The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  There was nothing to fear in the room where she had worked. Sunlight streamed in through the broken windows dispelling any ghosts that lingered in the shadows, and birds could be heard in the trees outside. Her easel was still there and the stool upon which she had sat was placed beside it, as if she had just got up and left. Mildewed bottles were lined up along the shelves. Some had fallen and shattered on the floor that had once been made of stone but which now looked more like the garden, for plants had grown in the cracks where the slabs had broken, and bees bumbled about the tiny blue flowers that thrived there. Gracie could see Rutger, at his easel, his grey hair curling about his ears, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, and she imagined he must be dead now, for he had been old even then.

  She turned to the door of Uncle Hans’s studio. Suddenly she was a young woman again. It was Christmas Day. The door was ajar. It was never ajar. Uncle Hans had always locked it. But here it was, open. She felt a swell of nausea rising into her solar plexus. Her hand tightened its grip. ‘It’s okay, Granny,’ Anastasia said again. ‘He’s not in there any more. I promise.’

  Gracie couldn’t see for the tears in her eyes. Anastasia walked slowly towards the door, not wanting to force her, but keen for her grandmother to see the empty room and realise that her uncle had gone, long ago. It was only the memory that remained, and that, too, had to go.

  Carina hung back, arms folded, chewing the inside of her cheek. She felt her mother’s terror and it debilitated her. She watched her daughter lead her bravely in and felt a rush of pride. This young woman, only seventeen, was looking after her grandmother with surprising maturity. Carina had never imagined she could behave with such sensitivity and courage.

  Gracie stepped into the room and her eyes fell upon the chair. It was in the very same place it had been when she had discovered him, hanging above it. But he was no longer there. The rope had gone and so had Uncle Hans. Nothing remained but her fear. She let go of Anastasia’s hand and walked into the room which was bathed in light and warmth. She put her hand on the back of the chair.

  Just then she heard a man’s voice behind her. She swung round in astonishment as a ghost from the past appeared before her very eyes, demanding in Italian to know why they were trespassing in this house.

  When he saw her, he blanched, as incredulous as she was. ‘Gracie?’ he asked.

  For a moment both Carina and Anastasia thought that, by some miracle, Gaetano had found her, but that was not his name.

  ‘Rutger?’ Gracie gasped. He staggered towards her. She began to cry. ‘Rutger?’ she repeated, this time in a whisper. She stepped towards him, arms outstretched. They embraced with such affection that Carina and Anastasia’s eyes filled with tears, too. Neither Gracie nor Rutger spoke. There was too much to say, neither knew where to begin. They remained locked in each other’s arms, grateful to be reunited after so many years, grateful for the piece of their past they could at last hold on to.

  Finally, they pulled away. Rutger studied her face. ‘Gracie,’ he said and his rheumy old eyes gleamed with their familiar twinkle. ‘Gracie. It is you. It is really you.’

  ‘I’m surprised you recognised me,’ she said, thinking of Tancredi.

  ‘Of course I recognise you. You are still Gracie, just a little older.’

  ‘And you are still Rutger,’ she laughed. ‘You look the same.’

  ‘I was born old,’ he said. ‘I’m ninety-six. Every dawn is a pleasant surprise.’

  ‘Do you still live in the house beyond the garden?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But I thought you fled to Holland.’

  ‘I never fled anywhere. Why would I flee?’

  ‘Because they were after you.’

  ‘Who was after me?’

  He looked confused. Gracie wondered whether he’d lost his memory. ‘You know, after they discovered the Piero Bartoloni forgery, they found others and traced them back to Uncle Hans.’

  Rutger frowned. ‘They did no such thing.’

  Gracie felt desperate. She put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Yes, they did. That’s why Uncle Hans . . . that’s why he . . .’ She began to sob. ‘Why he hanged himself. Because of me. Because I forged the Piero Bartoloni and led them back to him.’

  ‘You forged the Bartoloni?’ Rutger was unconvinced. ‘It wasn’t even a good forgery. In fact, it was a terrible forgery.’

