Wainbridge massaged his forehead before he handed the packet back. “All I know is that I want to sell all of it. Quickly.”
Lucas assessed the chaotic room, already taking a mental inventory of the paintings. The ceramics. The furniture. “Have you spoken with any other brokers?”
“Most certainly. I’ve been contacted by several. One all the way from Spain, if you can believe it. Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Lucas followed Wainbridge as he opened a wide paneled door on the far wall to a connecting chamber.
“This is the library.” Wainbridge swept his arm dramatically about the space.
Lucas’s gaze darted from the cluttered shelves on the far wall, to the high corner shelves of chinoiserie, to a full-size marblestatue in the room’s center. Busts, vases, paintings, figurines, and books filled every corner and empty space.
“What do I even do with all of this?” Wainbridge lamented, kicking at a crate with the toe of his boot.
Lucas inhaled. Deeply. The history and culture surrounding him engaged every corner of his mind. Whereas Wainbridge saw a mess, Lucas saw opportunity. It energized him.
He dragged his finger through the dust atop a small wooden box. “I know this all seems like worthless fodder to you, but some people would sell their soul for the opportunity to walk through here.”
“And you know those people?” Wainbridge scoffed as he lifted a figurine, glanced at it, then dropped it back on the table. “I can’t imagine anyone paying a farthing for this, let alone a sum of significance.”
“As I alluded when we met at Brooks’s, there are two ways to proceed. The fastest method does not guarantee the largest income, but it would get you money quickly. The second method could take months, even years, but it would yield the highest income.”
Wainbridge folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening.”
“For the most profitable option, we’d begin by cataloging everything you want to sell. I’d record it, inspect it, research it as necessary, and then assign a value to it. I’d then notify my colleagues and clients that the items are available, and then I’d solicit responses and sell each item to the highest bidder. But like I said, it could take months, even years, seeing that many of those clients reside overseas. My fee would be based on a percentage of the final sale price.”
“And the faster option?”
“The faster option would be that my business would purchase items. They then become my inventory to dispose of as I see fit. I could either turn a larger profit with them or suffer a loss. I would assume all the risk, and that is the reason for the lower purchase price. This is how Tate is involved with my business. He helps assume the financial risk but also accepts the financial rewards on the sales of the pieces.”
“I see,” Wainbridge muttered.
“Most collectors keep their items cataloged. I’ve no doubt that your uncle left behind a ledger, or ledgers, detailing the items he owned.”
“That’s just the thing. There’s very little. I’m sure if he had them, they’re somewhere in here, but I’ve scoured this study and the storage rooms. I’ve found nothing.”
“Is Mrs.Milton aware of its location? Or one of the servants?”
“I asked her about it once, and she flew into a rage. The servants are all new and know nothing.”
The magnitude of the task before him solidified in his mind. “Details can be determined later. We just need to get started. Today. I’ll stay behind from hunting this morning.”
Wainbridge exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath for days. “One would assume such an inheritance would be a good thing. And it is. But so many strings are tied to it that I can barely see past them.”
Lucas removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “Make an excuse for me. I’m much more use here anyway than on the hunt. You’d be surprised at what can be accomplished in a relatively short period of time. Leave it all with me.”
Wainbridge finally cracked a smile of what could only be relief. “I’ll tell the butler you’re using the library and are not to be disturbed. I’d offer to allow one of the footmen to assist you, but I fear for confidentiality.”
“Think nothing of it.” Lucas grinned. “Believe it or not, this is a thrill for me.”
“Very well. I’ll stop in later to see how you’re progressing.”
Once Wainbridge left, Lucas moved to the curtains and pulled a dusty panel back, letting in a flood of gray morning light, which illuminated even more dust and cobwebs than he had first noticed.
It was something he saw often. One man’s passion—a legacy—frozen in time. The accumulation of antique treasures had meant something to Mr.Milton during his lifetime. Perhaps it was an obsession. Perhaps it gave him a sense of purpose.
But now, what was it?
Lucas had seen some of the most incredible pieces in his lifetime—from Roman artifacts to Egyptian gold to Indian statues. Time and experience had taught him that every collection would, at some point, be sold and that items were merely objects that only meant something to those willing to pay for them. Because of this he could assess items clearly and without bias or envy. Even so, as he glanced around him, the sheer number of pieces that needed to be evaluated was overwhelming.
