JAMES WALKED ALONG Bond Street fairly irritated. He had visited three shops earlier in the morning, only to watch the shopkeepers struggle to dislodge the emerald. They advised him to stop trying, lest the emerald be destroyed in the process. James ignored their advice. The only bit of satisfaction he gained in the hours wasted was his theory seemed to be correct. All the shopkeepers agreed that the emerald weighed heavier than normal, and the jingling sound was not present in any of their other jewelry. 

Entering the last jewelry shop on Bond Street, James sighed. This really was his last option for the day as he was required to be at parliament soon. If the shop was also unable to crack the pendant open, James vowed he would return it back to Vivienne. After all, it was her property. He was also certain that Vivienne would never let anyone borrow the pendant after he returned it to her.

A feeling of guilt trailed him all morning. He knew he should return the pendant to Vivienne right away, but his curiosity overtook those feelings. He highly doubted she herself knew that there may be something hidden beneath. Since she had wore it from a young age, the weight would seem perfectly normal to her, and she would have never given it a second through.

James glanced around the room, taken aback by the simplicity of the shop in comparison to the many others he'd visited. Although there were a few fancy trinkets on display, he did not believe this shop employed individuals who could help him with such a complex pendant. He spun around, ready to make his exit when a voice stopped him. 

"My lord, how may I help you?" A gentleman appeared from the back of the store, dressed in a forest greet waistcoat and tan trousers.

His white hair was combed back, with a few strands of black in the mix. James scrutinized the man's appearance. He fully intended to leave, but now that the man was standing in front of him, he might as well let him try.

James pulled out the pendant from his breast-pocket, letting it dangle between them. "I need someone to pry this open for me. There seems to be some sort of secret compartment inside."

The man gently held up the pendant to the light as he slipped on his spectacles. "Ah, this is quite unique, American craftsmanship if I am correct. My lord, if you do not mind me asking, do you remember the name of the shop in America? The work is quite exquisite if I do say so myself..."

His heart leapt, so it was a family heirloom. If it was crafted in America, the pendant must have belonged to the late countess and when she had passed, Vivienne's father had given it to his daughter. His guilt about keeping the pendant grew but he pushed down the feelings.

James swallowed and lied smoothly. "No, it has come into my possession quite recently. It is possible that the previous owner was American, but she has since passed."

The shopkeeper stopped his inspection to give James a small nod, "I'm sorry for your loss."

James did not bother telling the man that it was not his loss, and he pointed to the necklace, "What else can you tell me?"

"It seems perfectly normal from the front," the man frowned, "Yet from the back there does seem to be a slight ridge."

"Can you open it?" James asked. "I've visited a few shops this morning, but they all said it was impossible to do without damaging the emerald itself."

The man laughed, and James looked a bit taken aback. "I mean no offense my lord, but this is the establishment of Rundell and Bridge, proud jewellers to the crown. If we cannot open something, then I daresay nobody else in England will be able to do so."

James did not comment on the emptiness of the store belonging to the quite famed jewellers. "I presume you are either Rundell or Bridge?"

The man gave a small smile, one that did not lighten his harsh features. "Phillip Rundell at your service, and you, my lord?"

"Lennox," James said simply.

Rundell's head jerked back, "as in the Duke of Lennox?"

"The very one."

"How did a duke like you come across a pendant like this?" Rundell mused to himself, but the words were heard by James. He was seconds away from taking the pendant back from the man. Jeweller to the crown or not, he had no use to James if he could not open the pendant.

"Ah, well that's quite clever, I must admit."

"What?"

Rundell turned over the pendant and brought it close to James eyes, "Do you see this small ridge over here?"

James nodded, "What of it?"

"It isn't normal in this type of pendant. This small hole here is for a tool to be inserted. The reason why the others could not pry it open was because they did not make use of the tool. Without it, the sides will not release smoothly."

James felt the small hole. Rundell was correct, the design really was quite clever.

"And that is not all, the tool used is quite specific, one that we keep here. It is quite possible that the additional panel was added by Bridge," the jeweller admitted.

James' heart leapt, "Is Bridge here then, he could take a look?"

Rundell shook his head, "He's looking at a new shipment of materials we were set to receive. Nevertheless, I can open it."

Rundell retreated to the back of the store and selected a tool. He brought it over and James watched with bated breath. In a few small counterclockwise turns, the man was able to accomplish what many others on Bond Street had failed at. The back slid open, and James leaned in, to see what was inside.

It was a key.

Slowly, as if he were cradling a child, James lifted the key. It was bronze, the rust quite apparent. He ran his fingers over it, confused as to why an object like that would be in Vivienne's pendant.

"May I, Your Grace?"

James blinked once before he passed it onto the jeweller. "A very peculiar item indeed. I'm no locksmith but my general knowledge does remind me the shaping indicates that it was crafted in Britain. There is a small engravement here."

