The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,37
warning look, then returned her gaze to Godfrey. “I love my mare, Daisy, and adore riding about the lanes and fields, but I’ve observed that when gentlemen start talking about horses, they go on and on and on.”
Godfrey laughed. “Very true. So, not horses.” He regarded their bright, eager faces. “You know that I’m here to examine the painting your father has offered to sell to the National Gallery?”
Both nodded, and Maggie said, “The Albertinelli one that hangs on Mama’s parlor wall.”
Does it? “If that’s the only Albertinelli in the house, then that’s the one.” He looked from Maggie’s brown eyes, oddly soulful in her pixielike face, to Harry’s hazel ones. “Do either of you know anything about where the painting came from? Who brought it to the Hall?”
“He did a Grand Tour long before it became fashionable, sometime in the sixteen hundreds,” Harry supplied.
“He liked art.” Her gaze on Godfrey, Maggie tipped her head. “Possibly a bit like you.”
Ignoring his sister’s attempted digression, Harry went on, “Apparently, old Uncle Henry wanted to make a splash, so he bought paintings by famous artists of the time and brought them home.”
“Artists?” Godfrey’s instincts pricked. “So there were other paintings?”
“So the histories go,” Maggie said. “But the only painting still here is the Albertinelli.”
Harry nodded. “We think the others must have been sold at various times through the centuries.”
“Just like we’re selling this one.” Maggie’s gaze remained trained, rather disconcertingly, on Godfrey’s face. “We decided that although the painting was a favorite of Mama’s, it doesn’t appeal to any of us, which is why it’s hidden away in her old parlor where no one ever goes, and in the circumstances, she wouldn’t mind if we sold it.”
Harry nodded. “The harvests have been poor for the past few years, so our coffers are approaching low ebb. The money will help to keep everything running smoothly, and we believe Mama would say that was far more important than the painting, especially now she’s no longer here to see it.”
Their words, and even more their matter-of-fact tones and the openness of their expressions, told Godfrey that selling the painting had been a family decision rather than one made by Mr. Hinckley alone.
The Hinckleys were a truly close-knit family, bound not only by affection but also by common cause; they formed a family unit in a far more cohesive and effective way than Godfrey was accustomed to or could even remember encountering. Perhaps it was an outcome of Matthew Hinckley’s accident, that he’d been forced to rely on his children in so many ways, he’d accepted their right to be involved in all major family decisions.
“I’m quite looking forward to seeing and examining the painting.” An understatement; Godfrey was eaten by impatience, and the younger Hinckleys’ information had only further whetted his eagerness.
Harry grinned. “I can understand the gallery sending someone like you—”
“Although you’re nothing like we expected,” Maggie put in.
“—but given the painting’s been here since old Uncle Henry brought it home, then there’s really no question it’s the same one, is there? The one he bought from the artist’s family.”
Godfrey was intrigued. “Did he? Buy it from the artist’s family?”
Harry nodded. “It’s in one of his letters, and there’s a declaration about the painting, too.”
“Glory be,” Godfrey breathed. “You have provenance.”
Maggie frowned. “What’s that?”
He explained, and both agreed there were letters that mentioned the painting, together with a certificate of sorts.
“I’ll need to examine those as well.”
“Ellie thought you would,” Maggie said. “She’s gathered them all together. She knows where they are.”
“So, you see,” Harry went on, “we’re not the least anxious over what your finding will be, but we’re still eager to hear it so we’ll know that step is completed and the sale can go ahead.”
Godfrey nodded. Their conviction regarding the authenticity of the painting—and if they had the provenance they claimed, it was a reasonable one—accounted for the lack of angst on the subject he’d encountered in everyone there. They were all keen to have him deliver his verdict, and many were curious about how he would reach it, but all were certain what that verdict would be.
To all at the Hall, him examining the painting and sending in his report were simply routine steps that needed to be taken in order for the sale to proceed.
“Even Mr. Pyne and Mr. Morris are interested,” Maggie informed him, “and even Masterton seems keen to hear that your verdict’s been delivered.”
“But enough about the painting.” Harry exchanged a swift glance