Property of a Noblewoman by Danielle Steel Page A

shirt, and a good-looking dark blue Hermès tie, under a well-cut navy overcoat, and he seemed pleased to see her. They stood chatting outside the bank for a few minutes, waiting for the doors to open. They had both arrived five minutes early.
    “It sounds like everything’s on track for the sale at Christie’s,” Jane said as she smiled at him. She was wearing a short gray skirt and a pea coat, and she was fresh and bright in the morning sun, as her neatly brushed hair hung past her shoulders. And he noticed that she was wearing small gold earrings.
    The doors of the bank opened, and Phillip motioned to the Christie’s security guard to join them. He had brought two large leather cases to put the jewels in, and the guard from Christie’s followed them inside and down to the safe deposit boxes.
    Jane had to sign several sets of papers to take responsibility for emptying the box, on behalf of the surrogate’s court. And then Phillip had to sign another set to her, acknowledging receipt of the twenty-two pieces of jewelry he would take with him to consign to Christie’s. It took several minutes to get all the papers in order, and then Jane took out the jewelry boxes and handed them to Phillip one by one. He had signed a copy of the inventory as well. Jane then put all the documents in a large manila envelope she had brought with her, with the seal of the surrogate’s court on it. She put the letters, passports, and bank statements in it. And then she and Phillip sifted through the photographs. He selected half a dozen that he thought would reproduce well. One of the count and countess in front of the château. Another of them in evening clothes, where she was wearing the sapphire necklace and earrings. A beautiful one of Marguerite alone, also in an evening gown. Another of them on horseback, and one skiing. And a sweet one of her in the tiara, looking very young. The photographs established them as a golden couple, and had all the elegance and glamour of a bygone era. And then Jane sat looking at the photographs of the little girl.
    “I wonder who she was,” Jane said softly.
    “Maybe a younger sister,” Phillip suggested.
    “Or a child who died. Maybe that’s why Marguerite looked so sad,” Jane guessed about the countess, frustrated that they would never know. There was so much they didn’t know about the woman who had owned the jewels. Why had she left the States during the war, and gone to Italy? How had she gotten there, since her entry point into Europe had been England via Lisbon, according to the stamp in her passport? How had she met the count, and when had they fallen in love, and what had she done between 1965 when the count died, and 1994 when she moved back to New York? And what had made her come back? The address on her documents had been a Roman one after 1974, so what had happened to the château? Jane wished that there was someone who could tell them and explain it all. Marguerite had left no trace of her past except the photographs, two sets of letters, her addresses at different times, and the jewels.
    “I guess some questions are never answered, and some mysteries are never solved,” Phillip said thoughtfully, as he watched Jane put the photographs of the little girl into the envelope of documents and photographs he wasn’t borrowing. Jane sealed the envelope carefully so nothing would fall out, and she had written Marguerite’s full name on it, to turn over to Harriet when she got back, as her documents had to be preserved for seven years, in case relatives eventually turned up. Jane didn’t know what would happen to them after that, if they would be archived or destroyed. It made her sad again to think about it. And she had all the releases Phillip had signed to give to Harriet as well. And as they stood up in the now familiar cubicle, the security guard from Christie’s picked up one of the leather bags. Phillip picked up the other one, and Jane followed them out. The empty safe