The Lost Jewels - Kirsty Manning Page 0,16

and tied with a navy ribbon. She slipped the ribbon over her wrist and held it to her nose, inhaling the scent of the herbs as she crossed the marble foyer and strode up the grand staircase to the Livery Room.

It was like she’d entered a giant jewel box, with pink marble Corinthian columns, red velvet curtains set within golden arches and soaring moulded ceilings detailed with gold leaf. Four enormous crystal chandeliers set the room ablaze.

But the old-world formality was shattered by the beats being pumped out by a six-foot RuPaul-lookalike DJ in the far corner. The room seemed to spin, thanks to a slide show of antique rings, necklaces and brooches blown up and projected onto the walls at all angles.

Every June for the last decade, Shaw & Sons Jewellers had hosted the Bijoux Gala at The Goldsmiths’ Company—the fanciest guild in London, just a block from St Paul’s Cathedral—and it was a highlight of London’s summer season. Kate’s best friend and host, Sophie Shaw, had managed to transform her conservative family business into the jewellery house in London in less than a decade, with zero brothers or sons to help her.

Kate elbowed her way through the crowd of jewellers, aristocrats and some elegant Chinese billionaires—some she recognised as her own clients—sipping Krug underneath green archways of star jasmine and bougainvillea. Spying her friend, she grinned like a maniac and waved.

Sophie Shaw was wrapped in a hot pink sari, sported a new turquoise bob cut at an angle along her jawline and wore a tiny emerald nose stud. On catching sight of Kate, she returned the wave, grimaced and pointed at the next room, mouthing, ‘See you in there,’ before miming sculling a glass of champagne. Some things never changed.

Among the crowd walked actors dressed in golden silk skirts and suits. The men wore white ruffs at their wrists and necks, and genuine longswords at their hips. The women’s bodices were so tight Kate worried a perky breast might pop out from the corsetry at any minute. Fashioned onto these Elizabethan costumes were pieces from Sophie’s latest collection. Chunky emerald rings were stitched into the neck ruffs, angular gold brooches sat at the breast, and long swathes of gold chains and pearls were strung over shoulders and swung down to waists. It was contemporary jewellery worn as in the seventeenth century, when Queen Elizabeth I’s ships ruled the seas. The women’s earlobes sparkled with an assortment of modern gold hoops and diamonds, and the black-clad bodyguards standing in every corner looked nervous.

‘Kate. Hello again.’ Lucia Wright kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Isn’t Sophie amazing?’

They both watched Sophie dance like a robot for a few steps while celebrities and pop stars looked on, laughing and clapping.

‘I love her. I mean, look …’ Lucia turned to survey the crowd. ‘She asked to borrow some slides from the museum—she wanted to project London’s jewellery through the ages onto the walls. Watch out for them.’ As she spoke an image of diamond and pearl brooches taken from the Crown Jewels flashed onto the wall in front of them. ‘Oh, and here’s someone I’d like you to meet …’

A short, rotund man was approaching them, smiling shyly.

‘Kate, this is the librarian here at Goldsmiths’, Thomas Green. He might be able to help you with your feature. Thomas, this is Kate Kirby, a brilliant former student. She’s writing about the Cheapside jewels for an American magazine. I’ll leave you to it.’ This last line was shouted over the top of an Eminem grind as Lucia turned and headed towards a group of snappily dressed young men.

‘How can I help?’ Thomas asked kindly and Kate liked him immediately. Librarians were some of her favourite people.

Kate leaned close so he could hear her and asked, ‘I wonder if you could help me identify who owned the site where the Cheapside jewels were found?’

‘Well, that’s a complicated question. We think the cache was dug up at 30–32 Cheapside …’

‘Saanvi gave me the address and I walked past it on my way here,’ Kate told him. It was a stone’s throw from The Goldsmiths’ Company—opposite St Paul’s Cathedral.

‘Did you take the escalator to the basement? It’s right near the Marks and Sparks Food Hall.’

‘I did, but it’s hard to get the seventeenth-century vibe standing between a toilet block and a discount shoe store. The only sense of the past was St Paul’s dome framed between the glass walls of the escalator.’ She wondered how many Londoners knew they