by P A Latter
‘Cassie - that’s a serious accusation.’
‘I have turned it over and over in my mind, believe me. I know you and he were … close. But I know you’re utterly honest and I didn’t know who else to talk to. He’s chairman of the board. I don’t know the other trustees at all yet.’
‘I can’t believe it. He just wouldn’t do that,’ Julia said.
‘Not if his company was failing and the pictures were a way to sweeten deals?’
Julia tried to be objective. Commission from minor paintings would hardly save a business, but the trade might be used as a way to broker larger business relationships.
Had Hugh been so distant recently because he was preoccupied by business worries? Or embarrassed - because he was planning to exploit Fathon House?
If his company was in trouble, how far would he go to save it? He’d said he had a lot riding on the reception for the trade delegates - what had that really meant?
‘Julia, who chose the selection to exhibit for the political event?’
Of course, Julia realised, the superficial, saleable quality of the works on show would have struck Cassie too. ‘Hugh said the Foreign Office wanted British art on display. I’m sure he has Fathon House’s interests at heart.’
‘While you were Interim Curator, did the board discuss selling a part of the collection?’
‘The issue has been raised from time to time. But you’ve probably seen how divided the trustees are on any - every - issue.’
‘I am afraid he might present it as a fait accompli at the upcoming board meeting. You know him better than I do, but he does seem to have a ruthless streak.’
Julia’s throat tightened. ‘I thought I knew him. But recently he’s been different.’
Her mouth was dry. Preventing any hasty action by Hugh must surely be the best course and she might have a means for delay.
Without having time to think it through, giving Cassie a way to block immediate sales seemed a reasonable option. ‘If there have to be sales from the collection, it can’t be done precipitately.’
‘What’s to stop him, if he scares the rest of the board into it? We do need to stabilise the financial situation.’
‘Actually, selling pictures would destabilise the finances, even if it did provide short-term funds.’
‘What do you mean?’ Cassie sounded eager.
‘I’m not sure if Hugh knows this. When I was going through the terms of our various revenue streams, I found that some of the legacies and grants are dependent on the collection being maintained intact.
If anything is sold off, the museum could lose those sources of income. It’s an argument to use with the trustees, if you need to.’
Cassie nodded thoughtfully. ‘Thanks. That may be just the ammunition I need.’ She picked up a familiar file from her desk. ‘Do you know why there is so much opposition to the coffee shop scheme? I read your paper and the financials look good.’
‘It’s partly because of the loan needed - the risk of debt. All the trustees have different hobby horses.’ Julia pulled a sheet of paper towards her and made a list of the trustees.
Hugh Read
Jennifer Johnson
Mary Bedford
Colin Harper
Philip Smythe
She marked them off with ticks, crosses and queries. ‘Jennifer worries that a café might lower the tone. Mary appears irrevocably opposed, but that’s primarily because Colin Harper is in favour.’
‘If it was the other way around, I might be able to charm Colin into it,’ Cassie said, showing a willingness to use the sort of tactics that Julia struggled with.
Julia thought for a moment. She would hate to see even the meanest of the works in the collection sold off, unless it was the only way to save the museum. She had spent a lot of time on the paper which made the argument for a profitable café without loss of gallery space. It was time to play politics again.
‘Mary loathes Harriet Fairfax from the Haussmann. If, at the board meeting, you were to mention that Harriet told you a café at Fathon House would, let’s say, “ruin its air of shabby gentility”, that might change Mary’s view.’ Julia considered the other trustees. ‘When pushed, Jennifer will fall in line with Mary. You could maybe persuade Colin initially to oppose the idea. Philip will probably not bother to turn up.’
‘Good heavens, Julia. I had no idea you could be such a schemer.’
~
Julia was so relieved that she no longer had to play a direct role in the museum’s management. If she could help from the side lines, that would be good for them all. Cassie now seemed secure enough in her position to seek Julia’s advice.
