***
Go to Chatsworth. The steward Montley will speak with you.
That had been all Ives’s letter had said. It needed no further explanation. If such an introduction had been obtained, the chance should not be lost. So Gareth had ridden up to Derbyshire, and the main estate of the Duke of Devonshire.
Gareth approached Chatsworth’s manor house in late morning. He had already ridden through extensive grounds almost as large as some counties. One of the most famous houses in the world now beckoned beyond the river. He stopped his horse on a rise of land to admire the building and its placement, and the evidence of improvements being showered on the estate by the current duke.
He could not guess what his reception would be. Presumably this steward would not pretend a higher station. The man would have had some experience dealing with bastard children of dukes, as the last Duke of Devonshire had sired two.
Grooms took his horse at the house. The butler took his card. Shortly he was escorted to a back office where the steward, Mr. Montley, sat at a high secretaire of incalculable value. A library table beside the desk carried stacks of account books.
Greetings completed, they moved to two chairs that looked out over the back garden.
“I should explain that I am not actually the steward,” Montley said. “My position can best be described as a special secretary. With all of the properties, His Grace felt the need for someone to watch and coordinate all the estate stewards.”
“If you are the man who knows something about these pictures that have gone missing, then you are the man I need to speak with.”
Thinning dark hair and spectacles made Montley look older than his years, which Gareth estimated to be the late thirties. Perhaps he had been a friend of the duke, and thus more trustworthy than those stewards. He bore the air of gentility and education. A younger son of some peer, most likely, for whom this position had more appeal than the church or the army.
“I know what little there is to know. I regret that the actual events that led to the misplacement of the pictures remain unknown.”
“Misplacement.That is a word not used before in the matter.”
“It is our belief that when the last duke died nine years ago, and the estate was in transition, that these pictures were inadvertently removed from their resting place and sent elsewhere due to some misunderstanding on the part of the household that held them.”
In other words,it was not our fault.
“Will you share with me the reason you believe this?” Gareth used all the charm he could muster to say it. There was no profit in challenging Montley.
“It is the only logical explanation, of course. In addition, the caretaker remembers the inventory made at that time, and a good many objects removed. The other properties have been searched in an attempt to see where the pictures were sent. During the last few years I have personally traveled to each one,because there is no point in sending a list of paintings to butlers who would not know a Raphael from a Rubens.”
Gareth pictured the many properties of Devonshire, all stuffed with art. He could believe it had taken years to go through it all. The duke owned eight major estates and many smaller ones.
“You visited each and every one? I envy you. You probably know more about the duke’s collections than he does.”
Montley gestured to the table. “I took the opportunity to make a complete catalogue. The inventory made at the last duke’s death, while lengthy, had some ambiguities and omissions. Lest you wonder if those were not omissions, but instead the inadvertent incorporation of the missing paintings into the duke’s own collection, let me assure you that I do know Raphael from Rubens. Unfortunately, none of the pictures belonging to his fellow peers could be located in those houses.”
“Do you have a list of those paintings? My brother has sought to obtain one, but is meeting some resistance.”
“Perhaps someone fears the list will be published, to the embarrassment of all if it is released.” A meaningful gaze all but said that Devonshire did not want that list circulating.
“Without such a list, I can hardly help. You will be on your own in this mission.”
“That might be for the best.”
“The Prince Regent does not agree. He charged my brother with investigating. I am here instead, due to the death of my half brother. If Devonshire wants no one except you involved, he should tell the Crown that, and I can go about my other business.” He leaned forward companionably. “No one thinks there has been negligence on your part. Yet after, what, four years, the mystery remains. A new pair of eyes and less fastidious methods might yield new facts.”
Montley laughed. “Less fastidious methods? What, do you intend to beat information out of the servants?”
Gareth just looked at him.
Montley frowned. “I am sure your brother would not approve.”
“You do not know my brother well, do you?”
Montley flustered. “I see.”
“Those paintings did not grow legs and walk out of storage.”
