Mr. Finnegan took care of all things apparently. My lavender bridesmaid dress and underwear from the wedding was inside, along with my beloved Manolos. Quite literally the sum total of what I'd brought with me—the clothes on my back.
I put on the bra and panties I'd worn at the wedding because they were my only clean option, before donning the blue silk robe I'd become very attached to. Good thing Ivan had given it to me, because I'd already began thinking of it as mine.
I decided the smoking-jacket was as "dressed" as I was going to be for the rest of this day and opted for staying in my rooms over exploring the house as Ivan had suggested.
I reasoned that if I went exploring, I'd likely find more Mallertons or similar treasures to freak-out over, and I really needed to slow my roll with that. Seriously. I was desperate to just write down some basic notes on my initial findings—from earlier today alone. I was a guest in the private ancestral home of Lord and Lady Rothvale nine for Christ's sake. The same Lord Rothvale who'd made the painting career of Tristan Mallerton. Hell, Mallerton himself had probably stayed here many times and painted glorious pictures, but I didn't feel like treasure-hunting any more for the day. I realized that seemed horribly ungrateful and only slightly less irrational, but I just needed a minute to process and write down some details about the paintings I'd already found today. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I'm sure I'd feel different then. Likely on a crusade to open the crates down in storage to see what hidden treasures I might discover there. Jesus, this was going to be a task.
Hopefully, I wouldn't have to leave the room for a meal, or maybe Ivan would be back soon and have a different plan. But I couldn't waste time worrying about that right now because I'd found pen and paper on the desk in the sitting room. I had a bit of quiet time at my disposal and everything else I needed for writing down observations from what I'd found at Donadea thus far. Once I had access to the internet, I could do more research into exactly when Lord and Lady Rothvale IX had lived here. So, I made a perfect cup of tea for myself, settled in and got down to work. The next two hours passed in a blink and I did not look up until Mr. Finnegan breezed in announcing he'd come bearing my dinner.
I'd been so absorbed in my notes I hadn't realized the late afternoon had faded into twilight and then into night. Because it was now dark outside. The stars and moon were shining in at me through the window. And Ivan still wasn't back yet?
"Mr. Finnegan, you amaze me. Did you prepare this very delicious meal of roast chicken and potatoes?" I asked him as I enjoyed of bite of buttery mashed potatoes from my plate.
As he'd entered the room with his cart earlier, he'd promptly began setting out a full-course dinner at the small table in front of the window. A table large enough for two, but it would be a table for just one tonight, as Mr. Finnegan had only brought dinner for me apparently. I had wine and everything. This was like room service at the Ritz—probably even nicer than what the Ritz could do.
"Yes indeed, Miss Hargreave, cooking is my enjoyment and I'm always looking to try out new recipes. If you have any particular requests or dietary requirements, please send them along and I'll have a go. Until very recently, there's not been many to cook for at Donadea for the last few years. It's good to be back at work in my kitchen." He smiled at me bigger than I'd ever seen him do thus far, and said, "Might I say that it's a true pleasure having you as a guest here, my dear." He was so sweet. I wanted to give him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek, but I didn't dare ruin this lovely moment by embarrassing him. I even got an upgrade to "my dear" and everything. I love Mr. Finnegan.
"Well, you are a kitchen wizard and I appreciate everything you've prepared since I've been here. It's all been so delicious. Other than a soy allergy I don't have any special dietary requirements. I feel like I'm having a spa weekend or something—and I mean that separate from all the gorgeous art I get to admire as I work."
"Thank you for letting me know about the soy, I'll make a note of it."
I'd be back to my pre-illness weight plus more if I kept eating like this three times a day. "Have you heard from Ivan—I mean Lord Rothvale? Has he returned to Donadea?"
"Lord Rothvale did check in via his mobile earlier. He sends his apologies, but he had to stay in Belfast longer than anticipated. He did want you to have the documents to read over and sign however, so I'll be bringing those to you when I return to clear the table. The contracts are printing out now and should be ready for you shortly," he said with a tilt of his head, his hands behind his back."
Well, that answered my question about Ivan. I was on my own here until he returned. "Ah…okay, thank you for the message and also for taking care of me so well, Mr. Finnegan."
He cleared his throat. "Just Finnegan is sufficient whenever you address me, miss."
"Oh…I didn't realize. Will you use Gaby when addressing me?"
He grinned before lowering his eyes to look down at the carpet. "Not a chance, Miss Hargreave."
I smiled back at him. "I didn't think so, Mr. Finnegan."
I really wished I had my reading glasses right now.
Inspecting important contracts without them wasn't impossible but it had to be done under a good reading lamp, and slowly, to make sure I was seeing the words as they were written. But if I was reading this CONSULTING AGREEMENT right… a finder's fee of one-percent of the sale price of any Donadea-Rothvale artworks sold within the next ten years was due to "Consultant Gabrielle Hargreave of The University of London." In addition to a generous monthly stipend for the next year with an extension clause to be negotiated if more time was needed to complete the work after a period of one year had elapsed.
Lord Jesus Christ. I was no numbers expert, but I knew the value of Donadea's art collection had to be in the hundreds of millions of pounds just based on the few paintings I'd been able to identify in a day. There were others I'd only glanced at but knew needed my focused attention. Older works from the seventeenth century looking a whole lot like Dutch masters, and even some Renaissance era paintings here and there on the walls of Donadea. A painting of Leda and the Swan had particularly caught my eye. When I first saw it the hair on the back of my neck stood right up—because it appeared really fucking authentic and eerily…Michelangelo-ish. I'd been too scared to even go there in my mind, because if it were his then I was in way above my pay grade here. Even with the fortune Ivan was paying me. If he had original paintings by Michelangelo, and Pieter Bruegel-the-Elder, and Vermeer in addition to the Mallerton works, the value of his collection would be well over a billion pounds. One-percent of a billion was ten million pounds.
Oh. My. God.
That was if he sold the paintings. Which from the wording of this contract seemed like his intended goal? Smart really. Paintings of this value belonged in a museum where they could be secured and shared with the world. The security level here was not sufficient for this collection as it stood. Not even close.
If anyone knew about the art being here at Donadea at all.
But it was especially clear the art world didn't know, though. Hordes of media and speculators would be trying to push their way into Donadea if they even suspected it was here. Or attempts to steal it would have been made by now… Rather terrifying to think in either of those scenarios. I needed to tell Ivan in broad strokes what he was sitting on.