Money or Love Read online

  “I can see what you are intending to do, but I am sure it’s very dangerous.”

  “Perhaps guessing instinctively what I was to find here, I asked my new friend, if I owned a picture that was extremely valuable and at the same time not publicly for sale, where would it be possible to dispose of it.”

  “I suppose he knew of someone?”

  “He assured me that he knew of where he could dispose of it perfectly safely.

  “I cannot believe that, if one of our pictures found its way into Europe, it would be easily traced if it appeared still to be hanging in its proper place and then no one could suspect it was not the original.”

  “It is a terrible risk,” breathed Alena.

  “I consider it more of a risk to sit here and wait to starve to death. I actually think it was fate that I had this conversation with the Italian and asked him before we parted if he would like to see our pictures in London.

  “I was rather worried that he might copy one when we were not looking and we would be left with a substitute without being aware of it!”

  “We must certainly not allow that to happen,” said Alena, “and now that I think of it, most of our very best pictures are hanging in London. There are two by Van Dyck for instance and I have always loved the one of Charles I.”

  “I like that one too and would hate to lose it.”

  “There is also the picture by Rembrandt that Papa was so fond of and I have always adored Boucher’s Cupid and the Graces.”

  “I have no intention of letting that one out of my sight, but you and I, Alena, are aware that there are some attractive pictures in the collection that are so dirty from old age and neglect that no one would give them a second glance.”

  There was silence and then Alena asked,

  “You really think this idea, which seems crazy to me, will work?”

  “It has to. We cannot afford failure.”

  “I agree with you, but equally I am frightened that we are doing something wrong and will be found out.”

  “Actually if you think about it, Alena, whilst I am alive, everything belongs to me. Thus if anything is lost I am the loser and I cannot for the moment worry about my sons who are not yet born and are unlikely to be, unless I can provide them with a rich mother.”

  “That is one way of looking at it, but please, Robin, don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  “It is always going to be a big risk anyway. I am driving to London tomorrow to find my friend and see how much money he can advance to me immediately so that we can open the house and start planning your debut.”

  Alena closed her eyes.

  “I do not believe this is true, Robin. I think it is all a dream and when I wake up, we will find ourselves here with all the pictures crumbling on the walls and very dusty because we have no servants to clean them.”

  Robin bent forward and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Nothing like that is going to happen. We are both Crusaders starting out to defend our rights and ultimately to be completely successful in finding all we seek.”

  “A rich wife and a rich husband,” Alena remarked in a very small voice.

  “And may they also be so fascinating that we fall in love with them!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alena spent a quiet day in the country after Robin had departed for London.

  She walked round the overgrown garden and then spent a long time gazing at the pictures in the house.

  She could not help feeling it was thrilling to own the work of so many famous artists, although the pictures all needed considerable attention.

  But not one of them could help her and Robin.

  She thought his idea of how they could provide for themselves was very risky and she almost hoped that when he reached London, he would not be able to find his friend.

  Even if he did, he might well refuse to take part in anything beyond the law.

  It was very quiet in the house and in the garden and she was still feeling somewhat miserable when she heard the sound of wheels outside in the drive.

  This meant that Robin had returned.

  One of the farmers had taken him to the train station and she suspected that he had somehow found a lift back.

  She ran out to meet him as he reached the top of the steps outside the front door.

  “I am back,” he announced unnecessarily.

  “I can see you are, Robin. I have been counting the hours that have passed very slowly, until I saw you again. Come into the sitting room. I thought it would be too late for tea, but there is a cool drink and a sandwich if you are hungry.”

  “Actually, my friend Luigi gave me an excellent luncheon – and everything is satisfactory.”

  Alena gave a little cry.

  “That is just what I was waiting to hear. You really mean he will do as you suggested?”

  “He has started already!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I met him at eleven o’clock and took him straight to the house in Park Lane.”

  “Was there anyone there, Robin?”

  “No one. The house was all shut up, but of course I had taken a set of keys with me. If there was meant to be a caretaker, there was no sign of one.”

  “I should have thought that was very dangerous.”

  “I thought the same, but everything was intact and I have now arranged for a caretaker to start tomorrow.”

  “Of course we will need a large number of servants if we do move in,” Alena murmured under her breath.

  “Now let me start from the beginning, Alena – ”

  He drank some lemonade that Alena had made for him and began,

  “I told Luigi just what we required. As I told you, copying is something he is a great expert at. He agreed to do what I asked and we drove immediately to Park Lane.”

  Alena was listening and holding her breath, as she just could not believe that Robin’s extraordinary plan could really be put into action.

  “As we both expected, the house is dusty inside and somewhat dilapidated, but not really quite as bad as I expected.”

  “Well, that’s a relief!” she exclaimed.

  “It will surely save time, which is more important than money.”

  Alena wondered why, but did not want to interrupt him with too many questions.

