Read Online Dead as a Scone by Ron Benrey, Janet Benrey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ron Benrey, Janet Benrey
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is browsing through our collection of Japanese tea ceremony utensils. We have some of the finest Edo-period porcelains in Europe. They date back to the early sixteenth century.”
“I need a guesstimate of value,” Nigel said. “How about a few million?”
Flick chuckled.
“What is so funny?” Nigel said.
“Which do you suppose is my favorite tea antiquity?”
“I have no idea, though I doubt it’s the tsar’s tea machine.”
“I used to covet the portable silver tea service that Napoleon toted around on his campaigns.” She pointed to a small mahogany trunk, propped open at an angle to show its intricate shelves, fittings, and utensils. “But then Elspeth turned me on to ‘All the Teas in China,’ the matched collection of Tunbridge Ware tea caddies, back in the corner.”
“The pretty wooden boxes?”
“Eighteen oversized tea caddies covered with mosaics depicting different tea-growing regions in China. Each caddy is one of a kind, with a distinctive profile, but all eighteen are perfectly matched in color. They represent the pinnacle of Tunbridge Ware artistry—made in 1867 and 1868 by the great Robert Russell himself. Elspeth guessed the set would fetch a half million pounds at auction.”
“Blimey! That much lolly for antique kitchen canisters?”
“Yep. And many of the items on display in this gallery are worth far more.”
“Ten million pounds for the lot?” Nigel said hopefully.
“Several tens of millions is more like it.” Flick rubbed her eyes. “I have a rip-roaring headache.”
“Only one more level to go,” Nigel said. “I presume that we own everything else on this floor—the contents of the Tea Blending Room, the Tea Tasting Room, and the Tea Processing Salon.”
“Down to the last tasting cup.”
This time Flick was first to the stairway. The sooner they completed the impromptu inventory, the sooner this miserable day would be over. She skipped down the steps, almost colliding with two museum guests on their way up. Nigel caught up with her in The World of Tea Map Room. They moved to an out-of-the-way corner, in the shadow of a ten-foot-high map of the Indian subcontinent.
Flick perused the register, did a quick mental calculation, and said, “All the antique maps belong to the Hawkers. And most of the paintings and lithographs.”
“I’ll put down another half million,” Nigel said.
“Sure. Why not?” What difference does it make? We’ll never raise enough money to buy it all.
“That leaves the Commodore Hawker Room and the History of Tea Colonnade,” Nigel said.
Flick looked up. “Nothing in the Commodore Hawker Room is on the block. Mary Hawker Evans donated her grandfather’s office furniture when she died, along with his company documents and private papers. Most of the latter are stored in the basement archives.”
“Excellent!” Nigel jotted on his pad.
“However, about half of the colonnade antiquities belong to the Hawkers. Many of them are unique, too. A broadsheet advertising the first English teahouse. Royal menus for afternoon teas. Centuries-old tea chests.” Flick hesitated. “You know what? This is a silly exercise in futility.”
Nigel gazed at his notes. Flick tugged at the pad.
“Don’t waste your time adding up the total,” she said. “We’ll never assemble the funds to buy our exhibits back. No museum our size has access to those kinds of resources.”
“Sad but true. However, as I look at this list, I can see a bit of a bright side.”
“Which is?”
“The museum’s academic efforts will survive the loss. We own most of Desmond Hawker’s letters, papers, and memorabilia. These are the materials that support your various tea-related studies.”
“In other words, shut our doors as a museum and become some kind of tea research institute.”
“Temporarily, perhaps,” Nigel said with a shrug of his shoulders. “A determined fund-raising campaign will enable the museum to eventually replace much of the
“I need a guesstimate of value,” Nigel said. “How about a few million?”
Flick chuckled.
“What is so funny?” Nigel said.
“Which do you suppose is my favorite tea antiquity?”
“I have no idea, though I doubt it’s the tsar’s tea machine.”
“I used to covet the portable silver tea service that Napoleon toted around on his campaigns.” She pointed to a small mahogany trunk, propped open at an angle to show its intricate shelves, fittings, and utensils. “But then Elspeth turned me on to ‘All the Teas in China,’ the matched collection of Tunbridge Ware tea caddies, back in the corner.”
“The pretty wooden boxes?”
“Eighteen oversized tea caddies covered with mosaics depicting different tea-growing regions in China. Each caddy is one of a kind, with a distinctive profile, but all eighteen are perfectly matched in color. They represent the pinnacle of Tunbridge Ware artistry—made in 1867 and 1868 by the great Robert Russell himself. Elspeth guessed the set would fetch a half million pounds at auction.”
“Blimey! That much lolly for antique kitchen canisters?”
“Yep. And many of the items on display in this gallery are worth far more.”
“Ten million pounds for the lot?” Nigel said hopefully.
“Several tens of millions is more like it.” Flick rubbed her eyes. “I have a rip-roaring headache.”
“Only one more level to go,” Nigel said. “I presume that we own everything else on this floor—the contents of the Tea Blending Room, the Tea Tasting Room, and the Tea Processing Salon.”
“Down to the last tasting cup.”
This time Flick was first to the stairway. The sooner they completed the impromptu inventory, the sooner this miserable day would be over. She skipped down the steps, almost colliding with two museum guests on their way up. Nigel caught up with her in The World of Tea Map Room. They moved to an out-of-the-way corner, in the shadow of a ten-foot-high map of the Indian subcontinent.
Flick perused the register, did a quick mental calculation, and said, “All the antique maps belong to the Hawkers. And most of the paintings and lithographs.”
“I’ll put down another half million,” Nigel said.
“Sure. Why not?” What difference does it make? We’ll never raise enough money to buy it all.
“That leaves the Commodore Hawker Room and the History of Tea Colonnade,” Nigel said.
Flick looked up. “Nothing in the Commodore Hawker Room is on the block. Mary Hawker Evans donated her grandfather’s office furniture when she died, along with his company documents and private papers. Most of the latter are stored in the basement archives.”
“Excellent!” Nigel jotted on his pad.
“However, about half of the colonnade antiquities belong to the Hawkers. Many of them are unique, too. A broadsheet advertising the first English teahouse. Royal menus for afternoon teas. Centuries-old tea chests.” Flick hesitated. “You know what? This is a silly exercise in futility.”
Nigel gazed at his notes. Flick tugged at the pad.
“Don’t waste your time adding up the total,” she said. “We’ll never assemble the funds to buy our exhibits back. No museum our size has access to those kinds of resources.”
“Sad but true. However, as I look at this list, I can see a bit of a bright side.”
“Which is?”
“The museum’s academic efforts will survive the loss. We own most of Desmond Hawker’s letters, papers, and memorabilia. These are the materials that support your various tea-related studies.”
“In other words, shut our doors as a museum and become some kind of tea research institute.”
“Temporarily, perhaps,” Nigel said with a shrug of his shoulders. “A determined fund-raising campaign will enable the museum to eventually replace much of the
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