  ‘But I did it for Tancredi, because he wanted the original. I did it hastily. It wasn’t ever meant to be seen by experts. It was only meant to fool Bruno Montefosco.’ Carina and Anastasia looked at each other at the mention of the name Tancredi. Anastasia slowly nodded.

  ‘I am disappointed in your shoddy work,’ Rutger said with a shrug. ‘I have to admit, I am disappointed. I trained you better than that. But Hans did not take his own life because of a painting.’

  Gracie’s hands fell to her sides. ‘What?’

  ‘No one was after him.’

  ‘But I was sure my blunder had led them to discover the forgeries Hans did for Gaetano Montefosco.’

  Rutger looked appalled. ‘Hans was much too good to be discovered. No one has ever discovered his forgeries and they never will. They still hang on walls all over the world. Some in the most prestigious museums. There has never been a forger of his talent before or since.’

  Gracie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Then why did he kill himself?’ she asked.

  ‘Because of Jonas Blythe.’

  ‘They were friends,’ said Gracie.

  ‘They were lovers,’ Rutger corrected. ‘But you knew that, surely.’

  She shook her head. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘Hans loved Jonas. He’d taken many lovers over the years, but Jonas was special. Then they had a misunderstanding. Jonas got jealous. He threatened to expose Hans’s homosexuality and ruin his reputation. As you know, reputation is everything. Hans’s entire business depended on that. So, Hans gave him his house in France and more money than he deserved to keep him quiet, but, Jonas wanted more. He wanted revenge.’

  ‘Hans committed suicide because of Jonas?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But I thought it was because of me. I thought he was angry with me for my blunder.’

  ‘Yes, he was angry with you, but not for very long. He was not himself that winter because of Jonas, not because of you. If you had not run off I would have told you myself, but I assumed you knew the truth.’

  ‘I wish I had,’ she said, and the past four decades flashed before her eyes. But instead of resenting them as a waste, she felt a wonderful lightness in her spirit. A liberating sense of relief.

  Rutger shook his head. ‘What an unfortunate misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘Your friend Count Tancredi came looking for you. He took control of everything. I don’t suppose you said goodbye to him, either?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I was too ashamed.’

  ‘Because you thought you had killed Hans.’ His tone was mocking, as if he thought her foolish.

  ‘Tancredi was never going to marry me, Rutger.’

  Rutger shrugged and pulled a face. ‘On reflection, you are probably right.’

  ‘What was I to do?’

  ‘Talk to him. He came looking for you like a lost dog, until he didn’t come any more.’

  ‘I wrote him a letter explaining.’

  ‘That is the coward’s way out, Gracie. Since when were you a coward?’ As Gracie struggled to swallow his criticism, Rutger’s eyes shifted to Carina and Anastasia who were listening quietly by the door. ‘This is your daughter and granddaughter,’ he said, scrutinising them brusquely and recognising the similarities at once.

  Carina introduced herself and Anastasia, and they shook hands. ‘I see you made a life for yourself, none the less,’ he said, then he grinned at Carina. ‘Did you know any of this or did Gracie keep it secret?’ It was obvious that he supposed the latter.

  Carina smiled, not wanting to let her mother down. ‘We came here together to put t
he past to rest,’ she said.

  ‘Then I am glad you bumped into me,’ he said. ‘Or nothing would have been put to rest but untruths.’ He turned to Gracie. ‘Come and have tea with me so we can talk. We have a lot of years to catch up on and there is no tea in this ruin.’

  ‘We’d love that,’ said Carina, answering for all of them.

  ‘Gracie?’

  She looked at Rutger, ancient now and as candid as ever, and she felt the old, familiar affection for him soothe the bruise his criticism had inflicted. ‘I’d like that, thank you,’ she said.

  As they walked out into the sunshine Anastasia whispered to her mother, ‘Told you so.’

  Carina grinned at her resignedly. ‘Yet again, you’re right,’ she whispered back. ‘But now we have to come up with a plan.’

