‘Do you think this could have been put in at a later date? Say, if the original zip broke?’
‘No,’ answered Padgett. ‘There are no signs of repair to the zip.’ He turned the dress inside out and inspected the sewing line. ‘If this zip was replaced, whoever did so must have been highly skilled. There are no signs of a previous stitching line or anything to indicate the dress has been unpicked.’
‘But what about the picture?’ Darcie picked up the photograph. ‘Chanel is definitely wearing this dress.’
‘We can’t say if it’s this exact dress,’ said Padgett, turning the dress back again. ‘This could simply be a reproduction made at a later date by a fashion student.’
‘But the fabric is vintage. You said yourself it felt authentic,’ said Darcie. ‘It’s not modern. There’s no nylon in it.’
‘It’s not enough to convince me.’ He looked over the rim of his glasses. He turned his attention back to the sketchbook, looking intently at the drawing of the dress.
Darcie sat forward in her seat, waiting for his reaction.
The Frenchman was taking a good deal of interest in the book as he went from page to page, inspecting all the sketches. Finally, he looked up. ‘I’d like to have another expert look at this,’ he said. ‘Someone who will be able to confirm the age of the work, the ink used, the paper, and so on.’
Darcie frowned. ‘I think it’s clear the dress and the sketchbook belong together.’
‘Yes, I agree, and having the sketchbook dated would give us an idea of the age of the dress.’
Darcie could see his logic but, for some reason, she was reluctant to leave the sketchbook. Padgett had a proprietorial hand on the now-closed book.
‘I can see the benefit of that,’ said Darcie. ‘Whereabouts is your contact based?’
‘He’s in New York. I could take it with me and have it looked at while I’m away,’ said Padgett, now picking up the book.
Darcie felt a flutter of panic in her chest at the thought of the book not only leaving her hands but the country too. She stood up and reached across the desk, grasping the corner of the book before Padgett could whisk it away. ‘I’d sooner keep it myself,’ she said, offering what she hoped was a relaxed smile while her fingers held firm. ‘I can arrange for someone to date it, authenticate it and then I can get back to you. I have contacts in England I can ask.’
For a moment she thought Padgett was not going to release the book and a fleeting look of displeasure crossed his face.
Whatever his intention, he managed a smile and removed his hand. ‘Of course,’ he said, smoothing down his tie. ‘I trust you have a safe place for it.’
‘Yes. I do,’ replied Darcie, not wanting to admit she’d been simply carrying it around with her.
‘Please do contact me if you change your mind,’ said Padgett.
Darcie stood up, slipping the book into her bag and the dress into the case. ‘Thank you. I will. Oh, there is just one thing.’
Padgett gave a questioning look. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you able to find out if a Nathalie Leroux ever worked here in Paris at the Ritz during the war? Maybe for Coco Chanel herself?’
A frown creased his forehead. ‘Nathalie Leroux? What makes you ask that?’
‘I believe Nathalie Leroux had a connection with the Ritz hotel, Paris, and Coco Chanel,’ she said, trying not to sound desperate. ‘There was an envelope in the case, with The Ritz, Paris stamped on one side and her name written on the other.’
‘That was all?’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe she was a guest. I don’t know. Leave it with me and if I find anything out, I’ll be in touch,’ replied Padgett briskly. ‘Now, if you excuse me. I do have to go. My assistant will show you out.’ He held his hand out to Darcie. ‘It was a pleasure to have made your acquaintance, Miss Marchant.’
‘Likewise,’ replied Darcie, shaking his hand once again.
With her suitcase trundling along behind her, Darcie followed Padgett’s assistant out of the boardroom and down to the ground floor.
‘Thank you,’ said Darcie as the assistant all but escorted her off the premises.
As she made her way along the pavement back towards the Métro, she heard someone calling her name.
