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The Truth About Constance Weaver
It may begin with a body in the library of an old country house, but this is not a genre "whodunnit." Set in two centuries, it contains a deeper mystery about obsession and forgery, love and hate, madness and identity.
A cache of love letters, dated 1732. A lost painting that may or may not be what it seems. A dying woman who loathes her "old friend," the famous mystery novelist Angus McAllister. Constance Weaver just can't quite bring herself to tell the whole story, because no one will believe her if she does.
“The gentleman portraied on that canvass is my husband, Sir Jacob Hart. Thô he was a man without parallel among his sex in character, wits and vertue; thô he made a rare husband and a loving father; thô I have known no person who was his equal, and thô in truth he was the very ideal of a man, yet to say all this is to omit from the account one grave irregularity …”
Who are these people, really? Who painted the portrait? And when you do discover the truth, on the very last page ... have you discovered it? (Is it, after all, one of those neat, tidy Angus McAllister endings that Connie so despised?)
Or has art outpaced life one more time?
"Sometimes in this life do we ope a box, to find but another box within."
A cache of love letters, dated 1732. A lost painting that may or may not be what it seems. A dying woman who loathes her "old friend," the famous mystery novelist Angus McAllister. Constance Weaver just can't quite bring herself to tell the whole story, because no one will believe her if she does.
“The gentleman portraied on that canvass is my husband, Sir Jacob Hart. Thô he was a man without parallel among his sex in character, wits and vertue; thô he made a rare husband and a loving father; thô I have known no person who was his equal, and thô in truth he was the very ideal of a man, yet to say all this is to omit from the account one grave irregularity …”
Who are these people, really? Who painted the portrait? And when you do discover the truth, on the very last page ... have you discovered it? (Is it, after all, one of those neat, tidy Angus McAllister endings that Connie so despised?)
Or has art outpaced life one more time?
"Sometimes in this life do we ope a box, to find but another box within."
304 pages, Paperback
First published October 24, 2014
3 people are currently reading
316 people want to read
About the author
Richard Farr
6 books89 followersI grew up in England's West Country - one of the world's leading producers of strange names for small villages. I now live in Seattle - the only American city with exactly the same climate.
When I'm not reading, writing, mentoring students and adults (richardfarr.net), or staring out of the window, I enjoy running, hiking and sea kayaking.
When I'm not reading, writing, mentoring students and adults (richardfarr.net), or staring out of the window, I enjoy running, hiking and sea kayaking.
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