‘Our child will be born in wedlock,’ he said gently.
‘Yes-of course.’
Had any man ever received such joyless consent? It was as though she accepted him in despair-with no hope, only resignation.
He wasn’t an imaginative man, but for a moment he was granted a glimpse of the future-a bleak road stretching far into the distance, with the two of them trudging endlessly together towards nothing. And he was appalled.
The thing that shocked him most was her agreement with whatever he suggested. She, who had always stood up to him, teased and fenced with him, who had only a few hours ago told him to go to hell, now agreed without argument to whatever he said.
He had always been a dominant man, demanding exactly this kind of acquiescence as of right. But from her he hated it.
Even so, he seized the chance to make his other demand while she was in this mood. It was too important for him to take risks.
‘The doctor says you can leave soon,’ he said, ‘and I want to take you home with me.’
‘Home?’
‘The Palazzo Marini. You mustn’t live alone. It’s too dangerous for you.’
‘You expect me to live-
He knew what she meant. There, where she had discovered his deception and the world had exploded around her.
‘No,’ she said angrily. ‘I just want to go home and be alone.’
‘That I won’t allow,’ he said flatly, and caught himself up at once. ‘I mean-it would be better to do it my way.’
‘No, no, you got it right the first time,’ she said with weary irony. ‘Stick to giving orders. It’s what you do best, and at least then we all know how things really stand, which is very useful. I like knowing the truth.’
Her soft bitterness shocked him and made him clench his hands out of sight.
‘Elise-’ he whispered.
‘I can’t live with your mother. How would she bear looking at me every day, knowing that I was the woman who destroyed Angelo?’
‘She knows nothing. We didn’t quarrel in front of her that night, and I never spoke a word about it afterwards.’
She gave a hard, mirthless laugh that tore at his heart. ‘Of course, how much easier to deceive her! Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘She’s had a lot of pain in her life. Angelo’s death hit her hard, and I don’t tell her anything that might upset her.’
She gave a faint, derisive smile. ‘And you’re going to take the risk of leaving me alone with her? Suppose I tell her?’
‘You won’t do that. It would be cruel and spiteful, and you’re not either of those things.’
‘I thought we’d established that I was.’
‘You told me what Ben did-’
‘How do you know I was telling the truth-such a deceiver as I am?’
‘Stop it,’ he growled.
‘But we must be realistic, mustn’t we?’ she challenged with a touch a grim humour that came strangely from her weakened frame. ‘Think how good I must be at thinking up the right lies.’
‘I forbid you to talk like that,’ he said fiercely.
At once she closed her eyes, seeming to sag wearily as though she could only fight just so much.
‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘Believe what you like.’
‘You forget, I got to know Ben. It’s easy to believe he’d behave like that.’
She opened her eyes again. ‘Yes, you knew Ben. At one time I thought you knew me-’
This time she turned her head right away from him, and he could say no more.
Would it always be there between them? Vincente wondered. He’d learned to think the best of her, but would she ever forget or forgive the fact that it had needed to be learned?
As soon as Elise was stronger Vincente brought his mother to see her. Signora Farnese was almost weeping with joy at the thought of the coming wedding and her first grandchild.
Elise could see how frail this woman was. Vincente had been born late in her life and she was in her seventies. She had known little happiness, and was eager to grasp what was left.
‘I knew this was going to happen,’ she said cheerily. ‘When I first saw the two of you together, I knew everything. There was a special “something” between you that only happens between people in love.’
Vincente and Elise could not meet each other’s eyes. Luckily his mother was oblivious.
A few days later she was installed in the Palazzo Marini, in the grand bedroom that was exclusive to the mistress of the house. The huge bed was hung with brocade curtains that swept up to a point over the pillows, where they were topped by something that looked suspiciously like a coronet.
The bedroom was only for Elise. Vincente’s room was even more grandiose. They were connected by a short, narrow corridor, little more than a cupboard, which also contained the entrance to their bathroom.
‘Perfectly horrible,’ the
She set about spoiling Elise very thoroughly, insisting that she should call her Mamma. Elise agreed, finding solace in the older woman’s kindness.
She felt stranded in no man’s land. She had wanted to separate from Vincente, and only the threatened loss of her baby had made her change her mind. Then a powerful surge of maternal feeling had made her determined to give the child everything it deserved, including a father. She had agreed to the marriage because in her mind all other paths had closed off.
But where did that leave the two of them? She had yet to find out.
The ceremony was to take place at the Church of Santa Navona, a magnificent edifice where the family had always been married and buried.
‘Does that mean Angelo’s there?’ Elise asked Vincente.
‘Yes. Do you want me to show you the place?’
‘No need. Just tell me where it is.’
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather take you myself.’
She did mind, he could see that at once. She wanted to be alone with Angelo, but a fierce jealousy that he would not admit to made Vincente insist on going too. For a moment he thought she might argue, but then she shrugged as though it really didn’t matter very much, because nothing mattered any more. And that hurt him more than anything.
‘Before we go to the grave,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you. The night you told me about Angelo, you said his name was Caroni. That threw me, because it wasn’t. It was Valetti. Caroni was his mother’s maiden name.’
‘But why-?’
‘I suppose using it was part of his assertion of independence, the illusion of being a poor student who had to live in Trastevere.’
When they reached the churchyard he led her to the grave, which was under the trees, just visible from the path that led to the front door. A length of marble lay flat on the ground, with the name Angelo Valetti engraved in it, and his dates.
‘So even he didn’t tell me the complete truth,’ she mused. ‘Can any of you be trusted?’
‘Don’t judge him too harshly. It was a game to him.’
‘That’s why I couldn’t find any trace of his death,’ she breathed. ‘I tried to check his death certificate as soon as I arrived. I wanted to know how and why he’d died. But of course there was nobody of that name. Will you leave me, please? I’d like to be alone with Angelo.’
Reluctantly he walked away.
