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“For some time the duke has been concerned that he might have overlooked something of real value that ought to be insured. We keep a full inventory, of course, but as my husband doesn’t take a great deal of interest in his family heirlooms, I thought it would be sensible to bring it up to date. After all, none of us are getting any younger.”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing the collection,” Poltimore replied. “It’s always a bit special to be allowed to view a collection that hasn’t been seen by the public. I am, of course, aware of the Constable of Castle Hertford, and the Turner masterpiece of St. Mark’s Square, but I can’t wait to find out what other treasures you have.”
Me too, thought Virginia, but didn’t interrupt the young man’s enthusiastic flow.
“It didn’t take a lot of research to discover that it was the third duke, who traveled extensively around the continent during the eighteenth century,” continued Poltimore, “who was responsible for putting together such a fine collection.”
“But he can’t have been responsible for purchasing the Turner or the Constable,” said Virginia.
“No, that would have been the seventh duke. He also commissioned Gainsborough’s portrait of Catherine, Duchess of Hertford.”
“You’ll find her hanging in the hall,” said Virginia, who had already studied the inventory in great detail, before coming to the conclusion that the duke would never agree to part with any of the Hertford family heirlooms. However, she was rather hoping that during the past three hundred years, something just might have escaped their notice.
On arrival back at the castle, Virginia didn’t waste any time, but took the man from Sotheby’s straight to the library, where she presented him with three thick, leather-bound volumes entitled The Hertford Collection.
“I’ll leave you to get on with your work, Mr. Poltimore. Do feel free to roam around the house, remembering that your main purpose is to try to find anything we might have missed.”
“I can’t wait,” said Poltimore, as he opened the first volume.
As she turned to leave, Virginia said, “We dress for dinner, Mr. Poltimore, which will be served promptly at eight.”
* * *
“I’ve been able to check almost everything listed in the inventory,” said Poltimore over a glass of sherry before dinner, “and I can confirm that it all appears to be in order. However, I do think the current estimates for insurance purposes are well below the collection’s true value.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” said Virginia. “I doubt if many of the aristocracy could afford to insure their possessions at their current value. I remember my father once telling me that if the family pictures were to come on the market, he would no longer be able to buy them. Did you come across anything of significance that wasn’t accounted for?”
“Not so far. But I haven’t had the chance to check the two upper floors, which I’ll do first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Those are mainly the staff quarters,” said Virginia, trying to mask her disappointment. “I don’t think you’ll find anything worthwhile up there. But you may as well look, as you’re here.”
A gong sounded and she led her guest through to the dining room.
* * *
“Where’s Mr. Poltimore, Lomax?” Virginia asked the butler when she came down for breakfast the following morning.
“He took an early breakfast, your grace, and when I last saw him he was on the top floor making notes of the pictures hanging on the landing.”
Virginia retired to the library after breakfast and began to double-check the inventory, wondering if there just might be a minor masterpiece somewhere that the duke wasn’t particularly attached to and would be willing to part with. However, when she looked through Poltimore’s revised valuations, there was nothing that would make it possible for her to continue to live in the style she considered worthy of a duchess. She would just have to make sure that her monthly allowance was raised from £5,000 to £10,000 so she didn’t starve. Her mood didn’t improve when Poltimore told her over lunch that he had found nothing of any real significance on the top two floors.
“Hardly surprising, bearing in mind they’re the staff quarters,” Virginia replied.
“But I did come across a drawing by Tiepolo, and a watercolor by Sir William Russell Flint that should be added to the inventory.”
“I’m most grateful,” said Virginia. “I only hope you don’t feel your visit has been a waste of time.”
“Not at all, your grace. It’s been a most enjoyable experience, and if the duke were ever to consider selling anything from his collection, we would be honored to represent him.”
“I can’t imagine the circumstances in which that would happen,” said Virginia, “but if it should arise, I will
be in touch immediately.”
“Thank you. I still have time,” he said, looking at his watch, “to check the lower ground floor before I leave.”
“I can’t imagine you’ll find anything below stairs,” said Virginia, “other than a few ancient pots and pans, and an antique Aga that I’ve been telling the duke should have been replaced years ago.”
Poltimore laughed dutifully, before finishing the last mouthful of his bread and butter pudding.
