The Tuscan Tycoon’s Wife Page 12

  ‘I hope it’s not that. I’ve told him time and again we’re going to marry in Morenza and that’s final. If he’s dragged us all the way to Venice to have the argument again, I’ll-’ he searched for something that his amiable temper could rise to ‘-I’ll tell him he shouldn’t have done it.’

  ‘So you’re going?’

  ‘We’re going. I must have a talk to Renzo and then I’ll get the car out.’ He groaned. ‘Why couldn’t he at least tell me what’s happened? Ah well, the sooner we’re there the sooner we’ll know, and the sooner we can get home.’

  As they neared the city Selena asked, ‘If the streets of Venice are water, where do we park the car?’

  ‘There’s a causeway that stretches from the mainland, over the lagoon, to Venice. At the Venice end is a terminus called Piazzale Roma where we leave the car and take the boat the rest of the way.’

  ‘A gondola?’

  ‘No, they don’t work like taxis. They just do round trips for tourists. Uncle will have sent his boat for us.’

  But when they got there they were greeted by a surprise. It was Guido who greeted them, and the boat he’d brought with him was a gondola.

  ‘I’d forgotten that you fancied yourself as a gondolier,’ Leo said with a grin. To Selena he added, ‘Guido has some gondolier friends, and he borrows their boat whenever the mood takes him. It’s his idea of honest toil.’

  ‘Ignore him,’ Guido said, kissing Selena and assisting her into the gondola.

  He put their bags in, then turned to usher Leo into the boat with a theatrical flourish. ‘Signore!’

  ‘You’re up to something, little brother,’ Leo said with a grin.

  ‘Who, me?’

  ‘Don’t give me that innocent look. You always looked innocent when you’d done something that made everyone groan. What do you know that I don’t?’

  ‘The things I know that you don’t would fill a book,’ Guido ribbed him. ‘Don’t blame me. It’s life. Fate. Kismet.’

  He cast off, and for a while Selena was distracted by her first gondola ride and her first visit to Venice. It seemed like no time before they had glided out of a side canal into the Grand Canal, the great highway through the centre of town.

  ‘That’s where Uncle lives,’ Leo said, indicating a building on the right.

  The Palazzo Calvani was a monumental building, whose front was decorated with stone decorations of a lacy appearance that almost disguised its size. Selena could understand why it was called a palace. It exuded confidence and beauty in equal measure. It had been the home of great lords for centuries, and its spirit bowed to no man.

  She could appreciate the beauty and the confidence, while being profoundly glad that nobody was asking her to live in it.

  The impression was heightened as they drew up to the landing stage and there were servants, reaching forward to help them. Then the big, glamorous house seemed to reach out too, enveloping them.

  ‘I know,’ Leo murmured in her ear. ‘Sometimes I don’t think I’m going to escape alive either.’

  She chuckled and felt better. If they were together in this, it wasn’t so bad.

  Her eyes widened when she saw her room. Even the Four-Ten hadn’t been as outrageous as this.

  ‘It’s as big as a tennis court,’ she muttered to Leo. ‘We’ll get lost in it.’

  ‘Not us, you,’ he said. ‘My room’s at the other end of the corridor.’

  ‘They haven’t put us together? Why?’

  ‘Because we’re not married. We have to think of the proprieties.’

  ‘But they know we’re together.’

  ‘I know we are, and they know we are. But we’re not supposed to know that they know, and they’re not supposed to know that we know they know. And none of us can admit what anyone knows. It’s called doing things properly.’

  ‘It’s called sticking your head in the sand.’

  ‘That too,’ he agreed.

  Then Selena saw something that made her jump.

  ‘Leo, who’s that, and what’s she doing with my bag?’

  ‘That Liza’s maid,’ Dulcie said, slipping in behind them ‘She sent her to help you.’

  ‘You mean she thinks I’m useless by myself?’

  ‘Stop being so prickly,’ Dulcie said. ‘It’s meant as a compliment, because you’re an honoured guest.’

