Джеффри Арчер - This Was a Man

‘And why didn’t they?’

‘It seems that someone sent the family a copy of the Sotheby’s catalogue, which aroused no interest at the time as none of them recognized the vases, even though they were displayed on the cover.’

‘Then how did they find out?’ repeated Virginia.

‘It was evidently the duke’s nephew, Tristan, who raised the alarm. He is apparently in the habit of sneaking down to the kitchen during the school holidays. He thought he recognized the vases on the cover of the catalogue and told his mother where he’d last seen them. Lady Camilla contacted the family solicitor, Mr Blatchford, who wasted no time in obtaining a court order to prevent the sale. Having done so, they took the next train to London, and arrived, to quote Mr Blatchford, in the nick of time.’

‘What would have happened if they had arrived after the hammer had come down?’

‘That would have caused the family an interesting dilemma. The duke would have been left with two choices. He could either have allowed the sale to proceed and collected the money, or sued you for the full amount, in which case I’m bound to say that, in my opinion, a judge would have had no choice but to come down in favour of the Hertford estate, and might even have referred the case to the DPP to decide if you had committed a criminal offence.’

‘But I didn’t know about the aristocrats’ clause,’ protested Virginia.

‘Ignorance of the law is not a defence,’ said Sir Edward firmly. ‘And in any case, I suspect a judge would find it hard to believe that you hadn’t selected the vases most carefully, and knew only too well what they were worth. I should warn you, that is also Mr Blatchford’s opinion.’

‘So will the vases have to be returned to the duke?’

‘Ironically, no. The Hertfords must also abide by the letter of the law, as well as the spirit of your late husband’s will, so the vases will be sent back to you to enjoy for the rest of your life. However, Mr Blatchford has informed me that if you return them within twenty-eight days, the family will take no further legal action, which I consider is generous in the circumstances.’

‘But why would they want the vases now, when they’ll get them back anyway in the fullness of time?’

‘I would suggest that the possibility of them banking a million pounds might well be the answer to that question, your grace. I understand Mr Poltimore has already been in touch with the duke and informed him that he has a private buyer in Chicago lined up.’

‘Has the man no morals?’

‘However, I would still advise you to return them by October nineteenth if you don’t want to face another lengthy and expensive court case.’

‘I will, of course, take your advice, Sir Edward,’ said Virginia, accepting she had been left with no choice. ‘Please assure Mr Blatchford that I will return the vases to Clarence by October nineteenth.’

An agreement was struck between Sir Edward and Mr Blatchford that the two Ming Dynasty vases would be returned to the fourteenth Duke of Hertford at his home in Eaton Square, on or before October 19th. In exchange, Clarence had signed a legally binding agreement that no further action would be taken against Virginia, Dowager Duchess of Hertford, and he also agreed to cover her legal costs for the transaction.

Virginia had a long liquid lunch with Bofie Bridgwater at Mark’s Club on October 19th and didn’t get back home to Chelsea until nearly four, by which time the lights in the square had already been turned on.

She sat alone in the front room of her little flat and stared at the two vases. Although she had only possessed them for a few months, as each day passed, she had come to appreciate why they were regarded as works of genius. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she was going to miss them. However, the thought of another legal battle and Sir Edward’s exorbitant fee, catapulted her back into the real world.

It was Bofie who had pointed out, just after they’d opened their second bottle of Merlot, the significance of the words ‘on or before’, and it amused Virginia to think she could at least have a little fun at Clarence’s expense.

After a light supper, she ran herself a bath, and lay among the bubbles giving considerable thought to what she should wear for the occasion, as this was clearly going to be a closing-night performance. She settled on black, a colour her late husband had always favoured, especially after escorting her back to Eaton Square following an evening at Annabel’s.

Virginia didn’t hurry herself, aware that her timing had to be perfect, before the curtain could come down. At 11.40 p.m., she stepped out of the flat and hailed a taxi. She explained to the driver that she would require some help in putting two large vases in the back. He couldn’t have been more obliging, and once Virginia had settled herself on the back seat, he asked, ‘Where to, madam?’

‘Thirty-two Eaton Square. And could you drive slowly, as I wouldn’t want the vases to be damaged.’

‘Of course, madam.’

Virginia sat on the edge of the seat, a hand placed firmly on the rim of each vase while the cabbie drove the short distance from Chelsea to Eaton Square, never moving out of first gear.

When the cab finally pulled up outside No. 32, memories of her time with Perry came flooding back, reminding Virginia once again just how much she missed him. The driver climbed out and opened the back door for her.

‘Would you be kind enough to put the vases on the top step,’ she said as she climbed out of the cab. She waited until the driver had done so before adding, ‘If you could wait, I’ll only be a few moments, then you can drive me back home.’

‘Of course, madam.’

Virginia checked her watch: nine minutes to twelve. She had kept her side of the bargain. She pressed the doorbell and waited until she saw a light on the third floor go on. A few moments later a familiar face appeared at the window. She smiled up at Clarence, who opened the window and peered down at her.

‘Is that you, Virginia?’ he asked, trying not to sound exasperated.

‘It most certainly is, my darling. I’m just returning the vases.’ She looked again at her watch. ‘I think you’ll find it’s seven minutes to midnight, so I’ve kept my side of the bargain.’ A second light came on and Camilla leant out of another window and said, ‘And only just in time.’

Virginia smiled sweetly up at her stepdaughter. She was about to walk back to the taxi, but paused for a moment to give the two vases one last look. She then bent down, and with all the strength she could muster, lifted one of them high above her head like an Olympic weightlifter. After holding it there for a moment, she allowed it to slip from her fingers. The exquisite five-hundred-year-old national treasure bounced down the stone steps, before finally shattering into a hundred pieces.

Lights began to go on all over the house, and the words ‘fucking bitch’ were among the more restrained of Camilla’s opinions.

Warming to her task, Virginia stepped forward as if to take a curtain call. She picked up the second vase and, like the first, raised it high above her head. She heard the door open behind her.

‘Please, no!’ shouted Clarence, as he leapt forward, arms outstretched, but Virginia had already let go of the vase and, if anything, the second irreplaceable Chinese masterpiece broke into even more pieces than the first.

Virginia walked slowly down the steps, making her way carefully through a mosaic of blue and white broken porcelain, before climbing into the waiting taxi.

As the driver began the journey back to Chelsea, he looked in his rear-view mirror to see his passenger had a smile on her face. Virginia didn’t once look back to survey the carnage, because this time she’d read the legal document clause by clause, and there was no mention of what condition the two Ming vases should be in when they were returned ‘on or before October 19th’.