"The truth is that I was not particularly deep when I married him." I sighed. "And since I have already told you all my horrible secrets, I will confess that I do sometimes imagine that Philip and I would have found ourselves happily engaged in academic discussions, but I wonder if that really could have happened. I do not think I would have ever developed the interests I have now if he had remained alive."
"That is not so surprising. You would have been neatly packaged into the role of wife and, before long, mother, with scant time or opportunity to consider any other path. It is unfortunate that so little is expected of wives from an intellectual point of view."
"I believe most men prefer it that way, Colin," I said.
"I would not. I am confident that most of the women I encounter would bore me to death before the first leg of our wedding trip."
"So you are a confirmed bachelor?" I asked.
"I suppose so."
"You deal a great blow to the mothers of London's unmarried girls."
"My work requires a fair amount of travel that would not be appreciated by most wives," he said.
"I have driven past your lovely estate and would be shocked if there were not plenty of women who would gladly be ensconced there while you are away."
"I am not so desperate for an heir."
"Ah, the pleasures of the common man," I teased. "Thank goodness you have no hereditary title to worry you."
"Yes, I have been spared that burden," he said. "I need only be concerned about the estate and fortune." We both laughed.
"What is your work, Colin? I can't remember that Philip ever told me."
"He probably had more interesting stories with which to regale you. He was, after all, trying to impress you."
"I wouldn't have thought that a man of your station would work. What do you do?"
"Nothing of significance," he said, running his hand through his hair. "Merely a bit of politics. Terribly boring."
"Why does politics bring you abroad so often?" I asked.
"You are full of questions today, aren't you? I shall put a stop to them by revealing to you the other present I have for you."
"What is it?" I asked, full of curiosity.
"I've ordered a case of '87 port to be laid down for you-the Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee vintage. Andrew Palmer is not the only man who can assist in your corruption."
"Thank you, Colin. That will be delightful, even if you have done it only out of a sense of moral obligation. You must come to dinner and have some."
"It will not be ready to drink for another thirty years, Emily."
"Right," I said. "I shall make a note in my diary and be sure to invite you."
"I look forward to it." He rose to leave. "Enjoy your Greek, Emily."
"I shall, Colin, very much. Thank you again."
"Oh-and I must thank you." He pulled an evening glove out of his pocket. "I must have lost this the night of your dinner party. Glad Davis didn't throw it out. It's from my favorite pair."
25 SEPTEMBER 1887
DELPHI, GREECE
The artifacts I have found here are incomparable-some of the most exquisite stonework I have seen. If ever a site begged for systematic excavation, it was Delphi. Almost wish I were not returning to England next month. Lord Bromley has invited me to Darnley House to shoot-I welcome the opportunity to see my darling K. Wedding cannot come soon enough. Perhaps now that the date has been set, Lady Bromley will allow me some time alone with her daughter.
Headed to Athens tomorrow to visit Lysander Vardakas. Have seen his collection of antiquities before-there are few more impressive in private hands-he tells me he has acquired some new pieces of great significance. They cannot be all that he claims, but I still look forward to seeing them.
20
At last the day of my meeting with Mr. Attewater arrived. Our rendezvous, which proved more educational than I could have imagined, began outside the museum, where we sat on a bench for nearly half an hour talking before we went inside. As I listed the items I wanted to look at with him, he immediately recognized each and assured me that he knew their locations in the gallery.
He seemed completely at ease in the British Museum and knew the Greco-Roman collection in great detail. He had an unmistakable admiration for his ancient colleagues and clearly considered himself to be their equal.
"I must admit that you surprised me in Paris, Lady Ashton, when you said that you could see beauty in copies. It is an opinion so unlike that of your husband."
"You told me you did not know him well," I replied, trying not to look down at my companion, who stood several inches shorter than myself.
"No, I did not. Lord Ashton had no interest in my work. As you surely know, he purchased only originals."
"Yes, Mr. Attewater. I am keenly aware of that."
He led me to the first item on my list, the bronze statue Ivy had found so amusing. "I do not work with bronze much. There are a huge number of chemicals one can use to achieve just the right patina on metal, but I prefer the feel of marble. Nonetheless"-he paused as he circled the case wherein the statue rested-"I did produce a copy of this for one of my...er, patrons."
"Mr. Attewater, I remember you said in Paris that your work can be found in some of the world's best museums. Is that true?"
"It is, Lady Ashton."
"Did you make this statue?"
He peered closely at the figure, pulling a magnifying glass out of his coat pocket and examining as best he could the cloak hanging over the figure's arm.
"Yes! That is mine!" he exclaimed.
I admonished him to speak more quietly, hoping that no one else in the gallery had noticed his outburst.
"There is no question about it." He polished the magnifying glass on his waistcoat and beamed proudly as he looked at the statue. "I left a mark on the underside of the cloak. Take a look." He handed me the glass, and I peered at the cloak. Although barely visible, they could be seen: two tiny Greek alphas.
"A.A.," he said, smiling. "My initials."
"Yes, I understand." I nodded slightly.
I ushered him away from the statue, not wanting to draw anyone's attention. As we continued from piece to piece, the reaction was the same. Mr. Attewater recognized all of them as his own work and on many was able to show me his hidden double alphas. I grew more and more depressed as I realized that every artifact currently in my country library was something that belonged in the British Museum. Apollo, it appeared, was not an anomaly.
"Don't you worry," I asked my companion as softly as I could, "that someone at the museum will notice your alphas? Surely the penalty for such an offense is great?"
"Lady Ashton, I assure you I have done nothing wrong. I have been commissioned on numerous occasions to copy pieces from the venerable halls of this museum. As you have seen, I produce them to the best of my abilities and collect my payment. What the purchaser chooses to do with them is none of my concern."
"But surely you knew what was going on." I could not believe that Mr. Attewater was entirely innocent in the matter.
"My art, Lady Ashton, has been largely unappreciated by the public from the time I began to sculpt. After years of trying to succeed on my own, I realized that I could earn enough money to keep my studio by copying antiquities. Is that a crime? I have never received outrageous payment for any of my works. Believe me, were I to sell them as originals, they would command far higher prices. Furthermore, if I were going to attempt to deceive a buyer about the origin of a piece, I obviously would not sign it."
I looked at Mr. Attewater's worn but well-cared-for suit, noted his dignified manner, and found myself believing him. Here stood a man who wanted to be great; if he had money, he would spend it and not wear something so decidedly out-of-date.