  ‘Because Granny is not going to come up with one, is she?’ said Anastasia.

  Carina shook her head. ‘Judging by her track record, darling, no, she isn’t.’

  Chapter 26

  Rutger’s house was the simple, stark home of a man who needed few comforts. He had his own studio, in which he still restored paintings, and a terrace beneath a vine where baby grapes were just beginning to bud. The four of them sat in the shade on tatty wicker chairs and Rutger told Gracie not only about Hans’s death, but about his life too, and all the secrets within it. Carina and Anastasia listened in fascination as Gracie’s life was unfolded with Hans’s, layer by layer like a mysterious fruit. In the light of these new revelations Carina realised that she had never really known her mother – to her shame she had never tried to know her. Had she asked, perhaps Gracie would have confided in her. But she never had asked. It astonished her to discover that Gracie wasn’t the ordinary woman she had thought she was, but a criminal and a talented criminal at that.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Gracie, ‘is why Hans never invited my mother and brother Joseph to join him out here. They would have enjoyed a far more pleasurable way of life in Italy than in England.’

  ‘His sister disapproved of his business,’ Rutger replied. ‘She knew of her brother’s activities in Holland during the war and that at the end he had to escape for fear of being tried for collaborating with the enemy. You see, he sold forgeries to all the top brass. That is how he first made his money. They didn’t look too hard. They just wanted to amass the great works. Yes, Greet was aware of his criminal activities and she didn’t like it. Therefore, he didn’t want her getting too close.’

  ‘But he supported her.’

  ‘He would have done more had she allowed it. But she didn’t want to receive money that was tarnished. She took what little she had to in order to survive.’

  ‘She must have been very happy when Joseph started making money so that he could look after her.’ Gracie sipped her tea thoughtfully, then added, ‘Do you think she knew he was homosexual?’

  ‘I think she knew exactly what he was. Of course, in those days, that was criminal too.’

  ‘I liked Jonas Blythe,’ she said, remembering the flamboyant young man with whom she had bonded in France. ‘He was great company.’

  ‘Hans used to get him to buy you dresses. He used to return with cases of parcels for you. It was his way of making it up to you.’

  ‘Making up for what?’

  Rutger looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Did you never wonder how much your forgeries went for?’

  ‘No, I was never concerned about money.’

  ‘They went for hundreds of thousands of dollars, Gracie. The Matisse?’ He sucked the air between his teeth. ‘That went for three hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Goodness, I made a fool out of somebody.’

  ‘No, Hans made a fool out of you.’

  ‘Well, he made up for it in his will.’

  ‘He was afraid you’d leave if you had financial independence.’

  ‘I was never going to leave,’ said Gracie. ‘I never wanted to leave.’

  ‘He loved you like a daughter,’ Rutger added. He smiled then, a tender smile that softened the rough contours of his face. ‘And so did I.’

  Gracie’s eyes shone again and she dropped her gaze into her teacup shyly. ‘I’m sorry I never said goodbye.’

  He shrugged. ‘It is all in the past. You are here now and that’s what matters. It’s only taken you forty-odd years!’ He chuckled and Gracie couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.

  When they walked back to the taxi they found the driver asleep with the seat back and a hat over his face. Anastasia knocked on the window and he awoke with a jolt. ‘Si, signorina,’ he blurted, hastily rolling his chair back into position and turning the key in the ignition.

  ‘Don’t leave it another forty years,’ said Rutger, enfolding Gracie in a firm embrace.

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised.

  ‘You know, this is a prime spot of land. You could always bulldoze the ruin and build another.’

  ‘Please, Granny!’ Anastasia enthused. ‘You can’t say you don’t have the money.’

  ‘I’m too old to start again,’ she said.

  ‘No, you’re not!’ Anastasia exclaimed, looking at her mother, who was now running her eyes over the rubble with a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘Mum will do all the work for you, won’t you, Mum?’

