coins interest you?” Simon asked the lord, seeming anxious to return to the purpose of their visit.
Lord Stanwick was more than happy to share details about his collection and showed them several he kept in his desk. The excitement in his tone and glittering passion in his eyes as he showed them a gold Roman coin was unsettling. The lord spoke of the value of the coins more than their history.
In Norah’s opinion, the worth of such objects was in the story behind them. That was why she enjoyed Simon’s museum so much. He took the time to share the accounts of the objects as well as those who had found them and their journey. Not so much information that it was boring, but enough to make one wonder.
“What of you, Miss Wright?”
Norah’s eyes widened at Lord Stanwick’s question, dismayed to realize she’d lost track of the conversation.
“Why do coins catch your interest?” Simon asked her, much to her relief.
“The markings,” she answered. “Looking into what is stamped on a coin not only tells us where they came from but helps explain what was important to the people who made them.”
“I suppose I never thought of it like that,” Stanwick said, looking at Norah with what she dared to think was respect in his eyes.
Norah hoped she’d given the older gentleman something to consider—something beyond the monetary value of his coins.
“What did you think?” Simon asked as they descended the front steps to return to their carriages with Dorothy following behind.
“It was interesting to speak with him but not particularly helpful.” Norah glanced at Simon, waiting for him to share his opinion.
“I would agree. Unfortunately, I’m not certain if we could truly count on him to contact us if he’s given the chance to purchase the coin.”
Norah halted mid-step. “Truly?”
“I would hazard a guess that Lord Stanwick has already moved from collecting to obsession. While intrigued by your suggestion to consider the history of the ones he has, I have to think the importance for him is in owning them.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience.”
“My uncle, the late marquess. He was obsessed with owning as much as he could.”
“Is that why you chose to turn his home into a museum?” she asked as they approached her carriage and stopped.
“In part,” Simon answered. “My father loved history and spent much of his time reading about it. He had a few items he’d collected over the years, but the thrill for him was first learning the history and then sharing his knowledge with others. To help them find the enjoyment he did. Much different than my uncle.”
Norah watched him closely. “How old were you when you lost your parents?”
Grief tightened his features. “Seven.”
Her heart squeezed, and she reached out to touch his arm, all too aware of the maid standing nearby. “Old enough to remember and miss them terribly. I’m so sorry.”
“It was difficult.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Others have experienced worse.”
“May I ask what happened?”
“They were killed in a carriage accident.”
Norah wished she could hug him to better express her sympathy but, given the fact that they were standing outside of Lord Stanwick’s home, that was impossible. She had lost both her parents as well, but they had died five years apart. Losing both in an instant must’ve been devastating. Plus, she’d had her sisters to lean on. As an only child, Simon hadn’t had anyone.
She pressed a hand to her heart. “I can’t imagine.”
Simon’s gaze held on something in the distance, though she wondered if his thoughts were on those dark days of his youth. “It was difficult.”
