Bride By Choice

CHAPTER SEVEN

HELEN’S first view of Sicily was very strange to her. It was the place that indirectly had affected everything in her life, including the person she had become. ‘The old country’ had been like an extra member of the family, issuing silent commands, the yardstick by which everything was judged, and against which she had always rebelled. And now here it was, a triangle of land floating in the midst of a glittering blue sea, and all she could think of was how beautiful it looked.

But she soon turned away. Lorenzo needed her now. He was pale and staring into space, counting the seconds as they descended, getting closer to the moment when some family member would meet them with the news-perhaps that his mother was dead.

Helen took his hand between both hers and squeezed it. He gave her a grateful look and squeezed back, trying to smile. His vulnerability touched her heart. For so long she’d tried to keep her feelings for him within limits, but the whole pretence was falling apart. She’d chosen to make love with him because her rising passion could no longer be denied. But this was more than passion. Her heart ached for him.

As they came through customs Lorenzo looked around him anxiously until he saw a young, fair woman, behind the barrier. She was waving, smiling, giving a thumbs-up sign with both hands. He dashed forward to embrace the young woman eagerly but carefully, for she was heavily pregnant.

As Helen grew closer she heard her say, ‘It’s all right, my dear. She’s out of danger, and longing to see you.’

She glanced at Helen and he hastened to introduce them. ‘Helen, this is Heather, who is married to my brother, Renato. Heather, this is Helen Angolini who came with me because-because-’ he seemed unable to find the words.

‘I understand,’ Heather said quickly. ‘Welcome, Helen. The family will be so glad to meet you after all Lorenzo has told us.’

This wasn’t the moment to ask what Lorenzo had said about her. In no time they were in the back of the car, hurrying to Palermo and the hospital where Baptista lay.

‘Mamma simply passed out,’ Heather explained, ‘and her heart rhythm became very unsteady. In view of her age we were worried. But the doctors have managed to stabilise her and she’s looking a lot better.’ She smiled at Helen. ‘She was thrilled when I told her you were coming too.’

Helen smiled abstractedly, and left the other two to talk.

So this was Heather, the woman with the beautiful voice, whom Lorenzo called carissima. Helen could feel the glow of the affection and understanding between them.

In a few minutes they had reached the hospital and were ushered upstairs to the room where Baptista lay. Just outside it stood a man Helen recognised from Lorenzo’s pictures as his brother Renato. He was a dark and swarthy, not as tall as Lorenzo and heavily muscled. He broke into a smile at the sight of his brother, and grasped his hand.

‘Mamma has just woken after a good sleep, and she’s well,’ he said. ‘Her first words were to ask about you.’

He opened a nearby door, pulling it wide, so that Helen had a clear view on the bed and the beautiful white-haired woman already looking eagerly to the door. Lorenzo went to her swiftly, gathering her into his great arms so that she almost vanished in his embrace. Helen caught a brief glimpse of her face, glowing with happiness at the return of her youngest, before the door was closed.

Renato was embracing Heather, giving her a look in which love and anxiety mingled. She made the introductions.

‘We have all looked forward to meeting you, Helen,’ Renato said, courteously. ‘It was time Lorenzo brought you here.’

She wasn’t sure how to answer a remark that seemed to imply so much. Luckily Renato’s attention was claimed by the arrival of Bernardo and his wife, Angie. Again, Helen recognised them from Lorenzo’s snaps.

More greetings. More keen glances as though her presence had some deep significance. The kindly Angie noticed her looking lost, and embraced her warmly.

‘You came all this way to be with Lorenzo?’ she said. ‘That was wonderful of you. Some good news will do wonders for Baptista’s recovery.’

‘Good news?’ Helen echoed.

‘Of course I understand it’s too soon to say anything officially,’ Angie said. ‘But we’re all thrilled that Lorenzo has found you. I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve been expecting this ever since he came home in April, complaining that you wouldn’t marry him.’