  You could take it like that, Selena reckoned. Or you could take it as a subtle insult, a way of saying the countess just knew you wouldn’t have a maid of your own. That was the trouble with these folk. You didn’t know which way to take them.

  She’d counted on Leo for support, but she soon realised that he only half understood. Whatever he might say about not being at ease in this place, the fact remained that this was his family, and he loved them. They had shared history, and shared thoughts that needed no words. They called him ‘the country bumpkin’ in a tone of half-derisive affection, but he was one of them in a way Selena knew she never could be.

  From then on she felt a double meaning in everything. When the countess came to her room and personally took her down to supper, was this a compliment, or a wordless way of saying she was too stupid to find the way? When the count rose to take her hand, murmur a compliment on her dress, and lead her to the table, wasn’t he really noticing that the dress had been bought in the Morenza market?

  Well, they weren’t going to intimidate her.

  She took a deep breath and accepted the seat of honour, at right angles to the count. After that she managed pretty well. Her fear was that she might mishandle one of the priceless crystal goblets, and smash it, but the light, skilful touch that had carried her through countless races came to her aid. It was like a horse, really. The trick was not to grab, but to caress.

  The food was superb, and even her morbid sensitivity couldn’t turn that into an insult. She was beginning to relax when there was a faint commotion from just outside the dining room. The next moment the Calvani family had risen en masse to welcome a man and a woman who had come into the room.

  ‘Marco!’ the count cried joyfully. ‘Harriet!’

  A tall, elegantly handsome man stood there with a statuesque young woman.

  ‘I didn’t dare to hope you could make it,’ the count said, going forward eagerly to embrace the two of them.

  ‘We just managed to get a flight,’ Marco said. ‘We weren’t going to miss the big occasion if we could help it. Have you-?’

  ‘No, no, not yet,’ the count said hurriedly cutting him off. ‘Come, both of you, and meet the newest member of our family.’

  Selena’s eyes met Leo’s over the table, both equally puzzled. Big occasion?

  So this was Marco, she thought, the cousin Leo had mentioned, the one who never showed his feelings but had gone chasing off to England, neglecting his banking job in Rome, in order to win back the woman he loved. Now his manner was cool and composed, as though such emotional behaviour was beyond him. Yet she noticed how his eyes constantly wandered to Harriet, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was there.

  She’d taken an instant liking to Dulcie, and now she found herself liking Harriet who sat beside her and chattered between mouthfuls as she hurried to catch up with the meal.

  ‘I’m so glad you and Leo managed to get it together,’ she said. ‘Dulcie and I hoped you would.’

  ‘I’ve already told her how much he talked about her,’ Dulcie said.

  Harriet nodded. ‘I remember that.’

  ‘Actually the two of you thought me very funny,’ Leo said, overhearing. He grinned at Harriet. ‘But the laugh’s on Marco now. You must really have gotten under his skin to make him follow you all the way to London, and stay there for weeks. When are you going to make an honest man of him?’

  ‘Well, it’ll have to be soon,’ Harriet said, laughing. ‘He’s giving me the shop as a wedding present. I have an antique shop,’ she said to Harriet. ‘The trouble is I’m a terrible businesswoman, so Marco’s been teaching me “financial comm
on sense”.’

  ‘Antiques?’ Selena said in a hollow voice. ‘You mean-?’ She looked at their surroundings, the crystal chandeliers, the priceless paintings. ‘You mean-this kind of stuff?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Harriet said eagerly. ‘This place makes my mouth water it’s so full of history and beauty. You could sum up the story of Venice in this house, the people, the occasions-’

  Selena didn’t hear any more. A depression had settled over her heart. For one moment she’d hoped to find a kindred spirit in Harriet, someone who might also feel like a fish out of water in these surroundings. And now it turned out that she belonged here as much as any Calvani. She would fit seamlessly into the family, and underline the fact that Selena herself stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Still, she thought, there was always Dulcie, the private detective, the working girl who’d known what it was to scrabble for a living.

  She had to cling to that thought, because she was realising that there were thoughts she couldn’t share with Leo. He simply didn’t understand.

