“One does not make such inquiries,” the earl replied in a guarded tone. “But why do you ask?”
“I have been told that the Royal Collection in fact belongs to the people, and that the Crown is only its guardian and protector.”
“And so Victoria was,” the earl said, with a thin smile. “But then again, a queen can do as she wishes without there being a murmur of complaint. The Crown does have certain privileges.”
Particularly when those privileges remain secret and away from public scrutiny, I thought, but held my tongue.
At that moment, a massive, heavy-boned mastiff ambled into the room and sat on his haunches not more than ten feet away. To his side was a large, beautifully adorned Christmas tree, with a silver star atop and nicely wrapped gifts beneath it. The hound ignored the tree and gifts and seemed only interested in the visitors, upon whom he kept his eyes fixed.
“Nelson is a most serious dog and is aroused by any change in the household,” said the earl.
“Was he here the night of the break-in?” I asked at once.
“Unfortunately not, Dr. Watson, for he was spending the night at the veterinarian’s,” the earl replied. “Had he been present, I can assure you the vandal would have been in for a most unpleasant evening.”
“I take it there are no other dogs within your home?”
“None, for Nelson does not enjoy canine companionship.”
My attention returned to the defaced portrait that had been bisected with a long, vertical slash. Although an edge had been folded back, one could see the woman portrayed had a lovely face and short blond hair. Most striking was her deep purple velvet dress that had orange decorations on its shoulders. It, too, was slashed into unequal halves. “Can it be restored?”
“With some effort, I was told.”
“Who will do the restoration?”
“No doubt Hawke and Evans, for that is who my wife will choose. You see, she is a true patron of the arts and makes such decisions for us.”
I moved in closer to the painting and with a finger delicately moved a cut edge to the side, which gave me a clear view of its backing. As with the other vandalized portraits, the backing was pristine and had no slashes or deep scratches.
“What do you search for?” asked the earl.
“Markings that may have been left by the vandal, my lord.”
“Were there any?”
“None to the naked eye.”
I stepped back to again admire the glorious colors and painter’s eye for exquisite detail. “Who was the artist of this fine work?”
“Paolo Veronese,” said a feminine voice from behind me.
I turned and watched the approach of a most attractive woman of medium height, with sharp features and raven black hair that flowed down to her shoulders. But it was her doe-like eyes that caught and held one’s attention. They were deep blue, the color of a calm mountain lake, and seemed to be looking both at and into you. Before joining us, she paused for a moment to warm her hands in front of a blazing fire which gave off the sweet aroma of burning applewood.
“May I present my wife, Lady Katherine,” introduced the earl.
“And you, sir, are Dr. Watson, the chronicler of your wife’s most excellent adventures,” said she, adorned in a riding outfit, complete with cap, red jacket, and white trousers tucked into well-shined boots.
“I am, my lady,” I greeted, with a half bow that she acknowledged with a quarter of a nod. “My wife and father could not be in attendance, for they have been called away on an urgent matter and so I find myself here alone.”
“You are nevertheless most welcome,” Lady Katherine said warmly. “Now let us return to your question. The artist you asked about is Paolo Veronese, an Italian Renaissance painter whose true name was Paolo Caliari, but who gained the nickname Veronese because he was based in Verona where he acquired his fame. He was a most excellent painter and the portrait before you is entitled La Bella Nani. It was considered one of his best works and dates back to the year 1560.”
“Dr. Watson had inquired if the portrait was originally part of the Royal Collection,” the earl interjected. “I had no answer.”
The countess shrugged indifferently. “I doubt that very much, but who is to know? If it did come from the collection housed at Windsor it would hardly be missed, for it would have been buried away in one of the world’s greatest assemblages of art, which includes the works of Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Rembrandt. Although difficult to believe, there are over five hundred sketches and drawings by Leonardo da Vinci alone that are currently stored at Windsor. So, as talented as Veronese was, he could not begin to stand up to the others.”
She reached for her riding cap and tossed it over to Nelson who quickly caught it with his lips, then trotted to a leather-backed chair and deposited it there. “You see, I have had the rare opportunity to review the Royal Collection, and the incredible sketches by da Vinci simply took my breath away, as did the glorious Titians and Caravaggios that have never been publicly displayed. I sit on an advisory committee and am on excellent terms with the curators at Windsor, and it was in this capacity that I directed certain restorations to Evans and Hawke before Andrew’s untimely death.”
“Do you continue to recommend that particular gallery for the royal restorations?” asked I.
“Not as vigorously as I once did.”
It was now clear to me that it was Lady Katherine and not her husband who would hold the most knowledge about the painting and its projected restoration. Fortunately she seemed quite eager to share this information.
“But it is beyond me why anyone would vandalize such a gorgeous work of art,” Lady Katherine went on. “It is akin to attacking a defenseless child who cannot speak.”
“But hopefully it can be restored,” I consoled.
“It will be restored,” Lady Katherine said determinedly.
“By Hawke and Evans, I presume.”
“By