  “Luigi walked down the Picture Gallery and I knew he was thrilled by the pictures. The Bouchers and the Gainsboroughs particularly excited him.

  Alena gave a little cry.

  “Oh, I am sure they are too well known. Everyone who paid a visit to the house in the old days praised our Gainsboroughs, the Vandykes and the Rembrandts.”

  “Luigi is sharp enough to realise that. Therefore he chose two of our oldest pictures that he thought would not be as well known, even by art experts, as those you have just mentioned.”

  “Which ones are they?”

  “Perhaps it will surprise you, but one was St. Mary Magdalene with a Candle by La Tour, which was painted somewhere between 1630 and 1635.”

  Alena was looking surprised.

  She could recall this picture because she had never thought it particularly attractive.

  At the same time she was knowledgeable enough to know that in the seventeenth century there had been great devotion to Mary Magdalene in all Catholic countries.

  She could remember her father telling her that the Saint’s beauty had made her more appealing to members of the Church because of her repentance.

  The picture itself, Alena remembered, was not one of her favourites.

  The Saint’s body was all enveloped in a mysterious darkness with only a candle to illuminate parts of her face.

  Now she thought of it, she remembered as a child noticing some books on the table by the candle.

  There was also a wooden cross and a scourge that was bloodstained, but Alena had not understood at the time that this was part of Mary Magdalene’s penitence.

  When she grew older, she had turned away from the picture,
feeling that it was rather unpleasant.

  As if Robin was reading her thoughts, he remarked,

  “I can understand you not being particularly fond of that picture. Luigi told me that he had heard it suggested that La Tour used a gypsy as his model. There were many in Lorraine at that time.”

  “Do you really think that your friend can copy this picture so perfectly that no one will ever discover that the original has been removed?” Alena asked him hesitantly.

  “I have seen a good deal of his work now and I defy anyone to form any suspicion that the picture they are looking at was not painted by the artist who signed it.”

  Alena did not want to speak and he continued,

  “What is so clever is that Luigi has collected over the years a large number of old canvases of various ages. Therefore our copy of Mary Magdalene will be painted on a seventeenth century canvas that would, I am very certain, convince any expert it had been painted in that century.”

  “It certainly all sounds exceedingly clever, Robin, and what was his second choice?”

  “That will be a surprise to you as much as it was a surprise to me – ”

  He paused almost theatrically.

  “He next chose, Portrait of a man – Il Condottiere, which was painted by Antonello da Messina in 1475.”

  Alena wrinkled her forehead.

  “I don’t think I can remember that picture. Is it the only one we have by that artist?”

  “The only one – but perhaps you will remember it more easily when I tell you it is still on its original panel of poplar wood?”

  Alena gave a cry.

  “Of course. It’s another picture I never liked and therefore never bothered with. The head of a rather ugly, frightening-looking man.”

  “Exactly, Alena. He was supposed, Luigi thinks, to express the proud commanding spirit characteristic of the early Renaissance.”

  Alena was recalling the clenched jaw and the stern expression on the face.

  Their father had said the scar on his upper lip showed he might have been a military leader and that was why he was nicknamed Il Condottiere.

  “I really don’t mind you taking that one, Robin, but surely, if it is on wood, it will be much more difficult to forge than if Luigi was painting on canvas?”

  “Actually he said it was helpful. He has a panel of poplar wood and the background, the cap and the clothing have darkened so whilst the face stands out dramatically, there is less painting required for the rest of it than in any other picture he might have chosen.”

  “I see his point – and quite frankly he is welcome to that picture!”

  “Very welcome indeed, especially when you hear what he expects to receive for the two pictures.”

  “What is he going to get? I have forgotten that he is going to sell them for us. But surely that is dangerous, since people will ask where the pictures have come from?”

  “Not as dangerous as it may sound – for the simple reason that Luigi has a dedicated patron, who is building up a magnificent collection of paintings of originals that he wishes to keep secret – and what is more he trusts Luigi and will not ask awkward questions.”

  “A secret collection! I just cannot believe it, Robin. Would not any man who owns so many beautiful pictures like ours want to boast about them?”

  “Apparently Luigi’s patron and, incidentally he is a French Duc and obscenely rich, has no intention of sharing his prized pictures with anyone. They are locked up in his château and according to Luigi, he sits staring at them day after day and asks nothing more from the world.”

  “He sounds a little mad, but I suppose we should be grateful as it is to our advantage.”

  “Very much to our advantage, Alena, and what do you imagine Luigi has advanced me already for these two pictures? And he is quite certain that when the Duc sees them, there will be more to come.”

  “How much?”

  “Two thousand pounds.”

  Alena stared at him.

  “I just don’t believe it!”

  “It’s true,” he insisted, “and as Luigi had the money with him I took it at once to the Bank.”

