Husband By Necessity

CHAPTER FOUR

THE wedding day was bright and glorious. A stream of cars departed from the Residenza, taking the multitude of guests to Palermo Cathedral, and finally, Lorenzo the groom and Bernardo his best man. Only Renato remained, to give the bride away.

The bride was beautiful and the bridesmaid too. Angie’s gown was a cream silk of deceptive simplicity. Against it her skin glowed warmly, and her deep blue eyes sparkled. Heather saw that sparkle and read it correctly.

‘I believe some Sicilian wedding customs are the same as those in England,’ she teased. ‘Like the one about the bridesmaid and the best man.’

Angie had barely seen Bernardo since they’d parted the night before last. He’d appeared at the Residenza yesterday, but spent his time with his brothers in last-minute preparations, before the three of them had gone out for a stag supper.

The women had an early night, but Angie wandered out onto the terrace in the early hours and saw them arriving home. She hoped Bernardo would look up and see her, and when he didn’t she began to understand how intolerable the day had been without him. There were so many hours until she would see him in the cathedral.

Now the hours had narrowed down to a few minutes, and already her heart was beating in anticipation.

Slowly they walked downstairs to where the car was waiting. Heather and Angie climbed into the back and when Renato had joined them they were ready to go. Angie spent the short journey admiring Heather. That was how a bride ought to look, she thought: beautiful and glorious, glowing with happiness on her way to marry the man she adored. And he would be there at the altar waiting for her, gazing back down the aisle, watching his bride approach.

Bernardo would also be there today, at the groom’s side. But he wouldn’t be watching the bride. Angie knew that. He would have eyes only for herself. He might even give her one of the quiet, grave smiles that made her heart turn over. She would smile back, just a little, and the onlookers would see them and exchange knowing looks, for it was well known that one wedding sowed the seeds for another.

Then she wondered at herself. For it had been no part of her plan to leave her successful career in her own country, and come to live here for good. Yet it was either that or leave Bernardo, and her heart cried out at the thought. Only a few days ago she’d called him her match and, whatever it cost her, there was no turning back now.

She thought of her other romances, short-lived bursts of thrilling emotion, from which she’d escaped before danger threatened. But danger had threatened from the first moment of their meeting, and she hadn’t even tried to escape.

When the car stopped Heather stood while Angie adjusted her dress and veil to perfection, before walking into the Cathedral on Renato’s arm, Angie a few steps behind them. The dim light inside made her blink a little after bright sunshine. The organ pealed out in triumph as they prepared to start the journey down the aisle.

But something was wrong. Bernardo was hurrying towards them, frowning, saying that Lorenzo had vanished. Angie could hardly take in the monstrous words. This couldn’t be happening. Any moment now Lorenzo would appear to claim his bride.

But he didn’t appear. Instead, a teenage boy hurried in, thrust a paper into Heather’s bridal bouquet, and ran.

Angie watched as Heather opened the paper and read what Lorenzo had written. She saw her friend’s cheeks turn deadly pale, and she moved to where she could read it over her shoulder. Stripped to its essentials the letter said that he had never really wanted this marriage, but Renato had pushed him into it. They were terrible words for a bride to read on her wedding day.

Bernardo too had contrived to read it, and when Angie looked into his face she saw something that alarmed her. For a brief moment this wasn’t a civilised man, but a primitive force, a Sicilian, facing a situation that called for blood.

Baptista had joined them and was listening, pale and distraught. As it dawned on her that her son had abandoned his bride she covered her eyes with her hand and swayed. Renato caught her just in time.

‘Lie her down,’ Angie said quickly, tossing her bouquet aside and becoming all doctor. She knelt beside the old woman and felt her heart, frowning.

‘Is it a heart attack?’ Renato asked tensely, kneeling on the other side.

‘I don’t think so, but she needs to get to the hospital.’

His response was to lift his mother in his arms and stride to the door, followed by Bernardo. ‘The hospital is close. We’ll go straight there.’

He raced out to the first of the waiting cars. Angie and Heather took the next one. By the time they reached the hospital Baptista had already been whisked away and the brothers were pacing the corridor.

Beneath Bernardo’s calm she could sense the tension, and she remembered his ambivalent relationship with Baptista, how affection and resentment seemed to be mixed in his feelings for her. She could guess how that must be torturing him now, and she squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

Heather looked down at her bridal glory which now seemed like a sick joke. She was pale but very calm as she asked Bernardo to call the Residenza and get Baptista’s maid to bring some day clothes for them. In half an hour the maid arrived and they were able to change.

The two men were allowed in to see Baptista. Then Heather was summoned in, leaving Angie to walk the corridor restlessly, until her friend emerged, looking more desperate than ever.

