Page 84 of The Tuscan Child
“Oh, I see.” His face fell. “Well, I suppose I had better stay, too, to defend you in court, if necessary.”
I looked at his earnest face and had to laugh. “Nigel, are you qualified to practice international law? I’m sure I won’t need anyone to defend me because I was a victim, not a suspect. And Signor Bartoli here can translate for me.”
Nigel looked at Renzo, then back to me.
“So you don’t want me to stay, just in case?”
“It is very kind and I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I’d like to get everything sorted out before I come home, and I’m sure you’d rather go back to England.”
“Well, if you really don’t want...Oh, all right.” He looked crestfallen.
“It was extremely kind of you to come over here so quickly after I telephoned Scarlet,” I said. “I suppose she was worried that I was in trouble with the law.”
He looked puzzled now. “I don’t know what telephone call you are speaking about. I went to Scarlet’s flat last week to find you, and since I learned where you were in Italy I arranged to take a few days off and bring you a piece of good news myself.”
“Good news?”
He smiled now. “Yes. Your paintings.”
“My father’s paintings? They are worth money after all?”
He shook his head. “No, not your father’s paintings unfortunately. I’m talking about the family portraits. We had them cleaned and then one of them warranted further inspection by experts—the portrait of your ancestor namesake, Joanna Langley. It turned out it was painted by Thomas Gainsborough. A hitherto unknown portrait by him.”
“Gainsborough? Are you sure?”
He nodded excitedly. “Once the painting was cleaned, the signature was quite visible in the lower corner. And there is a reference in his diary that a J.L.came to sit for him and had good bone structure.”
“Golly,” I said.
“Golly indeed. It is a major find. It could bring a serious amount of money at auction. Several hundred thousand pounds at least.”
“Several hundred...” I couldn’t even stammer out the words.
He nodded. “At least.”
I was about to say “Golly” again but swallowed it back.
“So do I have your permission to put it up for auction at Christie’s?” Nigel said. “I think we should get the wheels in motion right away while the discovery is still newsworthy.”
For a moment I was tempted to keep it, to have my lookalike gazing down at me from my wall. But then my sensible nature prevailed. “Oh yes. Absolutely.”
“Jolly good. Well, that’s that, I suppose. I’ll see you back in England, then,” Nigel said awkwardly. “And if you need anything, here is my card. Don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for everything you have done.”
He blushed like a schoolboy.
After he had gone and Renzo and I came out of the doctor’s office, Renzo gave me a questioning look. “That Englishman, he is your boyfriend?”
“Oh gosh, no. He’s my father’s solicitor. He was handling the estate. And one of the paintings is valuable. Isn’t that amazing?”
“He likes you, I think,” Renzo said. “Do you like him?”
“I’m sure he’s a very nice person,” I said, “but not my type.”
“Good,” Renzo said. He picked up the painting from where it lay on a side table. “I suppose this should be delivered to the mayor. He will decide what should be done with it.”
I stared at it with longing. I knew I would have to give it up, but I didn’t want it to be so soon. “Could we not keep it, at least until things have sorted themselves out?”
