A Crowded Coffin(77)
His explanation of style, brushwork, colour, all went over their heads. With the exception of Rory they were all stunned. Even Edith, who had joked about a Leonardo in the attic, was silenced; this was beyond her wildest conjectures.
‘Would you like me to get in touch with the appropriate people?’ David raised the matter with Walter Attlin who beckoned Sam to his side to support him. ‘I realize it’s Rory’s discovery and naturally he’ll get full credit, but this is a bit out of our league.’
‘What about security?’ wondered Sam. ‘It’s been perfectly safe here getting on for five hundred years. Another night or two won’t hurt, will it?’
They settled that the professor should take charge and Edith was about to suggest a drink downstairs to celebrate, when David Porter took another turn round the gallery, stopping now and then to inspect a portrait.
‘Rory? Any views on this lady here?’ He was standing in front of Dame Margery whose painted eyes gazed serenely at him.
‘I did wonder,’ Rory joined him, followed by the rest. ‘I just wondered about Lavina Teerlinc,’ he suggested, looking diffident.
‘Oh-ho, that was my first thought.’ To everyone’s annoyance the two artists said no more as they took a closer look. Edith tugged at Rory’s sleeve and David Porter turned to her, looking apologetic.
‘What? Oh yes, sorry. Levina Teerlinc was a Flemish artist, very distinguished family. Hang on, I’ll look her up.’ He flashed some more images under their noses. ‘Yes, here we are. She’s known to have painted a few miniatures of Queen Elizabeth I and she was even employed as court painter early in Elizabeth’s reign. There’s something about this picture that recalls her style and the dates would fit. Margery would be around fifty by then so it could be an early Teerlinc.’
Walter Attlin looked at his ancestress and smiled. ‘I don’t think I even need to consult Edith on this one,’ he remarked. ‘We couldn’t possibly allow Margery to leave the farm, however valuable her painting turns out to be.’
Edith slipped an arm through his and gave him an affectionate hug, nodding agreement.
‘The other portrait, though,’ Walter continued, ‘I’m more than happy to have you investigate that. If it turns out to be genuine I wouldn’t want it to be sold abroad so maybe we could come to some kind of agreement about that. As long as we have enough to secure the fabric of the building for the future and maintain what land we have left, as far as is humanly possible, that would be an enormous relief. Other than that, we’ll see. But Dame Margery – no, she stays here.’ He exchanged glances with the lady and gave a short, embarrassed laugh. ‘I saw her, you know, when I was young. Just the once but she was quite clear.’
Rory turned startled eyes upon Edith. ‘But I thought … a side effect of the medication I’m on is known to be hallucinations. You really …?’ He faltered into silence and Edith left her grandfather’s side to give Rory’s arm a squeeze.
Professor Porter had been talking to Harriet, asking questions and now he spoke to Walter. ‘This jewel, Mr Attlin,’ he said. ‘Would it be possible for me to take a look at the replica of Aelfryth’s Tears? I’m no expert on antique jewellery but it sounds a fascinating piece. What a pity the original is lost.’
As Rory went downstairs to fetch the small silver box Harriet became aware of an extraordinary expression on her cousin Walter’s face. Amusement, guilt and mischief mingled as he stood back and allowed Rory to show off the copy.
‘What is it, Grandpa?’ Edith had noticed it too. ‘Why are you grinning like that?’
Everyone turned to stare at him as he fished in the pocket of his old tweed jacket and pulled out a soft leather pouch. ‘I hadn’t thought of this for years,’ he said, with maddening deliberation, as he extracted a small, silk-wrapped object. ‘I dug it out this morning to show you, and then forgot all about it. This was a fob on my grandfather’s watch chain.’
On the palm of his hand lay Aelfryth’s Tears, unmistakable as he set it down beside the copy. The original workmanship was superior in every line, the gold knotwork immaculately done, the pearls and the great garnet glowing at its heart and the runic symbols, although they couldn’t read them, were not the random markings of the copy. He touched the spring and there was the rock crystal that covered the recess containing the drops from the Virgin’s eyes.
‘It was always known that there was a copy,’ he said. ‘But they thought this was it. I’m certain nobody for generations ever realized there was that secret store behind the panelling and it was supposed that the door on the roof had been long out of use, particularly as it was sealed up.’