‘What is it?’ Angie asked, alarmed.

‘I just hoped to get out of here, but Baptista wants me to stay. I had to promise her, she’s so ill. But how do I live in the same house with Renato without telling him how much I hate him?’

Renato, Angie noticed. Not Lorenzo.

Suddenly she wanted Bernardo’s arms around her more than anything in the world.

The Residenza was like a ghost house. The guests had gone, the day was over, and everywhere was in darkness.

Heather had slipped away to be alone, and Angie took refuge in the garden. Until now Baptista’s illness and the need to support her friend had kept her calm and controlled, but now she was more blazingly angry than she’d ever been in her life. She wanted to cry, she wanted to rage against the silver moon that hung so indifferently in the sky. She walked stormily up and down the flagstone paths, bitter against the whole Martelli family.

‘Angie-’ Bernardo’s voice said from the shadows.

She flung him a look and continued pacing.

‘I know what you must feel-how badly you must think of us.’

‘You can’t imagine what I’m thinking,’ she said fiercely. ‘If I had Lorenzo here I’d-I’d-how could he do it? How could he expose her to that? Did you see her face?’

‘Yes, and I’m ashamed for my brother. Don’t think I excuse him.’

‘You couldn’t, could you? Nobody could excuse that cheap, cowardly-’

‘But I think Renato has also been to blame for pushing the marriage too hard.’

‘Oh, yes, that fits!’ Angie said explosively. ‘I’ve never liked Renato. Now I think I hate them both equally.’

‘Darling, don’t pace about like that.’ Trying to calm her, he reached out, but she thrust him aside.

‘Don’t come near me,’ she warned. ‘I’m not safe. I’d like to commit murder. Pacing about is only a substitute.’

He managed to take hold of her, trying to look into her face. She turned bitter, smouldering eyes on him and he was startled. He’d been enchanted by her dainty looks and sunny temper, and impressed by her skills when she tended the little girl. But it hadn’t occurred to him that she had a core of steel.

‘Don’t talk about hating,’ he begged. ‘Not you.’

‘I can’t help it. I’ve never hated anyone before and I don’t know how to stop. Heather’s nothing, isn’t she? Just a stranger from another country who can be treated any old way-’

‘That’s not fair. We’ve welcomed her, made much of her-’

‘And then the whole pack of you gathered together to watch her being humiliated,’ she raged.

He tightened his grip, giving her shoulders a little shake. ‘And so the whole pack of us are tarred with the same brush?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Is that what you’re saying? Do you hate all of us-every one?’

The question brought her up short. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep back tears of anger, and shook her head.

‘Oh, stop being so reasonable,’ she said wretchedly. ‘I’m not thinking straight or talking straight. Don’t take any notice, just-just let me go.’

‘Never in life,’ he said, tightening his arms and bending his head.

At first she stiffened, too angry to be kissed. But his lips had the effect of calming anger, and he wouldn’t let her refuse. He was determined to make her forget everything but himself. ‘Don’t hate me,’ he whispered.

‘I don’t-not you-it’s just-’ Explanations were lost in the excitement that he could induce so easily. What else mattered but this? She clung to him, caring only for the fact that they were here alone together. It seemed so long since the night he’d almost made love to her, and she’d longed for him so much. Now a sweet comfort was beginning to pervade her, as though his very touch could make the world right.

He caressed her face gently. ‘Hush-hush-forget the others. Think only of us. I thought you looked beautiful today.’

‘I hoped you’d like me.’

‘Like? Do you think that’s all I feel for you? There’s so much to say, but I can’t say it here or now. As soon as Baptista’s better I shall return to Montedoro. I want you to come with me.’

‘How can I leave Heather?’

‘Darling, she’s strong. Let her confront the family in her own way. You can’t do it for her. Come with me to the place where we belong together, and there will be only us.’

‘Yes,’ she said joyfully. ‘Oh, yes…’

‘And perhaps when we’re there, I shall manage to say how much I love you. I wonder if there is a way. But I will try.’

‘Tell me now,’ Angie begged.

‘I am not skilled with words,’ he said humbly. ‘I can’t tell you what you are in my life, only that you are my life. You are every part of it. We’ve known each other such a little time, yet I think of you as soon as I wake up in the morning and I go to sleep holding you in my heart. You are there in my dreams. All this and more I will tell you, when we are safe in the place that I long to make our home.’

They slipped quietly back into the house. The lights were low and there was nobody to see them as he led her, hand in hand, up the stairs to her door.

‘I shall stay here tonight,’ he said, ‘and we’ll leave tomorrow early. Goodnight.’ He kissed her gently, but through the gentleness she could feel the tumult inside him, matching her own.

