“It was not his to amass,” I said. “I know that.”
“Good.” The contessa gave me a nod. “Then you understand.”
I thought I did. Some bits of the puzzle I did not like, but I knew de Luca had been audacious. I wondered if he’d agreed to the plan in order to save his own skin, or because he, like Baldini, cared about where the artworks would end up. Most likely, my cynical self told me, he’d been promised a lot of money.
A man who lived these days with only a few servants was either a bachelor without many needs, a man who practiced simple living, or a man in straitened circumstances. I guessed the latter in de Luca’s case. I imagined the promised money had made him willingly hide the treasures.
Any rumination was cut short by the door grinding open. I straightened, ready to fight, though I was aching and tired. My head throbbed.
Baldini stood in the doorway. Behind him was a large man, one of the ruffians who’d attacked Brewster and me.
“You didn’t bring the trunk,” Baldini said accusingly.
I leaned on one hand against the wall, trying to behave as though I was in no pain whatsoever. “We could hardly deliver a thing like that, Signor Baldini. But this lady should go home and rest. You have me, and I presume Mr. Brewster. Grenville will negotiate for our release.”
“And let Conte Trevisan do as he pleases?” Baldini spluttered. “He hasbetrayedme. He has betrayed us all.”
The lamp Baldini held was also an ancient sort, a bowl with a protruding spout, rather like a teapot without a handle. The oil went into the bowl, and the wick in the spout gave off the light. De Luca had showed us some in which the spout was the shape of a man’s penis, but this lamp was more decorous.
“How has he betrayed you?” I asked. “Trevisan’s goal is to return all the things Bonaparte stole to their rightful owners, is it not?”
Baldini’s eyes widened as though he’d thought me, all this time, an ignorant lout of an Englishman.
“How do you know about that?”
“It is quite obvious.” It was nothing of the sort, but I mimicked Grenville’s trick of behaving as though one had more knowledge than whomever one addressed. “De Luca was storing the items for Bonaparte, which were destined for the Louvre in Paris. Nothing as large as the horses of St. Mark’s in Venice, but smaller pieces that were not as obvious.”
“Yes.” Baldini’s scowl was dark. “Conte de Luca was a traitor.”
“An opportunist, rather.” De Luca had told Grenville and me that Bonaparte had called on him and threatened to take everything in his house. De Luca had put him off, he’d declared, promising that Bonaparte could return once he was done conquering half the world and have what he liked.
Perhaps their association indeed had begun that way. But more and more artwork turned up in de Luca’s house as Bonaparte fought his way south and French agents helped themselves to paintings, sculptures, tapestries—all the great art from monasteries, cathedrals, and palaces. Bonaparte, as Brewster might say, was a dab hand at nicking.
I’d started to realize what some of the codes meant.PVIcould mean Pius the VI, the name of a pope;V,the Vatican, and04, 1804, the year the item was taken.UVII,could be Urban the VII, though I wasn’t certain whatPBarwas. Palazzo something, perhaps.
“De Luca likely had no choice but to let his home be turned into a storeroom for the pieces that fit into it,” I finished. “Maybe that was the price he paid for keeping his own collection from Bonaparte’s hands.”
“And then the Corsican was defeated.” Baldini stated this with great satisfaction.
“He was defeated, and artwork began to be sent back to where it belonged. But no one came for de Luca’s store, at least not right away. He managed to keep the secret of what was hidden there.”
“He wanted to sell it all.” The contessa’s clear voice cut through our discussion, her words holding derision. “He had no interest in provenances and the value each piece had for its owner, just in the money he could make from them.”
“Because he had little money of his own,” I said. He might have lost his fortune, like Proietti had, when the French took over, or perhaps de Luca’s family, like mine, had spent all their money before de Luca had come into the title. “His own heirlooms he possibly could not or did not want to sell,” I went on, “but the extra loot Bonaparte’s agents had left—that was fair game. A friend told me that de Luca had been acting as an agent to procure art for others, which can be a lucrative business, especially as he now had a storeroom of art at home.”
“No one forgot about anything.” Baldini’s eyes flashed rage in the dim light. “All the princes and archbishops knew their pieces were still missing and wanted them back. They sent—”
“Conte Trevisan,” I finished. “He came to Rome to pick over de Luca’s collection and return the things to their rightful owners.Everything.Which is why he insisted nothing be moved from de Luca’s house. Whether Trevisan means to give those who might have already bought stolen pieces a fair price or simply browbeat them into returning them, I do not know.”
Had Trevisan confronted de Luca? And had de Luca declared he would not relinquish what he had? What had Trevisan done then? He was a cold man, but even cool men could lose their tempers. And when they did …
“How do you know all this, Captain?” the countess asked.
Again, I was struck with how poised she was, but concluded this was simply her character.
“I did not for a long time.” I cleared my throat, the damp air making it sore. “But your son, Contessa, if you’ll forgive me, seemed to be several different men, which confounded me. Was he a libertine who coerced a young lady to live with him while making plans to put his wife aside? Or a devoted husband kind to a young woman simply because she reminded him of his lost daughter? He seemed determined to find the truth of de Luca’s death, which tells me he’s a man who wishes rules to be followed. Then he was adamant thatno oneentered the house but me and those I trusted. We had no stake in this game, you see. I should be flattered he had faith in me, but I rather think he counted on my ignorance.”
I finished this speech and drew a breath, longing for a drink of water.
