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

painted inscription, often giving the name of the person represented.’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘No trace of any over-painting?’
    ‘I wouldn’t know about that. Why do you ask?’
    Amanda explained. ‘The cartellino was a common feature of the Lumley Collection, a group of paintings dispersed in 1785. It is possible the work comes from that collection. Do you have a library?’
    ‘I don’t imagine our household accounts go back that far,’
    ‘The provenance is crucial. We do have a copy of the Lumley Inventory at the Gallery.’
    ‘Why are you asking all this?’
    ‘Do you still have the restorer’s address?’ Amanda asked.
    ‘Yes, I think so.’
    Cicely Teversham remembered. ‘Frederick Wyatt was his name . . .’
    ‘Although if he recognised the painting I would be surprised if he was still living there.’
    ‘Recognised? Is something wrong?’ Sidney asked.
    ‘I’m afraid so,’ Amanda replied. She turned to Lord and Lady Teversham. ‘I think we all need to sit down with a cup of tea. Or something stronger.’
    ‘Very well; but why are you looking so concerned?’
    Amanda was still guarded. ‘The frame is the original sixteenth-century mounting, but the panel itself has been replaced.’
    ‘Replaced?’ Ben Blackwood asked. ‘Impossible.’
    ‘It’s a copy; a very good one, but a copy nonetheless. The paint surface is even; the wood is new. I would need to take a sample to be sure . . .’
    ‘Good heavens . . .’
    ‘Which would not matter so much if this was originally the work of a minor Netherlandish master . . .’
    Lord Teversham could not believe her. ‘I thought it was . . .’
    Amanda continued. ‘So did I. But look at the jewellery the lady is wearing. I am pretty sure that it was made either by Cornelius Hayes or John of Antwerp. It is an exact match of a coronation medal in the British Museum.’
    ‘A coronation medal?’
    ‘The carnations in the background are a symbol of betrothal; the portrait of Adam and Eve represents the hope of children in a marriage. The original of this painting can be dated to 1533.’
    ‘Who is she, then?’ Cicely Teversham asked.
    Ben had guessed. ‘You’re not saying?’
    Amanda paused. ‘There is only one of Henry VIII’s six wives with no surviving contemporary portrait. If you once had this original painting, and I am only saying “if”, then you were the possessors of one of the most valuable pictures in the world: a lost portrait, by Hans Holbein the Younger, of Henry VIII’s second wife, Queen Anne Boleyn.’
    ‘A sleeper!’ said Ben.
    ‘Exactly,’ Amanda replied. ‘A work of art that has been misattributed but which turns out to be far more valuable than anyone thinks. I found a Van Dyck in a similar situation only the other day . . .’
    Cicely Teversham pressed. ‘We had an invaluable Holbein?’
    ‘Possibly . . .’
    ‘And now we’ve lost it? That painting could have saved our entire estate. How can we get it back?’
    ‘Well, obviously it’s not going to be easy,’ Amanda replied. ‘And we do need to track down your restorer.’
    Sidney decided to step in. ‘Who else knows you had this painting, Lord Teversham?’
    His host was nonplussed. ‘Most of the family, of course, and the servants. Mackay always took a dim view of it, but I think that’s because it reminded him of the wife who ran off. Then there’s Ben, of course, although portraits of pious ladies are quite far from your sphere of interest, aren’t they?’
    Ben Blackwood looked uneasy. ‘Indeed.’
    ‘Some visitors and friends, although most of them prefer horses or dogs.’
    ‘Anyone from the art world?’ Amanda asked.
    Cicely Teversham spoke up. ‘There was also the man from the insurers. He came to value the collection. In fact, he was the person who suggested the painting needed restoring if I remember rightly.’
    ‘It seems peculiar, doesn’t it?’ Lord Teversham asked. ‘If a crime has been committed then it seems rather a bizarre choice – why didn’t they take a Titian?’
    ‘That would be harder to sell on,’ Amanda replied.
    Lord Teversham couldn’t quite take in what she had been saying. ‘I always thought that this was a perfectly decent but rather insignificant painting. An unknown lady, Netherlandish School: hardly worth restoring. She’s no great beauty, is she?’
    Amanda interjected. ‘Taste changes, Lord Teversham, but if your original painting is what I think it may have been, then it fills one of the