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  ‘Well done,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said the agent, with more respect in his voice than Cornelius had heard from anyone for weeks, ‘but I think we should hold on for a little longer. I’m confident I can squeeze some more out of them. If I do, my advice would be to accept the offer and ask for a 10 per cent deposit.’

  ‘That sounds like good advice to me,’ said Cornelius. ‘And once they’ve signed the contract, I’ll need you to find me a new house.’

  ‘What sort of thing are you looking for, Mr Barrington?’

  ‘I want something about half the size of The Willows, with perhaps a couple of acres, and I’d like to remain in the immediate area.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be too hard, sir. We have one or two excellent houses on our books at the moment, so I’m sure we’ll be able to accommodate you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cornelius, delighted to have spoken to someone who had begun the day well.

  He was chuckling over an item on the front page of the local paper when the doorbell rang. He checked his watch. It was still a few minutes to ten, so it couldn’t be Elizabeth. When he opened the front door he was greeted by a man in a green uniform, holding a clipboard in one hand and a parcel in the other.

  ‘Sign here,’ was all the courier said, handing over a biro.

  Cornelius scrawled his signature across the bottom of the form. He would have asked who had sent the parcel if he had not been distracted by a car coming up the drive.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. He left the package in the hall and walked down the steps to welcome Elizabeth.

  When the car drew up outside the front door, Cornelius was surprised to find Hugh seated in the passenger seat.

  ‘It was kind of you to see us at such short notice,’ said Elizabeth, who looked as if she had spent another sleepless night.

  ‘Good morning, Hugh,’ said Cornelius, who suspected his brother had been kept awake all night. ‘Please come through to the kitchen - I’m afraid it’s the only room in the house that’s warm.’

  As he led them down the long corridor, Elizabeth stopped in front of the portrait of Daniel. ‘I’m so glad to see it back in its rightful place,’ she said. Hugh nodded his agreement.

  Cornelius stared at the portrait, which he hadn’t seen since the auction. ‘Yes, back in its rightful place,’ he said, before taking them through to the kitchen. ‘Now, what brings you both to The Willows on a Saturday morning?’ he asked as he filled the kettle.

  ‘It’s about the Louis XIV table,’ said Elizabeth diffidently.

  ‘Yes, I shall miss it,’ said Cornelius. ‘But it was a fine gesture on your part, Hugh,’ he added.

  ‘A fine gesture …’ repeated Hugh.

  ‘Yes. I assumed it was your way of returning my hundred thousand,’ said Cornelius. Turning to Elizabeth, he said, ‘How I misjudged you, Elizabeth. I suspect it was your idea all along.’

  Elizabeth and Hugh just stared at each other, then both began speaking at once.

  ‘But we didn’t …’ said Hugh.

  ‘We were rather hoping …’ said Elizabeth. Then they both fell silent.

  ‘Tell him the truth,’ said Hugh firmly.

  ‘Oh?’ said Cornelius. ‘Have I misunderstood what took place at the auction yesterday morning?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid you have,’ said Elizabeth, any remaining colour draining from her cheeks. ‘You see, the truth of the matter is that the whole thing got out of control, and I carried on bidding for longer than I should have done.’ She paused. ‘I’d never been to an auction before, and when I failed to get the grandfather clock, and then saw Margaret pick up the Turner so cheaply, I’m afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself.’

  ‘Well, you can always put it back up for sale,’ said Cornelius with mock sadness. ‘It’s a fine piece, and sure to retain its value.’

  ‘We’ve already looked into that,’ said Elizabeth. ‘But Mr Botts says there won’t be another furniture auction for at least three months, and the terms of the sale were clearly printed in the catalogue: settlement within seven days.’

  ‘But I’m sure that if you were to leave the piece with him …’

  ‘Yes, he suggested that,’ said Hugh. ‘But we didn’t realise that the auctioneers add 15 per cent to the sale price, so the real bill is for PS126,500. And what’s worse, if we put it up for sale again they also retain 15 per cent of the price that’s bid, so we would end up losing over thirty thousand.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the way auctioneers make their money,’ said Cornelius with a sigh.

  ‘But we don’t have thirty thousand, let alone 126,500,’ cried Elizabeth.

  Cornelius slowly poured himself another cup of tea, pretending to be deep in thought. ‘Umm,’ he finally offered. ‘What puzzles me is how you think I could help, bearing in mind my current financial predicament.’

  ‘We thought that as the auction had raised nearly a million pounds …’ began Elizabeth.

  ‘Far higher than was estimated,’ chipped in Hugh.

  ‘We hoped you might tell Mr Botts you’d decided to keep the piece; and of course we would confirm that that was acceptable to us.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ said Cornelius, ‘but that still doesn’t solve the problem of owing the auctioneer PS16,500, and a possible further loss if it fails to reach PS110,000 in three months’ time.’

  Neither Elizabeth nor Hugh spoke.

  ‘Do you have anything you could sell to help raise the money?’ Cornelius eventually asked.

  ‘Only our house, and that already has a large mortgage on it,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘But what about your shares in the company? If you sold them, I’m sure they would more than cover the cost.’

  ‘But who would want to buy them,’ asked Hugh, ‘when we’re only just breaking even?’

  ‘I would,’ said Cornelius.

  Both of them looked surprised. ‘And in exchange for your shares,’ Cornelius continued, ‘I would release you from your debt to me, and also settle any embarrassment with Mr Botts.’

  Elizabeth began to protest, but Hugh asked, ‘Is there any alternative?’

  ‘Not that I can think of,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Then I don’t see that we’re left with much choice,’ said Hugh, turning to his wife.

  ‘But what about all those years we’ve put into the company?’ wailed Elizabeth.

  ‘The shop hasn’t been showing a worthwhile profit for some time, Elizabeth, and you know it. If we don’t accept Cornelius’s offer, we could be paying off the debt for the rest of our lives.’

  Elizabeth remained unusually silent.

  ‘Well, that seems to be settled,’ said Cornelius. ‘Why don’t you just pop round and have a word with my solicitor? He’ll see that everything is in order.’

  ‘And will you sort out Mr Botts?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘The moment you’ve signed over the shares, I’ll deal with the problem of Mr Botts. I’m confident we can have everything settled by the end of the week.’

  Hugh bowed his head.

  ‘And I think it might be wise,’ continued Cornelius - they both looked up and stared apprehensively at him - ‘if Hugh were to remain on the board of the company as Chairman, with the appropriate remuneration.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hugh, shaking hands with his brother. ‘That’s generous of you in the circumstances.’ As they returned down the corridor Cornelius stared at the portrait of his son once again.

  ‘Have you managed to find somewhere to live?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘It looks as if that won’t be a problem after all, thank you, Elizabeth. I’ve had an offer for The Willows far in excess of the price I’d anticipated, and what with the windfall from the auction, I’ll be able to pay off all my creditors, leaving me with a comfortable sum over.’

  ‘Then why do you need our shares?’ asked Elizabeth, swinging back to face him.

  ‘For the same reason you wanted my Louis XIV table, my dear,’ sai