Money or Love Read online

  It totally different to anything he had known in the past and it was so extraordinary and yet so wonderful that he could not explain it to himself.

  He could feel the divine softness and innocence of Blaise’s lips.

  The kiss he was giving her was different in every way from any kiss he had ever given.

  His arms tightened round her and his kisses became more possessive and fervent.

  As he kissed Blaise and continued kissing her, he knew that he was in love.

  How long they stood there neither of them had any idea.

  But when Robin raised his head, he said in a voice that did not sound like his own,

  “I love you, Blaise. How can you make me feel like this?”

  “He – could have – killed you,” Blaise stammered in a whisper.

  “But I am alive and so are you, my darling.”

  Then he was kissing her again.

  Kissing her demandingly, passionately until Blaise felt that she was melting into his body.

  *

  Upstairs in the Picture Gallery Vincent was looking about him with an expression of delight.

  Alena watched him with a smile.

  He was now staring intently at the Fête Galante by Nicolas Lancret.

  She knew he was as thrilled as she had always been by the attractiveness of this picture – the exquisite colour of eighteenth century French ladies and gentlemen amusing themselves among the trees was fascinating.

  Then she was frightened that the St. Catherine of Alexandria had been damaged.

  She moved away to the empty place where it had hung and then she could see, as she had half feared, where the man with the hammer had hacked it from the wall.

  He had broken the wires that held it, but fortunately he had not damaged the picture itself.

  As Vincent joined her, she sighed,

  “Thank goodness we have saved it.”

  “It was such a near thing, Alena. If we had come a quarter-of-an-hour later, they might have left.”

  “I think that they meant to take more than just St. Catherine and St. Joseph. In fact they might have filled their van.”

  Vincent put his arm around her.

  “Forget it, my darling. They have gone and taken nothing. They will be too injured and frightened to come back again.”

  Alena allowed her head to rest for a second against Vincent’s shoulder.

  Then she realised that he was looking not at the empty space on the wall where the St. Catherine had hung.

  Vincent was looking instead at a piece of mediaeval furniture, which had stood beneath the picture so that it was hung higher and out of line with those beside it.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Alena smiled.

  “It’s a rather sad story. One of my ancestors in 1520 decided to add another Raphael to his collection. I think at the time he had only three, which I will show you.”

  “So what happened?” asked Vincent.

  “He went off to Rome and arrived to learn that he was just a few days too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “Apparently Raphael, who was only thirty-six and had been ill for a week, had died. My ancestor wanted to buy any pictures of his he could, but unfortunately those in his house had already been sold or taken by his friends.”

  “I can understand how much that upset him.”

  “The only memento of the artist that he admired so much was that rather ugly writing desk from the room in which he painted.”

  Vincent smiled.

  “So your ancestor bought it in compensation for being unable to buy any beautiful Raphaels?”

  “I think he managed to buy one later. But on this occasion he returned home, and it was a difficult journey in those days, with only the writing desk.”

  Vincent walked towards it.

  “It is certainly a strange shape,” he murmured.

  “And not very pretty,” Alena added.

  Vincent was examining the desk.

  Instead of drawers at the front, just the top of the flat surface could be opened and, as he was so curious, Vincent lifted the small brass catch and opened it.

  “What is inside, Alena?”

  “Oh, a lot of rubbish. I looked through it all a long time ago and there are mostly letters that are impossible to read. In addition there are a few bills, but nothing of any real importance.”

  “These letters might be interesting.”

  “You are very clever if you can read them, Vincent, because the writing is abominable and has little to do with modern Italian.”

  “That’s understandable, but perhaps there are some love letters amongst them.”

  “You find out if you like, Vincent.”

  She walked a little way on down the Gallery, as she wanted to look again at her favourite picture in the house.

  It was one she had regularly come to gaze at ever since she had been a child and she was certainly longing to show it to Vincent.

  It was the Madonna of Foligno with the Madonna floating in the sky holding the child Jesus in her arms and below her was St. John the Baptist, St. Francis and a small cherub with wings.

  It had always seemed to Alena a subject that must have come to the painter in a dream.

  She looked at the picture again thinking how often she had prayed to the Madonna.

  To her surprise she heard Vincent give a cry.

  “What is it?” she asked turning back.

  “Come here!” he called out. “Quickly!”

  She ran back to him.

  She could see he was holding in his hand a pencil drawing that was only half finished.

  “What can it be?” she asked him, even though she thought she knew the answer.

  “I found this in the writing desk, Alena, and there is not just this one, but a great number of them.”

  “I don’t understand it, Vincent. Why did I not find them?”

  “They were right at the bottom. You can see this is a pencil drawing of figures in combat.”

  It was a preliminary sketch or study, but even so it was obvious that a master hand had drawn it.

  “Is it worth anything?” Alena managed to ask.

  “This and every one of these drawings is worth a fortune,” Vincent replied.

