A Man of Taste Chapter 2
Bruce lifted his glass. “To lost valuables. May they be easily found. Tell me more.” He watched her over his glass then asked, “Where in France do you live? Surely not in Nice.”
“No”, she smiled. “I live in the North-Eastern part of the Dordogne, the department that borders on Correze and Haute-Vienne. It was once the site of an ancient Roman camp. They called it Autafort. That’s where our name comes from. Today the chateau is called Hautefort.
It has an interesting history but I won’t bore you with it now; perhaps in time.”
They spent about an hour chatting about her ancestors and the reason she sought him out. Bruce felt relaxed for the first time in weeks.
“How did you know where to find me?” He asked.
‘That was easy. I called your office. I said it was a matter of some importance. Your secretary said you were. She said you were at The Negresco. I arrived here this afternoon and took a room. When I asked the gentleman at the desk what room you were in he told me and said, “But Monsieur Kellner is out to dinner at Chez Flo.”
“And so, voila! Here I am.”
“Well, now that you are here, please tell me about your problem. I’m intrigued.”
“My problem is rather delicate,” she started. Bruce sat back and listened. Her voice was soothing, just above a whisper. She idly played with her glass as she explained.
“During the XII th century Autafort was the stake of great rivalry between two brothers who wanted to help Henry II succeed to the throne of England. During this time the chateau fortress underwent many changes. It boasted the most beautiful gardens in France and harmoniously combined medieval defenses with a classic main residence. It was expanded by my ancestor the Marquis d’Autafort to honor his sister Marie, who secretly loved by King Louis XIII. I am named after her.”
“But Louis married Anne of Austria,” Bruce interrupted.
“Ah, you know your history. I’m impressed.”
“Anne was the mother of Louis XIV. Everyone knows that. But tell me more.”
She continued. “The family fell on hard times during the war and now the Chateau is let out to the local villagers for marriages and receptions. I live there with my brother, Constantin. He is a retired historian, named for one of the feuding brothers I mentioned. He now takes care of the business of the chateau and the lovely gardens. There are tours and sometimes seminars. He is a scholar who spends most of his time alone or working on family affairs. He’s totally dedicated to the Chateau. We are very close.”
“A while ago, she almost whispered, when he was making an inventory of the artifacts we own, he discovered that one of the drawings were missing. I should say replaced because what now hangs in our dining room are certainly not the originals. They were drawings or studies of flying machines. Some said that Leonardo da Vinci had done the sketches while he passed through France. He actually spent a few days at Hautfort on his way to Amboise where he lived during his last years. When examining the drawing recently, my brother discovered it was a poorly drawn fake on modern papier d’aquarelle; water color paper, put in the place of the older work of the great master himself. Our problem is that the police have no clue where the original is. They have no suspects after months of detection. In conversation with Francoise Gilot I discovered that you may be able to help us. That is why I came here today.”
Bruce frowned and pursed his lips. “Extraordinary!” he exclaimed. I knew Da Vinci brought paintings with him when he came to France, including the Mona Lisa, but I know nothing of the works you mention or that he did sketches during his travels unless, of course, they were drawn earlier and transported to France. Nor did I know that he stopped long enough to rest in Hautefort before he moved on to Amboise. I am astonished that after all these years someone should find out about the artist’s work in Hautefort, take them to keep or sell or to copy and replace them with bad copies. It sounds rather bazaar after all this time.”
“When the war came to our area, all the artifacts were hidden. They were only put back in the chateau a year ago without fanfare.”
Bruce was thinking quietly.
“Do you doubt the veracity of what I told you?” she asked softly.
“No mademoiselle, but I will have to do some research before I decide if I can help you. I’d like to see the copy before I decide what I can do, if anything. I hope you understand.”
“We can leave for Hautefort tomorrow. I have my car here in Nice,” she replied. “At Hautefort you can have run of the chateau and learn more from my brother. He knows a great deal about Da Vinci.
Bruce toyed with his wine glass. “I am intrigued. I think I will accept your offer. Yes, we can leave tomorrow. I have stayed in Nice long enough.”
It seemed like a good plan. It seemed to him like a holiday and he knew that Hautefort was in one of the most beautiful regions of France. He would telephone New York and tell his secretary that he would be delayed.
