Chapter 3 #4
“As suspected!” crowed Chary. “I hope you haven’t overwhelmed him with conservation nonsense already. That’s what drove Rosenne from you.”
“As I recall, Rosenne and I parted ways when she moved to Sightspel Harbour to advance her glass-craft career.”
“However you’d like to phrase it.” Chary sighed. “I must remind you, Florrie, that most reasonable people are appalled by the idea of their lover delicately repainting the unmentionables of naked Folk all day long.”
“I’ve only done that twice!” Heroic nudes had not been fashionable among collectors since the tenth century. Florrie scratched at a diverting dent in the table’s woodgrain. “Besides, he understands exactly what my work entails.”
“Because your new suitor is fond of art?”
“Art is his entire life – in a manner of speaking.”
“Well, I cannot wait to evaluate your mysterious beau myself,” said Chary with a most concerning grin.
“Perhaps I ought to give you additional lessons in social education, like when we were children. I’d love to chat more, Florrie dear, but I hear someone asking Orchel a question in the corridor – and Orchel is answering!
He shall ruin everything if I do not intervene. ”
“Naturally,” Florrie murmured as Chary rose from her seat.
“Oh, and Florrie?” Her cousin paused in the doorway.
“Yes?”
“Congratulations,” Chary said, with a nod. “I never thought you’d live under someone else’s roof again. And a prince’s roof, of all roofs! I suppose you’ve redeemed yourself.”
Florrie took a breath. Chary’s tone was condescending, as usual, but Florrie swore she could identify genuine admiration, too. A conservatorship at the Commonplace Palace was not a notable achievement simply for Florrie, but for anyone. Her family had every right to be proud.
And Florrie, for her part, could not bear to disappoint them.
During the trek back to the palace, she reconsidered the problem of The Resolute Portrait in the context of what she’d discovered.
Mim had ignored the forgery, but that wasn’t an option for Florrie, because she’d damaged the painting.
She couldn’t hide the damage from Prince Ardant for ever, and the Code forbade her from informing him about the forgery without substantive evidence.
Mim’s testimony, if they consented to revealing the truth to Ardant, could count as evidence, though that wouldn’t suffice on its own.
Florrie also required something physical, like a paint chip or canvas thread that could be dated to the wrong era.
Yet she already knew from her own examination that no Folk connoisseur would discern the perfect material replication that the forger had, no doubt, accomplished through enchantment.
The Code might be comprehensive, but it was shockingly ill-equipped to deal with magical forgeries.
Besides, proposing the existence of a Fairy forgery in an esteemed Stillscape museum would make her a figure of ridicule in the conservation field.
She’d have to move home, intentionally hanging her head low to properly mimic how Folk most frequently expressed shame, and her life would devolve into nothing but mediocre museum tours.
It was only due to these most desperate circumstances that Florrie, who detested travelling, wondered whether it might be so difficult to visit Fairy country.
Her problems would be solved, she wagered, if she possessed the pristine original of The Resolute Portrait as well as the ruined forgery.
With access to both paintings, she could prove without a doubt that a copy had been made.
Still, Florrie could identify the obvious flaws in her plan.
Firstly, she struggled with change and adventure even under the mildest of circumstances.
Secondly, her practical knowledge of the Fairy realms was scant.
She knew only that the network of trade routes that flourished in the fifteenth century had fallen into disrepair, with nothing more than crumbling trails connecting Stillscape to the nearest Fairy museums.
She was, however, newly acquainted with an actual Fairy. Could Vern – assuming she had not dreamed him up – provide some guidance? Florrie already suspected he was the sort of fellow who would do just about anything to be helpful.
She felt her cheeks warm as she remembered how he had inadvertently “helped” by providing Florrie with the perfect means of deceiving her cousin.
While she was perfectly justified in misleading Chary, it did feel unfair to fictitiously reference Vern as a suitor without his consent.
The notion of marrying a prince was laughably unbelievable. Whereas…
Florrie slid her palm down an unpleasantly gritty street lamp to ground herself.
How pathetic she was, getting swept away after a single delightful conversation with a handsome stranger!
Perhaps Chary was right on one count: Florrie needed to raise her standards.
At the very least, “must live anywhere other than within a painting” ought to be one of them.