Read Online 1 A Motive for Murder by Morgana Best - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Morgana Best
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English classical renaissance in fine Baroque architecture; it's Grade 2 listed."
To say I was impressed would be an understatement.
I followed Douglas past the entrance, up the stone steps and across the large south facing terrace. The French doors were shut but not locked so I wondered if other occupants were in the house. The doors opened onto a large room, still illuminated by the fading afternoon sun. The beautiful marble fireplace didn't look as if it had been alight for years, so my concerns about a gorgeous woman keeping the home fires burning for Douglas were slightly appeased.
I love timber, so I was admiring the oak floors and the wall paneling when Douglas took me by the arm again, and swung me around to face an imposing painting in a dark wooden frame with a single gold edge.
"Here you are," he said dramatically. "Sir Francis Dashwood by William Hogarth. This one is called Sir Francis Dashwood at his Devotions."
I started, my jaw dropped open. Could this be an original? It looked like an original. I recognized the typical Hogarth frame. I didn't know too much about art, but judging by Rosebery Abbey, I wouldn't be surprised if it were an original. I wanted to ask but thought it rude, so kept my mouth shut.
"This was painted in the late 1750s and was considered scandalous at the time," Douglas continued. "Later Hogarth did go on to paint satire and he was deeply concerned with political corruption of the times, but his painting of Sir Francis was considered unconventional to say the least."
At first glance, the painting appeared to be a Renaissance representation of someone in monk's clothing going about their religious devotions in a secluded setting. There was even a cross at the bottom right side of the painting. However in this painting, Dashwood is staring at a nude female figure lying spread out in front of him. Under the cross were bunches of grapes and leaves, again suggestive of Bacchus.
I was so lost in the painting that I didn't hear Douglas come up behind me. He stood oh so close, and whispered in my ear, so close I could feel his warm breath on my neck. I unsuccessfully tried to keep my knees from wobbling and only just did succeed in keeping my breathing even.
"See that halo above Dashwood’s head with the image of a satyr in it? That in fact is Lord Sandwich, and the suggestion is that he is whispering into Dashwood's ear. Hogarth has Lord Sandwich staring at the nude too."
"It looks like one of the Renaissance paintings." I tried to recall my schoolgirl Art History classes.
"Yes, it's a parody of Renaissance paintings of Saint Francis of Assisi. And see the book?"
"I take it it's not a Bible?"
Douglas laughed. "You got that right. No, it's the erotic novel Elegantiae Latini Sermonis. This painting was of course considered outrageous."
"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats."
(Albert Schweitzer)
Chapter 9 .
When we pulled up at Aunt Beth's, Douglas turned off the engine. This was a first; he usually left it running. I led the way to the front door hoping he'd follow. I unlocked the door and hesitated. "Would you like to come in?" Silly question; he was not merely walking me to the door.
"Just for a moment." He hesitated, and then continued. "West Wycombe Park made me think of your aunt; she was so fond of the Dashwood history."
I wondered if I should tell Douglas that I thought Aunt Beth had been murdered, but made a snap judgment call not to. Still, I needed to get as much information out of him as I could.
"Misty?" Douglas gently shook me by the shoulders. "Are you OK?"
"Oh yes. Just a bit upset about Aunt Beth. Why was she interested in the Dashwoods?"
"She was interested in Sir Francis Dashwood and the Hellfire Club. Did you know that Beth worked as a code breaker at Bletchley Park in World War 2?"
I was dumbfounded. "No. I don't think anyone in the family knew; at least no one ever told me. That's the place they made
To say I was impressed would be an understatement.
I followed Douglas past the entrance, up the stone steps and across the large south facing terrace. The French doors were shut but not locked so I wondered if other occupants were in the house. The doors opened onto a large room, still illuminated by the fading afternoon sun. The beautiful marble fireplace didn't look as if it had been alight for years, so my concerns about a gorgeous woman keeping the home fires burning for Douglas were slightly appeased.
I love timber, so I was admiring the oak floors and the wall paneling when Douglas took me by the arm again, and swung me around to face an imposing painting in a dark wooden frame with a single gold edge.
"Here you are," he said dramatically. "Sir Francis Dashwood by William Hogarth. This one is called Sir Francis Dashwood at his Devotions."
I started, my jaw dropped open. Could this be an original? It looked like an original. I recognized the typical Hogarth frame. I didn't know too much about art, but judging by Rosebery Abbey, I wouldn't be surprised if it were an original. I wanted to ask but thought it rude, so kept my mouth shut.
"This was painted in the late 1750s and was considered scandalous at the time," Douglas continued. "Later Hogarth did go on to paint satire and he was deeply concerned with political corruption of the times, but his painting of Sir Francis was considered unconventional to say the least."
At first glance, the painting appeared to be a Renaissance representation of someone in monk's clothing going about their religious devotions in a secluded setting. There was even a cross at the bottom right side of the painting. However in this painting, Dashwood is staring at a nude female figure lying spread out in front of him. Under the cross were bunches of grapes and leaves, again suggestive of Bacchus.
I was so lost in the painting that I didn't hear Douglas come up behind me. He stood oh so close, and whispered in my ear, so close I could feel his warm breath on my neck. I unsuccessfully tried to keep my knees from wobbling and only just did succeed in keeping my breathing even.
"See that halo above Dashwood’s head with the image of a satyr in it? That in fact is Lord Sandwich, and the suggestion is that he is whispering into Dashwood's ear. Hogarth has Lord Sandwich staring at the nude too."
"It looks like one of the Renaissance paintings." I tried to recall my schoolgirl Art History classes.
"Yes, it's a parody of Renaissance paintings of Saint Francis of Assisi. And see the book?"
"I take it it's not a Bible?"
Douglas laughed. "You got that right. No, it's the erotic novel Elegantiae Latini Sermonis. This painting was of course considered outrageous."
"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats."
(Albert Schweitzer)
Chapter 9 .
When we pulled up at Aunt Beth's, Douglas turned off the engine. This was a first; he usually left it running. I led the way to the front door hoping he'd follow. I unlocked the door and hesitated. "Would you like to come in?" Silly question; he was not merely walking me to the door.
"Just for a moment." He hesitated, and then continued. "West Wycombe Park made me think of your aunt; she was so fond of the Dashwood history."
I wondered if I should tell Douglas that I thought Aunt Beth had been murdered, but made a snap judgment call not to. Still, I needed to get as much information out of him as I could.
"Misty?" Douglas gently shook me by the shoulders. "Are you OK?"
"Oh yes. Just a bit upset about Aunt Beth. Why was she interested in the Dashwoods?"
"She was interested in Sir Francis Dashwood and the Hellfire Club. Did you know that Beth worked as a code breaker at Bletchley Park in World War 2?"
I was dumbfounded. "No. I don't think anyone in the family knew; at least no one ever told me. That's the place they made
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