Page 23 of Lady, Behave
“No. Not completely. But that part of Grandpapa’s last will we were never told about. Not officially.”
“But it’s what we suspect.” Addy had an idea why that was so. But to call it into question was to challenge the work of their oldest sister, Laurel. The last person to work on Grandfather’s will was Laurel. She was the one who took care of their grandfather’s books and receipts. For the last two years of his life, Laurel managed it all. And at his death, Laurel had delivered the will, signed and sealed, to the estate managers. The short description ordering the sale of the house and its contents was the last item written in the will.
“And you don’t want to challenge Laurel’s work on Grandpapa’s will, do you?”
Imogen rolled a shoulder. “No.”
Addy noted the lack of an explanation. That verified her own suspicion that Imogen and Laurel kept secrets from her. They always had. Laurel, older by eight minutes than Imogen, and Imogen older than Addy by four hours and eight minutes, had always played the parts of big sisters. They were triplets, but to see how the oldest two acted toward Addy, one would think they were years older.
Very well, she’d let that slide in favor of what she could learn and could change. “Is there a listing of the art?”
“A listing? Dear God.” Imogen fell back against the pillows. “I hope not.”
“We have to make some sense of it. How can you sell what you do not know you own?”
“Own?” Imogen shook her head. “I do not know if weownany of it.”
So disturbed by the prospect, Addy jumped from the bed and paced. “What do you call it then? Borrowing?”
“Of course not, but how do we know the provenance of any item that’s there?”
“Provenance? We must know something!” Addy whirled around to face her sister, undone by the enormity of the problem. “When I saw it, I was…. I don’t know…fourteen…fifteen…there were hundreds of paintings. Dozens of sculptures. I was struck like lightning at how much stood there.”
“I know,” Imogen said, hanging her head in a sorrowful nod. “I could not believe what was behind that false wall. I’d never noticed the false door until it stood open one morning. He’d forgotten to close it when he was drunk. He was in his cups and opened the hidden door to go pet them, of all things. When I saw the room chock full of treasures the first time, I think I was ten years old. Perhaps older. It knocked me to my bum. I stood, like a ninny, with my mouth open, and then I walked through long rows of silver and gilded frames. Portraits of kings and queens stared back at me. Pirates grinned from their decks. Young children posed with their spaniels. Landscapes of Shropshire and China, and bowls of apples and bananas lay at my feet. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t fathom where he’d gotten all that or how or why. But then…he took me by the hand and led me away and locked the false door behind me.”
Addy sighed. “So he was indeed the greatest fencer in Ireland.”
“He was.”
“And our problem now is how to return these items to their proper owners.”
“And how to do it quietly so that no one blames us for possessing them.”
“Or continues to talk about Grandpapa or us.” Suddenly chilled, Addy secured her robe high up around her throat. “Laurel won’t help us on this, will she?”
Imogen shook her head. “We mustn’t ask her. There is a reason…”
Imogen’s words hung in the air like a sword.
Addy caught back her horror. “You won’t tell me, will you?”
Imogen frowned. “I can’t. She…she refuses to speak of what she did for Grandpapa at the end.”
Addy inhaled, ready to fight for a proper disposition of all the art. “We must write to the estate manager and tell him to keep us informed of the disposition of each piece.”
Imogen rolled her shoulders, unconvinced. “I must think if we can find a way to break this to Laurel…”
“We must.”
Her sister nodded, not quite in agreement, but close.
At the door, Addy paused with her hand to the latch. “Are there works by any famous artists whom you and I have heard of?”
“Oh, yes. Hans Holbein. Rembrandt. A sketch by Da Vinci.”
The enormity of this problem hit her like a rock. Her eyes closed. She’d heard enough. “Thank you for telling me.”
“We are the three Devereaux girls. And we will find happiness despite this.”
