The count placed his white hands together reverently, as if about to pray, and sighed. 'Grove wanted us at seven. And on a Monday night, too-very unlike him. We came straggling in, fashionably late, between seven-thirty and eight. I was the first to arrive.'
'What was Grove's mental state?'
'Very poor, I should say. As I told you, he seemed nervous, high-strung. No so much that he couldn't entertain. He had a cook, but he prepared the main dishes himself. He was quite a good chef. He prepared an exquisite sole, lightly grilled over the fire, with lemon. Nothing more, nothing less. Perfection. Then he followed with-'
'I already have the menu, thank you. Did he give any indication why he was nervous?'
'No. In fact, he seemed to be at great pains to hide it. His eyes darted everywhere. He locked the door after each guest was let in. He hardly drank, which was quite out of character. He was a man who normally liked a good claret, and even on this occasion, he served some excellent wines, starting with Tocai from Friuli and then a '90 Petrus, truly magnificent.'
Chateau Petrus 1990, considered the best since the fabled '61, was one of Pendergast's own most prized wines; he had a dozen bottles of the $2,000 Pomerol laid down in his cellar in the Dakota. He chose not to mention this fact.
The count continued his description with great good humor and volubility. 'Grove also opened, quite spontaneously, a wine from the Castello di Verrazzano, their so-called bottiglia particolare , the one with the silk label. Exceptional.'
'Did you know the other guests?'
The count smiled. 'Lady Milbanke I know quite well. Vilnius I'd met a few times. Jonathan Frederick I knew only from his writings.'
'What did you talk about at dinner?'
The smile widened. 'It was most peculiar.'
'Yes?'
'The first part of the dinner was taken up with a conversation about the Georges de la Tour painting you saw in my sitting room. What do you think of it, Agent Pendergast?'
'Shall we stay on the subject, Count Fosco?'
'This is the subject. Bear with me. Do you think it's a de la Tour?'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'The brushwork on the lace is very characteristic, and the glow of the candle through the fingers is handled in pure de la Tour fashion.'
The count looked at Pendergast curiously, a faint gleam of something indefinable in his eyes. After a long silence, he said very quietly and seriously, 'You surprise me very much, Pendergast. I am truly impressed.' The jocular, familiar note had vanished from his voice. He paused, then continued. 'Twenty years ago I found myself in a little financial embarrassment. I put that very painting up for sale at Sotheby's. The day before the auction, Grove wrote a little piece in the Times calling it one of the Delobre fakes, done around the turn of the century. It was pulled from the auction, and despite my having the provenance in hand, I lost fifteen million dollars.'
Pendergast considered this. 'And that's what you talked about? His branding your de la Tour a forgery?'
'Yes, in the beginning. Then the conversation moved to Vilnius and his paintings. Grove reminded us of Vilnius's first big show, in SoHo in the early eighties. At the time, Grove wrote a legendarily scathing review. Suffice to say, Vilnius's career never recovered.'
'An odd topic of conversation.'
'Indeed. And then Grove brought up the subject of Lady Milbanke and the affair he'd had with her some years back.'
'I imagine this was quite a lively dinner party.'
'I have rarely seen its equal.'
'And how did Lady Milbanke react?'
'How would you expect a lady to react? The affair broke up her marriage. And then Grove treated her abominably, left her for a boy .'
'It sounds as if each of you had reason to be mortal enemies of Grove.'
Fosco sighed. 'We were. We all hated him, including Frederick. I don't know the man at all, but I understand that some years ago, when he was editor of Art and Style , he had the temerity to write something nasty about Grove. Grove had friends in high places, and the next thing Frederick knew he'd been fired. The poor fellow couldn't find a job for years .'
'When did the dinner party break up?'
'After midnight.'
'Who left first?'
'I was the first to stand and anounce my departure. I have always required a great deal of sleep. The others rose at the same time. Grove was most reluctant to see us go. He kept pressing after-dinner drinks on us, coffee. He was most anxious that we stay.'
'Do you know why?'
'He seemed frightened of being alone.'
'Do you recall his precise words?'
