“Ah, I suppose Ailith has told you they knew each other as children? Well, do not be misled by that. Their acquaintance was of short duration. Mr. Brisbane was, er, travelling, with his mother’s family at the time,” she said, neatly glossing over the fact that the gentleman who now owned her house had once been a wild half-Gypsy boy. She went on smoothly. “They passed through, every spring. And you know what children are, always swearing eternal friendship, then quite forgetting one another when the season has passed. Ailith did not even know him when he first arrived here in January, he is so changed.”
I remained silent, wondering whether Ailith’s attachment to Brisbane had been deeper than her mother knew.
Lady Allenby looked around her for the first time, taking in the small room and its tidy complement of furnishings. “This was my son’s room,” she said suddenly.
She turned away then, and I knew she was thinking of the son she had lost so precipitously. “I wonder if you would like to see Redwall’s things,” she said, almost hopefully.
Nothing could have appealed to me less than sorting through the possessions of a dead man, but Lady Allenby had been very gracious, and I did not like to offend her.
“Of course.”
We entered the long room I had passed through the previous night. She busied herself lighting a few lamps to throw off the chill and the shadows. Without the gloom, the room seemed more inviting, the shrouds less sinister. The tops of the walls were decorated with the same frieze as the small bedchamber—a riverbank, edged with marsh grasses and flights of birds taking wing. Here and there a lily bloomed, pale and fragile against the delicate green grasses, and near the corner a graceful gazelle stopped to drink from the river. It was beautifully done, and I remarked upon it to Lady Allenby.
“Oh, yes. Ailith painted that. She’s rather clever at such things, and it was a present for Redwall after he returned from his travels in Egypt. He was quite taken with the decorations of the tombs, and brought back many drawings, and even a few plates taken by the expedition’s photographer.”
“Egypt—how exciting! I should love to travel. I have only been to the Continent, but Africa seems another world entirely.”
She smiled, her expression nostalgic. “It was to Redwall. He was never happier than when he was reading his books about the pharaohs or working on his models of the tombs and temples. I am afraid it was rather difficult for him to leave Egypt behind. I believe Ailith thought he would pine less if he had something of the place here in his private rooms. Let me show you something.”
She moved toward the nearest dustsheet and tossed it aside with a theatrical flair. I swallowed a gasp. There was a long, low couch, fashioned of thin strips of woven leather and held aloft by a pair of golden leopards.
“Astonishing,” I breathed, moving closer. I dared not touch it. The gilt of the cats’ spots was alternated with blue enamel, the eyes set with great pieces of amber that glowed in the lamplight.
“It is a fake, of course,” she told me, regretfully, I fancied. “Redwall purchased many treasures in Egypt. He wanted to furnish all of Grimsgrave in the Egyptian style. Much of what he purchased is of no value—modern reproductions of the furniture of the pharaoh’s tombs, although I believe some of the smaller pieces and the papyri may be worth something. And there is some jewellery as well. I seem to recall a few pretty things amongst these bits.” She gestured toward the other shrouds in the room, and I turned slowly on my heel, thinking rapidly.
“All of these dustsheets are covering his antiquities?” I asked her.
“Most of them. The others are covering boxes of smaller statues and amulets, boxes of jewellery, his collection of scholarly works and publications. My son travelled for many years, you understand. He often sent things back and we stored them as best we could. This was his workroom, then beyond, in the room Mr. Brisbane uses as a bedchamber, was Redwall’s private study. When Mr. Brisbane came, Redwall’s things were moved into this room to give him a bedchamber on the ground floor. One must observe the proprieties, even here,” she finished with a wan smile.
I took a deep breath and plunged into what I was afraid might be a colossal piece of impudence.
“Lady Allenby, I do hope you will forgive me for speaking so frankly. You have given me to understand that your son’s death has left you and your daughters in rather straitened circumstances.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I hurried on, afraid both that she would accept my proposal and that she would reject it. I had suddenly seen how the Allenbys might be made solvent again, and I was certain that in some fashion I was conspiring against some larger scheme of Brisbane’s. I had no notion how, precisely, only that I was very sure he would not have cause to thank me for what I was about to do.
“It is entirely possible that within this room may lay your salvation. Have you a catalogue of what pieces Sir Redwall brought from Egypt?”
She shook her head. “No. I have his letters, and in those he talks about a few of the larger items, but if he kept an inventory, I do not know of it.”
“Then one must be made,” I said boldly. “You told me that Mr. Brisbane was preparing a home for you. Surely you will have no room for this collection there.”
“No, of course not,” she said slowly. “I confess I hoped not to. The Egyptian things have never been to my taste. I find them rather gruesome. It was something of a relief to be able to put them all in here and close the door.”
I felt a glimmer of hope. If she had been relieved not to see the things, she might well have no objections to my plan.
“This room will have to be cleared for Mr. Brisbane’s use eventually, and you will not be able to keep the things. Why not let me prepare a catalogue and make some inquiries for you? My brother, Lord Bellmont, is rather good friends with the director of the British Museum. Perhaps he can arrange for the museum to purchase some of the items. Or, failing that, we could no doubt interest one of the antiquities dealers in London in mounting an exhibition with an eye to selling the entire collection. Scholars will certainly be interested in his papers and books and the papyri, and collectors will be terribly keen for the rest of it. Even society ladies will go mad for the reproductions. Egyptian décor is rather in vogue just now, you know.”
I paused, and for a long, terrible moment Lady Allenby said nothing. Then she swallowed hard and looked down at the dustsheet still clutched in her knobby fingers.
“You are very practical, my dear. And as I suspected, very clever. It might well be an end to all of our money troubles. But I do not think—”
She broke off and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Just as quickly as she had broken down, she composed herself, her posture once more erect, her eyes dry.
“I do not think I could bear to touch his things, nor could Ailith. Hilda might, if you could ever run her to ground, but I fear we would be of little help to you.”
I felt a surge of relief. “I do not care about that, I assure you. If I have need of assistance, I am quite certain I can persuade my brother, Valerius, to lend a hand. I would be happy to take this on, and if you will permit me, I will write to Bellmont tonight to set things in motion.”
Lady Allenby paused another long moment, then nodded. “In that case, I accept your generous offer with one caveat. Do you think it would be possible to arrange the sale without bringing the Allenby name into it?”
I started to protest, but she held up a hand. “I realise the interest would be much greater if Redwall’s name was attached, but it has been so difficult already, with the sale of the house, and being dependent upon Mr. Brisbane’s good graces. The sale of our furnishings has been discreet. We have so few visitors. Very few know how dire our situation has become. I should not like it to be known that we were forced to sell Redwall’s things.”
I laid a hand on her arm. “Of course. I shall make certain the entire affair is handled with discretion.”