“I agree. It’s enamel, from the mid-sixteenth century.” She was amazed at what she’d retained.
Mr. Danforth drew close and let out a whistle. “They appear to be playing instruments, or flirting.”
“I don’t know what the inscriptions say. How’s your French?”
“Quite good, but this is Old French. Loves give joy. Defeated by love. Do you think the next clue’s inside?”
Carefully, Lillian lifted the lid to reveal a piece of paper, which she handed to Mr. Danforth.
He refused to take it. “You can’t leave this only to me. I promise not to tell Miss Helen you assisted, but you simply must.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“Please.” He paused. “And before you say yes or no, please accept my apologies for what happened at our last parting. At the fountain. I did not mean to imply anything untoward.”
If he only knew. She allowed herself a maidenly blush and bit her lip the same way Mary Pickford had in Daddy-Long-Legs. “Of course, Mr. Danforth. No offense taken, I assure you.”
“Thank you.” He read the next clue, labeled 2/20, out loud: “Stay where you are Halt And look for the pillar of salt. Hmm, is there a saltshaker here?” Mr. Danforth looked about.
“She’s referring to the biblical story of Lot and his wife.” Lillian turned and spotted her prey: a wide copper cup. “Over here.”
They stood side by side, staring down at a wide cup of brilliant blue enamel. Lillian pointed out the details. “There’s Lot, with his wife as a pillar of salt off in the distance.” Her Catholic school upbringing had finally paid off.
“Right. She looked back at Sodom when the angels warned her not to. Never a good idea.”
The scene was full of movement. Flames licked a city in one corner, trees with roots like fingers appeared in another, yet the eye immediately went to the exposed breast of one of the daughters, the flesh tone like a beacon in a colorscape of greens and blues. At the end of the story, Lillian remembered, Lot’s two daughters get their father drunk and seduce him.
Good Lord. Only Miss Helen would find this sordid scene appropriate for inclusion. But Lillian knew why. Miss Helen only saw the beauty of the object, not the awkward seduction scene depicted, never mind how it might put off a potential suitor.
Mr. Danforth cleared his throat. “Um, right.”
Before he could run screaming from the room, Lillian lifted the cup’s base, where another clue lay, which led them to an eighteenth-century bronze bust in the library. From there, they were directed to a Degas oil painting of ballet dancers in the north hall. It was no easy task, and figuring out which work Miss Helen was referring to required multiple sweeps through each room. Soon enough, the sun was setting.
Mr. Danforth looked rather ragged. “I might as well move in and spend the week here instead of working.”
Lillian had to do something if she wanted the engagement to come off successfully. “Why don’t you come back each day, and I’ll assist you until it’s completed? We’ll take a bit at a time.”
“Would you do that?”
“Of course. And you should know that Miss Helen is planning on creating a library for art, which is another good reason for you to become familiar with the collection.”
“A woman running a library? Would her father allow such a thing? I’m surprised.”
She disapproved of his reaction, but didn’t want to put him off. “If you want to win her over, I suggest you not denigrate the idea.”
“Of course, you’re absolutely right. Because I do want to please her. If you don’t mind my taking you into my confidence, I’m planning on asking her to marry me on Thanksgiving.”
Two weeks away.
Not long at all.
Once Mr. Frick paid up, Lillian would make some excuse about a sick aunt in California and be on the next train out. The nuptial arrangements would have to be taken care of by the next private secretary they hired. Lillian hoped whoever it was would be able to guide Miss Helen to an appropriate bridal dress, as Miss Helen might very well show up in a bustle-backed monstrosity if left to her own devices.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Have you asked for Miss Helen’s hand from Mr. Frick yet?”
“I did, right before they departed for Eagle Rock. All is on course. That reminds me, Mr. Frick sent me this letter, to give to you.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here.”
The letter asked that Miss Lillian give Mr. Danforth the check that sat on the desk in his sitting room, the sum of which was to be used to purchase Miss Helen’s engagement ring.