Julia expected to see someone else as well, and she looked around for him. Inspector Tennant planned to attend the opening to observe. When he said he’d be less conspicuous among a party, Julia suggested he write to Mister Lloyd asking to join them. She leaned forward on her bench, scanning the garden’s new arrivals, wondering if he’d taken her advice.
Fifteen minutes before the gallery show’s opening, Inspector Tennant strode up the carriage pathway. Julia followed the progress of his head above the crowd, his polite sidestep and tip-of-his-hat to a pair of ladies. One glanced back as she passed him.Why not?Julia was aware of his dark good looks, aware, too, about how glad she was to see him. Words from the Sunday service sprung to mind:Lift up your hearts.The invitation had always seemed a figure of speech, not a physical state. She was changing her mind about that. Perhaps her heart hadn’t shifted, but its beat sped up.
When he reached the end of the main walkway, Julia rose from her bench, smiling a greeting, thinking he’d spotted her.
But he turned left and touched his hat to Mary and Louisa. “Have I arrived too late?” Julia heard him say.
Louisa Allingham smiled, dimpling. “Not at all, Richard.” She took his arm. “Shall we go in?”
Julia hung back. Then she followed, feeling like the sun had passed behind the clouds.
* * *
An arch of hothouse flowers entwined with greenery curved over the closed doors of thePleasure Gardensgallery. A lectern and three chairs waited at the entrance for the ceremony to begin. Julia’s grandfather, her Aunt Caroline, and Mrs. Davieshad found a bench along the wall. Mr. Lloyd caught her eye and nodded an invitation to join them.
At two o’clock, doors at the opposite end of the hall opened, and two gentlemen escorted Louisa and Mary into the room and handed them to their seats. William Quain and Inspector Tennant followed the party and stood behind the ladies’ chairs.
Mr. Lloyd leaned in. “The older gentleman is the museum director, Mister Cole. I don’t know the stout fellow next to him.”
Mister Cole adjusted his glasses at the lectern and cleared his throat. “Mrs. Allingham asked me to thank you all for attending and say a few words about the exhibit.” He smiled. “And not wanting to delay your enjoyment, my remarks will be brief. Charles Allingham created this collection. It exists because of his vision and his passionate conviction that a great civilization’s art deserves space in British galleries. An afternoon wandering through this garden of pleasure will prove how right he was. Now, Mrs. Allingham, will you do the honors?”
Louisa stood, and the director presented a key to the widow. With Tennant’s assistance, Mrs. Allingham opened the doors to the patter of polite applause.
As the gathering shuffled into the gallery, Tennant spotted Julia and walked over.
“I see you procured an invitation after all,” she said.
“Miss Allingham and Louisa kindly included me.”
“Front row seats, to be sure. But what are you expecting to find?”
“I’m not sure.... Sometimes police work is just turning up at the right time and place.”
“Who is the fellow bursting his buttons? The twitchy gentleman who came in with you.”
“Mister Sidney Allen.”
“Charles’s partner?”
“Yes.” Tennant looked around. “I asked the director to beon the lookout for members of the Topkapi Club who lent works to the exhibit. I’ll ask Cole when I get him on his own.”
“Here’s your chance. Mary and Louisa just left his side and are heading our way, followed by Mister Quain.”
Tennant excused himself, and Julia introduced the ladies and the artist to her grandfather and aunt.
“This is a fine exhibit,” Lady Aldridge said. “Mister Allingham had a discerning eye.”
“They’re glorious pictures, aren’t they?” Mary said. “I adore that first landscape with its ghostly mountains in the misty distance. It’s a miniature world, marvelous and magical, hidden on the craggy cliff amid the twisty pines. I only wish . . .” Her voice caught. “I wish Charles were here to share the day with us.” Her eyes shone, and Quain took her arm protectively.
Julia’s grandfather said, “Mister Allingham shared a gift with the nation. A wonderful legacy.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” a composed Louisa said gravely. “Many of the paintings are new to me. My husband’s last surprise.”
Louisa made “widow’s weeds” look exquisite, and Julia noted the perfect harmony of hat and frock. It gave her an idea. She would pursue it on Monday morning, enlisting her Aunt Caroline in the scheme.
“Thank you all for coming,” Louisa said. “If you’ll excuse us?”
William Quain escorted the ladies back to the pictures.
