by Vicky Adin
“While we are by ourselves, I have something for you.” Jessica handed Megan a white envelope. “From Dad. He said I was to give it to you tonight and not before.”
“What now? Do you know what’s in it?” she exclaimed, peeking in the envelope to see another one, aged and yellow, inside.
“It’s the final part of Constance’s will,” answered Jessica.
Megan’s interest was piqued. “When will that woman stop surprising me?”
“I won’t spoil it any further. It’s good news, and I’ve got some other news to tell you ...”
Just then Paul arrived with Muriel on his arm. Delighted at being included, the old lady had dressed especially for the occasion. Although somewhat dated, Muriel looked elegant in her best lace dress, long pearl necklace and crystal earrings.
“My dear, I’m so excited for you. The gallery looks wonderful, although I don’t understand some of that modern stuff I see over there.”
Megan laughed. When she had said something similar back in Florence, Trina had told her she didn’t have to like it, just recognise its potential. And here she was, with that potential all around her.
She could see all four of her family working the room, making introductions and moving people into new groups. She called Sarah and Trina over to meet Jessica, who they had spoken to on the phone but not met.
“So what’s this news you have?” asked Megan, wishing she could find a moment to read the letter Jessica had given her. She needed to settle her nerves about what it might say.
Jessica looked around for Max, who had been busy snapping candid images of the gallery and the gathering crowd. He quickly appeared by her side.
“I hope you don’t mind me stealing some of your thunder, but I’m bursting to tell you all. Max and I got engaged today.”
She showed them her new ring and was immediately swamped with hugs and kisses.
“Congratulations!”
“How exciting.”
“I’m so pleased for you,” said Megan.
“This place seemed the perfect choice to make it official,” Max added, shaking hands with everyone.
Almost bouncing with excitement Jessica butted in. “And I want you, Megan, to be my special guest at the wedding. We’ll have it at Trevennick Hall, of course. All the folk there are dying for you to come back. Say yes, please, say you’ll come.”
“Of course, I’ll come.” How could she refuse?
Before any further details could be discussed, Jason called Trina away to answer questions, and Sarah took Jessica, Max and Muriel to meet Nick.
“You look wonderful,” said Paul, stepping closer to Megan as he offered his arm. His eyes sparkled. “And I love that perfume you’re wearing.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she answered teasingly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” admitting how much she had wanted him by her side tonight. “Let’s get something to drink.”
Taking his arm, she led him back into the marquee where people were now thronging. Wine and finger foods quietly appeared on trays before them, the delicate bite-size pieces equally as tasty as they were attractive. The couple moved around the room stopping to chat now and then to introduce themselves. An air of expectation filtered through the crowd. Compliments flew and business cards exchanged. So far, the evening couldn’t be better.
Paul glanced at his watch – six-twenty.
“What time did you say the formal speeches were?”
“Seven. Have I got a few minutes to spare?”
“Depends. What do you want to do?”
“Jessica gave me a letter. I’m anxious to read it before I get caught up in the celebrations.”
“Be quick.”
They made their way through the private lounge to the office. Megan pulled the neatly folded envelope out of her bag and withdrew the brief letter from James. He formally advised her she had met all the conditions of Constance’s will and he could now release her final letter, which he hoped would complete the cycle.
Cunning old devil, thought Megan. He kept this from me all this time.
Once Paul had shut the door behind them and Megan had sat at the desk, she opened the letter from Constance.
Trevennick House
October 1983
My dear great-grandniece. I still don’t know your name.
If you are reading this, then you have met all the conditions I stipulated. I am pleased. It shows you are made of the same marrow. You have spirit. I admire that.
My sister Isabel and I never did quite understand each other. I valued belongings more than people. Belongings can’t hurt you. She valued people, especially those who created something with their hearts and minds. She loved beauty but was far too hysterical and got hurt dreadfully as a result. I used to think my way was best, but now I am alone and belongings no longer give me the joy they once did, I wish we had been closer.
I am sure you noticed the torn edges of pages missing from her diary. I am equally sure you sought to find what was missing. I will tell you what was in those pages.
She wrote of love, gushingly and indecently. Her words were far too embarrassing for me to repeat verbatim. I destroyed those pages, but I couldn’t eradicate what was in them from my mind. Many of her letters are hidden in the library if you would care to look. I left the key with the Boscowans. I only kept the ones that were suitably decorous. I couldn’t abide her brazenness.
She was passionate about art reflecting life. It was her abiding love and led to her downfall. She fell in love with an artist of little renown, giving up her name and completely turning her back on her Trevallyan heritage.
Her lover’s name was Carlos Luciano Della Rossa. He was a tutor at the Florence School, I believe. Your grandmother Julia was their child. Isabel said there had been a civil marriage, but it may not have been officially recognised. What else would one expect from those foreign countries? And he was Catholic, to boot. He died during the First World War.
