Husband By Necessity

CHAPTER FIVE

A SLEEPLESS night left her feeling no better, and when Bernardo arrived at the Residenza early something in his face told her that things were worse. He regarded her with a cold, bitter, unfriendliness that she had thought never to see from him.

‘I wonder when you would have told me,’ he said quietly.

‘Told you what?’ she asked, although her fear was rising.

‘Yesterday I said that it was your father who was rich, not you. Why didn’t you tell me about the million he gave you?’

Dear God! she thought. Not like this. Please, not like this.

‘Because I couldn’t,’ she said desperately. ‘You were so worked up about his having money at all, I couldn’t make it worse. I would have told you, when we’d sorted this out, and you were ready to hear. How did you know?’

‘From the internet. I searched for your father last night. His name cropped up a good deal, especially on one site called Socialite Doctors. It had links to everything that’s ever been written about him. That’s how I found this.’ He spread out some pages on the table. ‘I printed it out.’

With dismay she recognised an article that had appeared a few months earlier. Her father, innocently proud of his new home set in extensive leafy grounds, had taken the journalist on a guided tour of its luxuries.

There was herself, described as ‘By day a dedicated doctor, by night, a girl who knows how to party.’ The picture showed her dancing a wild rumba in a revealing dress, her head thrown back in enjoyment. Enough of the background could be seen to show that this was a nightclub, the kind of place where the rich hung out, and only the very best champagne was served.

More pictures. Herself at the wheel of the car that was her pride and joy, and that nobody living on a doctor’s salary could have afforded. And her home in the most expensive part of London.

‘All this time,’ he said heavily, ‘you never told me.’

‘I wasn’t deceiving you. It just didn’t occur to me that it was an issue.’

‘But you deceived me yesterday about the money your father settled on you. I wonder how long you would have concealed the truth. And how much-or how little-you would have told me.’

‘You make it sound as though I had something to be ashamed of,’ she said angrily. ‘I haven’t committed a crime by being rich.’

‘No, you haven’t. But you should have been honest with me, and not let me fool myself with dreams about making you my wife and the life we might build together.’

‘When should I have told you?’ she demanded indignantly. ‘The day I arrived? Maybe when we met at the airport I should have said, “Keep your distance from me because I’m too rich for you.” How could I know it would matter? You’re not exactly poor yourself.’

‘The Martelli family is wealthy, not me. I’ve taken from them the bare minimum I felt entitled to, and don’t live like a rich man. You know why. I can’t change that. It’s too deeply a part of me. It would be like throwing away my soul.’

‘And I understand that but-’

‘You don’t begin to understand.’ Bernardo was very pale as he added, ‘I don’t entirely understand it myself. I only know that I must live this way. I was going to beg you to marry me. It would have been a hard decision for you, because Montedoro isn’t an easy place to live. But I thought you were like myself, used to a tough life, and perhaps, with love, it might be possible.’

‘It is possible,’ she said earnestly. ‘You think I don’t know about a tough life? I’m a doctor.’

‘And at the end of the day you go home to your Mayfair apartment with all its luxuries. You couldn’t live at the top of that mountain. You think you could, but you’d find otherwise when it was too late. And what then? You’d want to run away and live in Palermo. Or even England.’

‘You have a nice opinion of me,’ she said angrily. ‘A weakling who doesn’t know how to love or give.’

‘No, but I know this life, and you don’t. I know what you’d be letting yourself in for. You see Montedoro as it is now, in the summer sun, when the tourists are there. But in the winter the tourists go home and the town is swathed in freezing mist that soaks through to your bones. And the winds howl for weeks on end and sap your spirit.’

‘Well, would living in Palermo be so bad? It’s still Sicily and-’ She stopped at the sight of his face. ‘Never mind. I shouldn’t have said it.’

‘I’m glad you did. And you’re right. Why shouldn’t you live among the comforts you’re used to? But I can’t do that. There’s something in me that I can’t overcome. It drives me, it makes me do things I don’t want to do. I have to listen to it.’

‘All right, so I’ve got money. So let’s use it. Let’s spend some on your home and make it really comfortable. And if the winters are rough surely we could come down to Palermo for a few weeks-’

‘Living off your money you mean?’ he asked, white-faced.