‘Goodnight,’ he whispered again, and left her.

Angie slipped into her own room and found it empty. She wondered where Heather was, and if she should go and look for her, but her friend arrived a moment later. She looked pale and drawn, but composed.

‘Are you all right?’ Angie asked anxiously.

‘Yes, I’m fine really. I’ve been fighting with Renato.’ She sounded numb, as though all feeling had died in her.

‘I suppose there’s only him to fight since Lorenzo took care to get out of range,’ Angie said bitterly.

‘Don’t blame Lorenzo,’ Heather said unexpectedly. ‘I’ve learned a few things from Renato tonight.’ Her eyes kindled. ‘He didn’t like admitting it, but I forced it out of him.’

‘Admitting what?’ Angie asked.

‘It seems that Lorenzo tried to be honest with me days ago. That’s why he came back from Stockholm early, to tell me he was having doubts and wanted to postpone the wedding. And Renato stopped him. Can you believe that? He even told him I’d been jilted before, so of course Lorenzo felt it was his duty to go through with it.’

‘I could strangle Renato,’ Angie said fiercely.

‘Join the queue. If there’s one good thing to come out of this, it’s that I won’t have to be related to him. Oh, I can’t think about it any more tonight. I’m so tired, my mind’s shutting down.’

‘Will you need me tomorrow?’

Heather smiled in quick understanding. ‘No, I’m fine. You spend the day with Bernardo.’ Heather smiled and threw her arms about her friend in a sudden burst of emotion. ‘Darling, I’m so glad for you! At least one of us is going to have a happy ending.’

Although Angie had some qualms about leaving Heather she soon realised that Bernardo had been right when he said her friend needed to find her own way through this. For the first time she understood Heather’s inner strength. When Lorenzo crept back home she didn’t flinch from their meeting, confronting him with a cool dignity and even a touch of humour that made him ashamed. This she learned from Bernardo, who saw Lorenzo straight afterwards.

Heather was there too when Baptista returned from hospital, much recovered. Despite what had happened the old woman still clung to her as a daughter, and refused to accept back the gift of Bella Rosaria.

‘They’re very alike in many ways,’ Bernardo told Angie. ‘Heather has both my brothers creeping around her on hot coals. They can’t make her out, and it puzzles them. Do them both good. I can see why Baptista likes having her here.’

Angie and Bernardo spent as much time as they could together, growing closer, relishing the sweet understanding that was developing between them. Angie began to see why Baptista said he lived as a relatively poor man. In contrast to the armies of servants at the Residenza, he had only Stella who cleaned the house and did some, but not all of the cooking. Some meals he made for himself, and insisted on her trying them, watching with a touching anxiety until she said they were delicious. His home was frugal to the point of austerity. The only modern comfort was central heating which, he assured her, the bleak winters made vital.

Once he’d spoken of this place as their future home, but after that he made no formal suggestion of marriage. Yet she noticed that he frequently offered these explanations, as though he felt a duty to make everything clear to her.

She thought she understood. It wouldn’t be the comfortable life she was used to, but neither was his dwelling the bleak, impoverished hovel that he seemed determined to paint.

Once he said, ‘I wish it was winter now and you could see for yourself how unpleasant it is-it can’t be described-’

‘Darling-’ she stroked his face gently ‘-there’s no need for this.’

It made her heart ache to see how just her touch and a few words could bring him peace. She knew that he loved her, but it was his need that set the seal on it. She didn’t know what the years ahead might bring, but she was sure nothing could separate them now. They clung together, arms tightly wound around each other, exchanging warmth and reassurance.

‘Let’s have a picnic this afternoon,’ he said at last. ‘On a day like this, we should be out.’

‘Lovely.’

‘I’ll make us some snacks.’

‘While you’re doing that, can I use your computer to get onto the net?’

‘Of course. I’ll log on for you.’ He typed in his password, pulled out the chair for her and said, ‘I’ll bring you some coffee.’

Angie called up her father’s web site and emailed him through it. Then she browsed through the site, checking out his latest updates. Dr Harvey Wendham was proud of his site, which he maintained himself, almost as proud as he was of the luxurious Harley Street clinic it advertised.

‘The old devil,’ she chuckled. ‘He doesn’t stint himself.’

He was a well-known plastic surgeon whose patients included several film stars and the occasional top-ranking politician, prepared to pay over the odds for his total discretion as much as for his skill. For years he’d worked at the lower-paid end of the medical profession, ‘putting in his time’ as he called it, but now he’d struck gold and was enjoying it.

