Life proceeded with a sense of contentment. Elizabeth had returned to visit, accompanied by her husband Jonathan and their children, Claudia and Marcus. In turn, Mara had graciously set aside her professional pursuits, permitting herself the indulgence of presence amongst the children. This brought forth considerable relief to Elizabeth and Jonathan, affording them a rare opportunity for rest.
The children had been in a state of uproar and chaos when a telegram was delivered through the threshold. Mara had received it, and entreated them to remain within the parlour.
She guided me to the kitchen. "Who is it addressed to?" I inquired.
"It is directed to me," she replied, granting me the opportunity to peruse it aloud.
Dear Miss Coleman,
I do extend my sincere gratitude for your return alongside your reputed brother, and it was indeed a delight to behold you. However, there exists a disheartening matter I feel compelled to communicate.
This past Sunday, I was obliged to attend my professional duties, as numerous inspectors expressed a desire to scrutinize the gallery. I acquiesced to their requests, permitting their examinations. Yet when it pertained to the paintings, they fixed their gaze upon the two which had recently been returned. They even went so far as to make notes on their page as they proceeded.
In consequence, they declared the artworks devoid of value, asserting that they are, in truth, forgeries. The rationale behind the assertion that they were not mere replicas but rather originals eludes me entirely.
Nevertheless, it is evident that the painting by Andy Warhol resides in New York, whilst Hockney's splendid work is located in Paris, France.
I express my sincerest apologies in advance, and wish you fortune in your forthcoming projects in hand.
With regards, always.
Mr Charles Henderson.