Wife By Arrangement Page 8

  ‘Darling,’ Angie whispered, reaching out to her.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Heather said firmly, pulling herself together. ‘Bernardo, I should like to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said at once.

  ‘Would you telephone home, please, and speak to Baptista’s maid? Ask her to bring me some day clothes to change into.’

  ‘And me,’ Angie said quickly.

  He nodded and moved away to a quiet corner, taking out his mobile. Heather went to the window and stood looking out. If she didn’t have to look at Renato she might just about endure this.

  Bernardo returned to say the maid was on her way, just as a doctor appeared.

  ‘She’s stable,’ he said. ‘You can see her just for a moment.’

  The two men departed. Angie and Heather sat in silence until the clothes arrived. Within a few minutes they were plainly dressed, and nobody could have told that there was ever going to be a wedding.

  Renato emerged into the corridor. Beneath his tan his face had a kind of greyish pallor and his voice sounded strained. ‘My mother would like to see you,’ he told Heather.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Suffering terribly. She blames herself for this disaster.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. I know who’s to blame and it isn’t her.’

  ‘Then tell her that. Tell her anything you like, but for God’s sake stop her torturing herself. You’re the only one who can help her now.’

  Heather slipped past him into Baptista’s room. Bernardo rose from the bed and backed away as she approached. Renato came just inside the room and stood there, watching as Heather approached the bed.

  Only a short time ago the old woman had looked magnificent and indomitable in black satin, lace and diamonds. Now she looked frail and tiny, lying against the white sheets, her face drained of colour. She turned her head towards Heather. Her eyes were tired and anxious.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she whispered. ‘Forgive me…’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ Heather said quickly. ‘This isn’t your fault.’

  ‘My son-has dishonoured you-’

  ‘No,’ Heather said firmly. ‘I can only be dishonoured by my own actions. Not somebody else’s. There is no dishonour. This will pass, and life will go on.’ She took Baptista’s hand. ‘For you too.’

  Baptista searched her face. ‘I think you have-a great heart-’ she murmured. ‘My son is a fool.’

  Heather leaned closer, smiling into the old woman’s eyes, trying to reassure her. ‘Most men are fools,’ she said. ‘We know that, don’t we? But we don’t have to be affected by their foolishness.’

  Baptista’s face relaxed, and she seemed drawn into the kindly female conspiracy Heather was offering her. ‘Bless you,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘Not just yet,’ Heather agreed. ‘Not until I know you’re on the mend.’

  ‘I’ll be home soon. Promise me that I’ll find you there.’ Baptista’s voice grew urgent. ‘Promise me.’

  Heather stared at her in dismay. All she wanted was to flee Sicily.

  ‘Please-’ she started to say, ‘I can’t-’

  ‘Promise her!’ Renato said violently.

  Baptista was growing dangerously agitated. Heather spoke quickly. ‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there when you come home. But I’ll go now so that you can be alone with your family.’

  ‘You will be there,’ Baptista repeated. ‘You have given your word.’

  ‘And I’m a woman of my word. Don’t worry.’ She slipped out.

  ‘What is it?’ Angie asked quickly, seeing her pale face.

  ‘I can’t believe what I’ve done.’ Briefly she told Angie what had happened.

  ‘You didn’t have any choice.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. But how do I live in the same house with Renato without telling him how much I hate him?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  T HE Residenza was eerily quiet. The vast hordes of guests had swarmed all over it, devouring the feast, hungrier and thirstier for the excitement of having something horrifying to talk about. Now they were all gone, save for one or two who lived too far away to depart that night. In the morning they too would vanish.

  The wedding cake remained uneaten, because everyone had been too superstitious to touch it. It stood tall and beautiful in its white, shimmering glory, celebrating a lovers’ union that would never be.

  Heather stood in the semi-darkness of the great hall, looking at the cake, with its tiny bride and groom on the topmost tier. She was trapped in limbo, unable to go forward or back. The way back involved too many painful thoughts. The way forward was blocked by her promise.

