A very long, fucking time.

GABRIELLE

My eyes could barely take in what my eyes were privileged enough to be seeing right now. Ladies playing cards, as Ivan had mentioned to me earlier. It was so breathtakingly gorgeous I could do nothing but stare and appreciate it for just the aesthetic value alone. This one was special without a doubt.

It was also another uncatalogued Mallerton, because I could clearly make out his signature at the bottom. That was three Mallerton’s so far, if I counted the one at Hallborough, and I’d barely scratched the surface of Donadea’s art collection. There was more down in storage, too, according to Ivan. My mind started churning as I replayed all my discoveries today. And it had only been a few hours so far. The sheer quantity of paintings Donadea contained was nearly incomprehensible considering the collection was unknown to the art world. Being in this gallery and seeing the paintings on the walls was like watching a treasure chest being unearthed and broken open after having been buried in a cave for decades.

Ivan, aka Lord Rothvale, was probably the most shocking news I’d gotten. Ivan Everley is the current Lord Rothvale. The blood descendant and heir of the man who’d made Tristan Mallerton into the Great Master that he was. This very house had belonged to that other Lord Rothvale, so it was the logical conclusion that Mallerton had likely visited and worked here at Donadea at some point in his life. Mallerton had been very close with Lord and Lady Rothvale IX, considered as one of the family.

But this—this canvas of magnificence before me—was a true gem. I took several photos with Ivan’s mobile before opening the AudioNote app to record my major observations. My voice sounded giddy even to my ears as I described the painting. Three young women, one blonde and the other two with dark hair, in frothy pale dresses encrusted with bows and yards of delicate silk embellishments sat at a felt card table playing… whist maybe? It was cleverly done too. One of the girls showed her winning hand slyly so the observer could see what she held. Three hearts were displayed along with a knowing expression on her face, the others pleasantly unaware they were about to lose to her.

And the girl showing her hand was indeed one and the same person as Mrs. Gravelle, the bride on the white horse in the painting I’d found this morning decorating the staircase. It made perfect sense that the lovely Mrs. Gravelle had been a relative of Lady Rothvale IX if she was portrayed in at least two separate works of Mallerton on display in this house. The blonde at the card table looked like she could be Lady Rothvale IX from what I could recall from memory. They were all beautiful and young, passing time in one of the approved pursuits for women in their social standing during the era. I wanted to know more about them, their names, their families, how they had lived. Mallerton’s work always made you want to know more about the people he had painted.