Bride By Choice

CHAPTER NINE

SHE tried twice to call Lorenzo in France, but both times the calls were interrupted, and she realised that this was hopeless. The talk they must have couldn’t be conducted over the telephone.

The time before he returned was terrible. Everything she saw seemed lit up by a livid light. Heather’s smile, once so sweet and friendly, now seemed to have a jeering, cynical twist. And wherever she looked she saw cruel concealment, knowledge hidden from her because she was nothing.

If she hoped that Lorenzo’s return would provide a chance to talk she was soon disillusioned.

‘Cara, I want to be alone with you too,’ he said, swiftly kissing her as they sat in the back of the chauffeur driven car from the airport. ‘But Renato’s going to keep me at it until the last minute. And when I’m not working I’m entertaining. But it’s all in a good cause, so that after the wedding we can enjoy our honeymoon.’

‘Darling, please,’ she begged, her eyes on the chauffeur’s back. ‘It’s important.’

For answer he took her into his arms and kissed her hard. ‘That is important,’ he said. ‘Loving each other is important.’

He was at his most charming as he said it, but suddenly his charm seemed almost frightening. It was such a potent weapon. Was there something a little ruthless about the way he used it? She searched his face, trying to see there the man who could jilt a woman at the altar and take her to bed when she was his brother’s wife. But all she could see was his charm.

Then it was the day for her family to arrive, filling the Residenza’s guest rooms, plus half the nearby hotels. Her parents were beside themselves with joy as Baptista showed them over the splendid house of which they’d heard so much. They basked in the honour shown them by this great lady, and Helen wondered how they would feel if they knew that she was desperately thinking of calling the wedding off.

But that was overreacting, she assured herself. Somehow she would have a long talk with Lorenzo and he would explain everything. Of course he hadn’t betrayed Renato with his wife. Sara’s story had been garbled. As for his behaviour in the cathedral-there must be an explanation. He would tell her, and everything would be all right.

But the days were rushing by in a blur of parties and shopping trips, and suddenly it was the last night, and Lorenzo was being swept off in a tidal wave of male relations, for a final carouse.

‘Darling, please-’ she tried to plead, but Renato intervened.

‘Don’t worry, Elena. We won’t let him get too drunk, and we’ll bring him home safely.’

He was as good as his word. At two in the morning he and Bernardo helped their brother up the stairs, reasonably sober, considering it had been a stag night, but way past talking coherently. Helen watched their progress in despair.

That night she lay awake, wretched, trying to picture the future, seeing only a blank. She dropped into an uneasy doze at six o’clock, and was awoken an hour later by the maid with her coffee. Now the day had to be faced.

Her bedroom was crowded with women all eager to help her on with her bridal gown, made of satin that had been specially woven for extra weight, draped over a wide, crinolined skirt. It wasn’t white, but ivory, a better colour for Helen’s black hair and warm skin. The skirt was heavily embroidered, with tiny sparkling jewels sewn into rosettes, and a diamond tiara to hold the veil in place. It was a romantic dream of a dress, but now its very magnificence filled her with anguish.

‘Where’s Lorenzo?’ she said urgently. ‘I must talk to Lorenzo.’

There was a united scream from every woman in the room.

‘You can’t see the bridegroom before the wedding,’ her mother said firmly. ‘It’s unlucky.’

‘Oh, Mamma, that’s just superstition.’

There was a knock at the door and her father’s voice called, ‘Are you all ready?’ The next moment he was in 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 think. All right, I was thoughtless, but I love you. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No, it’s not enough,’ she said wildly. ‘You treated me with contempt.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Oh, you don’t think it’s treating me with contempt to conceal from me something that everyone else knew, letting them laugh at me, pity me, counting on me not finding out until too late? No, of course you don’t. Because that’s how a Sicilian man behaves, isn’t it?’

‘Will you stop talking like that?’ he roared. ‘All that prejudice of yours is damned silly.’

‘No, it isn’t, it’s true. I thought you were different, but you’re not. And my prejudices, as you call them, are based on reality. The little woman is entitled to know exactly what he tells her and no more. If even you can behave like that, I was right all the time.’

‘All right, I should have told you, but it’s so far in the past-’

‘Little more than a year ago.’

‘It’s still over.’

He was a creature of the moment, she realised with despair. What was over was over, whether it was one year or ten.

‘Heather and I weren’t right for each other-’ he began to say.

‘You must have loved her once or it would never have got as far as a wedding.’

Lorenzo tore his hair. Analysing people, especially himself, came hard to him, and the effort was doing his head in. But he tried his best. ‘I thought I did,’ he said. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Oh, you changed your mind just like that, and left her standing there to be laughed at.’

‘That wedding was a terrible mistake. Heather and I didn’t love each other.’

‘Didn’t you? Are you sure you didn’t regret it afterwards? She was very convinced you two still had a yen for each other, maybe still do-’

‘She? Who?’

