Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

asked. ‘You could have brought her along.’
    ‘She is in London.’
    Lord Teversham was unimpressed. ‘There are trains every hour to Cambridge. It’s not difficult.’
    Cicely Teversham stepped in to smooth the way. ‘Do ask her, Canon Chambers. I am sure the collection will interest her. Only a few people realise what we have here because the insurance is so high. We have to be so careful. The portrait of Queen Elizabeth is known, but there’s a Raphael Madonna, and a Titian portrait. Some of our paintings are also without attribution, and so if Miss Kendall has a good eye then perhaps she would like to come and have a look?’
    ‘I am sure she would be glad to do so.’
    ‘I would like to show her our lady in black. The restorer did such a good job.’
    ‘Who is the painting by?’
    ‘We’re not too sure,’ Lord Teversham explained. ‘Netherlandish School, probably. It used to be in the attic. Cicely had it brought down.’
    His sister smiled. ‘Do bring your friend. Next time you must stay to lunch. It will be intriguing, I’m sure.’
    ‘Intriguing?’
    ‘You speak of her so fondly.’
    ‘Oh, it’s not what you think,’ Sidney replied hastily.
    Cicely Teversham smiled. ‘And how do you know what I think, Canon Chambers?’
     
    The painting in question was a sober, almost devotional piece, a full-length portrait of a russet-haired, dark-eyed woman in her early thirties. She wore a black, high-buttoned blouse that covered a long neck, and a headdress edged with pearls. Her hands were half-clasped, but not quite in prayer, and the only lightness of touch lay in the hint of a smile on the lady’s wide mouth. Her necklace consisted of a simple medal on a chain. In the background, and to the left, stood a table with a vase half-filled with water containing three carnations and sprigs of rosemary. A painting of Adam and Eve hung on the wall behind the table; a picture within a painting.
    Amanda Kendall inspected the panel from every angle, looking at it closely and then stepping back to ascertain its effect. She was dressed elegantly, in a chemise dress by Coco Chanel that made her look decidedly French.
    ‘Do you mind if I take the picture down?’ Amanda asked.
    Ben Blackwood stepped in. ‘Let me help you . . .’
    ‘It’s all right. I am perfectly capable . . .’ Amanda put on a pair of gloves, lifted the painting away from the wall, and carried it over to the window. She placed it on a side table and then knelt down and looked at it closely, inspecting the edges with a magnifying glass.
    She looked at Lord Teversham. ‘Could I take it out of its frame?’
    He turned to Ben, who nodded in resignation. ‘As long as you don’t do any damage. It’s Tudor wood, you know . . .’
    ‘Indeed . . .’ Amanda removed a scalpel from her handbag and prized the panel away from the frame.
    Sidney had never seen her at work before.
    ‘The frame is original,’ she said before putting the panel back. ‘It would be good to get the painting back to the Gallery and take some samples. You’ve had it restored, I see.’
    ‘Ten years ago.’
    Amanda hung the painting back on the wall, and then put her magnifying glass and her scalpel back in her handbag. ‘A very unusual piece,’ she said.
    ‘Is that all you have to say?’ Ben asked.
    ‘By no means. Has this portrait always been in your possession?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Lord Teversham replied. ‘It’s an heirloom. It must have been in the family since the sixteenth century.’
    ‘No, I’m sorry to have to repeat myself. I have to be sure of the provenance. Has this portrait always been in your possession? It has never left the building?’
    ‘Not apart from when it was restored.’
    ‘And who did the restoration?’
    ‘Some chap in Saffron Walden. He was very good value.’
    ‘I imagine that he was. What differences did you notice when the painting was returned?’
    Lord Teversham could not understand why Amanda was asking such an obvious question. ‘Well, it was cleaner and brighter. You could see everything . . .’
    ‘And he got rid of the woodworm,’ Cicely Teversham added. ‘I was worried that the panel had a bit of rot and that it would get worse.’
    ‘Well,’ said Amanda. ‘There’s certainly no woodworm now; just a little residue in the frame.’
    ‘The panel is as good as new . . .’
    ‘Tell me, did the panel once have a cartellino?’
    Lord Teversham was confused. ‘A cartellino?’
    ‘A