  And that was the worst thing of all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  T HE meal was drawing to a close. The plates had been cleared and there were coffee and liqueurs on the table. A hush fell on the conversation, as though everyone recognised that the time had come.

  ‘Does everybody have a glass?’ the count demanded. ‘Splendid. Then I have an announcement to make.’ His eyes fell on Leo and Selena.

  Oh no! she thought. This is to tell us that he’s arranged our marriage in St Marks, and we just have to fall into line.

  ‘As you know,’ Francesco went on, ‘soon we will all be going to Tuscany for the marriage of our dear Leo and Selena. A joyful occasion, made even more joyful by what I have to tell you.’

  A pause. He seemed uncertain how to go on. Selena relaxed. At least it wasn’t the wedding.

  ‘It’s another wedding I wish to speak of tonight,’ Francesco continued. ‘One that we thought-that is, we have been in some confusion all these years-but now that things are clear-’

  He looked at Guido. ‘You tell them,’ he said. ‘This is your story.’

  Guido took the floor and addressed Leo. ‘Uncle Francesco’s trying to tell you that it was a mistake about your mother’s marriage all those years ago. She never was married before. So her marriage to our father was valid, and you’re legitimate.’

  In the thunderstruck silence Selena saw Leo turn pale. Then he managed some kind of laugh.

  ‘Very funny, little brother. You were always good for a joke, and that’s your best yet.’

  ‘It’s no joke,’ Guido said. ‘It’s all been proved. That man who turned up alive, saying Elissa was his wife-Franco Vinelli. They were never married. Vinelli had been married before, in England. He was an actor, in a Commedia dell’ Arte troop, and they toured all over.

  ‘He married an Englishwoman in a register office. When his tour ended he just abandoned her. He seems to have thought an English civil ceremony wouldn’t count when he got back to Italy.’

  ‘He was right,’ Leo said firmly. ‘It wouldn’t be recognised over here, not in those days.’

  ‘But it was,’ Guido said. ‘There was an international convention, saying that if a marriage was valid in the country where it was contracted then it would be recognised in any other country that was a signatory. Both England and Italy were signatories, so the marriage counted here.

  ‘He was a married man when he took Elissa to wife, which means that she was a free woman when she married our father. Their marriage was legitimate. And so are you.’

  ‘What do you mean it’s all been proved?’ Leo demanded. ‘What can be proved after all this time?’

  ‘It can be done, with a little ferreting around.’

  ‘Which I’ll bet you did.’

  ‘Sure. I never wanted all this, never pretended about it. It’s all yours.’

  Leo was looking around him with a trapped look.

  ‘This is nonsense,’ he said. ‘You have to forget it.’

  ‘It’s the law,’ the count roared. ‘It cannot be forgotten. You are my heir, and that is how it should be. You’ve always been the eldest son-’

  ‘The illegitimate eldest son,’ Leo said firmly.

  ‘Not any more,’ Marco reminded him.

  ‘You keep out of this,’ Leo ordered him, ‘You-you banker!’

  Marco poured himself a drink, unperturbed.

  ‘It’s too late to change anything,’ Leo insisted. ‘I don’t believe in this so-called proof. It wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny by a lawyer-’

  ‘It already has,’ Guido said. ‘It’s been gone over and over by lawyers, sworn statements, properly notarised, records from the English registers.’

  ‘What does Vinelli say?’ Leo challenged. ‘Bring him here to face me.’

  ‘Vinelli died last year. He had no family, and nobody near him knew about that English marriage.’

  ‘There must be somebody.’

  ‘There’s only written records.’

  ‘I’ll bet you thought of every detail,’ Leo fumed.

  ‘You bet I did.’

  ‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’ Leo flung at him.

  ‘Every minute.’

  ‘That’s fine for you but what about-’ Leo’s eyes fell on Selena, pale and distraught, watching him beseechingly. ‘What about us?’ he finished quietly, taking her hand.

  She rose and stood beside him. The sight of them side by side seemed to alert the others to the fact that something was really wrong. This wasn’t the joyous announcement that Count Francesco had counted on.

  The count began to huff and puff. ‘Well, I must say, I expected better than this,’ he said. ‘It should be a great day.’

