The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne Read Online Free Page B

framed oil painting from where it rested against the wall of the storage chamber.
    “The owner claims this is a study by Angelica Kauffman,” she mused, tipping the painting to get better light on its surface. “I am inclined to accept that, as was my father. It is good enough, and in her style. Do you agree with the attribution to her?”
    “I’ve not the eye to agree or not, Miss Fairbourne. That is why your idea will not work. I could not tell the difference between a Titian and a Rembrandt if you held a pistol to my temple, let alone recognize a painting by that woman.”
    “But I can. As for these paintings already in storage, Papa documented them, so they are all secure.”
    Alarm now. Utter bewilderment. “Do you intend to put these in a new auction? I assumed you had only pulled out the better paintings so that the weaker ones would not bring down their value. I was preparing to return them to their owners.”
    “I pulled them because I intend to build a magnificent auction around them. If we must close, I want to do so brilliantly, not with third-rate works such as yesterday’s sale contained.”
    Trailed by Obediah, Emma walked out to the exhibition hall. The walls were empty now. Those paintings were on their ways to their new owners.
    “This will be most odd. Everyone thought yesterday was the final auction. Now there is to be another final auction,” Obediah muttered.
    “It will not be another. It will really be the second half of yesterday’s, since so many works that it will include came in around the same time as those sold yesterday.”
    “So this will be the final part of the final auction?” Obediah was not a complicated man, and he puzzled hard over the knot of not-quite-final finalities.
    Actually, if she could pull this off, there might be no final auction at all, for years to come. She had resolved that Fairbourne’s would survive for her brother, and also for her father’s memory. Considering Obediah’s confusion, she decided not to burden him with those details now.
    “Miss Fairbourne, I know how to call an auction, whether it be for paintings or pigs, but that is all. Your father brought in the consignments, and authenticated them. He also managed the finances and records. I cannot take his place in those things the way you request.”
    “I can, Obediah. I aided my father more than you know.I learned at his side. I apprenticed as surely as Robert did.” She experienced a small panic, because Obediah was sounding stubborn for the first time in her memory. “I can see this through, but only if you let people think that you lead the house now. A small ruse is all I propose, because no one will trust a woman’s management.” She heard her voice assume a pleading note. “I am sure that my father would have wanted Fairbourne’s to continue at least awhile longer.”
    She gestured to the ceiling and walls, and to all that her father had built. It would be horrible to have it end in a blink. The very thought made her heart sick. She dreaded the idea of her brother, Robert, returning home, only to find the most important part of his legacy gone. She also could not bear the thought of losing the business that had been Papa’s great achievement.
    With the purchase of this property three years ago, her father had announced that Fairbourne’s had arrived. The location right off Piccadilly Street made it easy for society to attend the grand previews and sales, and the great exhibition hall displayed dignified grandeur in its proportions, decoration, and tall, big, north-facing windows. The move here had led to better consignments, higher bids, and notable prestige.
    She remembered the excitement she and her brother had shared while they watched the building have a second floor removed so the ceiling soared so high. Robert would bring her over in the carriage almost every evening, to see what progress had occurred. On those rides he regaled her with his dreams for Fairbourne’s. Papa