‘Well, I’ve got it, and if it’s mine, it’s yours.’

‘Never!’ The word was like a whiplash. ‘Take money from you? You really think I’d do that?’

‘Why not? These days-’

As soon as she said ‘these days’, she realised what she was up against. Bernardo wasn’t a modern man with a modern attitude to women. He was a man with a soul in turmoil, whose absorption into a rich family had embittered him once, and who would fight like the devil to stop it happening again.

But even with the inevitable staring her in the face, she wouldn’t admit it. Not yet. She too knew how to fight, and her love was worth fighting for.

‘We’ve got to find a way around this,’ she said, trying to sound firm. ‘We’ve got something special. We can’t just give it up.’

‘If we were married it would lead to misery,’ he said wretchedly. ‘I can’t take money from you, and you can’t live without it. One day you’d go back to England to visit your family, and you wouldn’t return. And I-’ He shuddered.

‘What would you do?’ she whispered.

There was a long pause before he answered, and then she could hardly make out his words. ‘I think I might follow you.’

She misunderstood him and for a moment relief flooded her. ‘Well, then, if you-’

‘Don’t you understand?’ he demanded fiercely. ‘That’s how much I love you, enough to stop being a man and become a beaten dog, trailing after you, begging you to let me stay with you on any terms. I might turn my back on those who need me, and try to lead your life, hating and despising myself more with every day.’

Angie paled. ‘Do you really think I’d let that happen?’ she asked. ‘Do you think I’d want you to be less than a man, on your terms. If that’s so, it’s no wonder you’re ashamed of loving me.’

‘I’m not-’

‘But you are,’ she said, her temper rising. ‘Don’t you realise, that’s exactly what you’ve just revealed? You say “that’s how much I love you”, but to you love means being a beaten dog, because you equate it with giving in to a woman, and you’re so arrogant that you don’t really think any woman is worth it. Why do you love me if you despise me too? Or is it only because I’ve got money you despise me?’

‘Don’t say that,’ he begged hoarsely. ‘That isn’t what I-’

‘It’s not what you meant to say, but it came through. You want to love me just so much and no more, counting every grain to see if you’ve given me more than you think I deserve. That’s not what I understand by love. I’d have given up everything to be here with you, and been proud of loving a man who was worth the sacrifice. But you-’

‘Don’t!’ he said fiercely. ‘Don’t say any more.’

‘I wasn’t going to. What else is there to say?’

She turned and ran out of the house. For the next hour she walked the streets, trying to believe that this was really happening. But of course, it wasn’t. It was a bad dream, and when she returned she would find him there, smiling at her. She would go into his arms and they would plan their lives together.

But when she returned to the Residenza and saw him watching anxiously for her she knew, with a sinking heart, that nothing had changed. He was doing something that tore him apart, but he would do it anyway. Because he was the man he was, and he could do nothing else.

She ran into his arms, which opened for her, then closed tighter than ever.

‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ she whispered.

‘Say what you like of me,’ he said huskily. ‘But try not to hate me, and understand that I have no choice.’

There was no longer anything to stay for. Heather was remaining in Sicily at Baptista’s insistence, so Angie made one reservation on the flight from Palermo to London. Bernardo took her to the airport, and they waited in sad silence for her flight to be called. It was like being at a funeral.

At last it was time for her to go to the Departure Lounge, where he couldn’t follow.

‘Forgive me,’ he said huskily. ‘I would break the barrier down if I could, but it’s stronger than I am. I still love you. I will never love another woman. But I have no power against this thing.’

She didn’t answer in words. But she put her hand up against his cheek, watching him with eyes that were gentle and tender. He placed his own hand over hers, and turned his head so that his lips were against her palm. She had called him arrogant, but he didn’t look arrogant now. Rather he seemed ill and crushed by his agony, as though all his strength had gone. With another man she might have hoped that he would yield at the last moment. But she knew that Bernardo had never been further from yielding. However beaten down he seemed, the core of the man remained steely strong and stubborn.

‘Bernardo-’ she whispered.

‘Go,’ he begged. ‘Go before my heart breaks.’

Angie had deferred a decision on several job offers until she returned to England, meaning to consider them at leisure. But within an hour of landing she had accepted work at her father’s clinic, for no other reason than that she could start at once. The thought of spending time at home with nothing to do was intolerable.

