The Art of Intrigue

by P A Latter

  You urge me to moderate my language in these letters, but I cannot imagine that His Majesty’s Intelligencers have nothing better to do than peruse our correspondence. I dissemble most effectively when I hide in plain sight.

  If no-one can help me then, as ever, I must help myself and find a way to act, even at this distance. I have set a plan in train. When the time comes, Dulcissima mea, I know I can rely upon you to aid me.

  If my plan comes to fruition, I will have the means to eliminate at least some of the enemies that I see multiplying at every turn. For this, I will need you to “Smile and have in your heart … Millions of Mischiefs.” I know you can play this role to perfection.

  If the plan bears the sweetest fruit of all, I will be able to return to you, at last. It is not without risk, but I grow desperate.

  I trust your Interesting Condition does not inconvenience you, and you will be safely delivered shortly. You and I are too wicked for the angels to seek our company, before decrepitude renders it unavoidable.

  Secure from the grasp of a Seraph, a fragment of my soul is borne by my pen to you, and embraces you -

  With all the affection of your fondest cousin,

  Henry

  Chapter 19

  Julia tried to forget her worries about Hugh’s real intentions; about the possible sale of paintings; and about the future of Fathon House.

  It was all out of her hands. The new curator would arrive soon and Julia would return to volunteering as a gallery steward with no responsibilities for the management of the museum

  She would have liked to dismiss Harriet Fairfax as odd and her outlandish behaviour as nothing more than that. But Julia knew the snake was a part of the Assassin’s portrait, even if it was not conventionally visible. Daft fears about the painting were getting to her again.

  More prosaically, Fairfax had said “she would make amends”, but Julia wasn’t convinced she would inform anyone that she was safe. It might be intruding on her privacy, but Julia emailed Buxton-Pryce to give him the address.

  She returned to the routine paperwork, ensuring all was up to date and to preparing a file of notes that she hoped would be helpful for Cassandra Neville. She was particularly proud of lists of newly-established Friends and donor-prospects, which she had cultivated carefully since the MJL reception. The arrival of the new curator would be an ideal opportunity for a further follow-up.

  She was packing some personal possessions into a box, in preparation for vacating the curator’s office, when she received a phone call from Felicity Carmichael. She hadn’t heard from John’s sister since the funeral.

  ‘I’ve come down to clear John’s house, before it goes up for sale. Would you be able to drop by? There are some boxes of papers that may be of interest to Fathon House.’

  ‘Yes certainly. I think John used to go to the local auctions to look for things associated with the Seckfield family.’

  ‘I’ve only leafed through a few things. I think it might take days to sort through them all.’

  ‘I’d love to take a look.’ Julia knew there wasn’t likely to be anything exciting in any old papers that John had hoarded, but there was always a possibility of finding documents that fleshed out the lives of the Seckfields.

  ‘I’ve found only a couple of sales receipts, but it looks like John bought up auction lots over quite a long period of time and I’d like to have your opinion on the total value.’

  Julia had hoped Felicity would just want to clear out the clutter. ‘Of course the Fathon House Trust would want to give you a fair price for anything of real value, but we have practically no budget for acquisitions.’

  ‘I understand, my dear. But just come and take a look for now and you can tell me if the museum would want them.’

  She arranged to meet Felicity the following day. Then she sent an email to Hugh to let him know that some Seckfield papers might have turned up for purchase and resumed her preparations for handover to the new curator.

  ~

  Julia was on her way to John’s house when her phone rang. She ignored the repeating ring until she parked outside the picturesque cottage that had been John’s home.

  The garden was neglected, but the property would make estate agents salivate. She found two missed calls from Hugh, accompanied by a voicemail asking her to phone back as soon as possible.

  ‘Hi Hugh, what’s up? I’m just about to see Felicity Carmichael.’

  ‘Good. I’ve caught you before you’ve talked to her. Don’t offer the Carmichael woman anything.’

