Hares , Kronborg Slot .
I bring the box back to the enquiry desk and am given the second one. The label on the side says Devereux, Roger: Correspondence 1911–1927 . Inside are dozens of letters still in their envelopes, all slit neatly at the top. Most of the letters are in the same small, tight longhand, addressed to Devereux by a man named Coutts who seems to have managed the daily business of the gallery. The frequency of his letters to Devereux’s address in Surrey suggests Devereux stayed away from London for weeks at a time.
I skim the pages, keeping an eye on the clock behind me. Eleanor’s paintings are mentioned briefly in a letter about potential exhibitions in July 1919, and again in March 1921 among a list of sold works. Then I find a more puzzling note.
23 Mar 19
Dear Mr. Devereux,
I received your letter of the 19th inst. and have disposed of the study as directed. M. Broginart was terribly disappointed and offered to double his price for the canvas, until at last he was made to understand the situation. He enquired about the larger picture and is keen enough to buy the painting sight unseen, though he would not tender a figure and I expressed my grave doubts. Has Mrs. Grafton advised whether that painting shall ever be put out?
The other works in the shipment were the two portraits ( The Housemistress, Dr. Lindberg ) and Kronborg Slot . I received the inventory slips and prices for these works, so please confirm they are suitable for display and sale.
Yrs Faithfully,
Wm. Coutts
I read the letter three times. Then I take it to the desk and ask the archivist to make a photocopy. I hand him the box of letters.
—Could I have the first box again?
I go back to my table and take out the inventory ledger, flipping to the pages for 1919. It lists receipt of three “Grafton” paintings on March 14: Kronborg Slot , Dr. Lindberg , and Nude Study . The last one is crossed out. I turn the page and there are two more of Eleanor’s paintings entered in July 1919: Four March Hares and The Unvanquished .
I lean back into my chair, looking up at the ceiling and trying to keep myself from smiling. I know I should stop, because I can’t be sure about anything. But I keep smiling anyway. I look through the rest of the box, but it’s hard to concentrate now and soon the archive begins to switch off its lights.
A warm rain is falling outside. I start off toward Victoria, stopping to call Prichard from a pay phone. His secretary tells me he’s in a meeting, but when I get back to my hotel room the red light on my phone is blinking. I pick it up.
—Good evening, I’m calling from Twyning and Hooper. Is this Mr. Tristan Campbell?
—Yes.
—Please hold for James Prichard.
Sitting on the bed, I take my notebook and the photocopies from my bag. The red digits of the alarm clock read 6:17. Prichard must be working late.
—The prodigious Mr. Campbell. Don’t tell me you’ve another theory.
I read Prichard the letter from Coutts and describe the ledger entries. It is a moment before he speaks.
—Is this all you’ve found so far?
—Yeah, but it’s important. Don’t you see—
—Yes, yes. Prichard sighs. You believe the picture was of Imogen.
—Exactly.
—Which is why it was destroyed.
—Right.
—And why would that be necessary?
—Because it showed her nude. Because she was pregnant. Or because it showed her in Sweden at all, right before Charlotte was born—
—Pure conjecture, Prichard counters. Very likely Eleanor wished it destroyed because it was only a preliminary study. It sounds as though it was shipped to London by accident. Perhaps she simply didn’t like the picture.
—But someone wanted it. Why destroy a painting that already has a buyer?
—I can imagine any number of reasons. You don’t know the subject of the destroyed painting. You’re connecting it to this Nude Study by circumstantial evidence. What you really have is a theory, the two sisters in Sweden. You’re