Death at the Auction by E. C. Bateman

Author:E. C. Bateman [Bateman, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008564902
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

Chapter Eighteen

“Kill him?” Olivia stared at her, eyes bulging. “What on earth are you talking about? We bought from him.”

“It was an accident,” Francesca whimpered, wringing the hem of her dress in her hands. “But he had the most marvellous enamel égouttoir in his sale. It was just perfect. We even knew who we’d sell it to.”

“We agonised about it for days, didn’t we, Francesca?”

“Days,” Francesca repeated solemnly.

“In the end we said we’d just watch the auction online. We promised ourselves.”

“Promised,” Francesca breathed earnestly.

“But then…” Olivia sagged back against the workbench. “It just happened.”

“We clicked the ‘bid’ button.” Francesca’s face disappeared behind fingers festooned with bejewelled stacking rings.

“We felt awful about it,” Olivia explained hastily. “But by then it was too late. We’d bought it.”

“Awful,” Francesca gave a muffled moan.

“It did sell well, mind,” Francesca sighed wistfully. “It was a good buy. And, then… well, you know how these things are: once you’ve done it once, it’s so easy to…” she leaned forward conspiratorially, then whispered, “… do it again.”

“And again,” Francesca intoned miserably. “If Mummy knew about it then she’d have a fit. She’d never forgive us.”

Felicia, who’d been watching this whole farcical exchange with a mounting sense of unreality and disbelief, forced herself to breathe out slowly. Her heart rate was returning to normal, at least, but her nerves were still jangling, her mouth dry with the remnants of fear. She couldn’t work out if she wanted to hug them both for not murdering her or strangle them herself for being so astonishingly asinine.

“Why not?” She managed not to do either, and instead rasped out what seemed to be the pertinent question.

They looked uncertainly at each other. In the end, as usual, Olivia took the decision.

“They’re in the middle of a legal dispute,” she explained quietly. “Mummy’s going to take him to court. No one’s supposed to know; it’s all very embarrassing for her.”

Felicia, suddenly interested, folded her arms and looked expectant. Olivia swallowed, then continued, with visible reluctance:

“Money was tight last year. We’d had that washout summer, and most of the outdoor events had to be cancelled. Then the roof started leaking. Again.” A strained smile was summoned at this. “The estate didn’t have the money to pay for it. So, Mummy had to do what she always does in that situation: she sells something.”

“A painting, a piece of furniture, a vase…” Francesca piped up. “Something from a dark corner. Nothing that anyone would notice.”

“There was this painting…there’d always been this family rumour that it might be a Constable. Such a small, dark little picture really. It didn’t look like much. Anyway, it had been sitting in the servant’s corridor for generations, and several people had been out to look at it. No one was very confident, so she decided it was time to sell it. She got Barrington Clay around to value it for her. He agreed that it wasn’t likely, said he’d check with some of his London contacts. In the end, he told her it was probably “school of”.

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