Eternal Empire Read Free Page A

floor. In his office, Beardsley was pouring himself a cup of tea. He was a small, round man with a bald head that picked up the colors of the walls around it, mingling them with a peculiar shine of its own. As she entered, his eyes ran lightly across her body, as usual, then settled on her face. “Hello, Madeline. Please, have a seat.”
    Maddy sat down, seeing herself, as she had on their first meeting, through the gallerist’s eyes. Compared to the file photo that had appeared online in recent days, she knew that she looked well, if somewhat too thin, and was no longer able to pretend that she was still in her early thirties.
    Beardsley finished pouring the tea and eased into his own chair. Without looking at Maddy, he picked up the phone and instructed the registrar to hold all calls. Hanging up, he turned to regard her in silence. A personnel folder with her name on it was lying on his desk.
    Maddy saw no point in trying to postpone the inevitable. “I assume you know.”
    â€œOf course I know,” Beardsley said. “A reporter from the
Guardian
rang me at home, but I’ve been hearing about it all morning. I have no choice but to tell you how this looks. When we met, I could tell you were smart, efficient, and willing to work hard, especially for . . .”
    He trailed off. Maddy supplied the missing phrase. “For fifteen thousand a year.”
    â€œYes.” Turning to the file on his desk, the gallerist flipped it open. “And given your experience with archival work, I was lucky to get you. But it turns out that your résumé neglects to say anything about the most interesting part of your career. Or the fact that you were working under an assumed name.”
    â€œIt isn’t assumed,” Maddy said. “It’s my mother’s. I had it legally changed.”
    â€œI imagine that all the attention must have been rather much. Is that why you came to London?”
    Maddy already knew where this was going. “The New York art world is a small one. I hoped I could start over here, as an art adviser, but the market wasn’t great. My sense of timing has never been good.”
    â€œEvidently not. And I’m afraid that the timing here is poor as well.” Beardsley closed the file. “If you aren’t Gerhard Richter, the market is hurting. Which means that we can’t afford this kind of distraction.”
    The gallerist smiled sadly. “You see, people will talk. And as time goes on, the details of this sort of thing become less clear. They remember that you broke into an installation in Philadelphia and that it had something to do with a scandal at your old firm. Even if you weren’t directly involved, it looks especially bad for the archivist at a respectable gallery. You understand?”
    Maddy only looked back. Throughout his speech, she had wanted to protest, but she knew that everything he said was true. People didn’t remember the details. And saying that she hadn’t been in her right mind at the time would only raise more questions. “So you’re firing me.”
    â€œIt isn’t as bad as all that,” Beardsley said generously. “You’re more than welcome to remain until you find another position, which I’m sure will happen soon. There are always opportunities for a girl like you.”
    His eyes brushed her neckline again. Maddy sat there for another moment, as if she was weighing the reasonableness of his argument, then fixed him with a gaze of her own.
    â€œActually, that won’t be necessary,” Maddy said. “Here’s what will happen. I leave today. I get two weeks of severance and a letter of recommendation if I ask for it. And if I require proof of employment to maintain my visa, you’ll back me up until I don’t need it anymore.”
    Beardsley laughed uneasily at this. “That’s quite a list of demands. And if I decline?”
    â€œI’ll