‘He-?’

‘All he could talk of was you, and how you turned him down as soon as you met. And I thought then how clever you were because Lorenzo is a little too used to being chased. It was good for him to be unsure of you, and I just knew you were the one.’

‘But-you don’t understand-’ Helen said urgently, ‘I wasn’t trying to trap Lorenzo. I’m only here to-to-’

Her voice died. Why was she here? Did any woman travel halfway across the world for a man unless he mattered more than anything in life? And hadn’t she secretly known how her action would look to his family?

Apart from the joking reference in New Orleans, Lorenzo hadn’t asked her to marry him, and she hadn’t said yes. Now she was beginning to realise that question and answer were somehow already behind them.

Renato touched her arm. ‘My mother would like to meet you,’ he said.

She followed him into the room where the white-haired woman was half sitting up in bed, in the circle of Lorenzo’s arm. At the sight of Helen she smiled and reached out to her.

‘Miu fighia,’ she said softly.

If Helen hadn’t understood before, she understood now. Baptista had not only called her ‘my daughter’, but had done so in Sicilian, underlining the fact that Helen was no outsider but one of them. In the same moment Helen became aware that the rest of the family had followed her into the room.

‘Signura,’ she said, unsure of herself, instinctively responding in Sicilian.

‘No, that is so cold,’ Lorenzo’s mother protested. ‘You must call me Baptista. And you must let me thank you for coming so far. Lorenzo has told me much, and I think you have a wonderful heart.’ She sounded breathless.

‘That’s enough, Mamma,’ Lorenzo said quickly. ‘You’re tired.’

‘Yes, I am. There’ll be time for talking later. For now, I have only one more thing to say.’

She reached out to an elderly man standing by the window, whom Helen had not previously noticed. He was tall and thin with white hair and a gentle face. He moved to the bed, looking down at Baptista with a smile.

‘You know that Fede and I had planned to marry,’ Baptista said. ‘Now we will bring the date forward, so that we can make the most of the time that we have together.’

Her hand clasped in his, she looked up at the old man, and Helen drew in her breath at the love that blazed from their eyes, dimming everything else in the room.

The others were wreathed in smiles, congratulating the couple, eagerly making plans. Helen began to edge aside, but Baptista wouldn’t let her hide.

‘You will be at our wedding,’ she declared, ‘and our whole family will be together.’

Helen tried to say something, but no words would come. The tide was carrying her along at an ever-increasing pace.

Lorenzo stayed with his mother when the others left for the Residenza where the Martelli family lived. It was about half an hour’s journey away, on a road that swung inland into deep countryside, before turning back to the coast

At last Helen saw the great house, made of yellow stone that glowed softly in the sunlight. It stood high up, overlooking the sea, a building of three stories, each a little smaller than the last, so that each storey was surrounded by a wide terrace, and each terrace was covered in blooms. Clematis, bougainvillaea, jasmine, oleander-the varieties and colours went on forever.

As she was led up to her room Helen had no time to take in much beyond a general impression that the Residenza was built in mediaeval style, with everything of the best. Tiles and mosaics lined the corridors. Broad staircases led up to lofty regions.

‘It took me a long time to take it all in when I first came here,’ Heather said. ‘Now it feels just like home.’

‘And you live here all the time?’ Helen asked.

‘Not all. Renato and I have a little estate called Bella Rosaria a few miles away. We live there a lot in summer, but we’re here now to be near Baptista. Also our baby will be due soon. Here we are.’

She flung open the door to a huge room with two large four-poster beds hung with white net curtains. More net curtains hung at the floor-length windows.

Helen’s luggage had already arrived, and a maid was unpacking it. She had almost finished the last suitcase and was holding the black velvet bag where Helen kept her few really good pieces of jewellery. The sound of the door made her look up, as if startled.

‘What are you doing here, Sara?’ Heather asked. ‘I told Anya to do this job.’

