Chapter Ten

Another Royal Mystery

Summary:

Miss Fanny acquaints Marianne with a mystery regarding the Royal family's art collection, with a hidden intention behind her tale.

'Marie' was something that Marianne had not been called since her brother died. But Miss Fanny was so cheerful and open that she found that she did not mind. Not at all. Perhaps she was rendered more comfortable with the familiarity by the fact that Miss Fanny had given her permission to use a pet name of her own as well.

She started a conversation by asking, "Tell me Miss Marie, what a lovely young lady such as yourself is hiding away here, not in the midst of the festivities?"

Marianne looked down bashfully and attempted to come up with a reply that would not embarrass her or sound impertinent. She bit her lip and blushed as she tried to think of something respectful to say. Which is something that had never been her forte in the past. So, it probed to be a little difficult. Especially because she was so unused to speaking to people of high rank in an equal manner that it really threw her.

"I'm much more an appreciator of art than I am a dancer, Miss Fanny," was what Marianne finally settled on saying.

It seemed to be a good choice, because it made Miss Fanny smile fondly at her.

"That is an unusual quality in a young lady, but one that I really appreciate. I am very fond of art myself. Did you take the opportunity to tour the public display?"

"I did," Marianne replied gaining an enthusiasm for the conversation. Art was one of the only subjects where she felt confident she could keep up easily with the upper classes, "It was immensely impressive. I saw so many works of artists I admire, and so many famous pieces that I never thought I would get the opportunity to view."

Miss Fanny leaned a little forward, clearly enthused by the conversation as well, "I understand perfectly, my dear, I always sneak away to tour the gallery whenever I have occasion to come to the palace."

Marianne nodded, with a smile beginning to take over her features, "I feel I have learned so much in the last few hours, just from having the chance to see this outstanding collection. More than I have learned in years."

"I often feel the same," Miss Fanny agreed, "Are you a student of art then? Do you paint yourself?"

"I have not painted in quite a while, but I always sketch. Personally, I prefer charcoal to pencil. It is just what I am used to and am most comfortable with. So, I usually feel I get better results from it because of that."

That response seemed to please Miss Fanny a great deal, "You are quite right Miss Marie, we all do achieve the best results when we have practised at a skill. No true excellence can come without application."

"That is true, Miss Fanny. Which is why I fear my skill with a brush has been horribly neglected for too long."

"It is quite difficult to practice such a skill while in service. Impossible, I would say," Miss Fanny agreed.

It was not difficult to see how Miss Fanny had come to the correct conclusion that Marianne was in service. A person's attire and bearing said a lot about them in a simple glance. Marianne's clothing, as well as how nervous she was in speaking to Miss Fanny this way, all screamed her position to any and all observers. It was a simple fact. And Marianne was not offended in the slightest that Miss Fanny brought it up, as she did not do so maliciously. And Marianne was not ashamed of being in service. It was a better life than she had experienced in a long time.

"It certainly is, I'm lucky enough that the family who employ me afford me the time to keep up my skills to a certain extent. But the time and expense painting requires is just not possible," Marianne informed her seriously, "But my position is comfortable enough that the sacrifice is worth it."

"I am glad to hear that you are content with your current circumstances, but it may be premature to give up on painting altogether. We never can know what our future holds."

Marianne outright laughed at that. No one knew that better than her. She would comfortably wager all of her meagre savings on it. Miss Fanny took that to be the hearty agreement that it was and chuckled along with Marianne.

"Trust me, Miss Fanny, I know that perfectly well. How else would an artist end up in service if not through a strange and unpredictable life?"

Miss Fanny let out another soft chuckle at that. Covering her mouth with a gloved hand, as though she was going to get caught and scolded by a governess. It was such an adorable and girlish thing to see a grown woman do, that it brought another laugh bubbling out of Marianne's throat. It took Marianne and her unexpected companion a few minutes to master themselves, but when they did, Miss Fanny had more questions for her.

"It is quite interesting to me that I should meet with an artist in this room of the palace, as this is the most interesting part of the royal collection," she began, a twinkle of gleeful interest in her eye, "For the paintings within this room are shrouded in penetrable mystery."

Marianne could not refrain from laughing aloud again at that declaration, though from Miss Fanny's bearing, Marianne could see that her companion was utterly serious. Still, the mere thought that the works in this room, her own works, were mysterious was so laughably ridiculous that she could not prevent herself from doing just that. Luckily, Marianne's odd companion did no appear to be offended by her glib manner. Quite the opposite. Miss Fanny in fact seemed to be delighted by Marianne's reaction.

"You do not know of this great artistic mystery?" she asked teasingly, to which Marianne responded in the negative, "Oh that is a pity! For I was planning to pick your brain on the issue. Alas! Well, have no misery over it, as I now have the joy of telling you the very interesting tale of these lovely works."

"I should enjoy that immensely, Miss Fanny, if you would favour me with your account of it. I believe we have time aplenty for you to do so."

"It would be a pleasure, my dear Miss Marie," Miss Fanny thrilled and leaned toward the younger woman eagerly, "These works were purchased by the late Queen Celia, and were by all accounts her favourites of all the masterpieces in the Royal collection. Not for any technical brilliance, or any great painter associated with them. Her Majesty favoured them because they evoked a sense of innocence and optimism. I did not ever have the opportunity to speak with the Queen on the subject, but if that was, in fact, her opinion I must say I agree with Her Majesty."

"You see innocence and optimism when you study these paintings, Miss Fanny?" Marianne was unable to stop herself interrupting, she was too surprised by that evaluation of her work.

Happily, she was able to keep her surprise in check, and speak only with light curiosity. Instead of bursting forth with the astonishment that she was repressing, if only barely.

"I do indeed, my girl," Miss Fanny confirmed happily, "Why, what do you see in these paintings Miss Marie?"

