A harsh gasp escaped Aurora's mouth. "Julian, look."
Even as she spoke, he was easing past her, seizing the lantern, and peering over her head at a spot where the granite wall adjoined the ceiling. A section of stone had been cut away, replaced by what appeared to be a grating of some sort—one that resembled an iron gate. From what Aurora could make out, the gate appeared to be approximately the size of a window, and there was an alcove behind it, although how deeply that alcove was set into the stone, she couldn't tell. What she could tell quite clearly by the light of the lantern was that the gate boasted a thick, hinged, vertical column that spanned its length dead center, and that opposite the hinge on the left and right-hand sides of the gate were carved two deep-slotted keyholes.
One keyhole was adorned with the image of a fox, the other of a falcon.
"This is it!" Aurora exclaimed. "We've found our great-grandfathers' hiding place!"
Exultantly Julian nodded, eyes narrowing as he examined the grating. "Geoffrey and James were ingenious to design this as they did. One alcove, one gate, two means of gaining entry. That way, either of them could get to the treasure if something should happen to the other. Clever as hell." Julian gave the grating a cursory rattle, confirming what they already knew—it was locked. "We don't need to guess how to open it."
"Can you see inside?"
"Only a glint of metal."
"I can't bear the anticipation." Realizing Julian's coat was still wrapped about her shoulders, Aurora dug into the pocket, extracting the keys one by one. "This key is Geoffrey's—it should coincide with the Fox." She pressed the key into Julian's palm.
Rather than inserting the key and opening the lock, Julian merely glanced down at the scrap of metal in his hand, then placed the lantern on a nearby ledge and turned to his wife. "Do you have James's key ready?"
"It's right here—why? You only need one key to get into the alcove."
"True. Nevertheless we're going to do this together." Julian's knuckles brushed her cheek, equal measures of pride and tenderness lacing his tone. "We're partners, my love. Just as our great-grandfathers before us—only, as Mr. Scollard so aptly put, our partnership exceeds friendship. I'll act on Geoffrey's behalf, and you on James's." He wrapped an arm about Aurora's waist, lifting her off the ground until she was at eye level with the keyhole. "Shall we?"
With trembling fingers, Aurora inserted James's key into the slot where the falcon gleamed, watching as Julian glided Geoffrey's key into the notch embellished by a fox.
Simultaneously she and Julian turned—and with two telltale clicks, the locks released.
Both sides of the door swung open.
"Let me do this part," Julian instructed, staying Aurora's immediate motion to reach inside and lowering her to her feet so he could devote his full attention to the matter at hand. "Lord alone knows what might be crawling around in there."
That convinced her.
Still, she stood on tiptoe, eyes straining as Julian reached into the dark recess.
An instant later he tugged out a strongbox, lowering it down far enough so they could both have a full view.
The chest was unadorned but for two gilded images on top—one in the shape of a fox, the other in that of a falcon.
"Oh, God. Julian, this really is happening." Impulsively Aurora reached forward and seized the strongbox, only to discover just how heavy the iron chest was. With great reluctance she forced herself to release it, digging her nails into her palms to curb her impatience. "Open it—quickly."
A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "Such admirable restraint—caution over craving. I'm proud of you, soleil. You've become a true adventurer." He held out the chest, gripping it firmly as he offered it to her. "Go ahead. Reap your reward. I'll hold it, you open it."
"I? Really?"
"You. Really."
Aurora needed no second invitation. She yanked up the strongbox lid, and together she and Julian gazed inside.
Atop the contents was a single slip of paper, its words faint and faded but still discernible:
Whether truth or myth, it is written: 'He with a black heart who touches the jewel will reap eternal wealth, while becoming the carrion upon whom, for all eternity, others will feed'. If neither Geoffrey Bencroft nor I return to complete our mission, 'tis the task of our chosen descendants to do so. For our families, for our King and country, and for whatever forces might possibly exist that are greater yet less palpable than we—I beseech you, restore this gem to its rightful home. Then, for all eternity, peace will abound. James Huntley, 1758.
Sweeping the note from its bed, Aurora and Julian stared into the strongbox.
An enormous black jewel glistened back at them.
"The black diamond." This time Aurora couldn't restrain herself. She reached in, her fingers closing around the stone. Snatching it from the chest, she stared in amazement at the gem's unwieldy size. "Dear Lord—it fills my entire palm. It's immense."
"Yes, it is." Julian transferred the stone to his larger hand, holding it out so they could both admire the smooth, multifaceted surface by lantern light. "We did it, Aurora." Tearing his gaze from the stone, he met his wife's radiant stare, triumphant flames blazing in his topaz eyes. "We bloody well did it." Abruptly he replaced the gem in its iron bed and set the strongbox on the ledge beside the lantern, swinging Aurora into his arms and kissing her fiercely. "Hell and damnation, we did it!"