‘Anya had to go out, Signora,’ the maid explained. ‘I only meant to be helpful.’

‘Very well, you may leave.’ It seemed to Helen that her hostess was displeased about something. There was a coolness about her manner until the maid had left the room.

‘Come and look at this view,’ Angie said, coming in behind them and opening the windows onto a broad terrace. From here they could see inland, over the vast garden to the land beyond, stretching away to the misty mountains.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Helen breathed. ‘All my life I’ve heard about this country, but I never knew it could be so lovely.’ She returned to the bedroom, out of the heat. ‘This room-my goodness! It’s-so much!’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Heather agreed. ‘It’s where Angie and I slept when I came out here-’ Something checked her.

‘When you came out to get married,’ Helen finished. ‘Did Renato meet you at the airport and drive you back through all that wonderful scenery?’

When they didn’t answer at once she looked around.

‘No, Renato was busy that day,’ Heather said quickly. ‘Why don’t you have a siesta? I’ll send you up some refreshment. Lorenzo will be home later, and we’ll all have dinner together.’

She gave Helen a small peck on the cheek, and departed

What am I doing here? Helen thought as soon as she was alone. The one place I swore I’d never visit.

But then Lorenzo seemed to be there beside her, giving her the smile he kept for her. Her body was warm again with the anticipation of his loving, her desire demanding to be slaked, her flesh aching with deprivation. And she knew that nothing could have stopped her following him while she lacked the fulfilment only he could give her.

Another maid arrived with coffee and sandwiches. She had them and settled down to her siesta. She was awoken by the feel of lips on hers, and opened her eyes to find herself in Lorenzo’s arms.

‘It made me so happy to know that I would find you here,’ he whispered. ‘What would I have done if you hadn’t come with me?’

‘But your mother is improving. You didn’t need me.’

‘I shall always need you, cara.’ His eyes held a hint of mischief. ‘We have unfinished business.’

She smiled back, teasing him. ‘And when we’ve finished-shall I go home?’

He was suddenly serious. ‘Our business will never be finished. Never as long as we live.’

He tightened his arms and kissed her long and deeply. She gave herself up to him, filled with a fierce emotion she’d never known in her life before. Even now she resisted putting a name to it, but she was where she wanted to be. How could she ever leave him?

He tore himself away at last. ‘I was sent to tell you that dinner will be in half an hour.’

‘That just gives me time to have a shower.’

‘I’ll come back for you.’

He did return, just as she’d finished slipping into a deep blue dress that looked ravishing against her dark colouring. But he wasn’t alone. Helen heard him chatting with someone as they approached, and opened her door to see him standing there with his arm about Heather’s shoulders.

‘We came to fetch you,’ Heather said, smiling in her friendly way.

In Baptista’s absence Heather was the lady of the house. She took Helen’s hand and personally led her downstairs to where the family was gathering for the evening meal, underlining the consensus that this stranger was already one of them.

Renato also made the matter plain by saying, ‘I’ve had Dagwood Baxter burning up the lines, cancelling that million-dollar order the day after he placed it. How come?’

‘I told him to stuff it,’ Lorenzo replied.

‘Why?’

‘He insulted Helen.’

‘In that case you did right,’ Renato said at once.

It was like that for the rest of the evening, warmth, kindness, acceptance. Helen blamed herself for a slight apprehension, but it was rooted in a deep instinct, and she couldn’t help it. But it would pass, she assured herself. All would soon be well.

The wedding of Fede and Baptista was planned quickly, but with the Martelli genius for organisation. Fede’s son by his first marriage would arrive from Rome the day before, and his son would be best man. His daughter sent her love but was unable to be present, as her little boy was poorly.

Helen was there on the evening after Baptista returned from hospital, when the family discussed who would give the bride away? Renato and Lorenzo squabbled amiably for the honour. Bernardo, not being Baptista’s son, made no claim, but to Helen’s eyes his air of unconcern wasn’t quite convincing. Gradually the truth dawned on the others too, and a silence fell.

