Page 61 of Eternal Obsession

“Its worth, Mr. Teddington?” I asked.

“Difficult to say, though I do have a dear friend who works at Sotheby’s. He should be able to arrange a quote and a buyer for you. Perhaps we would even be able to place the painting here for a while at the National, before selling it? This is quite a find. Are you sure you want to part with it?”

“Quite sure,” Alex said.

“I also have in my possession St. Catherine of Alexandria by Raphael,” I said. “Would you be interested in placing her among your collection? Only a loan, you understand. I do not wish to sell her, just present her within the gallery.”

“Sir, we would be delighted,” Mr. Teddington said. “Any other priceless pieces of art you have hidden away?”

I chose not to reveal that our collection would amaze the art community.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said to Alex as we withdrew from the gallery.

“You love that painting. I just can’t understand⁠—”

“St. Catherine reminds me⁠—”

“Of course,” he said, and rested his hand on my shoulder.

“Once we have Catherine back, I will be happy to have Raphael’s portrait hanging in the castle again,” I said.

On my initial return to St. Michael’s I had stared at the painting, wallowing in the past and wanting to stay there. It was too much having this reminder of Catherine under our roof. My need for her never wavered. I was reassured Alex understood.

With the final transaction complete, the Joseph Turner painting sold, we returned to Cornwall.

For the time being, St. Catherine would remain on display at the National Gallery; however, the Turner fetched a sum far exceeding our expectations—and just like that, we found ourselves newly made millionaires.

Alex and I busied ourselves with our plans to refurnish the castle interior, ensuring that its character was maintained complementing its unique style. Work began under the supervision of an interior designer. Alex stayed out of the way of the workers and I hovered over them, verifying our designs. Within nine months St. Michael’s Mount was restored to its original unique beauty, though modernized. We now enjoyed electricity, running water, and luxurious furnishings throughout the castle.

Sometimes, on the bleakest of nights, I would reach out psychically into the void for Orpheus, seeking answers in silence, casting my thoughts like arrows through the dark, vowing with each unspoken message that I would not rest until he brought Catherine back to us.

If it was possible to haunt another with mere threats, I did it with such volition, it was sure to reach him.

I vowed never to give up.

For distraction, I even took to painting again, making my way to the tallest tower and whiling away the hours until my brother dragged me down before sunrise. Alex was even able to persuade me to fence again and we rummaged around for our old dueling swords, pleased that time had not worn away either the epee’s metal or our talent.

Our castle was fast becoming the ultimate bachelor pad. Knowing Alex as I did I was reluctant to introduce him to too much modern technology for fear he would become a man possessed. He needed to get out more, not stay in.

Alex caught my wandering thoughts. “What’s an Xbox?” he asked.

Burying my head in an old favorite book, I turned a page of St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica hoping Alex would become distracted and not ask me again.

Several weeks later I found myself alone in the castle. Though pleased Alex had ventured out on his own, after four hours I felt compelled to look for him. I found him in Café Art Tarot, located in the small town of Penzance not far from the castle. Despite the coffee shop being full, Alex went unnoticed at a corner table over which he had strewn magazines. Alex was engrossed, eagerly reading the pages of the glossy papers. Taking the seat opposite him I noticed a full teacup to his left, untouched.

“Cosmopolitan!” Alex beamed, referring to the magazine’s title.

“I’m not so sure that’s such a good introduction into the world of the modern woman,” I said, throwing in a wink. “Or man.”

The waitress appeared and offered me a menu. “Or are you a vampire like your friend here?” she asked.

“Earl Grey tea will be just fine. Thank you,” I answered her, forcing a smile.

She returned behind the counter.

Alex threw me a mischievous smile. Clearly, he found that funny.

I blocked out the chattering thoughts of the other customers.