Bride By Choice

the room, laughing and bawling his enjoyment.

‘She wants to see Lorenzo,’ Mamma complained.

‘She can’t do that,’ he roared.

‘Poppa, I must-’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, standing in front of the door, twice her size, daring her to try to remove him. ‘This is just female foolishness. I won’t listen.’

‘But perhaps we should,’ her mother suggested worriedly. She had seen something in her daughter’s face that made her contradict him for once.

‘No,’ Nicolo said forcefully. ‘Trust me, Mamma, I know what’s best.’

And Mamma subsided, to Helen’s burning resentment. Poppa was still standing in front of the door, implacable, confident of his own rightness in everything. She turned and stormed out onto the terrace.

The cars were moving off. Helen watched them stream away down the hill, knowing that Lorenzo would be in one of them, with all the others filled with relatives. The first car grew fainter and fainter until it vanished out of sight.

Her father appeared behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

‘Now it’s our turn,’ he said kindly. ‘And I’m the proudest Poppa in the world.’

Good-tempered now that his will had prevailed, he offered her his arm with an air of old world gallantry. Helen took it, and they went out together.

But as she descended the grand stairway another bride seemed to be there with her; Heather, in bridal glory, very like her own, beginning the same journey to the same cathedral to marry the same man. Only he hadn’t been there, and the bride had been humiliated, and had to return home, broken hearted, to face the world’s scorn. How could anyone do a thing so devastating, so wicked and cruel?

In no time at all it seemed that they had passed through the countryside, had reached the city and were driving down the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, the long, straight road that led to the piazza, and the entrance to the cathedral.

With an air of pride Poppa handed her out of the car, and the procession began.

The cathedral seemed to stretch away into infinity. As she began the long journey down the great aisle she had the strange sensation that the altar was retreating and she would be here forever, striving to move forward and getting nowhere.

Lorenzo was there, looking down the aisle towards her, smiling as she neared. It was going to be all right, she thought as she saw the love blazing from him. How could she doubt him when he looked at her like that? He even reached out his hand as she neared, so great was his eagerness, and a murmur of approval ran around the congregation. Such an ardent groom. Such a lucky bride.

The service washed over her, until the moment she heard Lorenzo say,

‘I, Lorenzo Luigi, take thee, Elena, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health till death us do part.’

Then it was her turn. Her hand was in his. He was looking at her, his eyes warm with love, a gentle, expectant smile on his lips. In a dream she began to say,

‘I, Elena, take thee, Lorenzo-’

It was as though a hand clamped over her throat, choking off the words. She tried again. ‘I, Elena-’

The silence seemed to stretch forever, filled with Lorenzo’s surprise, the soft buzz as the congregation sensed something wrong, ‘till death us do part’ tolling like bells in her head, her own heartbeat growing louder because she was horrified by what she was about to do.

But she had no choice.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t-’

Lorenzo gave her his delightful smile. ‘It’s all right, carissima. One short step and we’ll be together forever.’

Forever. With a man she couldn’t trust.

‘No,’ she cried. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t!’

She had a brief glimpse of his face as her words registered, then she darted away fast enough to evade his restraining hand, running away from Lorenzo, running as if her life depended on it.

The cathedral was a blur about her as she sped down the long aisle. She was vaguely aware of shocked faces, but they were gone the next instant. Then she was out in the piazza, running towards the parked cars. She threw herself into the front one, gasping, ‘Drive!’

After a brief look at her distraught face the chauffeur started up. They were speeding away as Lorenzo rushed out of the church, looking madly around him.

‘Elena! ELENA!’

‘No,’ she wept, crouching down in the back seat, her hands over her ears. ‘I’m not Elena,’ she muttered. ‘I’m Helen. Helen! You never understood-never-’

They would be following her soon. If only she could get home and throw off the wedding dress that belonged to a stranger called Elena. Without it she could escape from this place, be herself again, and forget that she’d ever been deceived by a sweet-talking charmer called Lorenzo Martelli.

As they headed for the Residenza she pulled herself up onto the seat and looked through the rear window. Another car was in pursuit, gaining on them.

‘Faster,’ she urged the driver.

In a few minutes they were swinging into the courtyard and she was fleeing up the stairs to her room. She slammed the door shut and stood clinging to it, breathless, overwhelmed by what she had done.

She heard his footsteps running up the stairs, coming towards her.

‘Elena-what happened? For pity’s sake tell me.’

‘Later,’ she choked. ‘I need a moment-’

Silence. Then his footsteps walking away. Her relief was short-lived. A moment later she heard him coming along the terrace, and hurriedly locked the great window. His shadow appeared and the lock rattled.

‘Open this or I’ll break the glass,’ he said harshly.

She had no doubt that he meant it. She turned the key and backed away. She was trembling.

Lorenzo was as she’d never seen him before. His face was hard, but after that brief outburst he was in command of himself.

‘What happened?’ he asked quietly. ‘Did you lose your nerve?’

‘No, I lost my love,’ she said, very pale.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know you any more, Lorenzo. And if I don’t know you, how can I love you?’

‘What are you talking about?’ he whispered.

‘Who are you?’

‘You know who I am. I’m the man who loves you.’

‘No, I thought I knew that man, but suddenly there’s a new one in his place. He does terrible things and hides them behind a smiling face, and lies to the woman who loves him because she doesn’t really matter. What else are you capable of that I don’t dream of?’

‘I don’t understand a word you’re saying.’

‘I know,’ she said fiercely. ‘I know about you and Heather.’

‘There is no me and Heather.’

‘But there was. You were going to be married, weren’t you? And you stood her up at the altar.’

‘So you did the same to me!’ he shouted. ‘What were you trying to do? Get even on behalf of all women?’

‘It’s nothing like that. You suddenly looked different. I tried to talk to you about it but you could never spare me the time.’

‘Only because everything was so rushed for the wedding.’

‘You should have told me long ago.’

‘Like when? On the first day when you turned me down before we’d been introduced? Faithless and unreliable. Remember saying that? I was likely to tell you then, wasn’t I?’

‘Yes, it would have been too much confirmation.’

‘It didn’t matter then, can’t you see? We were just friends, laughing all the time. And lately-I suppose I didn’t