‘Why don’t you all three do it?’ Helen asked. ‘It’s easy, really. Two of you take an arm each, and the third leads the way.’

‘What a wonderful idea,’ Baptista said at once. ‘I shall be escorted by all my sons.’

There was a general air of relief. Afterwards Angie hugged Helen, whispering, ‘Thank you.’ Lorenzo winked and gave her a thumbs-up of approval, and Baptista took her hands saying happily, ‘Already you are one of us.’

At that there were more nods and smiles, but the conversation passed on to something else before Helen could speak. So there was no chance for her to say, ‘But I’m not one of you. I never can be.’

Even if she could have brought herself to say it.

That night she and Lorenzo walked on the terrace overlooking the sea, glorious in the moonlight.

‘My mother really loves you,’ he said. ‘You made her so happy with that idea. In fact you made us all happy. Bernardo’s a thorny character, but you seem to have found the key to him. Has Mamma told you yet that she wants you to be her attendant?’

‘What about Heather and Angie?’

‘They’re both heavily pregnant. Especially Heather.’

‘But I’m not one of the family.’

‘Well, you soon will be.’

Now was the time to say, ‘I can’t marry you.’ Instead she let him draw her into the circle of his arms, and his kiss blotted out everything else.

Everything was different now. ‘Unfinished business’, Lorenzo had called it, and she couldn’t be with him without remembering how close they’d come to physical delight. Her body yearned towards him as much as her heart. But what could be arranged so easily in New Orleans was impossible here in the respectable house of Baptista Martelli. Unless they married…

She shut that thought off. Of all the foolish reasons for marrying a man the desire to make love with him made the least sense in this day and age. It didn’t matter that the sight of him filled you with happiness and anticipation, that his touch sent tremors of delight through you, and the sound of his voice melted your heart. It didn’t matter that you awoke thinking of him and went to bed aching for him, or that you couldn’t picture life without his wicked, teasing smile.

You put these things aside because he was Sicilian, and you’d sworn-long ago, in the days before you lost your wits-that you would never marry a Sicilian. So any day now you were going to reject him and walk out of his life.

But not yet-not quite yet-

The morning after Baptista’s return she asked Heather to join her over coffee. Apart from her own approaching nuptials her chief interest was the birth of her first grandchild.

‘How are you?’ she asked Heather as they sat together on the wide terrace overlooking the sea. ‘I remember the last few weeks are very tiring. And you’ve had to take on the running of this house while I was away.’

‘Mamma,’ Heather protested, ‘the house runs itself. But I’m afraid I’ve had to dismiss Sara for stealing.’

‘Has she started that again?’ Baptista said with a sigh. ‘I caught her once and allowed her to stay because she promised it wouldn’t happen again. But I suppose she broke her word.’

‘I know she took things of mine, only trinkets, but she had her eyes on Helen’s jewellery.’

‘You were right to send her away. Now let us think of more pleasant matters. Elena has agreed to be my attendant at the wedding and so-’ her face brightened ‘-Elena, cara, we were just talking about you. And Angie. Let us all have lunch together.’

The next couple of hours were very pleasant as the four women relaxed on the terrace in the sun, and chatted dreamily about the immediate future. After lunch Baptista retired for her afternoon nap, while Heather and Angie also voted to put their feet up for a while.

Heather courteously apologised for leaving her guest alone, and Helen assured her that she was perfectly happy. But the truth was that this sleepy way of living was irksome to someone of her energetic nature. She was saved from an afternoon’s boredom by a phone call. It was Erik.

He came straight to the point. ‘You can be very useful to the company. Do you know the Castella di Farini?’

‘The great palace in Palermo? Yes.’