  She felt slightly giddy, and recalled that she’d eaten nothing since the night before. This morning she’d refused breakfast. Too excited. She would eat later, at the reception, she’d thought. And when they cut the cake she’d planned to take the two little figures from the top and treasure them always. Well, they were still there, if she wanted them.

  Suddenly she broke. All day she’d used Baptista’s illness to fend off the truth, but now there was nothing to protect her from it. Lorenzo didn’t love her, had deserted her in front of the whole cathedral. The dream of love that she’d believed in had turned out to be a monstrous, sickening farce.

  At this moment she forgot the doubts that had plagued her only the night before. They belonged in the realm of reason and common sense and it was too soon to heed them.

  What tortured her now were memories of the time when Lorenzo had been the young man who charmed her and made life sweet with his kindness, his cheerful good nature, and his adoration. Her feelings for him might have turned out to be no more than infatuation, but they had been real enough in their way, and now they were bitterly painful. She covered her eyes with her hand and leaned forward, swaying against the table, while anguish shook her. Tears threatened but she fought them back.

  I will not cry. I will not cry.

  At least, not now. Not until she could be alone, away from this house, away from this island, away from Renato Martelli.

  A footstep made her whirl around. Renato stood there, watching her. Furious at his intrusion, she pulled herself together and spoke as calmly as she could. ‘How is your mother?’

  ‘Asleep when I left her. The doctors think it was just a giddy spell.’

  ‘And she’s in no danger?’

  ‘She has a bad heart. But this wasn’t a heart attack.’

  ‘Fine. Then I can go soon?’

  ‘If you want to hurt her. She has welcomed you as her daughter-’

  ‘But I’m not her daughter,’ Heather said harshly, ‘nor will I ever be-’

  ‘You don’t understand. I’m not talking about legalities. I’m saying that she loves you. From the moment you arrived she opened her arms to you. Didn’t you feel that?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and it meant the world to me, but now-’

  ‘Now you’ll turn your back on her? Is that how you repay her kindness?’

  ‘I’ve said I’ll stay until she returns home. I can’t promise further than that.’

  The sound of her own voice startled her. It sounded hard with the effort of suppressing all emotion, not like herself at all. Or perhaps this stern, dry-eyed, controlled woman was who she was now.

  One of the family maids was hovering uneasily. She asked Renato something in Sicilian. ‘She wants to know what she should do with the cake,’ he said.

  Heather stared at him, aghast. She was starving, devastated, with every nerve at breaking point, and her exhausted mind on the edge of hallucinating. The prosaic question caught her off guard and almost sent her into hysterics. ‘How would I know?’ she asked wildly. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before. Oddly enough, the books of wedding etiquette don’t cover it. You suggest something. You’re the man who has an answer for every problem, even if some of your answers fall apart at awkward moments.’

  He flinched but stayed calm. ‘I’ll tell her to send it to
the children’s home.’

  ‘Good idea. But not the top tier. Ask her to take that down now and give it to me.’

  Renato did so. The maid climbed on a chair and reached up to lift down the tiny cake, adorned with the figures under a flowered arch. But her hand shook and the little bridegroom fell to the floor and broke in two. Renato gave her a nod of reassurance, and she hurried away.

  ‘Why do you want that?’ he asked as Heather surveyed the small top tier.

  ‘To eat, of course. I think the bride should have some of her own wedding cake, don’t you?’ She took up a sharp knife and cut into the ornately decorated icing. ‘Have some with me.’

  ‘I don’t think-’

  ‘Then pour me some champagne. You’re not going to deny me wedding cake and champagne on my big day, are you?’

  He found two glasses and filled them. ‘When did you last eat?’

  ‘Yesterday. I couldn’t manage anything this morning.’

  ‘You’ll regret drinking champagne on an empty stomach.’

