A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(31)

No, but I was the only one in the room with a trained eye. And, furthermore, I had nothing to gain or lose from the truth.

Gage leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Perhaps trying to stifle his own irritation. “But you didn’t notice the painting had been switched until now?”

“Nay. And I’m no’ too proud to admit it might have happened some time ago. When I’m here, I doona always visit the long gallery, and when I do, I doona always give the art my full attention.” He scowled. “And . . . my eyesight’s no’ as clear as it once was. If Kiera hadn’t pointed out the discrepancies, I canna say wi’ certainty whether I would’ve noticed.”

This seemed to contradict what he’d just claimed about his eye for art, but I did not challenge him on it.

“Then if the original painting was a Van Dyck, it might have been switched out for the forgery years ago? Maybe even decades?” I queried, wanting to clarify the matter.

“There is no if about it,” he groused. “But aye.”

“Then the original could be anywhere,” Henry surmised. “If it vanished decades ago, it could be anywhere in the world by now.”

I pressed a hand to my head, trying to grapple with the facts before me and the impossibility of discovering what had happened. We didn’t know when or even if, in fact, the paintings had been swapped, so we couldn’t begin to examine who had been in the vicinity as potential suspects. The original Van Dyck could be thousands of miles away, and tracing it would be almost impossible. The only element that might be able to provide us any further lines of inquiry was the forgery itself.

After all, while it was no Van Dyck, the forged portrait had still been painted by a gifted artist. It was not the work of an amateur. What’s more, it was painted by someone who had studied the original. Someone who must have had access to it. Repeatedly.

But Barbreck was determined to persist with his accusations against Miss Campbell. “It’ll be at Poltalloch, or the Campbells sold it,” he insisted.

“We’re aware of your theory,” I replied, not bothering to hide my annoyance this time. “But can either of the Miss Campbells paint?”

Barbreck’s brow lowered thunderously.

“Are you aware of anyone at Poltalloch, past or present, who could paint? With great skill?”

“Nay,” he bit out. “Weel, there was one woman . . .” he began, but then he abruptly broke off, giving me a strange look. “But nay, it couldna be her.”

I found his expression to be suspicious, but given his vendetta against the Campbells, I trusted that if he didn’t believe the woman could have done it, then she probably hadn’t.

“What of Lord Alisdair?”

He shook his head. “My brother dabbled in painting, but he didna have the talent for it. No’ enough to paint a convincin’ forgery, that’s for sure.”

“How about any of the staff or regular visitors to the estate?” Gage persisted. “Anyone who might have been able to come and go with few questions?”

Once again Barbreck shook his head. “I canna think of anyone.” But it was clear from the look in his eyes that he had. Why he wasn’t naming them I couldn’t begin to speculate, but I was close to losing my temper with the man. He quite obviously was not telling us everything, and how we were supposed to solve the mystery without him being forthright, I didn’t know. Or was he simply determined to keep the suspicion of fault directed at the Campbells?

“Unless we can figure out who painted the forgeries, I’m afraid our investigation is rather thwarted,” I stated plainly, struggling to restrain my frustration. “And do not suggest again it was someone the Campbells hired,” I cautioned, able to tell he was about to do just that. “The artist would have needed access to the actual portrait in order to copy it. And without any idea of when the paintings were swapped, the chances of us identifying one visitor to Poltalloch over the past five decades is highly unlikely.”

I’d hoped this warning might loosen his tongue, but before the threat had a chance to work on him, there was a knock on the door. The butler opened the door in response to Barbreck’s summons.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but you wished to be informed the moment Master Braeden arrived.”

“Verra good,” Barbreck proclaimed, shifting forward in his chair in order to use his walking stick to push himself to his feet. The rest of us followed suit, standing before our seats. As he gained his balance, his gaze lifted to meet mine, sharp with displeasure. “We’ll continue this discussion later.”

I waited until he’d hobbled through the doorway before muttering my response. “No, we won’t, because there’s nothing more to discuss.”

Gage offered me a smile of commiseration and reached out to wrap his arm around my waist, drawing me momentarily closer.

Pressing a hand to my forehead again, I heaved a sigh. “I apologize. But the man is beyond exasperating.”

“He’s certainly not making matters any easier,” Gage agreed. His gaze remained trained on the door through which he’d passed. “He’s keeping something from us.”

“Several somethings.”

“I noticed that, too,” Henry agreed.

I noted his slightly stiff posture, evidence that he still wasn’t entirely comfortable in our presence. Truth be told, he appeared more anxious now than when he’d arrived at Barbreck Manor. But I suspected that was due to the investigation. It was obvious how keen he was to win his half-brother’s approval. I wanted to tell him Gage was not the type of man to base a man’s worth on what he could do for him, but I wondered if my saying something would only make it worse. If perhaps this was something he needed to figure out on his own.