  “Oh, Vincent, how wonderful!” she cried. “Robin will be thrilled, and so am I.”

  Vincent put down the drawings on the writing desk to turn and look at her.

  His eyes looked into hers and he knew exactly what she was telling him without saying anything.

  “Do you mean you will come to me?” he asked her.

  “If Robin now has enough money not to starve, I am then free.”

  Vincent made a sound of irrepressible joy.

  Then he was kissing her ardently, possessively and passionately until they were both breathless.

  When he released her, Alena enthused excitedly,

  “We must go and tell Robin at once.”

  “Wait a moment,” Vincent begged. “We want to be very certain that these will bring him enough money so that he can look after himself and at least live on the estate, if not in this enormous magnificent house.”

  He kissed Alena again before he turned resolutely to the writing desk.

  He began to pull out the drawings that were at the very bottom of the strangely shaped drawer.

  There was a Study for a Cherub and one for a Male Nude and several for a Madonna and Child.

  Then there was a Study of Venus and Psyche and Christ’s Charge to Peter that Vincent said with awe in his voice was a masterpiece.

  “You are absolutely sure that these drawings are really valuable?” Alena asked him pensively.

  She was still frightened of being too optimistic or of raising their hopes only to have them dashed down later.

  What she did know was that none of these drawings were on the list of items entailed.

  She was quite certain that no one had been aware that they even existed.

>   Finally Vincent collected what he thought was all of the drawings and placed them on a table at the end of the Picture Gallery.

  “I am going to spread them all out. Go and fetch your brother now, Alena.”

  It was just what Alena had been longing to do.

  She ran down the Picture Gallery, along the passage and down the stairs.

  There was no sign anywhere of Robin or Blaise.

  “Robin! Robin!” Alena called. “Where are you?”

  She thought he either did not hear or was not going to answer.

  Then he came out of the reception room at the end of the hall.

  Alena thought he was looking happier than he had looked for a very long time.

  She ran down the stairs to him.

  “What is it, Robin?” she asked. “Have you found something?”

  Robin smiled.

  “I have found myself a wife, Alena, and you must congratulate me, as Blaise has promised to marry me!”

  Alena gave a cry.

  “Oh, Robin, I am so glad! I like her so much and I am sure she will make you very happy.”

  “We may be very uncomfortable and I shall have to work very hard, but at least we shall be together.”

  Alena gave another cry.

  Then she kissed Robin and exclaimed,

  “You are just not going to be uncomfortable at all. Come upstairs quickly. Vincent has something amazingly exciting to show you.”

  Robin looked surprised.

  “What has he to show me?”

  “Come and see, Robin. I am not going to tell you because it will spoil it.”

  As she spoke, Blaise came out of the sitting room.

  She was looking a little flushed and rather shy, but at the same time very pretty.

  She moved to Robin and slipped her hand into his.

  “I just heard Robin telling you,” she said, “that we have found each other.”

  Alena kissed Blaise on the cheek.

  “It’s the most wonderful news I have ever heard and Vincent and I have some news for you. Please, please come upstairs quickly.”

  “I cannot believe there are any more surprises for me today,” Robin exclaimed.

  Taking Blaise by the hand, he started to walk behind Alena, who was now running.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, she ran even faster down the passage.

  She reached Vincent before the other two.

  He turned round when he saw her coming and put out his arms.

  She threw herself against him.

  “It is wonderful, wonderful news. Robin is going to marry Blaise and now we can all be happy together.”

  She was anxiously waiting for her brother who had by now reached the Picture Gallery.

  He was walking towards them hand in hand with Blaise.

  “What is the excitement, Vincent?” he asked when they were within hearing. “I thought we had had enough for one day.”

  “That was only the beginning, Robin. We are now at the climax of the drama. Look at what I have here for you.”

  He turned to the table that he had covered with the drawings.

  Robin stared.

  “What are they, Vincent?”

  “Drawings and sketches by Raphael which I think I am right in saying have been missing for a very long time. They must be worth an enormous amount of money. Enough, I should say, for you to do up this house and live here in great state.”

  Robin drew in his breath.

  “I just don’t believe it. Where did you find them?”

  “Just right here in Raphael’s writing desk that your ancestor brought back to England, but no one has ever bothered to investigate it.”

  “I never thought of it. I asked Papa once what was in it and he said only a lot of dusty old papers.”

  “A lot of old papers which are worth thousands and thousands of pounds,” exclaimed Vincent. “I think the first thing we have to do is to make quite certain no one steals them before we can take them safely to London.”

  “You certainly could never have found me a better wedding present. Thank you so much, Vincent, and I hear that you have something else to tell me.”

  “I only want your permission to marry Alena, and that is more important to me than the whole of the Picture Gallery put together.”

  He was laughing and Robin exclaimed,

  “How can we all be so lucky? I feel sure there is a bottle of champagne left in the cellar.”

  “Then let’s go down and drink it, but for goodness sake let me put these precious drawings in a safe place.”