  ‘But if there’s interesting stuff - household account books or copies of wills maybe - I’m sure she won’t want very much for it.’ Julia had been looking forward to exploring the new material.

  ‘If John had boxes of Seckfield papers at his house, he must have taken them from here. They will already belong to the museum.’

  ‘As he always cycled, he would have been a bit weighed down. I’m sure he bought things privately.’ She tried to keep her tone light.

  ‘If he did, he shouldn’t have. He had a conflict of interest. He should have been representing Fathon House.’

  ‘I imagine he was trying to save the Trust money and was intending to sift through everything when he had time, before bringing in anything worthwhile.’ Julia felt every time she spoke to Hugh now, they started arguing.

  ‘Just try to get an idea of what’s there and then report back, but don’t make any promises.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to spend money that the museum doesn’t have.’

  ‘Better than that, don’t talk to her at all. Leave it to me.’

  ‘I’m outside her door. I’ve got to go now.’ She hung up before he could say anything more to increase her irritation. Did he not trust her at all?

  The cottage lay back from the road and by the time Julia had closed the wooden gate behind her and walked up the yorkstone path, Felicity was at the door.

  ‘Go through to the living room, my dear, I’m just making tea.’

  Julia stepped into a beamed room dominated by an inglenook fireplace. The room had the musty scent of old libraries. Half of the floor space was occupied by boxes, with auction lot numbers marked and dust and cobwebs topping those that were taped up.

  Felicity joined her, carrying mugs. ‘Most of these were in the loft. I don’t think John had ever got around to going through them.’

  ‘But you think they are relevant for the museum?’

  ‘All the auction house receipts that I’ve found have the word “Seckfield” in the description. In the boxes I’ve looked at, I’ve found business letters and some household bills. Early 1800’s, some a bit older.’

  “A bit older” meant 18th century and Julia’s thoughts flew to the Assassin. There might be papers that related to the Assassin. A sales receipt could identify when and where it was purchased.

  She imagined for a moment that there might be a document which would identify the sitter. She had, of course, wondered about the identity of the unknown Venetian Nobleman, but had never given much thought as to how it might be discovered. The key to unlock that mystery could be in this room.

  She reined in that fantasy, filing it alongside all the other things she was avoiding. ‘Well, you never know what might be in the other boxes. Even the letters and bills would be nice to have, but I don’t know if the museum will be able to pay you for them.’

  ‘I don’t want the money myself. Sorry, I should have been clearer when I called. I need to get a value of the estate for the lawyer who’s acting as executor of John’s will.’

  ‘Oh, so you really need a small figure, because of inheritance tax?’

  ‘That’s right, my dear. I can’t see why the tax man should get anything, so I’d like to keep the total value under the threshold.’

  ‘I don’t know if you would consider this reasonable, but my boss suggested that John may just have been keeping papers here, that already belong - or should have belonged - to the museum.’

 
‘Splendid, that would exclude them from the estate altogether.’

  ‘The thing is, the museum doesn’t have records of such purchases,’ Julia said.

  ‘For Heaven’s sake, who’s to know. If you could just take them all away, it’s one fewer thing for me to worry about.’

  ‘If you’re quite sure?’ Julia couldn’t believe her luck. Her scrupulous honesty wasn’t overly troubled by a fractional contribution to inheritance tax. She was itching to rummage through all the papers, even though she knew the contents were almost certainly minor curiosities. ‘I’ll try to ensure we look at everything and let you know what we find. It might take some time though - you know we only have a small team and mostly just volunteers.’

  ‘I appreciate that. I doubt there’s anything revelatory, but maybe more than an old laundry list.’ Felicity took a battered tin from the sideboard and placed it on the coffee table between them. ‘However, there is one thing that I know you’ll like to have. Go on, open it up.’

  Julia needed to get her nails under the tight-fitting lid to prise it off. Wrapped in decomposing tissue was a gentleman’s pocket watch. It was large, gold and finely decorated.