  ‘Having your life overturned doesn’t make for a great day,’ Leo said firmly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, Selena and I will go upstairs. We’ve got some talking to do.’

  They walked from the room, hand in hand, and broke into a run as soon as they were out of sight. They didn’t stop until they reached his room.

  ‘Leo, they can’t do this to us.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, I won’t let them.’

  But she heard the uncertainty in his voice and it made her shiver. She’d always known him light-hearted in the face of any challenge, as though nothing could ever be too much for him. Now she sensed that he didn’t feel confident of overcoming this.

  ‘You know,’ she said huskily, ‘some people would dream of this. They’d say we were being unreasonable. Suddenly you’re an important man with a great inheritance. Why aren’t we glad?’

  ‘Because it’s a nightmare,’ he said. ‘Me, a count. The country bumpkin, which is all I’ve ever wanted to be. Do you want to be a contessa?’

  ‘Are you kidding? I’d rather be a cow-pat.’

  They clung together, seeking reassurance from each other, but each knowing they were fighting something that could suffocate them.

  There was a knock on the door, and Dulcie looked in.

  ‘Your uncle wants you in his study,’ she said to Leo. ‘He’s got papers to show you.’

  ‘Hell!’

  ‘Best get it over with,’ she said sympathetically.

  When he’d gone Selena said, ‘How do you feel about this? You were going to be a contessa, and now you’re not. How can you smile?’

  Dulcie laughed and shrugged. ‘I’ve had enough of titles to last me a lifetime. Being a countess never made my mother happy.’

  ‘Your mother-is a countess?’ Selena echoed.

  ‘My father’s an earl, that’s a sort of English count.’

  ‘And you live-like this?’ Selena indicated their surroundings.

  ‘Goodness no!’ Dulcie laughed. ‘We never had two pennies to rub together. My father gambled it all away. That’s why I had to work as a private detective. I couldn’t do anything else. Having a title doesn’t qualify you for a proper job.’ She looked at Selena, suddenly alert. ‘Selena, what’s the matter? Are y
ou ill?’

  ‘No, I’m not ill, but I’ve stepped into a crazy house.’

  Another knock on the door. This time it was Harriet, and behind her a servant with a trolley bearing champagne. While Dulcie began to pour, Harriet stretched out on a sofa and kicked off her shoes.

  ‘Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,’ she said. ‘You-would-not-believe the commotion that’s going on downstairs.’

  ‘We would,’ Dulcie chuckled, handing the other two a glass each. ‘We’re well out of it.’

  ‘Leo and Guido were practically coming to blows,’ Harriet said cheerfully. ‘Leo says he’s going to wring Guido’s neck. Oh, by the way, Liza would have come with me, but she’s a little tired, and she’s gone to bed. Actually I think it’s her English that’s troubling her. She doesn’t speak it very well and she’s afraid you may be offended.’ This last was to Selena.

  So that was the countess’s excuse, Selena thought glumly. That was how these people operated. No out-right snub, nothing you could take offence at. Just a half-truth that left you clutching at shadows.

  She downed the champagne, which she suddenly needed badly.

  Leo waited until the house was quiet before he slipped out of his room. Propriety be blowed, tonight he needed to be with Selena.

  But when he opened her door he found her bed empty and no sign of her. He switched on the light to be sure, then switched it off again and went to the window. The Grand Canal lay before him, silent, mysterious, melancholy in its beauty. Many a man would envy him, the inheritor of all this, but it was his wide, rolling acres that called to him.

  And his instincts told him that there was another trouble coming, and that was the one he dreaded.

  Something caught his eye and he looked to see where the palace made a right angle to itself. Through the large windows he could see a white shape wandering through the great rooms.

  Like any self-respecting palace this one had its ghosts, but none like this. Leo left the room quickly and hurried down through the building, across the marble floors that echoed the lightest footsteps.

  He found the ghost in the ballroom, walking forlornly along the huge windows that went from floor to ceiling. All around them shone decorations of gold leaf. Above them hung gigantic crystal chandeliers, silent in the gloom.