‘Sara. She was a maid here when it happened. And later, she took the call when Heather dashed to England to be with you, although she was married to Renato by then-’

‘Sara? Mio Dio!’ He threw up his hands. ‘So that’s it. Heather dismissed her for stealing. She must have had a wonderful time getting her revenge.’

‘You mean it’s not true? You didn’t leave Heather at the altar?’

‘Yes, I did, and I’m ashamed of it, but if you’d just let me explain-’

‘It’s too late for that. You should have told me earlier, and not left me to find out from someone else. What were you thinking of?’

‘I was thinking of you,’ he said simply. ‘Just you. You drove everything else out of my head. Maybe I should have remembered the past and realised, but-’ he shrugged ‘-I suppose I just assumed that our love was so special that it could overcome everything.’

She turned away swiftly, not to let him see that this affected her. It was less his words than his tone, suddenly gentle and almost bewildered, that touched her heart. But she fought the tears back. He’d always known how to make her weaken, but she couldn’t afford to weaken now.

Lorenzo took hold of her, drawing her close although her head was still averted from him.

‘Listen to me, darling, I was wrong. I’m sorry, but I love you more than anything in the world. It’s not too late. If we go back to the cathedral now, we can still be married. People will think it strange, but let them. If we love each other-’

‘Stop it, stop it!’ she cried, wrenching herself free. ‘I can’t simply turn the clock back like that. You talk about love, but what is your love worth? How long does it last? You changed your mind about Heather. What about when you change your mind about me, Lorenzo? It’s not so easy after the wedding, but I’m sure you’d have found a way to do as you pleased.’

His face had been pale before, but at this it became a greyish colour, as though he were dying. ‘Be careful what you say,’ he whispered.

‘Why? Should I be afraid of you?’

‘No, I think perhaps you should be afraid of you. You’re on the verge of saying things that will make it impossible for us ever to find our way back to each other.’

‘There is no way back. I made a mistake. Luckily I saw it in time.’

He put his hand over her mouth. ‘Hush. Don’t talk like that, Elena. For pity’s sake, leave us some hope.’

‘Don’t call me Elena. She’s someone else, someone you can manipulate because she’s stupid. And I have been stupid, haven’t I? Everything about our marriage suddenly fell into place so neatly-too neatly. It was always obvious but I wouldn’t see it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look me in the eye and tell me you had nothing to do with me getting that job at the hotel.’

‘What on earth-?’

‘Tell me.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I called Erik and suggested you were ideal to work there, but you are. Axel Roderick wouldn’t have given you the job otherwise.’

‘But you did call him and fix me up with a job in Sicily-to suit yourself?’

He stared. ‘If you want to put it like that. I just thought I was taking care of the problems. I knew you still wanted your career, and this way you could still have it and marry me.’

‘You manipulated it,’ she repeated. ‘You wanted me, so you pulled all the right strings.’

‘Yes, I wanted you,’ he shouted. ‘I’d have done anything to get you to marry me. You make it sound like a crime.’

‘I just wonder what would have happened when it suited you to make me leave my job and stay at home all day. More string-pulling, and suddenly I wouldn’t have a choice.’

‘You really believe that I’d do that to you?’ he asked, aghast.

‘I don’t know. I told you, I don’t know you any more. All I know is that I walked right into something I always promised myself I’d avoid. There are too many unanswered questions. You say Sara was being spiteful, but it’s true about you and Heather. You are very close. I’ve seen it, but I thought it was just brother and sister-’

‘So it is! What the hell are you suggesting. That Heather and I-?’

‘What happened when you went to England and sent for her to join you, and she promised to be with you that night?’

There was a long silence. As it stretched on and on she knew that she’d made a dreadful mistake. Lorenzo looked like a man who’d received a mortal blow. Before her eyes he grew older, wearier. It was there in his face that he’d given up on something. Given up on her? On hope? On love?

‘If you’ve been thinking that of me,’ he said at last, ‘then I’m surprised you got as far as the altar.’

‘I kept hoping to talk to you-that we might clear it up-’

‘Talk? Between me and the woman who thinks I slept with my brother’s wife? How you must have despised me all this time. What is there to talk about?’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘What could we say to each other, you and I?’

‘Nothing,’ she said dully.

He stared at her in a kind of horror. ‘You never understood how much I loved you. It happened right from the start but I wouldn’t face it because I knew you didn’t want me. All that friendship talk was just a cover for the fact that I was off my head about you. I thought about you non-stop. I thought about you when I should have been working.

‘I nearly went crazy when I had to leave New York. I was jealous as hell of Erik. I kept wanting to beg you not to marry him because you belonged to me. Yes, belonged to me. Mine. Nobody else’s. I’m a Sicilian, and that’s how we think. Sorry about that, but it’s true. It’s not modern, not liberated. It’s Sicilian. If you marry me, you belong to me. But what you never thought of was that I belonged to you. In my heart and mind I was yours, your property to do as you liked with. I’d have done anything you asked, anything at all. I’d have lain down and invited you to walk over me if it made you happy. And, be honest, Helen, that’s a damned sight more than you could ever say.’

