The Raven (The Florentine #1)(55)
The walls were painted to match the curtains and all the other furniture in the room was dark, polished wood, with the exception of a large divan near what looked like the entrance to the bathroom en suite. The divan was covered in wine velvet and held a single gold damask cushion.
When Raven crossed the threshold, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck. Something about the room seemed familiar.
Ignoring Lucia, she walked to the bed, noting that a white Turkish cotton bathrobe had been placed at its foot, along with a pair of slippers. A blue silk slip-style nightgown rested on top of the duvet, which was covered in gold damask.
“If you sit down, I’ll examine your shoulder.” Lucia gestured to the divan and Raven lowered herself to its edge.
That was when she saw the painting.
On the wall opposite the door, and therefore hidden from initial view by the bed curtains, hung a large oil painting behind glass.
Raven turned to her right, craning her neck so she could see it.
Her eyes widened in shock.
Without a word, she pushed past Lucia to get a better look at the painting.
The composition was similar, almost identical, to Botticelli’s Primavera but on a smaller scale. There were three notable differences: the figure of Flora was absent in this version, and Mercury and Zephyr featured radically different appearances than their Uffizi counterparts.
This Mercury had gray eyes and a wreath of short blond hair.
In gazing at his face, Raven immediately thought of the drawing she’d done a few days earlier. The drawing that had mysteriously disappeared after the intruder’s first visit.
Then there was the figure of Zephyr, on the right-hand side of the painting.
Zephyr was clothed in blue garments, but his face and body were decidedly flesh colored, if not a bit paler than the other figures. He, too, had blond hair.
Raven glanced from Zephyr to Mercury and back again. The two figures were almost identical, except that Zephyr had paler skin and a more muscular body. There was also a refinement in his facial features that made him more beautiful than Mercury.
Whoever painted this picture had used the same model for Mercury and Zephyr. And his face was not unknown to her.
Adding to her confusion was the fact that this Mercury, with his short blond hair, largely resembled the ghost she’d found in the radiograph of Primavera. It was almost as if Botticelli had seen this painting, copied Mercury’s appearance, then painted over it, changing his hair from blond to brown.
Raven felt light-headed.
“You should sit down.” Lucia pulled her back to the divan and proceeded to prod her right arm and shoulder.
“I don’t understand,” Raven murmured, her eyes glued to the painting.
“The shoulder isn’t dislocated. Would you like an ice pack?”
Raven peered up at Lucia, who was staring at her with a distrustful look.
Raven shook her head. She tried to remain calm, but her mind was racing.
How could William York have a reproduction of Primavera that I’ve never heard of? And how could it be a reproduction if Botticelli’s original Mercury matches this one?
“I could run a hot bath or you could shower. Perhaps you should wait until you have something in your stomach. I’ll bring some tea and toast.”
Raven’s attention was drawn back to Lucia.
“I should get out of these clothes. The smell . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I’ll be back shortly.” Lucia pointed to a long, thin piece of tapestry that hung from the ceiling at the right side of the bed. “If you need me, pull the cord.”
Raven nodded, her eyes moving to the painting again.
As Lucia approached the door, Raven spoke.
“You prepared this room for me?”
“His lordship wanted you to stay here, in his room.” Lucia disappeared through the door.
Chapter Twenty-two
Although Raven would have liked the opportunity to examine the faux Primavera and the alleged Michelangelo in a leisurely fashion, she was not about to put her passion for art above her safety.
Neither was she going to spend the night in his lordship’s room.
She was clever enough to realize she needed to wait until the appropriate time to make her escape. The intruder’s staff was disturbingly loyal.
After her short confrontation with Lucia and Ambrogio downstairs, Raven decided her best strategy was temporary compliance. Her knapsack had been returned without her cell phone and without the relic. She elected not to press the issue, intending as she was to slip out of the house after everyone was asleep.
She was relieved to learn that Bruno was still alive. She was told he was in an induced coma at the hospital while the doctors waited for the swelling in his brain to go down. It was too early to tell if he would survive.
At this news, Raven cried. She shed her tears in the shower, where no one could hear.
Lucia had stationed herself in the bedroom while Raven used the bathroom, as if she were standing guard.
Raven scrubbed her hair and body with a finely milled Florentine soap that smelled of lemon. She’d found the soap in a decorative box on top of the vanity and recognized the scent as being that of the intruder. Since it was the only soap on offer, she couldn’t be bothered to care that it was his.
After drying her hair and changing into the silk nightgown and plush bathrobe, she dutifully drank mint leaves steeped in hot water and choked down dry toast and a couple of aspirin.