  ‘Open it - read the inscription,’ Felicity prompted her.

  ‘“To my dearest husband George EJ Seckfield, 1st June 1760, with deepest love and respect. Emma Seckfield.” She must have bought him this at the same time as he commissioned her portrait. This is marvellous. But, of course, it is very valuable in itself.’

  ‘Julia. John shouldn’t have kept it to himself, even if he did pay for it personally. I can understand why he wanted a personal memento of the Seckfield family, but now he’s gone it should be at Fathon House.’

  ‘But we really can’t afford to buy it - unless we started a fund-raising campaign.’

  ‘Perhaps this is something else the tax man shouldn’t know about. You should find this in one of these boxes.’

  ‘That’s incredibly generous of you.’

  ‘Not at all. John left everything to me, but he made his will before he started work at Fathon House and I know he wanted to leave something to the museum. He just didn’t get around to sorting it out legally.’

  ‘The watch will be a wonderful complement to the portrait - it brings George and Emma’s story to life.’ Julia felt a pang of guilt. ‘We will ensure it is displayed very securely. The portrait of Emma has been recovered. We will have better protection against theft.’

  ‘“Once bitten…” I’m sure. Now, do you think you could take all these boxes away with you? Is your car big enough?’

  Felicity helped Julia stack everything into her car - it filled the boot space, floor wells and back seat leaving barely enough space to see behind in the mirror. The tin with the watch was tucked into the glove box.

  Julia promised to keep Felicity updated regarding the contents of the unopened boxes and Felicity confirmed she would like to keep in touch with the museum after she returned home. As Julia drove off, she remembered what Felicity had said about hoping the estate would fall under the inheritance tax threshold.

  Living near Newcastle, she possibly had no idea of house prices around Sevenoaks. When probate was secured and the property sold, even after tax, Felicity should be due to receive a sizeable windfall.

  ~

  Julia texted Hugh to check a convenient time to call. She didn’t want him sniping about being interrupted, when she had good news to share.

  ‘Hugh - guess what? Felicity gave me all the boxes of papers that John had acquired from auctions.’

  ‘I told you not to buy them. What did you offer her?’

  ‘No. She’s given them to the museum, gratis. What’s more, John had George Seckfield’s pocket watch - it’s inscribed from Emma with the wedding date.’ Julia was startled that Hugh sounded so grumpy.

  ‘What about the paperwork? Does it have provenance?’

  ‘She couldn’t find all the sales receipts.’

  ‘Hmm. So no authentication. And no paperwork to say it belongs to Fathon House.’

  ‘Felicity suggested we might “find” it in one of the boxes.’

  ‘And what if she changes her mind later?’

  ‘I really don’t think she’d ask for it back,’Julia said. Why was Hugh always putting her on the defensive, these days? She couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t pleased with her acquisitions.

  ‘Are you sure she doesn’t want anything for this stuff?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. She said John always meant to leave something to the museum, but never got around to updating his will.’

  ‘Did you talk to her about a donation?’

  ‘Well, no. It would have been a bit insensitive, not to mention greedy, when she was giving us all this material.’

  ‘Which you know is probably worthless, even if the watch is genuine. I told you not to talk to her.’

  ‘Hugh, what is the matter with you? We weren’t expecting to get anything at all.’

  ‘You missed a good opportunity to cultivate a donor. She’s sitting on a tidy inheritance and feeling generous.'

  Julia thought he sounded disappointed he hadn’t had the opportunity to coax or perhaps bully Felicity into parting with cash. ‘I didn’t want to exploit a bereaved woman who has just lost her brother to an unexplained illness. And which may be connected to the museum.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. John’s death was unexpected, but it wasn’t caused by a mythical curse.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But you can’t tell me what did kill him, can you?’

  Chapter 20

  Cassandra Neville arrived with the start of the next week. Julia had decided to be at the museum first thing as usual, thinking it would be helpful to the new curator, if she were on hand.

