Page 35 of Harmonic Pleasure (Mysterious Arts #6)

“ H ere, sit. Farran, the sofa.” They were settled in the same office Vega had been in previously, but she was fairly sure the space was new to Aunt Ancha.

Her aunt was glancing around, taking in the decorations.

She was almost certain that Vivian had not been about to suggest the sofa, but had taken in some key detail as she and Farran entered the office.

That was going to take some thinking about.

She’d not been able to see Farran for two days.

There’d been the equinox rituals out at the family estate on Tuesday, and yesterday had been the new moon, so she’d stayed out there until midafternoon.

And then of course, she’d needed to be at the club in good order, not flushed and rushing from a few moments with Farran.

He had, however, written her a lovely note by journal.

Actually three notes, at different points.

The first to make it clear he was looking forward to more time together.

Then two more about various small things he’d come across during his day that made him think of her or continued a conversation they’d had.

She’d managed to write back, though not until after she woke up and read the last note which also had included where to meet him.

That had been near the Trellech portals, so quite public.

They’d not had time to do more than say hello and come directly to Vivian’s office.

Now, she glanced at him, settled on the sofa, and made sure her skirts were doing what older aunts thought skirts should do.

Farran joined her a moment later, after a brief tussle with Vivian, all done in eyebrows and gestures, over who should bring the tea tray over.

Vega rather liked what she saw of that, how he was deferential, but also not too much so.

It suggested he’d be able to handle himself competently with her aunts as well.

And her parents. That was something she’d have to think about a good bit more, and soon.

Once Aunt Ancha was seated in one of the two easy chairs, with Vivian taking the other, she nodded once. “And you are?”

Before Vega had to figure out the introductions, Vivian spoke, smoothly. “Ancha, I am pleased to present Farran Michaels. Farran, Ancha Beaumont. One of Vega’s aunts, as I’m sure you’ve learned already.”

Farran inclined his head. “A pleasure, ma’am. I believe I’ve read a paper by you, about dating certain artworks by the constellations? Three, no four years ago?”

Aunt Ancha smiled, the sort of expression that always made Vega a trifle wary. “Did Vega tell you to say that?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I’d not want to place her in a difficult position regarding her family.

Also, I’d already read it and made notes on it well before I met her.

I’d love to discuss it with you at some point, perhaps by letter?

There are a couple of paintings likely to come to auction at Ormulu later this year that feature a night sky.

And where the provenance is not as clear as we’d like. ”

Vega cleared her throat, and Farran spread out one hand to show he was deferring to her. “I gave Farran a gift on Monday of Uncle Belisarius’s book.” Her aunt’s eyes widened.

“Farran has sometimes been a guest on our estates,” Vivian said, her voice crisp. “So that we’re all clear about portions of the conversation. Farran, please let me know if there’s some detail that you feel needs clarification.”

“Of course, Vivian.” Farran shifted a little, leaning back just slightly. He didn’t move to touch Vega. That was the right choice. She would find it immensely distracting. They had particular points to discuss. “Vandermeer, then?”

Vivian snorted, genteel. “You are direct. I appreciate that. Yes. I have been inquiring about Thomas Vandermeer for a fortnight or so. Since Farran first raised a concern with me. My connections are rather less prompt in America, but I have some initial information.”

Aunt Ancha nodded. “Go on, then.” Not that this stopped her from watching Farran, apparently he was getting all her visible attention at the moment. Vega hoped he wouldn’t take it wrong.

“I have confirmed that a man matching that name and description has indeed come to London for various business dealings. That man hails from a notable and longstanding family in New York state. The nature of the business is somewhat obscure. He is nominally working for at least two of the wealthy families of New York. New money, of course, by their standards and ours. Oil and imports, I believe. He does not seem to have known connections to the Cousins in America, but I can’t be certain about that.

Regardless, he is also known to be making a point of exploring art. Not directly at the auctions. Farran?”

Farran picked up smoothly. “He is not listed on the registers at any of the major auction houses, though he is listed at Clermont.” That was Ormulu’s principal rival for the magical auction trade.

