Page 6 of All I Want for Christmas

‘You won’t be in direct contact with the painting. And given that you are studying for a professorship and you have a special interest in the women artists of the period, you are best placed to take the reins on this.’

‘Is that woman an artist, then?’ Darcy asked, glancing at the portrait again.

‘Probably not, but the fact she was painted by the greatest artist of the day means she’s no unknown either. Patrons and artists move in interconnecting circles. I’m sure she’s only a step removed.’

Darcy swallowed, knowing exactly what was being asked of her here – and it was no small task. ‘But what about my thesis? My next deadline is—’

‘Negotiable. I’m your advisor. I’m happy to do the paperwork to push everything back a little, given these extraordinary circumstances.’

Margit cleared her throat. ‘Not to mention, this could helpto boost your profile in the sector. Otto tells me you have already rediscovered a long-lost artist from the Skagen group?’

‘Yes, Katje Lange.’

‘Katje Lange, that’s right,’ Margit nodded. ‘Posterity recorded her as a farm labourer, I understand?’

Darcy nodded. Her entire master’s dissertation had hung upon proving that a small portfolio discovered in a farmhouse loft on the northern coast had been created by Katje’s hand and not her more famous husband’s, as had been the original presumption.

‘Her name would have slipped into obscurity but for your research putting her back on the map,’ Margit said pointedly.

‘And that’s what you want me to do here? Identify this woman, find her name?’

‘Find her name – and then dig out everything you can on her, Darcy. If we’re unveiling a hitherto unknown Johan Trier to the world, then we’ll need to work up a thorough biography. The coverage will be global.’

Darcy swallowed. On the one hand, this was a dream opportunity; on the other, with only a month till Christmas and five weeks till the retrospective, it was a giant headache.

‘At a first look, does the woman in the portrait look familiar to you?’ Otto asked her.

Darcy hesitated as she was put on the spot. She was surrounded by some of the most senior figures in the Danish fine art establishment and they wantedherexpertise? There had certainly been no obvious, immediate recognition for her of the subject.

‘No...But I could certainly tell you who she isn’t,’ she said. Her thesis was focused on the lesser-known women artists contemporary to Trier, and off the bat, Darcy knew the woman in this painting wasn’t any of them. ‘She’s not Anna Felsing,Ingrid Hjort or Charlotta Juhl. Not Elsa Tobiassen, Dorrit Knudsen or Grete Caspersen. But it’s a very indistinct image at the moment. I would really need to get a higher-res version in order to study her properly...’

Otto nodded. ‘The imaging team is already on it.’

‘Okay.’ But Darcy was sceptical about the likelihood of it revealing much. How were they supposed to sharpen up clarity until the backings came off? Without a clear view of the painting, it was impossible to tell even this woman’s hair or eye colour. She was little more than a silhouette, a shadow from the past. How was Darcy supposed to find her when there had never been any record of this portrait even existing?

Margit must have read her hesitation because she cleared her throat, bringing attention back to her again. ‘Darcy, I appreciate that you are only a term into your residency at the Academy and your focus is on your PhD work. But I hope you understand the significance of this find – not only to the retrospective but to Danish culture in general.’

‘Of course. It’s an incredible opportunity. I feel honoured to be asked to be a part of it.’

‘Good.’

Darcy looked down again at the painting. The woman quivered like a mirage until Otto switched off the lamp and she was eclipsed once more, falling back into the depths.

The black curtains were drawn back, daylight falling in with alacrity.

‘Okay, well, now that we’re all up to speed, let’s get to work,’ Margit said, checking her watch. ‘I’ve got a press conference announcing the find in fifteen minutes, so brief your departments to direct all enquiries to the press team if you get any calls.’

Darcy watched everyone scatter, the timer already ticking.

‘Darcy, I’ve got some calls to make,’ Otto said. ‘But come to my office in an hour and we can talk through first steps?’

‘Sure.’

She watched him walk calmly across the workroom floor back to his office; the conservators pulling on their white gloves and lifting the Trier canvas with a care reserved for carrying injured fairies. Her own role was clear. She had one thing and one thing alone to do: identify a random woman who had lived a century earlier.

Give her a name. Give her a life.

Just find a ghost.

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