  She spent the morning hanging around in the kitchen, because the rooms were well-supplied with other volunteers, all curious to see the new boss.

  She had expected to be summoned to the office, but Cassandra had asked Penny to join her and the curator’s door was closed.

  When Penny eventually emerged and came to make a long-overdue coffee, she smiled wryly at Julia. ‘She hasn’t asked for you.’

  ‘I’d better not interrupt her, then. What did you talk about?’

  ‘Only what you would expect. She said she wanted to familiarise herself with the office and get a sense of the place, before she starts meeting the volunteers during the week.’

  ‘And I need to get used to the idea that I’m just another volunteer, again, I suppose.’

  ‘She’s very inexperienced. She probably feels a bit intimidated.’

  Julia knew Penny was being fair-minded, but having been kicking her heels all morning, she did not feel so generous. ‘Well, I’m a bit of a spare part, right now. I may as well go home. I’m back at MJL tomorrow. So I suppose I’ll get to see her on Friday.’

  ‘You’re not taking a break at all, before you re-start?’

  ‘No. Since the boys were good enough to take me back, I couldn’t take any more time out. I’m looking forward to it, actually.’

  ‘That’s good. Wish us luck with the new regime.’

  ‘Of course. Text me the lowdown, during the week.’

  ~

  Julia had heard nothing from Penny by Thursday and had been dithering over whether to call, when a text arrived: Judgement reserved for now. See you tomoz.

  She arrived at Fathon House half an hour before opening time, hoping to see Cassandra before her shift in the gallery, but the door to the inner office was closed.

  She made a coffee and tidied a few things in the kitchen, before taking up her old post in the main gallery, ready for opening promptly at 10 AM.

  At a quarter past, Cassandra walked into the gallery and greeted Julia. ‘Would you like to come through to my office? I’m trying to have a little chat with all the volunteers individually, but of course we met when I came to my interview.’

  ‘That’s right. It must be taking a bit of time to get around the whole team, since most of us ju
st do a day or half day every week.’ Julia hoped it sounded like a natural and friendly comment. She followed Cassandra into the curator’s office.

  ‘Ms Bailey, you’ve been holding the fort since Dr Carmichael’s death, I gather.’

  ‘It’s Julia. The board of trustees asked me to become Acting Curator when John first fell ill, Dr Neville.’

  ‘Please call me Cassie. So you were responsible for my “welcome pack” of notes. Thank you. They were … interesting.’

  Julia sensed that Cassie didn’t want to say “helpful”. ‘I thought it might be useful to pass on some of the unexpected things that I picked up as I went along.’

  ‘I am sure there’s a lot I will need to learn for myself.’ Cassie kept her eyes fixed on the papers on her desk. ‘While you were Acting Curator, you took it on yourself to promote a brand image for the museum. I have to say I think it is an inappropriate one. The artist and subject of the painting are unknown. The public like a narrative, in order to make a connection.’

  ‘I think everyone makes up their own stories about the Venetian Nobleman. Do you doubt the “School of Bernadino Castelli” attribution?’

  ‘It’s not compelling. More to the point, you didn’t use a professional design agency. Did you test the image with members of the public before introducing it?’

  ‘We field-tested it, by making a small initial order. When it proved popular, we ordered more.’

  ‘And consequently, there is now a lot of stock to clear or waste, if we are to establish proper branding.’

  Julia hadn’t anticipated the “little chat” would include a direct attack on her decisions. Since Cassie was now making a statement and not asking a question, Julia felt uncertain how to respond.

  The branded products had done wonders for their sales, but quoting figures would sound defensive. Justifying her selection of the image used would appear confrontational. Neither would establish an ideal working relationship.

  She was willing to accept that Cassie might feel threatened and comments that sounded downright rude could be put down to a clumsy attempt to assert her unfamiliar authority.