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Being present at such an appraisal means bearing witness as tiny, exquisite doorways are opened into history, its artifacts peeking out after years or even decades spent in hiding. And rediscovering stories that might never have otherwise been told. The jewels we were handling not only defined the princess as a style icon of her era but also told of the person and personality, on a private, almost intimate, level. Many of the boxes we opened contained handwritten notes, including one that accompanied a simple sapphire brooch: "To darling Margaret on her confirmation from her loving Granny Mary. God bless you." A gift from a queen to a princess, but also a simple token of love from a doting grandmother.

The collection ranged from sentimental to spectacular, and one jewel in particular overshadowed them all: the star lot of the sale, the Poltimore Tiara. An intricate canopy of scrolling diamonds, this was without question the iconic piece of Princess Margaret's jewelry. It was the tiara she had worn for her wedding to Antony Armstrong-Jones in 1960, one that wrapped around her famous beehive as if it had been made to do so.[*] The jewel gained fresh renown much later, when a photograph of the princess wearing it in the bath was published, a scene re-created in The Crown. I loved the Poltimore not just as a gorgeous and glorious jewel, but for what it said about this famously independent woman, the royal with a rebellious streak. This was not a piece borrowed from the Royal Collection, as one might expect for the sister of the sovereign, but one she had bought herself, secondhand, at auction. She had even worn it, contrary to tradition, before she was married. This was the tiara of not just a powerful and beautiful woman, but one who knew exactly what she wanted—even if, infamously, she was not always permitted to have it.

It is also a highly versatile item, capable of being worn not only as a diadem but as a necklace, or further disassembled into a series of brooches. And it is the only tiara I have handled in my career that I was specifically forbidden from trying on. I couldn't wear the Poltimore, but I certainly could get my hands on it—exploring the many forms that had helped make it famous. One of the first things I noticed on taking it out of the box was the screw fittings at the back and the screwdriver that had been stored underneath it. So I happily got to work one afternoon, as we readied the collection for sale in 2006. It was only when its various pieces were spread on the desk around me that I realized how much time had passed: there was just half an hour before I was due to meet a prominent journalist for a preview and photo shoot. Only some of the quicker handiwork of my career ensured that the collection's signature item was fully present and correct for its first public inspection.

The sale of Princess Margaret's jewelry collection was one of many that have captured my imagination over a career working with gemstones, spanning researching, teaching, curating, sourcing, and, of course, selling. These gems and jewels are such a perpetual source of interest because of the stories they tell: the efforts of those who mined and fashioned them; the intimate, personal histories of the individuals and families who owned them; and the sweeping narratives of empires, trade routes, conflict, and craftsmanship that have made them such an intrinsic part of culture and civilization for millennia.

As objects that have been so consistently and comprehensively loved through human history, they have abundant truths to tell and secrets to share. Gems speak a universal language of human belief and behavior through history: they illuminate a treasure map of what people did and thought thousands of years ago, and why in so many cases we continue to do and think the same things today. Far more than being objects to look at, they have so much to teach us: a shortcut into whole swaths of human history, beckoning us to understand all the cultures that existed before us, and how close the connections are with our world today.

CHAPTER ONE 

EMERALD 

THE GEM OF THE ANCIENTS

Fair speech is more rare than the emerald that is found by slave-maidens on the pebbles.

—THE INSTRUCTION OF PTAH-HOTEP, 2500 B.C.

As  the  pickaxe  went  through the cellar floor, the workmen paused. It was 1912, East London, and they had a job to do. They were taking down a centuries-old building in such a state of disrepair that it needed razing to the ground and rebuilding from the foundation up. But as they broke through the ancient flooring, a reflection caught the light. There was a glint of something peeking out of a broken wooden box stashed beneath the chalk floor—something shining. They were about to unearth a treasure chest that would astound the world, but raise many questions that still remain unanswered. A priceless cache of late-sixteenth-and early-seventeenth-century jewelry had lain hidden undetected for centuries. It would turn out to be one of history's most significant gem discoveries, and would become known as the Cheapside Hoard.[1]

Now, almost exactly one hundred years later, I had it in front of me. Select pieces had been laid out in preparation for an exhibition to be put on to celebrate the centenary of its discovery, and I was here to examine them. I felt like the proverbial kid in a candy store. There was one jewel that immediately jumped out at me: an enormous emerald crystal, which also enclosed a secret. Inside it was a watch.

Every gemstone asks a question, and the best contain many: puzzles of history and mysteries of time as enticing as the colors and reflections that have long bewitched those who work with and collect them.