It was a good decision. The work at the Wendham Clinic was far more demanding than anyone would have thought who looked only at its well known patients and sky high costs. Harvey Wendham was a brilliant surgeon who’d made his reputation by being the best in his field. He set about training his daughter as his assistant, and his demands filled her life.

But there were still too many evenings with no distraction, and gradually her work at the clinic ceased to act as a charm against misery. She soon mastered it, and as the demands grew, so did her skill. Her father was delighted. Her brothers congratulated her. In the midst of success she felt lost in a dreary desert.

As always, she had no shortage of admirers. Most of them she refused, but she allowed one man to buy her dinner, and another to take her dancing. They had all the social graces that Bernardo lacked, plus smooth tongues that prevented them ever saying the wrong thing. At one time she would have been charmed by them, if only briefly. Now she kept comparing them, to their disadvantage, to a man with no company skills, who said only what he thought, even if it offended people. After one date she never saw either of them again.

Everything she did seemed pointless, even, sometimes, her work. She gave it her best shot, because that was her way, but there was no sense of satisfaction to help her bear her sadness, no fulfilment to blot out Bernardo’s torturing image.

At first she’d hoped that Heather would follow her soon, but through telephone calls she followed the incredible story that was happening in Sicily. To everyone’s amazement Baptista had come up with her own solution to the mess-an arranged marriage, with-

‘Renato?’ Angie echoed, aghast. ‘It’s a bad joke. You can’t stand him.’

‘That’s what I told her,’ Heather said. ‘I said all I wanted was to kick his shins. She says when we’re married I can do it every day.’

Angie gave an unwilling laugh. ‘You’ve got to hand it to Baptista. She’s like no other woman.’

‘The way she sees it, her family has insulted me, and must make amends.’

‘But that’s medieval.’

‘These people are Sicilians, Angie. They’re not like us. In fact, they’re not like anyone else in the world. There is something medieval about them. They believe that there’s a right way to do things. In a sense you’ve got to admire them for it, even if some of the things they think right seem incomprehensible to us.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Angie sighed. ‘I know that.’

To escape Baptista’s matchmaking, Heather moved into Bella Rosaria. Angie had a vision of her living there alone, like a mysterious lady in a tower, while her suitors prowled around outside. But it wouldn’t last. Some day soon Heather would return to England, and at least she would have some friendly company in the intolerable emptiness of her life.

But instead, the phone rang one evening, and it was Heather, with the incredible news that she had agreed to the marriage. ‘And I’d like you to be my bridesmaid. Can you get away?’

‘Yes, I’m sure I can.’ She could hardly breathe enough to ask the next question. ‘Heather-does Bernardo-?’

‘He doesn’t know I’m asking you, and I’m not going to tell him.’

‘But is he-?’

‘He’s very unhappy. It could be just the right moment for you to come back.’

When she’d hung up Angie threw herself back on the sofa, her hands over her face, and gave herself up to longing. To see Bernardo again, to hear his voice and perhaps feel his arms about her. It might not be wise to take him by surprise, but she was powerless to refuse. She discovered that she was crying, which was absurd. She was happier than she’d been for weeks, but it was a bittersweet kind of happiness that carried the promise of more grief.

Stop being ridiculous, she told herself sternly. She who dares, wins! And I’m going to dare!

When she asked for the time off her father took one look at her pale face and granted it. She flew into Palermo Airport the evening before the wedding and found Heather waiting for her.

‘Bernardo’s still in Montedoro,’ she said. ‘He won’t be down until early tomorrow morning. But we’ll eat out and slip into the house later by a side door so that none of the servants see you.’

Over supper in a little restaurant Heather tried to explain why she was marrying a man she’d always seemed to dislike.

‘Baptista arranged everything,’ she said. ‘She’s determined to keep me in the family. She even gave me her estate of Bella Rosaria, to be my dowry for Lorenzo, and when we broke up she wouldn’t take it back. I have to marry him to return it to the family.’

‘What’s Renato’s angle?’

‘He’s getting Bella Rosaria back, which he wants.’

‘And?’ Angie asked, regarding her sceptically.

‘And-and I belong in Sicily. I’ve loved this place since the day we arrived, and this seems the best way to stay.’

