A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(80)
We dismounted before the main door, and I noted its intricately carved wooden panels, as well as the window boxes decorated with ornamental carvings. It reminded me of Mr. MacCowan’s home and my speculation that he had been the estate’s carpenter. Clearly, he’d still put his skills and craftsmanship to good use here on the exterior of the home. I wondered if he’d put his mark on the interior as well.
When Gage unlocked the door and pushed it open, I immediately discovered I was correct. From the entry hall, through the rooms, and up the brilliantly rendered staircase, the wooden details of the furnishings and ornamentations were stunning. I found myself distracted by the artistry and entranced by its whimsy, more so than the murals which covered several of the walls. I had to remind myself to focus on the reasons we were there rather than the richly textured pattern of flora and fauna carved and burned into the panels of one wall in the drawing room.
The mural of woodland nymphs and sprites—many scantily clothed—which was plastered across the wall of the dining room next door seemed almost garish in comparison. And this wasn’t the only eyebrow-raising sight. Signor Pellegrini had evidently exercised restraint while painting the mural in the music room up at the manor, for he’d not done so here in these bachelor quarters. I could spot the similarities in the technique of the artist, but these murals clearly catered to a certain salacious taste. One of them even caused Gage to blush at my being exposed to it.
But the murals and exquisite woodwork aside, there were no other pieces of art gracing the walls. Whatever had hung there before had been stripped away to be displayed at the manor or placed into storage. Only one room yielded any interesting discoveries, and that was the back parlor. By the appearance of the paint-splattered floor, I surmised it had served as an art studio. In one corner stood a massive wardrobe, and I opened it expecting to find old paint supplies. Instead I located a stash of old frames and paintings jumbled together.
“Take a look at this,” I told them, and waited for them to hasten over to peer inside.
By the look Anderley darted at me, I could tell he’d grasped the implications, but Gage needed an explanation.
“Forgers often use old paintings from the era and location of the artist they’re attempting to replicate to get the look and feel of the canvas or wooden panel. After all, materials and techniques change over the years. These wooden stretchers, for instance.” I turned over one of the paintings to show him. “Which keep the canvas stretched taut, as their name implies. The ones we use now are slightly different from those used, say, two hundred years ago. Forgers will seek out these old paintings of lesser quality and paint over them because they further the illusion of age and authenticity.”
Gage nodded in understanding. “Then there’s no legitimate reason Lord Alisdair would have kept a wardrobe full of paintings like this?”
I turned to Anderley as I answered, curious if he would contradict me. “None that I can think of. And given everything else we’ve discovered, I can only assume these are here for exactly the reason we think they are.”
But otherwise, any evidence or indicators that Lord Alisdair and his friend had been creating forgeries had been cleared away. The cottage had been tidied and straightened years before, following its owner’s death. Dust covers had been laid over much of the furniture and the home stripped of its valuables. If any other evidence, or even any original paintings, had still been here, they had long ago been taken away or sold.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything more to see here,” I said with a forlorn shake of my head as I surveyed the rest of the chamber.
“I agree,” Anderley seconded.
I turned to Gage with a look of resignation. “I suppose it’s time we updated Barbreck.”
He didn’t appear any more enthused by the prospect than I did. After all, the marquess was not going to like what we’d uncovered. “If you’d rather I do it, I can spare you the confrontation.”
I moved forward to loop my arm through his. “That’s very noble of you, but unpleasant tasks are always less so when they’re shared, don’t you find?”
His lips twitched upward at the corners. “Just don’t tell Barbreck he’s the unpleasant task.”
I arched my chin as he led me from the room. “If he doesn’t behave himself, I can make no guarantees.”
“That’s a spot of unpleasantness I wouldn’t mind seeing,” Anderley quipped from behind us.
I glanced over my shoulder to find him grinning.
“It’s not often Mrs. Gage gets unpleasant, but when she does, it’s always worth relating in the servants’ hall.”
I knew he was jesting, but I was still horrified at the thought.
“That it is,” Gage agreed. When I smacked his arm, he merely laughed.
Chapter 22
In the end there was no opportunity for me to become unpleasant with Lord Barbreck, for Wheaton was waiting for us upon our return to the manor. Mrs. Mackay, our nurse, had requested that I come to the nursery, and I immediately dashed up the stairs with all sorts of dire situations playing out in my head. Had Emma fallen? Choked? Developed a fever?
When I burst through the door to the small nursery adjoining our bedchamber, I had half convinced myself that I would find my daughter was near death. However, the sound of her fussing quickly allayed that fear, though it didn’t entirely squash my anxieties.