But both Penny and Sam thought the new curator was unpredictable. The unexpected friendliness and confidences might not continue.
Julia still worried that her own judgement regarding Hugh was flawed - either in the past or at that moment. Perhaps both. But these concerns didn’t prey upon her, as they once would - she was becoming totally absorbed in tracing the Assassin’s identity.
She had been emailing Sofia and Alessandro to keep them informed of her findings and possible progress. Sofia had been keen to hear all about Tristan when she had mentioned him, as had Penny.
Julia realised that she had betrayed her feelings to her friends - after she dwelt somewhat on Tristan’s hazel eyes and enveloping smile.
There was one other person who ought to know about the unfolding story: Julia wrote a long email to Felicity Carmichael explaining how the message from Edmond to his brother, discovered in one of John’s auction-lot boxes, had led her to Venice and Sam to the diary.
She told Felicity that the new curator had promised attempts would be made to authenticate the date of the journal, which would be published on the museum website.
In addition to her promise, Cassie had also given Julia full access to the archive, to help her cross-reference any other papers of interest that she might find in the boxes.
~
Julia was at work at MJL, keeping an eye on the clock to ensure she left promptly for the lunch with Cassie and Tristan, when Hugh walked in. She was instantly guilt-stricken - she had surely been unjust in doubting his integrity and giving Cassie the means to oppose him.
She was certain he could read her face and then concerned that Cassie herself could have told him about their conversation.
He did look different - but it wasn’t his expression - he didn’t look cross with her, or even hurt. He’d grown a jaw-line beard. It took her a moment to register: she saw an identical style every time she stepped into the Specials gallery.
He noticed her stare and pushed his palm back along his chin. ‘What do you think? Do you like it?’
‘Err…’ She had all but forgotten her worry when he had touched the portrait - it seemed so much more than a few weeks ago. Cassie’s conviction that Hugh was plotting underhand measures took on another dimension.
‘No, obviously you don’t,’ he said.
‘It’s...’ Julia tried to order her thoughts. If he was asking for her opinion on something as trivial as facial hair, he couldn’t know what she was thinking or be aware she had been discussing him - unfavourably - behind his back. She was imagining things again. ‘I think it suits you. But I’m not sure I like it.’
‘I’m crushed,’ he said looking anything but, ‘Is Jimmy in?’
‘Yes, no-one’s with him right now, so just knock.’
Hugh disappeared into Ken James’s office for ten minutes. When he emerged, Julia was locking files into a cabinet, in preparation for leaving for lunch. She hoped and anticipated that he would head straight for the street door, but he hesitated by her desk.
‘Julia, did you know Cassie wants to establish a completely new full-time post? For a web manager, social media and schools coordinator?’
‘I thought the Haussman grant would cover a lot of that work.’
‘It will, but she’s got a bee in her bloomers. I’m not sure she understands what the finan
cial position is like.’
‘Hugh. It’s not really appropriate to discuss the curator’s plans with me.’ Julia felt a complete hypocrite.
‘Bollocks. I didn’t think you’d be defending her half-witted ideas.’
‘I didn’t say I was. But she’s my boss now.’
‘So that’s which side your bread’s buttered? Fuck it, Julia, I didn’t think she’d win your loyalty so easily.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m trying to be fair. I don’t want to take sides. You were the one who said she needed time to find her feet.’ Julia cursed inwardly. She had managed to shatter the peace between them again.
‘And now she’s found her feet, I’m beginning to suspect she’s a scheming little bitch with no interest in Fathon House except its use as a career stepping stone.’ He continued before she could respond. ‘She could bankrupt us to demonstrate her on-message Arts Council credentials for her next post and leave the House without a backward glance.’
The force of his outburst shook her, but she couldn’t doubt his commitment to the survival of the museum.
He truly feared Cassie would squander any money that they managed to raise, on her pet projects. Had Cassie misled her? Did she want the board to agree a loan to invest in the café, and avoid selling paintings, or so she could use the money for this post?