‘Phooey!’ Angie said with sudden enlightenment. ‘You and Renato are in love.’

‘Nobody could be in love with Renato,’ Heather said firmly. ‘Marriage will just make it more convenient for fighting with him.’

‘OK, you’re going to have a stormy marriage.’

‘I’ll say!’ Heather said darkly, but she was laughing.

‘But it’ll be a happy one, because you are in love. That’s why you’ve been at each other’s throats since the start.’

‘Well, maybe.’

‘What about Lorenzo? Doesn’t he find the whole situation rather embarrassing?’

Heather smiled. ‘I don’t think anything could embarrass that young man. Our marriage wouldn’t have worked and we both know it. I’m good friends with my “little brother” now.’

They drove back to the Residenza and managed to get into the house without being seen, hurrying silently upstairs to their old room.

‘Bernardo really hasn’t suspected?’ Angie asked as she prepared for bed.

‘Not a thing. The first he’ll know is when he sees you walking down the aisle with me tomorrow. He’s retreated into his eagle’s nest and stays there. If Renato needs to talk work he calls him on the phone, or goes up there. I’ve been living at Bella Rosaria, and he drops in sometimes. He says it’s to see if there’s anything he can do for me, but he always manages to bring the conversation around to you. I tell him what’s happening to you and he drinks it in.’

‘Did you tell him I was working for my father now?’

‘Yes. Shouldn’t I?’

‘It’s not a state secret. It’s just that I can guess what he made of it.’

‘He’s in a bad way, thin and miserable. Like you.’

‘I’ve been working hard,’ Angie said quickly.

‘So’s he,’ Heather said, adding wisely, ‘and it doesn’t seem to solve the problem for either of you.’

They went to bed, but Angie couldn’t sleep. At last she got up, pulled on a wrap and went out onto the terrace, her heart aching as she remembered that this was where she’d stood on the first evening and glanced up to see Bernardo looking down at her. Now there was only an empty space because he preferred to shun company.

She turned to gaze up at the mountains. Somewhere up there was Montedoro and the man she loved, brooding in terrible silence, and thinking of her with his heart. She knew that, because it was the same with her. She was pervaded by a bittersweet joy at being near to him again. She wouldn’t think of failure, because it was unthinkable.

Next morning she didn’t leave the room until it was time to go to the cathedral with Heather. This time, instead of Renato travelling with them to give the bride away to Lorenzo, a cousin travelled with them to give the bride away to Renato. As before, Bernardo was best man.

The car halted, there was a moment while she straightened the bride’s dress, then they were on their way into the cathedral, making their entrance. Her heart beat urgently as she thought of seeing Bernardo again. How would he look when he saw her?

It was a long walk down the aisle, with the choir singing sweetly, high overhead. Closer and closer-and there he was, looking more tense and gaunt than when they’d said goodbye. Was that what their parting had done to him?

At last he caught sight of her. For a moment nothing happened except that he froze, motionless. Then a wooden look came over his face, and he turned to give his attention to the groom. Angie drew in a painful breath. She couldn’t read the brief glimpse she’d had of his face. It could have meant that he was more glad to see her than he could cope with, or might could have meant anger, rejection. The service dragged interminably as she stood there, looking at his back, wondering if she’d made a hideous mistake.

Renato slipped the ring on Heather’s finger, and she became his wife. The most incredible marriage in history, Angie thought. Two people who never had a good word to say for each other, but they were in love, even if they hadn’t admitted it. And yet she and Bernardo, for whom love should have been so simple, had somehow made a mess of it.

The service was over. The organ pealed out overhead as the bride and groom began the return journey up the aisle. Angie fell into place behind them with her head up. Bernardo walked beside her, apparently oblivious of her but actually as aware of her as she was of him.

On the journey home they shared a car, alone. At last, she thought, a chance to talk. Seize it before it slipped away. ‘We’re you expecting me?’ she asked.

He took her hand gently between his. ‘I suppose I was-in a way. I did wonder if Heather would bring you over.’

‘You could have asked her.’

He shook his head and she realised that he would never have asked. That would be to give something away and, for this most private man, it would be impossible.

He’d pulled himself together, and was managing a fair imitation of polite indifference. ‘It’s good to see you. I’ve wondered how you were, and whether all was well with you.’