She took another lover, later. Not at all surprising, given her nonconformist ways. He was part of that art studio she worked at. He drew a frightful sketch of her and the child. I gave it away to my friend, whose aunt had been Jane de Glehn. His name I forget, but he was a native, born there at least, rather than being an English gentleman as befitted her birth.
Julia was sent away to school, thank goodness, and retained not only the Trevallyan name but also its principles, thanks to my intervention. I’m glad something of my values endured.
Now you know. I have given you all I have to give: my money and your history. Think what you may.
Constance Trevallyan
Her hand shook, but her eyes sparkled with elation as she handed the letter to Paul. A few seconds later Paul raised his head, his eyes agleam. “This is wonderful! And explains so many things.”
“Isn’t it? I’m not sure I would have liked Constance. She held some odd notions and was obviously very rude and abrupt when it suited her. You certainly couldn’t say things like that these days, but I’m so excited. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for – a starting point at last.”
“You have several, my dear,” declared Paul. “The real name for Luciano Rossi, a clue about the artist of the sketch, a definite link to Jane Emmett de Glehn and the family who held the sketch – she probably painted the scene where it was found – and confirmation Isabel worked for an art studio.”
Paul was keen to tell the Cornish gallery about the find. “It would be a great coup if I could identify the artist of the house. If you don’t mind?”
Megan caught his enthusiasm. “I can’t believe it. There’s so much to talk about and plans to make.” She put the letter safely away in her bag. “How much time have we got?”
Paul glanced at this watch. “It’s five-to.”
“Goodness. We’d better hurry then. I need to be there for the auction.”
The charity auction had been Trina’s idea. People liked being nosy, she said. They would turn up to a gala opening just to see what
the competition looked like, but with no reason to open their wallets they would go away again without buying anything.
“We need to give them the opportunity to be seen by their peers as generous and philanthropic in a game of one-upmanship. With all proceeds going to the charity of their choice, they won’t resist. Then other sales interest might be triggered.”
As Paul and Megan re-entered the gallery and walked past the artworks looking for small coloured dots, they discovered Trina’s assessment accurate. Impressed, they found five paintings had been pre-purchased.
“At this rate, I might be successful in my own time,” she joked.
“I think that’s highly likely,” he agreed. “And I’d like to be part of it.”
Megan turned with a questioning look. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Paul smiled and nodded. “I am, yes. If the offer is still open.”
Trying hard not to skip like an excited child, Megan squeezed his arm a little tighter. “I’m glad.”
With him finding the hidden gems of the art world and tracking down lost artists, her dreams seemed more likely to come true. Her legacy, she hoped, would be the discovery of a great new artist, or a great piece of lost art restored to the world. Fantastic as it sounded.
Maybe she wished for too much, but she couldn’t help herself. Would Constance and Isabel approve? After reading Constance’s letter, she believed they would. Thanks to Constance’s passion to own things and the romantic Isabel’s love of art – as well as the artists – Megan had found the perfect way of honouring her ancestors’ memories.
And now, maybe Paul would help her trace her great-grandfather’s family tree too, if she asked him. They could travel, visit the art galleries of the world together, discover ...
“Mum,” Sarah’s voice commanded her attention. “It’s time.”
Butterflies immediately started fluttering in her stomach, and the adrenalin began pumping. It was her first official task as public relations manager.
Moving to one end of the room near the hidden portrait, Megan stepped onto a small podium and adjusted the height of the microphone. People had been ushered into the gallery and stood crowded, shoulder-to-shoulder, in front of her. Her stomach did another flip.
“Thank you, everyone, for attending the gala opening of our new gallery. I and my family appreciate your interest and for giving up your time to be here tonight.”
Megan briefly explained about her legacy and introduced the key people and their roles.
“I want to thank my special guests, Jessica and Max, for travelling halfway around the world to be here tonight. According to Jessica, I come from a line of strong women. I believe strength comes in two ways: through necessity, or through strong foundations, as I learnt from my forebears. Without the foundation my family gives me, I would achieve nothing. With them, anything is possible, as this gallery proves.”
Given the murmuration and the applause that followed, she had struck the right chord.
“Behind this screen is the painting that started me on my journey. It’s of Isabel with Constance in the background. We believe it is by Wilfred de Glehn.”
Megan heard the gasps as the experts in the room recognised the name and its significance. Her stakes in the art world had just edged up a notch.
“It is with great pleasure I now reveal this painting and share it with the wider world. It is our family treasure ...”
Applause followed as the curtain opened on the image she had carried with her from Cornwall.
“... and not for sale,” she added, to the amusement of the crowd. “Now to the moment you’ve been waiting for – the charity auction.”
At that point, Trina replaced Megan on the podium. Jason and Nick put the selected painting on an easel for everyone to see and Trina immediately impressed them by going into auctioneer patter and rattling off the call for bids like a professional. Sarah worked the room, nudging those whose expressions of interest she’d taken earlier. Trina’s judgment had been correct. Competition was hot. The chosen charity would benefit well, indeed.
Just as Megan thought it was her turn again, to conclude the evening, Sarah jumped up to the microphone.
