‘Yes, I’m afraid you have,’ said Elizabeth, any remaining colour draining from her cheeks. ‘You see, the truth of the matter is that the whole thing got out of control, and I carried on bidding for longer than I should have done.’ She paused. ‘I’d never been to an auction before, and when I failed to get the grandfather clock, and then saw Margaret pick up the Turner so cheaply, I’m afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself.’
‘Well, you can always put it back up for sale,’ said Cornelius with mock sadness. ‘It’s a fine piece, and sure to retain its value.’
‘We’ve already looked into that,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But Mr Botts says there won’t be another furniture auction for at least three months, and the terms of the sale were clearly printed in the catalogue: settlement within seven days.’
‘But I’m sure that if you were to leave the piece with him...’
‘Yes, he suggested that,’ said Hugh. ‘But we didn’t realise that the auctioneers add 15 per cent to the sale price, so the real bill is for £126,500. And what’s worse, if we put it up for sale again they also retain 15 per cent of the price that’s bid, so we would end up losing over thirty thousand.’
‘Yes, that’s the way auctioneers make their money,’ said Cornelius with a sigh.
‘But we don’t have thirty thousand, let alone 126,500,’ cried Elizabeth.
Cornelius slowly poured himself another cup of tea, pretending to be deep in thought. ‘Umm,’ he finally offered. ‘What puzzles me is how you think I could help, bearing in mind my current financial predicament.’
‘We thought that as the auction had raised nearly a million pounds...’ began Elizabeth.
‘Far higher than was estimated,’ chipped in Hugh.
‘We hoped you might tell Mr Botts you’d decided to keep the piece; and of course we would confirm that that was acceptable to us.’
‘I’m sure you would,’ said Cornelius, ‘but that still doesn’t solve the problem of owing the auctioneer £16,500, and a possible further loss if it fails to reach £110,000 in three months’ time.’
Neither Elizabeth nor Hugh spoke.
‘Do you have anything you could sell to help raise the money?’ Cornelius eventually asked.
‘Only our house, and that already has a large mortgage on it,’ said Elizabeth.
‘But what about your shares in the company? If you sold them, I’m sure they would more than cover the cost.’
‘But who would want to buy them,’ asked Hugh, ‘when we’re only just breaking even?’
‘I would,’ said Cornelius.
Both of them looked surprised. ‘And in exchange for your shares,’ Cornelius continued, ‘I would release you from your debt to me, and also settle any embarrassment with Mr Botts.’
Elizabeth began to protest, but Hugh asked, ‘Is there any alternative?’
‘Not that I can think of,’ said Cornelius.
‘Then I don’t see that we’re left with much choice,’ said Hugh, turning to his wife.
‘But what about all those years we’ve put into the company?’ wailed Elizabeth.
‘The shop hasn’t been showing a worthwhile profit for some time, Elizabeth, and you know it. If we don’t accept Cornelius’s offer, we could be paying off the debt for the rest of our lives.’
Elizabeth remained unusually silent.
‘Well, that seems to be settled,’ said Cornelius. ‘Why don’t you just pop round and have a word with my solicitor? He’ll see that everything is in order.’
‘And will you sort out Mr Botts?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘The moment you’ve signed over the shares, I’ll deal with the problem of Mr Botts. I’m confident we can have everything settled by the end of the week.’
Hugh bowed his head.
‘And I think it might be wise,’ continued Cornelius — they both looked up and stared apprehensively at him — ‘if Hugh were to remain on the board of the company as Chairman, with the appropriate remuneration.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hugh, shaking hands with his brother. ‘That’s generous of you in the circumstances.’ As they returned down the corridor Cornelius stared at the portrait of his son once again.
‘Have you managed to find somewhere to live?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘It looks as if that won’t be a problem after all, thank you, Elizabeth. I’ve had an offer for The Willows far in excess of the price I’d anticipated, and what with the windfall from the auction, I’ll be able to pay off all my creditors, leaving me with a comfortable sum over.’
‘Then why do you need our shares?’ asked Elizabeth, swinging back to face him.
‘For the same reason you wanted my Louis XIV table, my dear,’ said Cornelius as he opened the front door to show them out. ‘Goodbye Hugh,’ he added as Elizabeth got into the car.
Cornelius would have returned to the house, but he spotted Margaret coming up the drive in her new car, so he stood and waited for her. When she brought the little Audi to a halt, Cornelius opened the car door to allow her to step out.
‘Good morning, Margaret,’ he said as he accompanied her up the steps and into the house. ‘How nice to see you back at The Willows. I can’t remember when you were last here.’
‘I’ve made a dreadful mistake,’ his sister admitted, long before they had reached the kitchen.
Cornelius refilled the kettle and waited for her to tell him something he already knew.
‘I won’t beat about the bush, Cornelius. You see, I had no idea there were two Turners.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Cornelius matter-of-factly. ‘Joseph Mallord William Turner, arguably the finest painter ever to hail from these shores, and William Turner of Oxford, no relation, and although painting at roughly the same period, certainly not in the same league as the master.’
‘But I didn’t realise that...’ Margaret repeated. ‘So I ended up paying far too much for the wrong Turner — not helped by my sister-in-law’s antics,’ she added.
‘Yes, I was fascinated to read in the morning paper that you’ve got yourself into the Guinness Book of Records for having paid a record price for the artist.’
‘A record I could have done without,’ said Margaret. ‘I was rather hoping you might feel able to have a word with Mr Botts, and...’
‘And what...?’ asked Cornelius innocently, as he poured his sister a cup of tea.
‘Explain to him that it was all a terrible mistake.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my dear. You see, once the hammer has come down, the sale is completed. That’s the law of the land.’
‘Perhaps you could help me out by paying for the picture,’ Margaret suggested. ‘After all, the papers are saying you made nearly a million pounds from the auction alone.’
‘But I have so many other commitments to consider,’ said Cornelius with a sigh. ‘Don’t forget that once The Willows is sold, I will have to find somewhere else to live.’
‘But you could always come and stay with me...’
‘That’s the second such offer I’ve had this morning,’ said Cornelius, ‘and as I explained to Elizabeth, after being turned down by both of you earlier, I have had to make alternative arrangements.’
‘Then I’m ruined,’ said Margaret dramatically, ‘because I don’t have £10,000, not to mention the 15 per cent. Something else I didn’t know about. You see, I’d hoped to make a small profit by putting the painting back up for sale at Christie’s.’
The truth at last, thought Cornelius. Or perhaps half the truth.
‘Cornelius, you’ve always been the clever one in the family,’ Margaret said, with tears welling up in her eyes. ‘Surely you can think of a way out of this dilemma.’
Cornelius paced around the kitchen as if in deep thought, his sister watching his every step. Eventually he came to a halt in front of her. ‘I do believe I may have a solution.’