  “That was certainly very sensible of you, Robin, it would be ghastly if it was stolen.”

  “It’s going to supply us with everything we need at present. Thus, I want you to come to London tomorrow. We will move into the house secretly and not announce our arrival to the Social world until we have made sure that the house is more or less shipshape.”

  “Is there really very much to do to it, Robin?”

  “Not as much as I feared. The walls are intact and the ceilings have not fallen in. I feel a number of servants working hard would soon make a great deal of difference.

  “I am leaving the curtains to you, Alena, as I expect they will need replacing. New cushions and flowers and candles in shining chandeliers will work wonders!”

  Alena clasped her hands together.

  “So it really is true!” she cried. “You are quite sure that what Luigi gave you is not fairy gold?”

  “If it is, that’s the Bank’s responsibility. I am quite certain that from now on we are sitting on a gold mine!”

  “But you must not sell any more pictures,” Alena exclaimed. “You know if you are greedy it always means disaster.”

  “I am not greedy, but I am only too well aware how long that money has to last us. Long enough in fact to find me an amiable and rich wife and for you a millionaire!”

  Alena laughed.

  “That is most definitely unlikely.”

  “With your face he should be a multi-millionaire, but I suspect there are very few of them about.”

  Now they were both laughing.

  Alena placed her arms round her brother’s neck and kissed him on his cheek.

  “You have so been brilliant, Robin. I thought when you told me what you were going to do it was impossible. But now it has actually happened, I can only say that you are very much cleverer than I thought you could ever be!”

  Robin chuckled.

  “The copies of the pictures have yet to be made, but in the meantime, just in case any of those nosey Trustees start looking round, Luigi has been very astute.”

  “In what way?”

  “He brought with him a seventeenth century canvas with a picture on it so damaged that it would be difficult for anyone to decipher what the subject of the painting had originally been.”

  “So it is hanging in the Picture Gallery now?”

  “Exactly, and Luigi has promised me that a wooden panel in the same state of dilapidation will be in the frame of the da Messina by tonight.”

  Alena gave a sigh of relief.

  “I cannot believe that the Trustees will be creeping around without us knowing, but frankly I trust no one.”

  “That is very sensible and it means that no one but ourselves and Luigi must ever know what has happened this afternoon in Dunstead House.”

  Robin looked round him.

  “Perhaps one day we will be able to afford to repair this house, but at present we have to concentrate on the one in Park Lane,”

  “Yes, or course, Robin.”

  “We will not be extravagant,” he carried on, as if he was thinking it out for himself. “At the same time I want to make a show. What you have to do as soon as you have packed your bag is to make a list of everyone you can think of who should be invited to your debutante ball.”

  “I have Mama’s address book somewhere and that will give us the names of her friends she entertained in the past, and they will at least know who we are, even though they have not seen us for years.”

  “And I will make a list of the friends I had before I went to India and those I have seen since. Even if they do not come to our ball, they will know we exist, and that for the moment is important.”

  “Now what about clothes?” enquired Alena.

  “You can buy all you think absolutely necessary, but they must look costly and fashionable and as if you had thousands of
others waiting for you to wear.”

  Alena laughed.

  “That will be the day! And naturally, dear Robin, I will be as careful as possible not to be extravagant.”

  “Equally Alena, your clothes must look spectacular. Remember that we are pretending to be as rich as Papa was before he threw his money away in that idiotic manner!”

  He thought for a moment and then added,

  “As he had been so ill, most people will remember Papa when he had the best horses and gave the most amusing parties. Therefore they will not be the least surprised if we do the same.”

  “Horses! Can we really afford any horses?” Alena asked breathlessly.

  “We will have two to ride in Rotten Row with the smartest team ever known to draw a carriage. It is what is expected of a rich man and naturally I will be talking about all the racehorses I intend to buy later in the Season when I have had a chance to look round at what is available.”

  “I have never asked before, Robin, because I forgot about it, but what happened to Papa’s horses that were kept at Newmarket?”

  “I enquired about them as soon as I returned. He sold them all lock stock and barrel with the stables thrown in.”

  “He must have received a good sum for them.”

  “It did not last him long,” Robin replied caustically.

  Now there was a hard note in his voice and Alena had heard it whenever he referred to his father. She could understand how bitter he felt at the way the family fortune had been dissipated.

  To change the subject, she said quickly,

  “Now you must decide how many servants we will need in Park Lane. I remember the Agency Mama went to when she wanted a new housekeeper. You recall that Mrs. Dodson has died.”

  “That’s a great pity. She would have organised all this very easily without turning a hair.”

  His sister smiled.

  “She would have been ninety by now and I doubt if she would have been as efficient as you would wish.”

  “I forget people grow old and it will happen to us too if we don’t hurry up and get on with our lives!”

  “We are really doing our best, Robin, and you have certainly been brilliant in finding this Italian man.”