She stared at him, stricken. It was true.

Lorenzo spoke his next words with a bitterness that she could never have imagined from him. ‘I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, or ever will again. But now-I think it would have been better if we’d never met.’

She became aware of a rumbling noise growing louder. Cars had begun to arrive, doors banged, footsteps thundered and suddenly a vast crowd flooded into the room from the terrace.

‘Disgraciatu! Disgraciatu!’ The cry filled the room and Helen was never sure who’d uttered the words. Her father, perhaps, bearing down on her in a towering rage.

‘My daughter!’ he shouted. ‘That my daughter should do this! And with the whole city looking on.’

‘Poppa, I’m sorry it happened that way-’ she tried to say.

‘You’ve brought shame on your family,’ he screamed. ‘You’ve dishonoured your promise, dishonoured your father-’

‘Wait.’ Lorenzo laid a hand on Poppa’s arm and he immediately tried to be calmer.

‘I offer my apologies to the Martelli family,’ he choked. ‘I am shamed to the dust.’

A look of disgust passed across Lorenzo’s face. ‘Nothing that has happened today has shamed anybody,’ he said firmly. ‘Elena changed her mind, as she had the right to do. In time, we will both be glad that she had the courage.’

Helen was standing by the bed, holding onto one of the posts, feeling as though all the strength had drained out of her after the anguish of the last few days. But at the realisation that Lorenzo was going to defend her she fixed her eyes on him.

It wasn’t totally a surprise. She had always known that he was generous. But for him to stand up for her now, when he was lacerated by humiliation, brought tears to her eyes.

But her father was still in full flow.

‘You are kinder than she deserves,’ he cried. ‘But to leave you at the altar-there can be no forgiveness for such a cowardly, disgraceful act.’

‘I hope you are wrong,’ Lorenzo said, very pale. ‘Because I myself once committed just such an act. A year ago I walked out on my wedding, in the same cathedral.’

Poppa blenched as he realised that Lorenzo could construe his words as an insult to himself. ‘That is quite different-’ he hurried to say.

‘It is not different at all,’ Lorenzo said firmly. ‘I was granted forgiveness, and I am the last person who should blame Elena. Nor will I allow anyone else to blame her. She had her reasons-’ he took a choking breath ‘-good reasons. The blame is mine.’

That silenced them for a moment, but then Giorgio shouldered his way to the front. Either he hadn’t heard Lorenzo’s words, or he was too full of rage and disappointment to take them in.

‘You fool!’ he screamed at Helen. ‘You had your chance-a chance for all of us-and you threw it away.’

‘Be silent!’ Lorenzo warned him.

Giorgio ignored him. ‘You think only of yourself,’ he bawled at Helen. ‘You get some stupid idea in your head and your whole family has to suffer. Shame on you.’

‘That’s enough!’

At first nobody recognised that the fierce command had come from Lorenzo, so unlike himself did he sound. Gradually the room grew quiet, and they all turned to see a stern faced man where a boy had once been.

‘I forbid you to say another word,’ Lorenzo said, speaking slowly and emphatically for Giorgio’s benefit. ‘You have nothing to say to Elena Angolini. Not a thing. She hasn’t harmed you, and I shall not allow you to harm her.’

‘You will not-?’ Giorgio scoffed.

‘I will not allow,’ Lorenzo repeated coldly.

Giorgio cast him a belligerent look which made Renato and Bernardo start forward, but Lorenzo halted them with a gesture. They stepped back. They had seen something in their brother that had never been there before and their faces expressed their satisfaction.

‘Get out of Sicily,’ Lorenzo said.

‘Who are you to-?’

‘Get out now, on the afternoon plane. A car will take you to the airport. Collect your passport and leave this minute. If you don’t, bad things will happen to you.’

Nobody had ever seen Lorenzo like this before. Giorgio made one last effort at assertion, but it amounted to no more than taking a deep breath, and collapsed at once. He began to inch backwards through the crowd that parted for him, until he turned and ran. His wife slipped out after him, and the others began to drift away too.

When only the Martellis were left Lorenzo turned to his family.

‘I would like to speak to Elena alone, please.’

They obeyed at once. None of them would have defied the commanding man who stood there. Only Baptista hesitated, stepping up to Helen and kissing her cheek. She looked at her son, who responded with a brief smile and said almost inaudibly, ‘Thank you, Mamma. Now, please go. And send us some coffee and sandwiches.’

‘I don’t need anything,’ Helen said.

‘Yes, you do,’ he told her firmly. ‘You need strong black coffee, and then you’ll have something to eat.’

It was a voice she had never heard from him before. She stared at him.