She broke eye contact, not knowing what to believe. Her glance fell on the clock. If she walked out now, she might not have another chance to repair the relationship.
‘Hugh, I’m terribly sorry but I have to go. I have an appointment. I’m not trying to avoid the conversation. Can we talk later?’
Chapter 34
Julia left the office for the restaurant where she was meeting Cassie and Tristan, seething that Hugh had filled her mind with doubt and confusion. And made her late.
She had been looking forward to seeing Tristan again as well as hearing his thoughts on the portrait. But between them, Hugh and Cassie had left her uncertain of the honesty and motives of either of them and even more unwilling to trust her own judgement.
Tristan and Cassie were in animated conversation when Julia reached the restaurant, but Tristan broke off, stood and came to meet Julia as soon as he caught sight of her. He spoke quietly as he held her chair.
‘I’ve put in the request to get the earl out of storage. It should be ready for us next week.’
‘That’s wonderful. I’m so grateful.’
When they were all seated, with lunch ordered, Julia looked at him expectantly for the outcome of his morning at the museum.
‘I have just been saying to Dr Neville, I think there are good arguments that connect your Assassin to Henry Morton. I pressed my assistant Dunstan into some more research.
Cassie interrupted with an almost caressing touch to his hand. ‘Tristan... Dunstan? Are you all Knights of the Round Table?’
Julia thought the comment and the accompanying laugh affected. But she questioned her own reaction: was she cringing at the artificiality or did she just resent the intimate gesture? ‘I think Dunstan was a saint actually.’
‘Yes, that’s right. 10th century, I believe.’ Tristan stepped in. ‘And I’m afraid my mother took our family’s Cornish origins to heart.’
‘What did Dunstan - your Dunstan - find?’ Julia said.
‘Much to his annoyance, I made him spend a couple of days scanning through Georgian scandal sheets at the British Library.’
It was exactly what Julia had anticipated doing. ‘That’s a lot of time squinting at a microfiche.’
‘It paid off: shortly before Henry Morton left the country, a Lord Montagu was killed by a poniard thrust. As you probably know - duelling deaths were generally accidental.’
‘Oh yes - it was all about honour and first blood, isn’t that right?’ Cassie said.
‘A poniard is a weapon for close quarters, In the heat of a duel, to kill with it could possibly have been accidental and, of course, the reporting of a “thrust” may be hyperbolic. But it does sound like lethal intent.’
‘If we went further back through the Society press reports, do you think there might be something about the argument between them?’ Julia asked.
‘Very possibly - if you have the time for the work involved. I can give you the dates and journals that Dunstan covered.’
‘The artist remains problematic,’ Cassie said.
‘There are other points of congruence with Morton. I’ll fill you in later, Julia. Now, yes, Castelli. Well, parts of the painting are very finely executed but that doesn’t say it was Castelli. And, as others have noted, some of it appears to have been hurriedly completed.’
‘Tristan told me he might have expected to see more overt symbolism in a finished piece of this type,’ Cassie said.
‘Hoped rather than expected, perhaps. Absence is always difficult to interpret. We took the picture up to your splendid workshop. Dr Neville very kindly allowed me to take it out of the frame as well as look at the reverse.’
He smiled at Julia and continued. ‘Don’t worry. I took care to wear gloves all the time. The handwriting looks right for the period, but it’s not my area.’
Tristan’s expertise was in the sort of symbolic details lacking in the portrait. There was one thing Julia hadn’t yet told him, but she was reluctant to say it in front of Cassie. She chose a safer topic.
‘I hope you didn’t feel it was a wasted trip.’
‘By no means. I have been looking at some very nice pieces, besides the nefarious nobleman and Dr Neville has been an excellent host. I am indebted to both of you for the opportunity to become acquainted with him and with the Fathon House collection. Unfortunately, I can’t play truant all day and I have to get back to my office this afternoon.’
