Harry raised his brows. “Is it even ours to decide?”
“Of course it’s ours,” Ben hotly declared. “You saw me find it—it’s treasure trove. We asked about the laws and that’s what they say—anything found below the tide line is treasure trove and belongs to the finder.”
“True.” Edmond nodded at the brooch. “So what—”
“I know what we should do with it,” Ben said. “We should clean it and give it to Madeline for her birthday. Much better than that scrappy scarf thing we got at the festival.”
“It’s not a scarf,” Harry said. “It’s a fichu, and she’ll like it and use it, but most ladies use a brooch to hold their fichus in place.” He held their find up between thumb and forefinger. “A brooch like this.”
He looked at Edmond, then at Ben, and the decision was made.
“Right, then.” Edmond turned and headed toward the path they’d scrambled down. “Let’s take it home and wrap it.”
Chapter 13
Madeline’s birthday fell two days later. She awoke to sunshine, and stretched luxuriously in the comfort of her bed, a smile curving her lips as she wondered what the day would hold.
Her brothers had been so busy over the last two days, she’d had to be careful not to stumble into any of their whispered conferences—with each other, with Muriel, and even with Milsom and other members of the staff. They had something planned, that much was obvious, but as to what…they’d succeeded in hiding that from her, no mean feat.
Rising to wash and dress, she was conscious of welling anticipation.
Family tradition decreed that gifts were presented at the breakfast table; she reached the parlor to discover two packages, one on either side of her plate.
“Happy birthday!” her brothers chorused.
Muriel’s gentler “Happy birthday, dear” followed.
Smiling and thanking them, Madeline sat in the chair Milsom held for her. He bowed. “The very best wishes of the staff on your birthday, miss.”
“Thank you, Milsom.” Settling, Madeline looked from one package to the other. The larger and flatter showed evidence of multiple attempts to get the tissue paper to lie straight; its bow was lopsided. The smaller but thicker one was much neater—Muriel’s. She picked that one up first, and stripped away the wrappings.
“New riding gloves.” In butter-soft black leather, beautifully stitched, the gloves hadn’t come from the festival. She smiled at Muriel. “Thank you. My current pair is driving me crazy—the buttons keep catching.”
“I’ve noticed.” Muriel nodded to her gift. “Those ones are cut to be more fitting about the wrist—they don’t have buttons.”
“Excellent.” Trying them on, Madeline confirmed they fitted perfectly. She held out both hands, admiring the new gloves—pretending not to notice her brothers’ fidgeting, the impatient glances they threw each other.
Not bothering to hide her fond smile, she looked down at the other package. “Now what, I wonder, could this be?”
A scarf was her first thought as she felt its softness, but as she lifted the package to rest it across her plate, she felt the weight of some heavier object in its center. “Hmm…a mystery gift.” She stripped off the gloves and laid them aside, then untied the bow and ceremoniously unwrapped the gift, playing to the boys’ anticipation.
She lifted the last leaf of tissue free…. Peering at what she’d uncovered, she blinked. Twice. “Good heavens.” She heard the awe in her voice, was distantly aware of the swift, satisfied glances the boys shared.
Slowly, a trifle stunned, she lifted the large oval brooch—a cloak brooch from the days when cloaks were the norm. Holding it up, she let her senses drink it in—from its weight and color, it had to be gold, by the way the light fractured and blazed in the stones, the smaller surrounding ones had to be diamonds, while the large rectangular stone in the center, a little paler than forest green, had to be an emerald.
The piece was formed to represent a knot of oak leaves surrounding and supporting the central stone, with tiny acorns formed from the diamonds and a smattering of beautiful pale gold pearls.
Where did you get this? were the words that leapt to her tongue. But she glanced at her brothers, at their eager, expectant faces, and substituted, “It’s beautiful.” Her reverent tone underscored her sincerity.
They relaxed and grinned widely.
Then she could draw in a breath and inquire, “Where did you get it?”
“We found it,” Ben said. “At the festival.”
“On one of the antiquities stalls,” Edmond offered. “The old peddler who sells bits of metal he’s dug up from all around—nails, stirrups, all sorts of bits and pieces.”
“It didn’t look like that when we bought it,” Harry said. “We’ve spent the past two days cleaning and polishing it. It had hard-packed earth stuck all over and was grimy and dirty. You can see where the surface of the pearls got pitted—we rubbed and rubbed to bring back the sheen.”