  She poured two glasses and thrust one at him. ‘Drink it with me. Let’s toast the day you brought about.’

  ‘Heather, I know you must hate me-’

  ‘And try contempt and loathing. Especially contempt.’

  She drained her champagne glass and refilled it. ‘I want to know how much of Lorenzo’s letter was true. When he returned from Stockholm early-that was why? To tell you that he wanted to call it all off?’

  ‘Look-’

  ‘Tell me, damn you!’

  ‘Yes,’ he said reluctantly. ‘He said that.’

  ‘And you kept it to yourself?’

  ‘Why should I tell you what could hurt you? I talked to Lorenzo and-’ He seemed to have trouble going on.

  “‘Made him see reason,” was his charming expression. You mean you told him he had to marry me whether he liked it or not. How dare you? What do you think I am? Some helpless bird-brain with no guts or independence?’

  ‘No, but after what you told me-about your previous fiancé-’

  ‘You told him that?’ she cried, aghast. ‘Oh, you’ve done everything you can to humiliate me, haven’t you? I can just hear you-“You can’t walk out on her, Lorenzo. The poor creature’s already been deserted once. You’ve got to see it through, however much you’d rather not.”’

  ‘Would I have done better to let him walk away from his obligations?’

  Eyes flashing, she whirled on him. ‘He did walk away. You just made sure he did it at the worst possible moment. And why obligations? I was marrying for love and I thought he was doing the same. I don’t want a husband who’s only doing his duty.

  ‘If we’d broken up in London I could have coped. I’d still have had my job, my friends, my life there. But you wanted our marriage, to suit yourself. You had to play God with people’s lives, to suit yourself. And now Lorenzo has vanished, I’m stranded and your mother is ill, all because Renato Martelli has to have his own way.’

  He didn’t answer, but there was a drawn look about his face that checked her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said wearily. ‘I didn’t mean to throw your mother’s illness up at you.’

  ‘Why not? It’s true.’

  ‘Yes, but I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t-’ Her voice thickened, and she set her jaw. She would not weep. She would not.

  ‘Heather-’ He reached for her but she backed off, eyes flashing.

  ‘I’m warning you, Renato-if you touch me, there’ll be violence.’

  He checked himself. ‘Perhaps enough has been said for tonight,’ he sighed. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer me to leave you.’

  She didn’t answer. Her face was unyielding. As he left her Renato felt a flash of some emotion he could hardly identify. He was a man who feared nothing, so his own dread took him by surprise. He didn’t know this woman who looked as though a stone lay where her heart should be. He only knew that he was guilty of some terrible crime.

  Next morning, when the last guest had left, Renato sought out Heather and said, ‘I thought you should know that I’ve traced Lorenzo. He’s staying with friends in Naples.’

  He didn’t look directly at her as he spoke. That way he didn’t have to notice her pallor, or the signs that she hadn’t slept. But he couldn’t help knowing that she tensed at the sound of Lorenzo’s name.

  ‘Does he know that his mother is ill?’ Heather asked quietly.

  ‘No, I haven’t spoken to him.’

  ‘You must. He ought to return and see her.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ he said sharply. ‘It’s not serious. She’ll be home tomorrow.’

  ‘But it would mean a lot to her to see him.’

  ‘It might also strain her.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong,’ Heather said firmly. ‘It’s much harder for her to wonder about him.’

  After a moment’s silence she looked up to see Renato regarding her strangely. ‘You’re very determined to fetch him back,’ he said quietly.

  Once she’d hardly been aware of having a temper. Now a word from Renato could trigger it. ‘If you mean what I think you do, you should be ashamed. It’s all over between Lorenzo and me. I’d never marry him now.’

  ‘Perhaps you think you mean that. But if he came back and turned on the charm-’

  ‘Well, you should know all about the power of Lorenzo’s charm,’ she said bleakly. ‘It was you who told him to give me the full blast of it for your own ends.’

