The Truth About Constance Weaver
"The gentleman portraied on that canvass is my husband. Tho' he was a man without parallel among his sex in character, wits and vertue; tho' he made a rare husband and a loving father; tho' I have known no person who was his equal, and tho' in truth he was the very ideal of a man, yet to say all this is to omit from the account one grave irregularity …. "
It begins with a bloody corpse in the library of an English country house, and ends with a twist you'll never forget. But Constance Weaver is not that kind of mystery.
Love letters dated 1732. A mysterious double portrait. And a dying woman who loathes her oldest "friend."
Who did what to whom, and why, is just the first layer of the onion in this gripping story about time, obsession, forgery, and madness.
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?
Or has art outpaced life one more time?
"Sometimes in this life do we ope a box, to find but another box within."