16. Chapter Sixteen #3
“Really?” He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. “Can I have that in writing?” He squeezed her fingers hard. “I want you to stay here with me—forever.”
“I think I’d like that.”
“Good.” He held her gaze. “I think I’d like that, too.”
They both jumped as someone cleared their throat in the doorway.
“Glad to see you got it all sorted out, then.” Freddy came fully into the room. “About bloody time, bro.”
“Go away,” Colin said. “I’m about to propose to Mabel.”
“Hell no,” Freddy pulled out a chair. “I want to see this.”
Colin sighed. “Mabel, will you ignore my infuriating brother and listen carefully?”
“Yes, Colin.”
He paused. “Is that an answer to my question, or—”
Mabel leaned across the table and kissed him. “Yes, it is. I’d love to marry you and be Lady Mabel.”
“Technically,” Freddy said. “You wouldn’t be Lady Mabel. You’d be Lady or Viscountess Levenham.”
“Shut up, Freddy,” Colin said. “You’re ruining the moment.”
“I can live with that,” Mabel said.
“Then it’s all settled.” Colin got to his feet, came around the table, and swept Mabel into his arms. “All we have to do is get this place open to the public, start to make some money, and then we can get married.”
“You could sell off the wedding rights to one of those flashy celebrity magazines,” Freddy said. “I bet you’d make a fortune.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Mabel mused.
“English aristocrat marries lowly commoner,” Freddy continued. “They’d love that.”
Colin took Mabel’s hand. “If he won’t leave, we will. Shall we go and tell my father? I think he’ll be jolly pleased.”
The earl had been surprisingly delighted by the news and had instructed Bartle to retrieve the ancient Marcham betrothal ring from the drawer beside his bed and had pressed it on Colin to give to Mabel.
The ring consisted of a huge and ugly collection of rubies and diamonds that Colin almost apologized for but that Mabel—who loved vintage—fell in love with at first sight.
She insisted on wearing it, her fingers clenched together to keep it from falling off after Freddy informed her that the honking great gemstones were real.
Colin promised to have it resized for her and entered into further negotiations with Bartle as to the availability of some gold wedding rings from the family collection.
Mabel was wearing the recently resized ring when Josie arrived from London to help sort through the countess’s collection.
“Is that your engagement ring?” Josie asked as they headed up the stairs together. She was dressed completely in black and had hair to match. “It looks like a family piece.”
“I think it is,” Mabel stuck out her hand so Josie could see the ring more clearly. “Colin says it needs a good clean.”
“He’s right,” Josie said. “It’s probably been remade a few times over the centuries, but it’s kept its charm.”
“Centuries?” Mabel looked down at her finger. “I thought it was Victorian.”
“My guess would be it’s a lot older than that,” Josie said. “I used to work in the fine jewelry section at Sotheby’s. I’ve rarely seen a family heirloom of this quality. You just can’t get stones of that size anymore.”
“Okay.” Mabel mentally reconsidered her decision to wear the ring. “Should it be locked up in a vault or something?”
“Oh no, it’s far better to wear such things,” Josie said cheerfully. “But maybe don’t do anything too robust while you’re doing so.”
Mabel thought about her adventures on the previous day digging up the old rose garden and hid her hand behind her back. “I’ll bear it in mind.” She paused at the double doors leading to the countess’s apartments. “Welcome to Aladdin’s Cave.”
“Good lord,” Josie said coming to a halt after stepping through the doors. “I had no idea there was this much.”
“I’ve sorted through it all, made lists, and put it in some kind of order as you suggested,” Mabel said. “I didn’t want to throw anything away in case it was important.”
Josie seemed to have lost the ability to speak as Mabel obligingly handed over her lists that she’d printed out and put on a clipboard. “Shall I get you a cup of coffee and leave you to it? Or do you want me to hang around?”
Josie set her handbag down on the nearest chair and took off her jacket in something of a daze. “I’ll text you if I need any clarification, but feel free to go off and do your own thing.”
“Awesome,” Mabel said. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Strong and black,” Josie said. “I think I’m going to need it.”
Three hours later, Mabel sent Colin to fetch Josie for lunch as she stayed in the kitchen and helped Mrs. Reynolds set out several piles of sandwiches on the table.
Felicity and Ted were already seated. Mabel could hear Josie laughing as she came down the echoing corridor, which had to be a good sign—although to be fair, Colin could charm the pants off anyone when he made the effort.
“This is Josie from Sotheby’s,” Mabel said. “Meet Ted, Felicity and Mrs. Reynolds who’s the one who’s being supplying you with coffee all morning.”
Josie sat down and Mabel forced herself not to immediately launch into a barrage of questions and instead offered her the first plate of sandwiches.
“We’re trialling food for the café, so you’ll get to try every flavor, and if you have opinions, we’d love to hear them.”
“Thank you.” Josie obligingly took a sandwich from all six plates. “I’ll rank them from favorite to least favorite.”
Mrs. Reynolds looked thrilled as she made a fresh pot of tea, refreshed Mabel’s coffee, and piled up a plate with sandwiches for Freddy.
Eventually, Josie finished all six of the sandwiches, commented admiringly about all of them, and confirmed that the coronation chicken was her favorite, while the cheese and green onions was her least favorite.
“Well?” Mabel asked before Mrs. Reynolds could launch into a lengthy explanation about the two hundred varieties of cake. “What did you think of the closet?”
“It was… exceptional,” Josie said, her face brightening. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Was one of the countesses famous at all? That would explain how she got hold of so many exclusive bags.”
“My father’s third wife was a model,” Colin said. “Her name was Brigitte Balthazar.”
Josie made a weird hiccuping sound and flapped her hand around. “No way!”
“They were married for two years and had just divorced when Brigitte died in a car accident in France.”
Josie took a hasty sip of tea. “She’s a fashion icon.”
Colin raised his eyebrows. “If you say so. Personally, I remember her as the bringer of chaos to this house. The only good thing she left us with was the twins.”
“That might be true, Colin,” Josie said. “But Brigitte’s whole persona and image is a very big deal on social media these days. Selling this collection with her name attached to it would bring international interest and substantially impact the prices the items will sell for.”
“I’ll have to ask my father if he’s okay with that,” Colin said immediately.
“That’s absolutely fine,” Josie let out her breath. “There are handbags in there that must have been specially commissioned for her by Hermès, because I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Is that good?” Mabel asked. “Not to be all brash and American, but have you any idea how much the whole collection must be worth?”
Josie smiled. “Well, for example, there are at least two Hermès Birkins that would sell for around two hundred and fifty thousand pounds each.”
The entire table gasped.