Page 86 of Beyond Her Manner
“I better go. I need to digest this and work out what I’m going to do.”
If the summer ball and the photoshoot forCountry Lifehad taught her anything, it was that Gillian belonged at Kingsford Manor. Viola had spent months trying to shake off the guilt that buying the place crushed Gillian even when the wheels had been in motion long before she purchased it from her. It was Gillian’s circumstances that had led to the loss. If she’d known about the painting, then she wouldn’t have lost anything. The thought of never having met her hit Viola hard in the chest.
Opening her phone, she searched through her emails from the solicitor. There was one document she needed to check — the covenant placed on the property when she bought it. In it was a schedule with an itemised list of contents to be included in the sale which were to remain with the house in the event of any future sale.
She skimmed through it. Not seeing what she was looking for, she gave it another more thorough check. There was no mention of paintings in the attic; the twelve listed she couldplace in the house. Gillian must have viewed them as garbage not to list them. If the Gentileschi wasn’t amongst the paintings on the covenant, then legally they passed into her possession upon the sale. Morally, however, they belonged to Gillian.
Her mind raced with possibilities. Gillian would be able to afford to buy the estate back if she decided to sell it. There wasn’t any choice other than to sell it; Kingsford Manor must be restored to its rightful owner. If she couldn’t convince Gillian that she should find peace with herself, she could at least help restore order to her life.
As for herself, she would make a quiet retreat into the shadows. She had no intention of sticking around whilst Gillian insisted on play-acting in her own life. She would miss Kingsford Manor and its quirky little village, but now it served as a reminder of how she didn’t fit in. She’d come to see through the changes her mum envisaged, and they had been accomplished. She’d dragged the building out of the last century, where Gillian left it — along with herself — to languish, and she’d allowed it to breathe.
Picking up her phone again, she dialled Walter’s number. She would have to make sure everything was in order before speaking to Gillian. Despite needing some distance from the woman responsible for the sharp, gnawing pain in her broken heart, Viola knew that their paths were going to cross sooner than she expected.
CHAPTER 20
Aknock at the door made Gillian jump. She rubbed her eyes as she got to her feet to answer it; her eyelids were heavy and dry from staring at the wall for the past hour. Her mind was running in circles, caught in an endless loop of thoughts of Viola and how things had ended between them. It clung to her like lead, pulling her down and making her limbs feel heavier with every step she took towards the door.
Why couldn’t these feelings go away? Why did they have to surface in the first place? They did nothing but cause problems. She’d succeeded in keeping them at bay for so long, and now they had decided to betray her with Viola. She was sure, given time, they would dissipate, and Viola said she would be away with work soon. As much as she would miss her, some space would do Gillian a world of good.
She answered the door to find Viola standing there, her hands stuffed in her pockets and her jaw tight.
“Viola… what are you doing here?” Gillian asked, her grip tightening on the door handle.
“Can we talk? It’s not about us. I won’t go there again. I promise,” Viola said, her voice quieter than usual yet carrying a weight that made it impossible to ignore.
It took Gillian a moment to reply; the flutter in her chest was doing nothing to help her. She stood back. “Come in.”
As Viola entered, Gillian noticed the wide berth she gave her, stepping around her and into the sitting room. She followed, taking her usual seat as her visitor paced the room.
Gillian’s eye caught the clothes horse, laden with drying clothes in front of the window. She hadn’t expected guests today and wished she’d left it in the kitchen, out of sight. She eyed it with quiet irritation as it reminded her of what she’d been reduced to.
“Will you not sit?” she asked, gesturing to the chair opposite.
Viola sat without answering.
“Is everything okay?” Gillian asked, beginning to worry.
“I’m leaving Kingsford,” Viola said bluntly. “I’m selling up. It’s for the best. Plus, work will take me away for a while.”
With confusion and disbelief bubbling inside her, Gillian tried to process Viola’s words as she continued speaking. Her sentences spilling out in a breathless stream.
“It will give us some space. You some space, I mean. I don’t need space. Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t mention that—”
Gillian’s frustration boiled over, her voice cutting through Viola’s rambling like a sharp blade. “If you’re leaving because of me, then I’m not sure how you thought you’d avoid mentioning us! Will you at least vet the buyer, or will you sell it to the highest bidder and damn us all to hell? Don’t forget the covenant — everything I left must stay with the manor!”
Viola’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. Gillian wasn’t sure if she cared anymore.
“Everything?” Viola said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Including the priceless lost Gentileschi painting you left in the attic? Or would you like that back too?”
“What?” Gillian leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“If you would give me a minute to explain why I’m here instead of jumping down my throat, I’ll tell you. The painting you despised appeared in theCountry Lifearticle; remember, I hung it above the fireplace. Arte spotted it, and to cut a long story short, the Courtauld Institute currently have it. They say it’s a lost painting by Artemisia Gentileschi.”
Gillian couldn’t contain her laughter at the foolish suggestion. “It can’t be. Jonathon was always picking up old forgeries, hoping they were originals. Do you know who she is?”
Viola rolled her eyes. “I am well versed by now, yes.”
“It would be worth a fortune.”
