“Isn’t he wonderful, Daddy?”
“Yeah, great guy. Didn’t seem too bright to begin with, but he cheered up as the meal went on. And fancy my little girl turning out to be a genuine English lady. Your Momma’s tickled pink and I’m pleased that we’ve patched up our silly quarrel.”
“Oh, you helped a lot, Daddy.”
“I did?” queried Harvey.
“Yes, I managed to get things back into perspective during the last few weeks. Now tell me, what is your little surprise?”
“Wait and see, honey. It’s your wedding present.”
James rejoined them at the entrance to Claridge’s. He could tell from Anne’s look that Harvey had given him the seal of parental approval.
“Good evening, sir. Good evening, my lord.”
“Hi there, Albert. Could you fix some coffee and a bottle of Rémy Martin to be sent up to my suite?”
“Right away, sir.”
James had never seen the Royal Suite before. Off the small entrance room, there is a master bedroom on the right and a sitting room on the left. Harvey took them straight to the sitting room.
“Children, you are about to see your wedding present.”
He threw the door open in dramatic style and there on the far wall was the Van Gogh. They both stared, quite unable to speak.
“That’s exactly how it left me,” said Harvey. “Speechless.”
“Daddy.” Anne swallowed. “A Van Gogh. But you’ve always wanted a Van Gogh. You’ve dreamed of possessing one for years. I couldn’t possibly deprive you of it now, and anyway I couldn’t think of having anything as valuable as that in my house. Think of the security risk—we don’t have the protection you have.” Anne stammered on. “We couldn’t let you sacrifice the pride of your collection, could we, James?”
“Absolutely not,” said James with great feeling. “I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace with that on the premises.”
“Keep the painting in Boston, Daddy, in a setting worthy of it.”
“But I thought you’d love the idea, Rosalie.”
“I do, I do, Daddy, I just don’t want the responsibility, and in any case Mother must have the chance to enjoy it too. You can always leave it to James and me if you like.”
“What a great idea, Rosalie. That way we can both enjoy the painting. Now I shall have to think of another wedding present. She nearly got the better of me then, James, and she hasn’t done that in twenty-four years.”
“Well, I’ve managed it two or three times lately, Daddy, and I’m still hoping I shall do it once more.”
Harvey ignored Anne’s remark and went on talking.
“That’s the King George and Elizabeth trophy,” he said, pointing to a magnificent bronze sculpture of a horse and jockey with his hoop and quartered cap studded with diamonds. “The race is so important they present a new trophy every year—so it’s mine for life.”
James was thankful that the trophy at least was genuine.
The coffee and brandy arrived and they settled down to discuss the wedding in detail.
“Now, Rosalie, you must fly over to Lincoln next week and help your mother with the arrangements, otherwise she’ll panic and nothing will get done. And, James, you let me know how many people you’ll have coming over and I’ll put them up at the Ritz. The wedding will be in Trinity Church, Copley Square, and we’ll have a real English-style reception afterward back in my home in Lincoln. Does all that make sense, James?”
“Sounds wonderful. You’re a very well organized man, Harvey.”
“Always have been, James. Find it pays in the long run. Now, you and Rosalie must get the details sewn up before she comes over next week; you may not have realized it, but I’m returning to America tomorrow.”
Page 38A of the blue dossier, thought James.
James and Anne spent another hour chatting about the wedding arrangements and left Harvey just before midnight.