‘I’ll walk with you back to the station, if you don’t mind,’ Julia said.
‘If you’re sure you can spare the time, your company would be very welcome.’
On the walk back, Tristan said he had made the request to the Wallace Collection immediately after their drinks meeting.
‘They actually have the 3rd and 4th earls. The 4th dates from around 1775, so hopefully he’s our man.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ She decided to broach the subject she had avoided earlier. ‘Cassie mentioned the absence of symbols visible in the Assassin portrait. Snakes and pomegranates have been used as symbols quite a lot, haven’t they?’
‘Oh yes. Hard to think of many other objects more freighted with meanings. Sometimes contradictory ones.’
‘So what they represent depends on the context?’
‘Correct. What is the context?’ He asked.
Julia was starting to recognise his bloodhound-on-the-scent expression, when he sensed a puzzle to decipher. ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone about this. I suppose because it’s an admission of a paranormal experience and I have tried so hard to convince myself that there’s a rational explanation for everything.’
‘Involving the Assassin?’
‘That’s right.’ Julia was still reluctant to say what she had seen - what she knew to be a part of the painting.
‘I told you I have an open mind. I won’t say you’re mad, or mistaken. Where do the snakes and pomegranates come into it?’
‘I don’t know how this can be a trick of the light, but I have seen them in that picture. The blob in the shadows at the bottom right of the picture is a pomegranate cut open. The seeds are as red as the blood on the Assassin’s thumb. And there is a small snake coiled around it. And then I kept dreaming it. Harriet Fairfax told me she dreamed of a snake too - but she rambled about seeing other things as well.’
‘I did wonder what that corner would look like, if the painting was cleaned up. But it is weird to feel you have seen them already. I don’t suppose you’ve had the picture x-rayed or scanned for sub-images?’
Julia shook her head. ‘The museum doesn’t have the money for that sort of work.’
‘I’m sure you’ve looked this stuff up online, if you
didn’t already know it. Pomegranates can mean first blood - as in sexual maturity; loss of virginity; sometimes rape. Female associations usually, but spilled seeds are an obvious exception. Snakes can be positive - learning and wisdom - or negative - temptation, venom and betrayal.’
‘How would you read them, if you could see them in the Assassin portrait?’
‘Could you give me a while to think about it? And make a sketch of how you saw them, for me?’
Julia had been sure he would challenge her conviction that the images came from the painting, not her imagination, but he seemed unfazed by her revelation, ‘I can’t draw very well, but I’ll try. You said Dunstan found other things about Morton.’
‘Yes - the family crest includes a bear and one paper said Morton took “Fear my Claws” as a personal motto - although I think that’s a journalistic flourish.’
‘There are bears decorating the frame and all those sharp edges,’ she said.
‘Exactly. The frame looks original. I think the sharp edges were deliberate and I’m wondering about something else - 18th century Italians were big on poisons.’
‘So my idea about the frame being toxic isn’t so mad, you think? Not from the laburnum wood, but from a poisonous coating.’
‘Which would infect anyone scratched by the claws.’
‘If it is the piece that Edmond was to deliver to Morton’s cousin, it must have been designed to poison her.’ Everything she had found while she was in Italy had been contradictory, but now elements were coming together to support her theory.
Tristan hesitated. ‘It would be a rather elaborate and uncertain approach to murder. But there is a tenuous link: Dunstan found a very gossipy piece alluding to an intrigue between Morton and “Lady Ursula”. We couldn’t find a Lady Ursula in the peerage, but the papers were skittish about libel and nicknames were used that readers in the know would understand.’
‘And Ursula means Little Bear - a small or minor member of the Morton family?’
Tristan nodded.
They walked in companionable silence for a while before he led the conversation to other subjects. Julia confided her fear that she was in the middle of a growing feud between Cassie and Hugh.