"Where?" James asked bewildered. When he had ran his fingers over the item, he had felt nothing.

Rundell passed on the key back to James who held it up to the light. The man was right. There were three letters etched in, "It says OAF. That makes no sense as to why a word like that would be painstakingly engraved."

"If I were to guess, it is probably someone's initials. Although I must say, those three letters are an odd combination."

James' heart stopped. He knew those initials; the jeweller had removed the haze from his memories. He had seen them written on several documents belonging to his father, Osmond Ackley Fulton, his name before he had inherited the Lennox dukedom. He could recall his mother calling his father Osmond. James remembered commenting once as a child that his father had very peculiar initials. His father had laughed and said that J.A.F was not much better, and that a name did not make a man, but rather his actions did. 

If this were prior to discovering that Vivienne had been his betrothed, James would have said that it was all a coincidence. A mere alignment of some possibilities.  However, there was already a pre-established connection between the previous earl and duke. His father could have hidden something in his friend's hands if he was in danger or vice versa. They must have predicted that James would meet his betrothed one way or another and one of them would take a closer look at the necklace.

He did not know whether to laugh or cry. If this had all been crafted years before, he stood no chance. The earl and duke had been intelligent, but they had been outsmarted as well. He needed to find out what that key opened. It could reveal secrets and give him clues into solving the murder of his father and the previous earl.

"Your Grace, is everything well?"

Blinking from his haze James chuckled madly, "For once it might be Rundell, it truly might."

***

"Oh, pardon me, I did not see you there," Vivienne said to the maid who she had accidently bumped into.

She bent forward to help her up, but her hand was abruptly pushed away. When the maid straightened, Vivienne gasped, "Chrissy?"

"Lady Vivienne," Chrissy said as her lips curled up in a sneer. "Or shall I refer to you as Lady Selina, or Vivienne the maid? You seem to have many identities these days, do you not?"

"Hh-ow do you know that?" Vivienne stuttered. Her identity was being kept a secret. Only the earl, countess, duke, and Fiona knew.

"I'm the countess' lady's maid," Chrissy said smugly. "Her ladyship holds me in confidence and shares much with me."

Vivienne did not know if that was wise for Lady Westmorland to do, but she kept her mouth shut. "Is that why you left Chalcott manor is such haste? You found a new position here?"

"Do not mock me Lady Selina," Chrissy hissed. "You very well had the duke toss me out! Just because I did not want to serve a fraud like you."

"I did no such thing!" Vivienne said, confused as to why Chrissy would believe that she was the reason behind her departure. Vivienne vaguely remembered asking Mrs. Shrine about the maid's whereabouts. The housekeeper had informed her that she left on the duke's orders, but Vivienne believed at the time Chrissy had secured another position. 

"I don't believe you. We've all seen how well you can lie."

Vivienne stared at the maid-lady's maid and shook her head. It was no use. No amount of kindness or sympathy would turn Chrissy's heart into something brighter. She had allowed Chrissy to belittle her because she did not feel secure in her own position but no more. Vivienne had done nothing to deserve the way Chrissy spoke to her.

"I do not care if you believe me or not," Vivienne said stonily. "I have always told you the truth and extended my graces, even when you did not deserve an ounce of kindness. But no more. You may be Lady Westmorland's lady's maid, but I will not listen to you slander my name. Stay out of my way and we shall have no problem."

Then without waiting for a response, Vivienne brushed past Chrissy. She had not like being so upfront but at least this way, she may earn some respite. Walking down to the dining room, she was surprised to see that her uncle was still there. He usually ate breakfast much earlier than the other two ladies.

"Good morning Lord Westmorland," she said formally. He had not told her to call him uncle and so she had not taken those liberties.

He nodded once, still absorbed in reading the morning papers. She quietly picked up a few rolls and settled down. They were both silent, only the sounds of flipping papers and the crunch of the roll filling the room.

"My lord," the butler's voice echoed through the still room. "There is a missive for you."

Vivienne watched curiously as the earl teared it open and his lips thinned in displeasure. His eyes quickly found Vivienne's for a brief second.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, surprised that he was looking at her.

He did not answer her question, merely standing up with the support of his silver walking cane. "I'll be in my study, make sure I am not disturbed."

"Certainly, my lord," the butler replied dutifully.

Vivienne watched her uncle's retreating figure. She did not know what he had read but it did seem to be terrible news. She realized that she really did not enjoy being in the dark but had no choice. She was living with her uncle now and would need to put up with everything and everyone in the house, whether she wanted to or not. Sighing, Vivienne turned back to her food, wishing more then once that she could have stayed at the duke's home forever.

---------------

And so the plot thickens. Like many of you guessed, it is a key but what does it lead to? Also, does anyone feel proud that Vivienne stood up for herself against Chrissy? Fun fact, Rundell and Bridge was a real establishment and they did serve the as the Principal Royal Goldsmiths & Jewellers from 1804 to 1843!