The way she’d heard it put, though not by Farran, he’d scrupulously avoided comment so far, was that they were determined in pursuit of the best options for their clients.

Vega suspected that meant a certain amount of not entirely legal manoeuvring.

“But I’d expect someone working at that level to have a buyer. ”

“Explain to me how that works.” Aunt Ancha’s voice was crisp, then she added, more gently, “Please.”

“Bidders at auctions can make choices, well-educated ones, based on who is bidding. The Carillons will bid up on high-quality incunabula. The Mortons on silver boxes with enchantments, anything that might be suitable as a gift for someone they know. The Devon Howards bid up to a certain point on porcelain ware in sets. If they are in the room for such auctions, people will bid accordingly. Some sellers might have a false bidder in the room to push the bids higher. If, instead, it’s someone bidding for them, that evaluation is much harder.

The banks all offer it as a service. If you see one of the Scali, you don’t know who they’re bidding for or how high they might go.

” Then he waited a perfect beat and added, “Of course, if you know the players and the art, you can make better judgements on this point. But it takes a lot more observation.”

“Huh.” Aunt Ancha nodded. “So if he were here buying for a client in America, you’d expect him to be at the auctions. But possibly working through someone hired to make the bids according to instructions. Someone better known to the auction house.”

“Just so. There are a number of checks and balances. No one wants a sale to go to someone whose agreement turns out to be made of false coin. Coins that turn to crumbling leaves.” It was a gesture at some of the old folklore about Fatae gifts.

Aunt Ancha snorted now, and she was relaxing. That was excellent. “I see your point, Farran. And you don’t have a way to find out who he’s working with.”

“No, ma’am. The banks keep confidentiality, barring the proper sort of request from the Courts or Guard.”

“People are allowed to bid on art. Even excessive amounts,” Vivian said, dryly. “Is there any way to find a list of the actual buyers for recent auctions?”

Farran nodded. “There is, and I brought the lists, but they’re not terribly helpful.

Obviously, there are a limited number of late Roman or Anglo-Saxon items auctioned at any given time, just due to their general scarcity.

” He reached into his satchel, pulling out a set of notes clipped at the corners.

“The top sheet summarises items from the period, as well as any where they might plausibly have been meteoric iron.”

Vivian took them, scanning them. “How long did this take for you to put together?”

“About three hours over the last two days. And I owe two people a dinner out.” Farran replied. “About half of it is chargeable to the current work, though.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow, and Farran shrugged, though Vega was almost certain he was deliberately not making much of it. “Can you explain, Vivian, please?”

“This is an exceedingly tidy bit of work, tedious to put together. Though I will grant, Farran, that at the moment you have excellent access to the relevant lists. Along with a demonstrated knack for cheerfully chatting to clerks.”

“I learn from the best, Vivian,” Farran replied, though he was definitely smiling now. Vivian seemed amused, which was all to the good.

“What does that mean about what we do?” Vega asked. Vivian handed her the list summary, and Vega peered at it. There were perhaps twenty different names, stretching over the past few months. Four were starred, with a note that those were not people known to be interested in the period.

“It gives us a possible angle on a business contact or two,” Vivian said. “I have someone seeing if she can arrange a casual meeting in the hotel.” She added to Aunt Ancha, “Gratis, in this case, given other interests.”

“Huh.” Aunt Ancha nodded once. “All right. Can we be of any help? Certainly looking at patterns, constellations, is something we have skill in.”

“Oh, since you’re offering.” Vivian stood, crossing to her desk and bringing back a portfolio, held closed around a stack of paper.

“These are pieces that might or might not be related, a complete copy of the working files, with some attached notes. Eleanor can lend a hand if you can’t make sense of something, by journal.

I’ve told her to keep an eye out to give anything related priority. ”

“You’re taking it seriously, then.” Aunt Ancha leaned forward, taking the hefty set of paper.

“I don’t like the feel of it any more than you do. You said he made you feel uncomfortable, Vega. Have you been able to give any better label to it? I ask because there are two plausible directions for his background, and the precautions would be different.”