  “I propose that we put them back where you found them,” Robin suggested. “They have been there since 1520, so I think it unlikely they will vanish before I take them up to London tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” Alena queried. “Are we not going back tonight?”

  “I was thinking that it would be too late by the time Blaise and Vincent have seen all our pictures. They are, of course, not all here in the Picture Gallery. Many are in a number of other rooms.”

  Alena gave a little laugh.

  “Well, I daresay Blaise and I could make up some beds for you and cook anything you can find in the garden, but it will not be a great banquet!”

  “I will send the groom, when he has put the horses into the stable, down to the village to see what he can buy.”

  Alena smiled at him.

  “You do think of everything, Robin. Finding these Raphael drawings is the most exciting thing that has ever happened. Now you may be able to stay here in at least part of the house.”

  “Would you be content with a part of the house?” he asked, looking towards Blaise.

  “I will be content to be anywhere as long as I am with you,” Blaise answered affectionately.

  There was such love in her eyes and in the softness of her voice.

  Instinctively Alena put out her hand to Vincent.

  He understood what she was feeling and took it in both of his.

  “I think what we could do,” he said to Robin, “is to leave you and Blaise to get the bedrooms ready and, before the groom puts the horses to bed, Alena and I will go to the village. On your first day as ‘Monarch of all you survey’, you don’t want to skimp when it comes to food and drink.”

  “Especially if the champagne is good,” added Alena.

  “The champagne will be superb,” Robin promised. “Go along now, find us what you can and we will have a Royal banquet!”

  “I definitely think we must celebrate properly the most exciting day I have ever known,” asserted Alena.

  She moved closer to Vincent, who sighed,

  “Exciting is hardly an adequate word. I feel as if I have suddenly been thrown up into the sky and I will never have to worry about the world beneath me again.”

  Then he realised that only Alena was listening to him.

  He put an arm around her,

  “Come along, Alena, we will find something marvellous for our dinner while Robin puts away his new found millions!”

  “I cannot believe it’s true,” Robin said. “Are these rough drawings really worth so much?”

  “I am not exaggerating at all,” responded Vincent. “And you will soon find out exactly how much they are worth if you sell them in America.”

  Robin’s eyes opened wide.

  “That’s a brilliant idea. Maybe Chuck Finberg will be interested in buying them?”

  “I am sure he will be, Robin. If he cannot have the pictures, the drawings are the next best thing. If he can have the lot, he will be the talk of Fifth Avenue, which is what he really wants.”

  They were all laughing including Blaise, who then said,

  “I feel rather shy of saying anything about myself when you have so much to talk about. But I did receive a rather thrilling letter yesterday from Dallas.”

  The others all turned to look at her with a question in their eyes.

  “One of my father’s oil wells they said was no good has begun to gush with oil,” s
he explained. “Not only does it look very promising, but there is another one they have great hopes for too.”

  “I just don’t believe all this!” Robin exploded. “It cannot be happening to us all on one day!”

  “I think it is fate, or perhaps it is Alena’s prayers,” came in Vincent, “which have brought us the luck we have all been seeking. I have my Alena, which is all I ask of Heaven. Now you, Robin, have the drawings by Raphael and, according to Blaise, some gushing oil wells too!”

  Robin threw up his hands.

  “It cannot true! I know that I am dreaming and I am terrified I will wake up with a bang.”

  “When you do, we will give you something to eat and drink,” Vincent chuckled.

  He took hold of Alena’s hand.

  “Come on, my darling, after all this excitement we will be hungry and there is no reason to starve to death.”

  “We are not going to die,” she said as they walked away, “as I was afraid I might do if I had to marry Chuck Finberg. We are going to live, and being married to you is going to be very very exciting and very very wonderful.”

  They were just about to leave the Picture Gallery when Vincent stopped.

  “It is what we all seek, the perfection of love. That is exactly what Raphael was trying to draw and why I was attempting to follow him. Now I have you, it will be easy.”

  He did not wait for Alena to answer.

  He was kissing her passionately as he had kissed her before.

  They both could feel the wonder and rapture of love seeping through them.

  Alena felt Vincent was carrying her up into the sky and she could touch the stars.

  “I love you. Oh, darling marvellous Vincent, how much do I love you,” she whispered.

  “And I adore and worship you, Alena. We are going to be blissfully happy together, my precious one. When I have painted you a thousand times, the world will know I have married the most beautiful woman in it. She is mine and no one else will be allowed to touch her or paint her.”

  Alena gave a laugh.

  Then, as he was kissing her again, it was impossible to speak.

  *

  Later that evening after an excellent dinner cooked by Alena and Blaise they all sat in the dining room.

  Some of Robin’s magnificent pictures were looking down on them.

  He picked up his glass and proposed,

  “I think we must drink a toast not only to ourselves, but to the strange and exciting events that have brought us all here and have made us the four happiest people in the world.”