  She heard the slight intake of his breath and knew she’d struck home. She was glad, she told herself angrily. Let him suffer as she suffered.

  ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘he’s not very likely to try to win me back, is he? Not after all the trouble he took to escape me.’

  Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her voice shaking on the last words, and it made Renato say more gently, ‘It wasn’t you he was escaping, but me. And I know my brother better than you. He values things more when he’s lost them.’

  She gave him the cool, defiant look that was her way of coping. ‘So there’s hope yet,’ she said ironically. ‘Lorenzo will make a play for me, and I’ll be fool enough to fall for it. Cue wedding bells, summon all the guests back, and-hey presto! Renato Martelli gets his own way again.’

  ‘For pity’s sake!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you understand-?’ He checked himself. ‘I’m sorry. I just wish I could find the right words to say to you.’

  ‘Does it occur to you that there aren’t any?’

  ‘I’m beginning to be afraid that you’re right. Heather, won’t you let me ask your pardon? I never dreamed of anything like this happening.’

  ‘No, you wanted life arranged your way, and to hell with anyone else. I did a lot of thinking last night, and several things came back to me. Chiefly the fact that nobody mentioned marriage until you did, that night in London. You said Lorenzo was talking about marriage, but that came as news to him. I saw his face. I thought his expression was embarrassment but actually it was surprise.’

  ‘He had told me that if he thought of marriage it would be to you-’ Renato said unwillingly.

  ‘If? But it was a very big if. I’m almost as angry about what you’ve done to Lorenzo as I am about what you’ve done to me. You pushed him into something he wasn’t ready for, and now he’s the one who looks bad.’

  ‘He could have stood up to me and refused,’ Renato said angrily.

  ‘Oh, please! Who stands up to you?’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘And much good it does me! Now, I think you should get him back here to see his mother. Tell him there’ll be no tears or reproaches from me. He’s not the one I blame.’

  ‘Not blame him? After what he did to you-?’

  ‘After what you did to me. Lorenzo tried to tell me honestly about his doubts, but you stopped him. If he and I could have talked I’d have released him at once, quietly, here at home, instead of having to do it in public. That was your doing, not his. So tell him not to worry.’

  After
a moment he said, ‘If we could talk naturally I could tell you how much I admire you for the dignity and spirit you’ve shown in this. But I know that my admiration will only provoke your contempt.’

  ‘Right first time,’ she said crisply. ‘Now, please, go and make that call.’

  She spent the day at the hospital. Baptista slept a good deal but when she awoke her eyes sought Heather, always finding her in a chair by the window, and she smiled with relief. When Renato arrived Heather rose to go, but before she could do so she heard him say in a low voice, ‘Lorenzo will be home this evening, Mamma.’

  She left the room before she could become too aware of them looking at her, and went to have a coffee. Before he left Renato joined her.

  ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘The news has cheered her up. It was generous of you to insist. I hope it won’t come too hard on you.’

  ‘I have no feelings one way or the other,’ she assured him.

  ‘I wish I knew if that were true.’

  ‘Does it matter? It’s your mother who counts.’

  ‘But you count too. We need to talk very soon-’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Surely you can see that matters can’t be left like this?’

  ‘Of course. When she’s better I’ll arrange to return Bella Rosaria, and then I’ll go back to England.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant. There are other things-’

  ‘No, Renato, there’s nothing else. I’ll go back to her now.

  Towards evening Baptista became wakeful, growing alert at every sound.

  ‘He’ll be here soon,’ Heather promised.

  ‘My dear, will it break your heart to see him?’

  ‘Hearts don’t break that easily,’ she said with a determined smile.

  ‘I think they do-at least for a while.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something,’ Heather said in a rush. ‘It’s not just losing Lorenzo-it’s losing everything. That day we went to Bella Rosaria, I told you how right it’s all felt since I arrived. I was so sure that fate had brought me to the right place to marry the right man.’ She gave an ironic little laugh. ‘It just shows you how wrong you can be.’