‘And do you think all has been well with me?’ she whispered.

‘I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.’

It was true. Her silk dress was of the palest yellow and simply cut to drape softly about her. A coronet of flowers adorned her hair, and her only jewels were pearls nestling against her ears. For a moment he feasted his eyes on her, full of a longing he couldn’t hide.

But it was only for a moment. Then he gave a brief smile, and she knew that behind it the shutters had come down again. But she’d seen past his guard. They couldn’t go back on that. She knew now. Hope rose in her.

At the reception they sat together. They were on show, and there was little chance to talk of what concerned them, but before the speeches began he said quietly, ‘So you went to work in your father’s Harley Street clinic?’

‘Yes,’ she said defiantly. ‘He’s a brilliant surgeon. I learn a lot from him.’

‘That’s good,’ he said politely. ‘I’m glad you’re doing so well.’

Unexpectedly her temper rose. ‘Why, you patronising-!’

‘Please, I only-’

‘I know exactly what you meant by that. You think it’s easy work from the “fat cat” end of the market, and all I’m fit for.’

‘Must we quarrel when we have so little time?’

‘We could have all the time we want-’

She couldn’t say more. The toasts and speeches were about to begin. Bernardo did his duty with a speech that contained no jokes but much quiet goodwill, and it went down well.

Then it was time for the dancing. Heather and Renato took the floor, and a murmur went around the guests, how well the bride and groom looked together.

‘Angie, it’s wonderful to see you again. Come and dance with me.’

She looked up into Lorenzo’s laughing face. As Heather had said, he was quite untroubled by a situation that another young man might have found embarrassing. Smiling, she took his hand, but at once another hand reached out to clasp hers and disengage it.

‘No,’ Bernardo said quietly. ‘Sorry, Lorenzo.’

His brother grinned and promptly found another partner. Bernardo tightened his grip on her hand. There was a look in his eyes that went to her heart. She let him draw her onto the dance floor and hold her close. She could feel his body trembling next to hers, and she knew the truth he would have hidden from her. If she’d doubted that he still loved her, she didn’t doubt it now. He looked as though the heart had been torn out of him.

She didn’t speak. For the moment it was enough to be here with him again, held in his arms.

‘You should not have come,’ he murmured as they circled the dance floor. ‘But I have longed for you.’

‘Then why shouldn’t I have come?’

‘Because I have longed for you,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I can’t see you without weakening, and I mustn’t weaken.’

‘Why must you talk like that? Is it weak to love?’

‘It might be weak to yield to love,’ he said sombrely. ‘Amor mia, can’t you understand? You’re a bird of paradise, and Montedoro is a place only for eagles.’

‘But you know so little about me. How do you know I couldn’t be an eagle too?’

‘Don’t-please don’t-you can’t know what you’re saying.’

Yet he was so torn that even as his words rejected her he pulled her closer and her senses swam. The misery in his face hurt her, yet beneath the misery she still sensed a stubbornness that she would have to fight. Suddenly she stopped dancing, seized his hand and began to lead him off the dance floor. She didn’t stop until they were outside, under the stars.

‘Angie-’

‘Shut up and kiss me,’ she said, pulling him into her arms.

Through the trembling of his body she could feel that he would have resisted her if he could, but he hadn’t strength enough for that. Taking her courage in both hands she built on her advantage, kissing him in the ways that he loved, the ways that would call their brief happiness back.

‘You can’t say goodbye to me again,’ she murmured.

‘Angie don’t do this-don’t destroy me-’

‘I’m trying to stop you destroying us both. You want me, don’t you?’

‘You know I want you.’

‘Enough to take my hand and jump into the unknown. That’s all it needs, my love, just a little courage.’

Between the words her lips were sending him other messages of incitement and delight, torturing him with bliss held just out of reach, driving him crazy. With triumph she sensed that he couldn’t hold out against her. She felt his hands in her hair, tearing down the pretty confection that the hairdresser had achieved, so that it felt wildly about her bare shoulders, and his lips followed it, leaving a burning trail against her skin.

‘Don’t tempt me-’ he whispered. ‘Sorceress-I’ll fight you-’

‘I’ll tempt you until you’re brave enough to take any risk with me. If we can’t live in each other’s worlds we’ll make our own.’