Angie knew that he was disappointed that neither of her brothers had joined him in the clinic, and was hoping that she, his youngest child, would make good their de-ficiencies. But she’d hesitated. She had several other job offers, some attractive, some offering little more than hard work and low pay, plus a lot of satisfaction.

Now all her plans seemed to have been made for her. She loved Bernardo and he loved her. How could she ever think of leaving him?

‘Coffee for la signora,’ Bernardo carolled, pushing open the door and carrying in a tray with two cups and a pot of coffee.

‘Oh, lovely!’ She began pouring while he looked at the screen over her shoulder.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, for he’d muttered something she didn’t understand, but which sounded both disbelieving and contemptuous.

‘This fellow who calls himself a doctor, when he cares nothing for the sick, only lining his own pocket.’

‘He’s supposed to be very good at what he does,’ Angie observed, enjoying the thought of Bernardo’s face when he learned the truth. Her father’s name wasn’t visible on-screen at the moment. She settled back to relish the joke.

‘And what does he do?’ Bernardo said derisively. ‘While there are people in the world with real needs, he does cosmetic surgery, to make himself money. He has a gift that comes from God, and he used it to make himself a million.’

‘Several million actually, but a lot of that-’

She was about to say that much of it was given to charity but Bernardo was in full spate. ‘Several million, because he’s a man who must have money.’

‘He also does a lot of good,’ Angie said, beginning to be cross. ‘It’s not just film stars. It’s disfigured children. He happens to be my father, and I’ll thank you not to abuse him.’

He looked at her strangely. ‘This man is your father?’

Angie flicked back to a previous page, showing her father’s name: Dr Harvey Wendham, then glanced at Bernardo’s face, expecting to see him look rueful and uncomfortable. Then they could laugh together.

But he looked as if someone had given him a savage blow over the heart.

‘Bernardo-what is it? You look ill.’

‘Nothing-nothing,’ he recovered himself quickly, and smiled. But it was a painful smile, as though he were dying inside.

‘What is it?’ she begged, suddenly scared.

‘I just hadn’t realised-that you came from a wealthy family.’

She shrugged. ‘All right, we’re well off but-’

‘Your father is a multi-millionaire.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘I suppose not-it shouldn’t matter.’

‘No, it shouldn’t. I’m still me.’

‘I thought you were poor,’ he burst out. ‘You and Heather-’

‘Heather’s always been as poor as a church mouse.’

‘But you share a home.’

‘We’re friends. The house belongs to me. I rent her space in it because I like her company. It’s never come between us.’

‘And this house-it wouldn’t happen to be in the wealthiest part of London, would it?’

‘It’s in Mayfair, yes. So what?’

‘So what?’ he echoed in a shaking voice. ‘So I’ve been living in a fool’s paradise.’

The flicker of alarm inside her was growing higher, resisting her attempts to quench it. This wasn’t something that could just be laughed aside, after all.

‘You don’t mean this makes a difference to us?’ she demanded, trying to keep it light. ‘Why should it? I’m not some spoilt brat. I’m a hard-working and very tough professional woman. That hasn’t changed.’

‘No, it hasn’t,’ he said in a voice that was just a little too decided, as though he were trying to reassure himself. ‘You are still Angie, still the woman I love. Nothing can change that. After all, it’s your father who is rich, not you.’

She drew a slow breath and turned away, so that he shouldn’t see the indecision in her face. She ought to tell him now that her father had settled a million on her the year before, but she knew, with terrified certainty, that it would be a dangerous admission to make to this man whose face had suddenly become so aloof.

She would tell him one day, of course she would. One day soon. But surely she could wait just a little, until he was ready to hear?

They went on the planned picnic, smiling and talking brightly as though nothing had happened: as though pretending could undo the damage.

He drove her down the mountain a short way, stopping at the spot where they had shared their first kiss.

‘This is the perfect place,’ she said. ‘Remember when we were here before?’

She heard the unease in her own voice and knew that he’d heard it too. How futile to recall a time that had gone. Even though it was just a few days ago, that moment, with its happiness, was already far in the past.

Their efforts to sound normal only made things worse. Something destructive had happened, but she still couldn’t make herself believe it was a serious threat to their love. What did money matter? But the churning unease inside her wouldn’t be calmed.

They ate the picnic, determinedly cheerful. Once Angie tried to raise the dangerous subject, but he side-stepped it neatly. At last silence fell between them. Angie looked around and found saw him lying back in the grass, one hand behind his head. Smiling, she leaned over him, and saw that he was asleep.

‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘When you wake up it will seem better.’

But when he awoke it wasn’t better. He looked at her with remote eyes, and she realised, with terror, that she didn’t know how to bridge the widening gap between them.