‘Before I consult my client, Mr Lee, can I also confirm that one hundred million pounds is your final offer?’
‘Dollars, Mr Booth Watson. I don’t deal in pounds. It’s not a currency I feel safe with.’
‘I’ll let you know my client’s answer as soon as I have consulted him,’ said Booth Watson, heaving himself up out of his chair.
‘As I’ll be in London for the next few weeks, please feel free to call me at any time,’ said Lee. ‘A simple yes or no will suffice, as I wouldn’t want to waste your time.’ He rose from his seat and once again the young woman reappeared as if he’d waved a wand. Lee bowed low, but not as low as the woman, who accompanied Booth Watson out of the room and back to the lift.
As the doors slid closed, she bowed once more before returning to the suite.
‘What did you think of our guest, Mai Ling?’ Lee asked as she re-entered the room.
‘Not a man I would trust.’
‘I agree with you. In fact, I’m not convinced Mr Faulkner is even aware that the meeting was taking place.’
‘What would convince you either way?’
‘If Booth Watson accepts my offer of one hundred million dollars, you can be fairly sure he isn’t representing his client, but himself, because I don’t think Mr Faulkner would consider parting with a collection it’s taken him a lifetime to put together for such a paltry sum.’
‘I can think of another way you can find out if he’s telling the truth, Father,’ said Mai Ling.
‘Audrey’s such an excellent cook,’ said Beth, ‘that, whenever we visit you, I always feel guilty about my feeble efforts in the kitchen. Not that William ever complains.’
‘You have other gifts,’ said Julian, ‘which I can assure you Audrey greatly admires. Not least how well you’re doing at the museum.’
‘That may not be the case for much longer.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Is that the reason you wanted to see me?’
Beth nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. I can’t pretend I’m enjoying working under the new director, and although I don’t think he’d consider sacking me, unless he found me with my hand in the till, I’m seriously considering resigning.’
‘Would you be able to find an equivalent position in another gallery?’ asked Julian.
‘Not easily. They don’t come up that often. The irony is the Tate approached me a few months ago to ask if I’d be interested in the post of deputy director. I would definitely have considered the offer if Tim Knox hadn’t told me he’d already recommended me to the board as his replacement.’
‘Is the job at the Tate still available?’
‘No. It was filled by an outstanding candidate from the V&A, who I’m told is doing an excellent job.’
‘Then my advice would be to stay put until another opportunity arises. You won’t enjoy being unemployed, not to mention the loss of income.’
‘That’s the real reason I needed to seek your advice, Julian. I’d like to take advantage of an opportunity that’s arisen, but it poses a bit of a moral dilemma for me.’
‘Details, details,’ demanded Julian as if dealing with one of his clients.
‘I may have come across a pencil drawing by Rembrandt, which is coming up for sale at a small auction house in Pittsburgh.’
‘So, where’s the moral dilemma?’
‘The drawing isn’t listed as a Rembrandt, but by an unknown artist. The truth is, I’m not altogether certain about it myself. But if I’m right, it could be worth up to forty thousand pounds while the auction house’s estimate is only two hundred dollars.’
‘That’s called experience and scholarship, while at the same time being willing to take a punt,’ said Julian. ‘It’s not your fault the auction house hasn’t done its homework.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Beth. ‘But should I tell Sloane about my possible discovery, or should I risk two hundred dollars of my own money, in the hope of making a killing myself?’
‘What would you have done if Tim Knox was still director?’
‘Told him immediately,’ said Beth without hesitation, ‘so the Fitzmolean could benefit.’
‘Then you’ve answered your own question. Your first responsibility is to the museum, not its director, whoever that might be. Museums are permanent, directors are temporary.’
‘Even if Sloane were to tell the board it was his discovery, and take the credit for it?’
‘You really don’t like him, do you?’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Beth not attempting to hide her feelings.
‘Disliking the man is not a good enough reason to allow it to cloud your judgement, or lower yourself to his level.’
‘Of course you’re right. I’ll tell him about the drawing first thing in the morning.’
‘I think that would be wise,’ said Julian. ‘If nothing else, it might improve your relationship with him.’
‘Don’t count on it.’
‘Let’s rejoin the others before William starts wondering what we’re up to,’ said Julian.
‘I have no secrets from William,’ said Beth. ‘I’ve already discussed the problem with him, so you won’t be surprised to learn he agrees with you.’
‘He’s a lucky man,’ said Julian as he got up from his chair, opened the study door, and stood aside to allow Beth to make her way back to the drawing room.
‘Artemisia has been telling us about her most recent conversation with the Princess of Wales,’ said Audrey, when they reappeared.
‘Verbatim,’ said William.
‘Yes, I was,’ said Artemisia. ‘I can’t wait to see her again, because I have an important question to ask her.’
‘And what might that be?’ enquired Julian.
‘In the car Mummy told Daddy that Diana was playing away from home, and I wondered which sport she was playing.’
Sir Julian didn’t answer his granddaughter’s question, as he wasn’t altogether sure how to advise his youngest client.
Chapter 21
Radiant was the word that came to Ross’s mind when he saw her for the first time that morning.
‘Good morning, your Royal Highness,’ he said, holding open the back door of the car.
‘Good morning, Ross,’ she replied as she climbed in. ‘It was kind of you to give up your weekend. I do hope Jojo isn’t too cross with me.’
‘She understood, ma’am.’
Both of them knew that wasn’t true.
Making their way out of London on a Saturday morning with no police escort was an unusual experience for both of them. Having to stop at traffic lights that didn’t instantly turn green, waiting to give way at roundabouts, and being overtaken by other cars, allowed Diana a rare glimpse of the real world.
Ross glanced in his rear-view mirror to see her chatting on the phone. She was clearly looking forward to a weekend in the country with her... he couldn’t find the appropriate word.
Not for the first time, Ross was grateful that the back windows were tinted. Otherwise, there would have been a steady stream of gawpers in other cars trying to take photos on the move, some even while they were driving.
Although he wasn’t looking forward to spending a weekend in the country with ‘His Royal Upstart’, as William referred to him, he was interested to see what Jamil Chalabi’s home was like. Glitzy and vulgar, he assumed. His thoughts were interrupted when Diana asked, ‘When do you think we’ll get there, Ross?’
He checked his watch. ‘About another forty minutes, ma’am. So we might be a few minutes late.’
She then blindsided him by asking, ‘You don’t like Jamil, do you?’ Ross couldn’t think of a suitable reply. ‘Just as I thought,’ she said as they drove into Guildford.
As they proceeded slowly along the high street, she delivered the single word he most dreaded.