‘Don’t-’ he said hoarsely.

‘Yes, my love, take the chance and jump from the highest point of Montedoro, and we’ll fly like eagles together.’

‘It’s crazy-mad-’

‘Don’t think about that. Haven’t you wanted me to kiss you like this?’

‘More than anything in life-but it changes nothing-’

‘It changes everything,’ she said, her lips against his. ‘You’re mine. You belong to me as I belong to you, and I won’t let you go. I don’t care what the difficulties are.’ To desire was suddenly added anger. She seized his shoulders and shook him, her blazing eyes staring into his. ‘We love each other. Doesn’t that count for anything?’

‘Perhaps it counts for less than you think,’ he forced himself to say. ‘Must love be the whole of life? Must it matter more than anything else in the world?’

‘If it’s strong enough-yes,’ she said fiercely.

‘Do you think I don’t love you? Do you think I haven’t lain awake night after night, thinking of you, longing for you, telling myself the world would be well lost if only I could make love with you, just once?’

‘Then make love to me-now-my room’s near-no more questions or decisions-’

‘But with the dawn I regained my sanity. It’s easy to talk of the world well lost, but it never is lost. It stays there, devastated by one foolish action, and we have to live with the consequences of what we’ve done. How quickly do you think we’d come to hate each other if we tried to live together? You couldn’t live my life and I couldn’t live yours. We’d destroy each other. Why can’t you see that?’

‘Because you’re everything to me,’ she cried in passionate anger. ‘And maybe love has made me stupid-stupid enough to believe we can make anything possible if we love enough. But I’d rather be my kind of stupid than yours, believing nothing is possible and love isn’t worth fighting for.’

Suddenly she saw that all her arts, all her passion and determination had achieved nothing. The agonising sensation of her own heart breaking made her step back sharply, repulsing him with a gesture that was almost a blow.

‘If it means so little to you, then maybe it isn’t worth fighting for,’ she cried. ‘Maybe I belong back in my old life, but only because you won’t grant me the dignity of making my own decisions, even when they’re hard. Perhaps we would destroy each other, not for the reason you think, but because I couldn’t live with a man who’s hard, judgemental, and thinks I need him to tell me what to do.

‘Goodbye, Bernardo. I thought I’d made a mistake in coming here, but now I’m glad. It’ll save me indulging in regrets.’

Midnight on the terrace. The house was silent. Far out, the moon was reflected on a tranquil sea. Angie stood looking, trying to imprint the scene on her memory, knowing this was the last time she would ever be here.

‘So he was as much of a stubborn fool as always?’ came Baptista’s ironic voice from the shadows.

‘Yes,’ Angie said bitterly. ‘I thought if he’d missed me as I’ve missed him, it might change things. But nothing changes.’

‘No, nothing changes with Bernardo, and it never will change. He’ll love you all his life, and he’ll suffer for it so dreadfully that it hurts me to think of.’

‘What about my suffering?’ Angie asked wryly.

‘My dear, I know you are in pain, but you will survive, and you will love again-perhaps not as you love him, but enough. You are warm and open-hearted. You know how to embrace life.

‘But Bernardo-’ Baptista sighed ‘-none of this is true of him. He is a hard man, even a harsh one, who doesn’t know how to compromise. He conceals himself, even from himself. One woman-just one-found the way to tempt him out into the sunlight, and if he loses her, I don’t think he’ll ever find the way out again. Think of his life as it will be then. How cold and stunted it will be, and finally how twisted.’

‘I know,’ Angie whispered huskily. ‘When I think of him alone up there, and how happy we could be if only-’ She pressed her lips together, but she couldn’t stop the tears pouring down her face. ‘He thinks I’m only a bird of paradise,’ she said, and the cry broke from her, ‘but I wanted to be an eagle.’

‘Then be an eagle,’ Baptista said trenchantly.

‘How can I if he won’t let me?’

‘Let?’ Baptista’s voice was scathing. ‘Are you that kind of woman, the kind who waits for a man to “let” her? I expected better from you. Do what you believe in. Don’t ask his permission. Weak women say, “if only”. Strong ones make it happen.’

‘Do you think I don’t long to make it happen?’ she demanded. ‘I don’t know the way.’

‘But I do,’ Baptista said, ‘and I’m going to show it to you.’