Page 11 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
“You know…” Nick stood and clapped his hands together. “Why don’t I just show you in and let you” —he waved a hand— “do your magic. I’m quite the wrong person to ask at the end of the day. You’ll probably have much better luck speaking to Barnes about it. He’ll know.”
“Barnes?” Beatrice leaned forward. “And Barnes is…?”
“The butler of course.”
Giovanni’s antennae immediately went up. “I see.”
“He runs the house, and he worked for Uncle Mort for years. If anyone knows how to answer your questions, it’ll be him.”
“Excellent.” Giovanni smiled, but he wondered if Barnes might prove more of an obstacle than young Nick. After all, someone in the house had to be savvy. In his experience, servants were the brains behind the running of large estates, not the owners. “If you could show us to the library, and when Barnes is available—”
“He should be back tomorrow evening,” Nick said. “He’s visiting his daughter this weekend.”
“Again, thank you so much for seeing us,” Beatrice said. “I know it’s Sunday night, but with a project like this, there’s really no time to waste.”
“Of course.”
Beatrice stood in the doorway of the library at Audley Manor and stared. “This is the biggest private library—”
“Don’t. You’re going to offend me.”
“The house in Perugia doesn’t count because that’sonlya library.” She wandered through the rows of bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. “Perugia is a house for books that happens to have a couple of small dwellings for humans attached. This library is…”
“Impressive.”
“Massive.” Fourteen days would not be enough. “Giovanni” —she spun toward him— “can we buy it?”
“Do we have the money?” He shrugged. “I imagine you have enough currency in one of your play accounts to buy this place if you really wanted it.”
“It’s not aplayaccount. It’s an investment account. Just because I don’t stack bars of gold in my closet doesn’t mean my money isn’t real.”
“So you say.” He walked down the central walkway. “This is far larger than I expected as well. I suspect Lord Mortimer’s family might have more than one valuable in this old place.” His eyes gleamed. “Maybe weshouldmake an offer.”
Beatrice saw a cozy nook by a fireplace in the corner where a piano was nestled among overstuffed chairs, a few wingbacks, and several well-loved sofas. It did appear that the room was well used, and the spy novels Nick had spoken of were lined up on shelves above rows of picture books and puzzles.
She smiled at the signs of life and love. “Despite our literary greed, I have a feeling that the new earl—while not fully embracing his role—might not be willing to part with a house with this much family history.”
Giovanni was staring above the mantel to where a large portrait hung. “There she is.” He smiled. “Good old Plucky Penny.”
Beatrice looked up to see a woman with laughing grey eyes and soft brown hair. She was a classic English beauty with an oval face and a gentle smile. Standing at her shoulder was a barrel-chested man with steel-grey hair and a kind expression that belied the formal suit he was wearing for the portrait. His hand rested on the woman’s shoulder, and two brown Labrador retrievers sat at their feet.
“I think they had it painted here.” Beatrice cocked her head and looked down the center aisle of the library. “Under that stained glass window.”
“Why do you say that?”
“There’s a slightly rosy tint.” She pointed at the corner. “See? I bet during the day, that’s where the sun hits.”
“No, there’s a door in that picture, and there’s not one on the wall.”
“They could have moved it.”
“Moved a door in a place like this? With all these stone walls? It’s not a matter of moving Sheetrock, tesoro.”
“You’re probably right.” She smiled. “Your friend looks happy. You can see that spark in her eye.” Beatrice put her hand in Giovanni’s. “We should have a portrait made.”
“So there’s proof in a hundred years that we’re immortal?” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “It’ll end up in a museum and we’ll have to have Ben and Tenzin steal it back for us. Better not. Photographs are bad enough.”
Beatrice saluted the portrait. “Off we go, Penny. We’re going to find your play, and then we’ll…” She looked at Giovanni. “What are we going to do with it?”