  Rutger grinned at Anastasia. ‘I see a chief executive in the making,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s full of ghosts,’ said Gracie.

  ‘The only ghosts, Gracie, are the ones in your head,’ said Rutger. ‘And the old man at the bottom of the garden. I already have one foot in the grave.’

  Carina opened the door and told Anastasia to get inside. ‘Tell her, Mum!’ Anastasia hissed as she joined her on the back seat.

  Gracie sat in the front and Rutger closed the door for her. Then he put his face to the window. ‘Thank you for making an old man very happy today,’ he said.

  ‘I should never have left it so long,’ said Gracie.

  ‘No, you should never have left at all. You were a good painter, Gracie. I taught you well.’

  She waved as the car set off down the track. Aware of the taxi driver listening to their conversation (they couldn’t depend on him not speaking English) they waited until they were back at the castle to talk about Tancredi.

  ‘What are you going to do about him?’ Carina asked as they climbed the stairs to their rooms.

  ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ said Gracie.

  ‘But you have to let him know you’re here!’ Anastasia exclaimed.

  Gracie stopped on the landing and looked at them sadly. ‘I have seen him and he did not recognise me.’

  Carina was unconvinced. ‘How is that possible? Rutger recognised you immediately. You haven’t changed that much!’

  ‘I have seen him on two occasions and he has had ample opportunity to acknowledge me. He either didn’t recognise me or he’s avoiding me. Whichever, I am not going to embarrass myself by talking to him.’

  ‘Didn’t you say hello and introduce yourself?’ said Anastasia.

  Gracie folded her arms. She did not want to be thought of as cowardly. ‘Of course not. It’s been over forty years. I decided to tread carefully.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got nothing to lose. You’re leaving tomorrow,’ said Anastasia.

  Sensing her mother’s discomfort, Carina put a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘If Mum doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to. You came here to make peace with the past, Mum, and that’s what you’ve done. You don’t have to do any more.’

  Gracie set off down the corridor. ‘I assumed Rutger had died. He was ancient when I was a child,’ she said, changing the subject.

  ‘One of those people who always looks ninety, I should imagine,’ said Carina, happy to oblige and talk about Rutger. Anastasia traipsed along behind. Surely, there was something she could do.

  They left Gracie in her room. She said she was tired and needed to lie down before dinner. Anastasia followed her mother into their room and closed
the door behind them. ‘Mum, we can’t leave without having spoken to the count,’ she said.

  ‘What do you want to say?’ Carina asked, throwing her straw bag onto the bed and sitting down with a sigh.

  ‘That Gracie is here and would like to see him.’

  ‘You can’t say that. If it’s said at all, Gracie has to be the one to say it.’

  ‘How could he not recognise her? She’s aged really well.’

  ‘Yes, but if you’re not expecting to see someone—’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Anastasia interrupted. ‘I don’t buy it.’

  ‘Or perhaps that’s the reason he’s avoiding us. Come to think of it, when I asked Ilaria if we were going to be introduced she went all funny and said that he never met the guests. Do you think, and this is just a thought, that he saw her that first day and decided to hide?’

  ‘Of course not! If he wanted to avoid her he’d go to Rome, or somewhere else. He wouldn’t stay here and hide away in his apartment. That’s absurd.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t been right about anything yet, have I?’

  ‘I hope this isn’t the first time you’re right. It would be awful if he was avoiding us all simply to avoid Granny!’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that the host doesn’t bother to meet his guests? I’ve never known that happen before. It’s not only rude, it’s not good business.’

  ‘I suppose he could be pretending not to recognise her?’ Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed, facing her mother.

  ‘Look, let’s go over the facts. They have this love affair, right? Mum paints the forgery and he’s thrilled. He says he’s going to divorce his wife, but Mum senses that he never will, so when the painting is revealed as a forgery she fears it will lead to Hans’s other forgeries and betray him. Her affair continues, however. In fact, from what we know, the count has no intention of stopping it. When Hans kills himself, Mum believes the police are after him and she flees, believing they will be coming after her, too.’