“Before we wind the evening up, there is one more item. My mother knows nothing about this, so it will be as big a surprise for her as it is for you. I now invite Professor Paul Rosse to speak to you.”
Megan was indeed surprised – mostly that Sarah would invite Paul to do or say anything at this event. Whilst she had accepted his presence, thanks to Trina, this was a family affair, and Sarah had made it very plain, more than once, that Paul was not family. What had happened to change her mind?
“Good evening, everyone. I am an art historian and part of my job is to identify works of art. I became aware of the possibility of a lost painting through a reference in the journal Megan has spoken of tonight. After extensive investigations, it is now my undoubted privilege to present Megan with the results of that research.”
A buzz escalated among the gathered crowd as Jason and Sarah emerged from behind the curtain with a painting they placed on the easel.
The portrait was exquisite and depicted a girl glowing in the bloom of youth, pregnant, sensuous and voluptuous. Megan’s astonished expression turned to disbelief as she recognised the face. Isabel looked beautiful. The pose, semi-reclining, carefree yet bold, tantalised. The composition cried out skill and passion.
“This portrait,” continued Paul, “is of Isabel and was painted in Florence about 1912. I believe the artist is one Luciano Rossi. A once popular art tutor, although a somewhat renegade figure, whose work is generally unknown. It is with immense satisfaction I pass this heirloom to its rightful owner.”
The noise greeting his announcement drowned out any further possibility of speech. Once the applause had died down, the volume of conversation rose. People clamoured to see the painting close-up.
Megan pulled Paul to the back of the room where it was slightly quieter. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Even to her ear, she sounded critical and ungracious. She softened her voice. “The painting is superb. Thank you. But is this why you left Florence so suddenly, to search for it?”
“Yes. And it’s taken me months. I had to keep it hidden from you, in case nothing came of the rumours I’d heard,” Paul admitted. “But first I had to return to the States in order to complete a whole year’s programme in advance. I wanted to get out of my contract early and go hunting. And,” he added, “so I could return to Auckland, and you, sooner.”
He smiled as he took her hand. “I’m sorry I was so tight-lipped. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Jason promised the same thing – with some success. Now Paul was making promises. Life was on the up.
“I’m looking forward to telling you all about it. Where my search led me and what I found out about our elusive Luciano – even before your amazing letter from Constance.”
Before Megan had a chance to respond, Sarah announced her return to the dais to close the evening.
Eager to wind everything up now there was so much to talk about, Megan hurried through the last announcements. “I can’t thank you all enough for your attendance tonight and for your generosity at the charity auction. Please put your hands together to acknowledge the young artist.
“I also wish to thank my family and friends for their support, and especially Paul Rosse for this extraordinary gift.”
Their eyes met across the heads of the crowd. A look of great possibilities passed between them.
“For the final act of the evening, I would now like to officially name our new gallery – partly based on a name, partly on a concept, but mostly because of an inscription.
“To art, love and family, in perpetuity. I hereby name this gallery, Continuum.”
~~~
“There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the passion of life.”
– Federico Fellini 1920–93 (Italian film director and scriptwriter)
/>
Dedication
To family and their stories
With fond memories of Cornwall
Latest release due late May 2019 – Pre-order now
The Costumier’s Gift
The dual-timeline sequel continuing the family sagas of
Brigid The Girl from County Clare and Gwenna The Welsh Confectioner
Awarded a BGS Gold Standard Quality Mark
Why does a stranger hold the key to untangling Katie’s family secrets?
1903 Jane is the talented principal costumier at Auckland’s Opera House in its Edwardian heyday. She thrives in this place where she can hide from her pain and keep her skeletons to herself – until the past comes back to haunt her. Brigid, her beloved foster mother, and her best friend Gwenna are anchors in her solitary yet rewarding life. As the decades go by, the burden of carrying secrets becomes too great, and Jane must pass on the hidden truths.
Today Katie seeks refuge from her crumbling personal life with her grandmother, who lives in past with the people in her cherished photographs. All too soon, Katie learns she must identify the people behind the gentle smiles – including the Edwardian woman to whom she bears a remarkable resemblance – and reveal generations of secrets before she can claim her inheritance. She meets the intriguing Jared, who stirs her interest, but she’s not ready for any sort of romance, so is shocked when she learns that he holds the key to discovering her past.
* * * * *
Peek Preview of
The Costumier’s Gift
KATIE – Present day Auckland, New Zealand
Living in the past
April
Katie only had herself to blame and now it was too late: too late for Granna; too late for her, just plain too late. Saddened, Katie shrugged the thought away.
Her mother’s death fifteen months ago had shaken her. No, more than that, shattered would be a better term, but she doubted the old woman sitting before her, endlessly chattering about the past, knew her daughter had gone.
“Janey, Janey. You’re here,” said Granna, looking past her to someone else. “Say hello to our Katie here. She’s your... oh dear, I can’t remember now, your great-granty-something or other she is, but you know her, don’t you? Our Janey’s ever so clever.”