They sipped — Matthew rather more than Charles — and gazed deeply into the cheerful flames, each lost in their thoughts.
"What are we not seeing?" mused Charles. "It can't be that difficult to spot. What the blazes is it?"
"Maybe we should be focussing on the comment about the painting?" suggested Matthew. "That one has drawn a complete blank so far."
"Yes, perhaps you're right." Charles paused for a moment, then continued. "Ok, how about this? Given that we now know that Lord Alfred copied out, by hand, poems which were not his own in order to provide us with the necessary clues, might he have done a similar sort of thing with his paintings?"
"You mean he might have painted copies of original pictures? Who knows? I suppose it's possible; but, if so, where are these mysterious 'illegal' counterfeits?"
"I suppose the idea is a bit far fetched. It would’ve involved a huge amount of work."
Just then, James came back into the room.
"Will there be anything else this evening, gentlemen?"
"No thank you, James." Then he added, "Oh, on second thoughts, actually, yes there is!"
The butler turned back to face them. "Yes, sir?"
"Given all these secret doorways and disguised keyholes we've been finding, do you happen to know whether there might be some secret hideaway in the house where Lord Alfred kept any of his paintings safely stashed away?"
"Not exactly, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"His Lordship's interest in painting was mainly centred on the collecting of fine works, rather than the creating of them. While you have been walking through the house you will no doubt have seen some of them."
Matthew looked downwards, suddenly feeling less than intellectual. He may indeed have walked past some valuable paintings, but he knew he wouldn't have recognised them for what they were. He knew what the Mona Lisa looked like but that was about it — and even he knew that that was one painting which his dad would not have been able to obtain.
"But," continued James, "on those rare occasions when he was a little less busy it was true that he would sometimes try his hand at producing something himself."
"Do you know where any of these paintings are?"
"Oh yes, sir, but they are not 'stashed away' as you put it. Having gone to the trouble of painting a picture he wanted it to be on display, but—" he paused.
"Please go on."
"Well," and here James gave a gentle laugh, "His Lordship instructed me to hang his paintings only in the darker corridors of the house. I think he was being just a little over-modest, since it is very seldom that we have any visitors; and, in any case, many of his pictures are really quite commendable. I think he felt that perhaps his efforts should not really be compared to those of the great masters."
"I see. Well, if I've learnt one thing since being at Heston Grange, it's that this house is enormous. We'll need your help, James. Could you take us round and show us which pictures were painted by Lord Alfred?"
"Erm… do you mean right now, sir? Is it perhaps just a little on the late side?"
Indeed it was. Charles glanced at the clock and discovered it was already past midnight.
"Good grief!" he exclaimed. "Where does all the time go?"
"Tempus fugit, sir." said James.
"Ok, well perhaps we could have an early breakfast and then be given the grand tour straight after that?"
"Very good, sir."
James gave a respectful inclination of the head, and left.
Charles, drained his glass and stood up, yawning. "I think I'll turn in too. A busy day ahead. See you in the morning."
"Yeah. I’ll be going to bed too, as soon as I finish my port. Sleep well."
Matthew was left alone and re-filled his glass. Deep in thought, he stared into the diminishing fire for quite some time.
Chapter 16
The next morning, Mrs Gillcarey was only a little disgruntled that her two guests refused her offer of second helpings of herb-infused bubble and squeak with hash browns. She clucked with disappointment but to no avail; the two of them were obviously keen to get on and discover whatever they could about Lord Alfred's personal contribution to the art world.
The three-man expedition set forth. Even though the weather today was mild, as they began to enter those regions of the mansion which were explored less frequently, it was reinforced once again to both Charles and Matthew that this was indeed a very old house. The wind could be heard whistling and whining through all manner of nooks and crannies. As they passed certain arched openings, they would feel a cold draught; elsewhere, a lattice window in a decaying frame would suddenly rattle. And everywhere there was the dust, causing Charles to vividly recall the first night of his visit when Lord Alfred had so dramatically destroyed his Will.
At length, after taking numerous turnings along endless passageways, James stopped by a moderately sized canvas in a simple wooden frame. He shone his torch upon it.
"This is one of His Lordship's paintings," he said.
Charles and Matthew leaned forward, trying to get a good view of it despite the surrounding gloom. There did not appear to be anything particularly special about the picture; as the light from the torch moved slowly back and forth it was revealed to be a simple landscape with rolling hills and a few grazing sheep, some nicely depicted cumulonimbus — and a couple of trees in the foreground which they both now knew to be cypress trees.
"Do you suppose that's in any way significant?" asked Matthew.
"Difficult to say, but it looks as though this picture was painted quite some time ago. Is it likely that it has any direct relevance?"
"Maybe, maybe not, but these cypress trees are making a habit of constantly turning up."
"True. Well, let's keep that in mind for possible future reference. Where's the next one, James?"
"This way, gentlemen."
They set off again, with Charles feeling very glad that they had James guiding them through the intricate network of otherwise unfathomable thoroughfares.
Some time later, James paused by another picture. "This one," he explained, "is of the view out to sea from the promontory not far from here. During a spell of fine weather His Lordship walked each day to a vantage point on top of the cliffs and, as I recall, took a great deal of care with painting the crest of each wave. In the end, he seemed to be rather pleased with the results of his efforts."
This was indeed a fine piece of work. The sunlight glinted off the water and the detail gradually faded most convincingly as the eye scanned upward towards the vanishing point on the horizon.
"But are there any clues here?" prompted Matthew.
"None that I can see," said Charles.
And so the day wore on. They saw painting after painting several of which, it had to be said, were really quite well done; others, perhaps less so — maybe these came from Lord Alfred's early period, Charles joked. But whether any of them served to advance their cause was anyone's guess. This artistic tour was, as it turned out, so long that the intrepid explorers missed out on lunch altogether and mid-afternoon found them back in their usual haunt — the library — this time with cups of Darjeeling and some delightfully gooey chocolate brownies.
"If we ever do manage to solve this mystery," said Charles, licking the delicious crumbs from his fingertips before reaching for his third slice, "the first thing I shall do is increase Mrs Gillcarey's wages!"