"Something very different, I am afraid," Marianne replied, and not wishing to elaborate steered the conversation back toward the apparent mystery, "But this account does not so far appear to be suspicious to me."

This tactic worked, because Miss Fanny eagerly returned to her tale of mystery. As it was a more interesting topic to discuss than Marianne's particular opinion on the feelings evoked by a work of art. At the moment, at least. Miss Fanny seemed to be the sort Marianne could easily delve into such a discussion with.

"Oh, I have not gotten to the best part my dear," Miss Fanny informed her with a smile and a wave of her hand, "The most interesting part of this story is that the Royal family purchased these works from Garrison's. A dealer in fine art whose knowledge of historical and modern artists is unparalleled."

"I have heard of the man's reputation," Marianne agreed, "He is widely regarded as an expert curator and unrivalled authenticator of artwork."

"That he certainly is," Miss Fanny agreed, "He saved my late husband and myself from purchasing two forged works in the past. Works which, mind you, had been authenticated by a Greek museum."

"He seems an impressive mind," Marianne praised him.

Marianne knew all of this about the Garrison dealership, and more. Her father had dealt with him in the past. Everyone in Europe who was in the world of art knew Garrison and his establishment. Still, Marianne decided it was best for herself not to allude to any familiarity with the man or his employees.

Though it was difficult to keep herself in regulation. Her mind was busy ruminating over how her works had passed from the hands of her father's creditors to such an establishment as Garrison's, of all places. It was a mind-boggling thing to discover, although it had evidently happened. Somehow. Though Marianne could not guess at how it had occurred.

"Now, Garrison's are the best authenticators in Europe, but when the late Queen Celia declared her intent to purchase the works, Garrison informed Her Majesty that he was unaware of who had created them," Miss Fanny revealed with the air Marianne imagined a detective might reveal who a murderer was at the climax of a lengthy investigation.

"Truly?" Marianne asked, as she was supposed to, "How could that be the case?"

"Upon investigation it came out that the paintings and miniatures were bought from the owner of a gambling house," Miss Fanny informed her with all the scandalised horror of an upper class lady who had been raised strictly morally, "And the owner of the gambling parlour would not reveal from whence he came into possession of the pieces."

That, Marianne could easily believe. She knew exactly who would have been the man to sell her work. And Mr. Ballew was a tough old man, trying to get any information from him would have been an insurmountable task. Marianne could easily see Garrison's employees simply giving up and taking the pieces for his requested price. He was not a man who could be negotiated with.

Frankly, Marianne could not imagine anyone waiting to remain in a room with him long enough to negotiate with the man. Anyone who attempted it was of a stronger stomach and a more stable temper than she was in possession of herself. There had been several occasions where Marianne seriously contemplated shooting the man.

And before you judge her for having had such a malicious thought, know that Mr. Ballew would most definitely have deserved it. Had she done it, Marianne likely would have been hailed as a local hero.

"Tell me, what occurred once that had come to light?" Marianne asked, quite curious regarding the story now.

"Garrison was questioned, of course, and revealed that he bought the works regardless of this because he believed they could be the work of Jeanne Renoir, who had lived in the area that the man selling the pieces was know to be from," Miss Fanny explained quickly, "Alas, when the man himself had the opportunity to examine the works himself, Garrison determined that they were not the work of Jeanne Renoir."

"And so, the identity of the painter remains a mystery," Marianne concluded.

"There are plenty of theories," Miss Fanny informed her, "Garrison declared that there is a remarkable similarity of technique to the works of Jeanne Renoir, but it is the style and brushstrokes that do not match up."

"And what would that lead him to think?" Marianne wondered with a small smile, knowing that she would most definitely not be a suspect in any of the curator's theories, nor any of those dreamed up by the wealthy and bored.

"Garrison believes, as do many others, that Renoir took on an apprentice. This apprentice fell into debt after the death of his master and sold the paintings," Miss Fanny began with a simple and very expected theory, "Others think that it was his son who created them, and that the miniatures are self-portraits."

"That is a very interesting tale Miss Fanny, I thank you for informing me of the business," Marianne said, thinking that the topic of conversation was winding up, "Which of the two do you prescribe to?"

"I do not know what to think of it, child, if I am honest," Miss Fanny told her with a deep sigh, "I was hoping you could enlighten me on the matter."

"How could I be able to do so, Miss Fanny, I have only just heard of the issue?" Marianne asked with a laugh.

"You are Jeanne Renoir's daughter, are you not, Miss Marie?" Miss Fanny replied to Marianne's absolute shock and horror. But before she could try to form a reply, Miss Fanny spoke again, "I recognise you from your father's childhood portrait of you in the entrance hall. And the portrait of his wife, your mother, behind me. You look very much like her."

It was Marianne's worst fear come to life. The reason she had wanted to avoid the ball was out of fear someone within would recognise her resemblance to her mother. Or her resemblance to the young girl in Jeanne Renoir's paintings.

Marianne could hardly believe that it had happened. She had spent years in the army masquerading as a man without being discovered. Had spent over a year as a prize fighter, in the public eye, without being recognised. But she spent half an hour chatting with Miss Fanny and the woman had found her out. She could feel panic starting to set in, along with the desire to flee from the palace and run back to the Laurent estate herself.

She could very likely manage it. In the arm she had run that far before, and she was known for being able to keep pace with the horses for a good bit. Thus, Marianne was quite sure it could be done. Though she was not so sure of her employer's reaction should she do so. It likely would not be positive.

Just as Marianne was about to spring from her chair, a hand softly rested on her shoulder. She quickly whipped around to face Miss Fanny once again. The woman was looking at her kindly, with some surprise at Marianne's reaction, but her expression was dominated by kindness.