‘Elroys is buying it to convert into an hotel. The deal is almost complete but at the last minute the owner is being tiresome about a detail. Our American lawyers out there don’t understand Sicily. Our Sicilian lawyers don’t understand Elroys. You’ve got a foot in both camps, and you might be able to sort it. Here’s what you do…’

Helen made notes eagerly as she realised that this was a problem she could deal with.

‘Leave it to me,’ she said at last.

She almost skipped out of the house and headed for the garage just as Lorenzo’s car appeared. ‘What’s the rush?’ he called cheerfully. She hurriedly explained. ‘Get in. I’ll drive you there.’

‘Erik says I’ve got a foot in each camp,’ she elaborated as they headed for Palermo. ‘Which means he’s another one who thinks I’m more Sicilian than I am-why are you laughing?’

‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit you’re even part Sicilian. We’ll get you yet.’

‘I’d thump you if you weren’t driving,’ she said amiably. ‘It’s just that Erik might expect more from me than I can deliver. Not that I told him that. I let him think I was all confidence.’

‘Good for you. Do you want me to come in too?’

‘No, thank you, caro,’ she said firmly. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want him going soft on me just because I’ve got Martelli backing. I’ll do this on my own.’

Suddenly she was alert, pointing out of the window at a building that stood on a small incline. It seemed to be early nineteenth century, magnificent, and in good condition. ‘Lorenzo, what is that place? Who owns it?’

‘The city. It’s the Palazzo Lombardi. It’s being renovated to be a museum. It’s quite a place. It used to belong to-’

He chatted easily about the building until they reached Palermo and pulled up outside the Castella di Farini.

‘Shall I wait for you?’ he asked, ‘or would that compromise your independence?’

‘I think it might. I’ll get a cab. But thank you anyway.’

The owner was waiting for her, wreathed in smiles. He showed her over the magnificent building, and Helen loved every inch of it. It was far too grandiose for modern living, but it would make a wonderful hotel. Ideas began to dance through her head.

The difficulty he had raised was trivial, little more than a tactic to up the price. Over a glass of wine Helen smiled and indicated that if he’d changed his mine about selling, there was really no problem. The Elroy Company had its eyes on the Palazzo Lombardi, which might suit better.

The owner’s fixed professional smile wavered a fraction. Helen met it with a fixed professional smile that didn’t waver at all. In half an hour she had left the building, heading for the Ufficio Postale where there were telephones.

‘It’s sorted,’ she crowed to Erik. ‘But I took such a risk.’ She told the story and Erik rocked with laughter.

‘Excellent. One up to your local knowledge.’

‘But if it hadn’t worked you’d have fired me.’

‘Probably. But it did work, and I’m admiring your skills. You need to talk to Axel Roderick. He’s going to be the manager.’

She called Roderick’s New York number and they talked for half an hour. He was pleasant and encouraging, asked her to do a few more things to help prepare the ground, and to meet him at the airport when he arrived the following week. She hung up feeling triumphant, and took a cab back to the Residenza, where she found Lorenzo sitting on the steps outside, looking worried. He smiled as soon as he saw her.

‘The others are all having dinner inside,’ he said, kissing her.

‘Lorenzo, I’m sorry-’

‘No problem. I explained.’

Over dinner she described her afternoon, and they all listened with approval, although Renato said, ‘The city council will never part with the Lombardi. Lucky for you he didn’t know that.’

‘He did,’ Helen replied. ‘But I told him not to count on it because it was never wise to mess with Elroys.’

Angie chuckled. ‘You’re a real little Machiavelli.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Helen protested in dismay.

‘It’s a compliment,’ Renato assured her. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Lorenzo, you’re going to have to mind your manners with this lady.’

There it was again, the assumption that she was here to stay, part of the family. It was kind, yet she couldn’t escape the feeling that a fetter had been laid on her: a silken fetter, hung with flowers and kisses, yet a fetter nonetheless.

But hadn’t she herself taken the first step that very afternoon? The Hotel Elroy of Palermo! Could the Martellis be blamed for seeing where the signposts led?