Wife By Arrangement

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT WAS Baptista’s idea that Heather should visit Bella Rosaria. ‘It’s time you were looking over your property,’ she said. ‘But come to see me often.’

The suggestion appealed to Heather. She could never regard the estate as hers, but while matters were being sorted out it would be the ideal place to stay.

She took a car from the garage and drove out of Palermo, taking the winding road that led up to the village of Ellona, and the pink stone villa that dominated it. It was mid-morning and as she climbed she saw how the fresh, vivid light sharpened the contours of the land, which was freshly harvested and brown after the long, fierce summer. She realised that already she was thinking like a Sicilian. Baptista had been right. She loved this place and didn’t want to leave it.

Baptista must have telephoned ahead, because when Heather reached the villa she found they were ready for her. Jocasta, the housekeeper, had prepared the best room in readiness for the new mistress. It was dark and old-fashioned, with crimson tiles on the floor and furniture made of wood that was almost black. But everything was luxurious, and the huge bed was the most comfortable she’d ever known.

She met her steward, Luigi, a small, fierce man, brown as a berry, who might have been any age from fifty to eighty, and who offered to show her over her property. He spoke in a mixture of Sicilian and English. Heather responded in the same do-it-yourself dialect, and they understood each other perfectly.

The villa had its own stables with three horses. Heather had learned to ride while visiting Angie, and now she set out for a ride over the countryside, accompanied by Luigi. Everywhere the land was changing, reflecting the passing of summer and the start of the wet season. Luigi explained that it had been a good harvest this year. She would do well. He didn’t seem to notice that she was sunk in embarrassment.

For her first evening Jocasta had ordered what she called ‘a simple meal’, which turned out to be aubergine salad, followed by squid and macaroni stew, followed by liver with wine sauce. The ride had left her with a good appetite and she had no difficulty doing justice to all these dishes, plus the caramelised oranges. She had the satisfaction of knowing that she’d delighted Jocasta’s husband Gino, who did the cooking and was hovering just outside the door. The whole was washed down with half a bottle of a light rosé called Donnafugata, after which she went to bed and slept like a baby.

A strange, dream-like calm seemed to descend on her. The sense of being in limbo was stronger than ever, but now it was a pleasant limbo where she had nothing to do but discover the extent of her new found power. The strained nerves that had betrayed her to Renato in the garden were recovering from their collapse, growing stronger every day.

Some long rides did her good, and her spirits began to be normal again. She made several visits to the Residenza, always choosing a time when Renato was unlikely to be there. To her relief Baptista didn’t raise the dangerous subject again. They would talk and discuss Bella Rosaria as though it really was hers. Baptista was full of wise suggestions which Heather duly passed on to Luigi. She was determined to do no more, but little by little she found herself fascinated by the running of the estate.

She wondered what Renato thought of her flight, or the way she’d taken possession of the place he had wanted to own, according to Lorenzo. Doubtless he would soon come storming to visit her. She was ready for him, unafraid.

But when days passed with no sign of him she knew a sense of anticlimax. Then she grew irked at his offhand way of treating her. Something had been left unresolved between them and it had to be sorted. Why couldn’t he see that?

It was obvious now that she’d always known he would kiss her. From the moment he walked into Gossways everything he’d said or done had been the actions of a man who would kiss her one day. Her reactions had been clouded by her honest belief that she’d been in love with another man. But behind the curtain of that belief she’d felt like a woman who expected-wanted-to be kissed.

They had almost come to grief the day on the boat, and by the time of the ball her mistake had been staring her in the face. After the aborted wedding she’d retreated into herself, wanting nothing to do with him. But when he’d taken her into his arms by the fountain she’d come to life again so urgently that it had alarmed her. She’d fled because she needed time to think, but now she had to meet him again, and see how he looked when he saw her.

But he didn’t appear. Lorenzo seemed almost permanently abroad now, but one day Baptista remarked casually that Renato too was away. She was feeling rather lonely with neither of her sons there, but wasn’t it delightful that the two of them could enjoy some time alone together? In a colourless voice Heather agreed that it was.

Bernardo came to ask if there was anything he could do for her. He looked ill and wretched, so Heather took pity on him, invited him to dinner and spent the time talking about Angie, who’d written twice. He said little, but she sensed that he was alive to every mention of Angie’s name. She knew that feeling of being haunted. Something of her sympathy must have shown in her manner, for by the end of the evening they were excellent friends.

It would have been tempting to drift forever in this pleasant no-man’s-land, but she forced herself to telephone Gossways. As she’d feared, her place on the training programme had gone for ever. She could return as a sales assistant, but two grades lower than when she’d left. Renato had made no call on her behalf.

So that was that.

It was another week before she saw Renato’s car winding its way up the narrow main street of Ellona one afternoon, just as the sun was setting. About time too, she thought as she descended the stone steps outside the villa. She tried to arrange her face to suggest the right combination of welcome and reserve.

But it wasn’t Renato.

‘Hello,’ Lorenzo called cheerily, bounding out and waving as though nothing was wrong between them. ‘I came to see how you were.’

It took a moment to pull herself together and seem normal. How could it be Lorenzo when it should have been Renato? How dared he come here when his brother didn’t?

‘Fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘I like it here.’

‘All on your own?’

‘There are worse things than being alone. Come inside.’

He bounded up the steps, an attractive figure in his light brown trousers and blue short-sleeved shirt, open at the throat. He was smiling and seemed not to have a care in the world. That should have hurt. But it didn’t. Those feelings already seemed long in the past.

‘I brought you a housewarming present,’ he said, flourishing an elegantly wrapped parcel. It turned out to be an alabaster head in the style of a Greek goddess. It was about ten inches tall, delicately made and charming.

‘It’s a reproduction of a piece in a museum,’ Lorenzo explained. ‘I chose it because she looks like you. Actually, I’ll confess, I bought it for you weeks ago. After what happened-I wasn’t sure how to give it to you. But as a housewarming gift-’ He gave a deprecating shrug. He was full of charm.

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘And I know just the right place for it.’

She led him out to the rose garden, where there was a little alcove that she’d thought was rather bare. To her delight it harmonised perfectly.

‘Lovely,’ Lorenzo agreed. ‘Do you like this spot, then? I know it’s always been a favorite place of Mamma’s.’

Perhaps he didn’t know the story of Fede, the rose grower. Heather wondered if Baptista would mind if she hinted at it, but Lorenzo’s next words killed the impulse. ‘Don’t you find the house rather gloomy? I always did.’

‘Gloomy? Not at all. It’s cool and peaceful. I love it.’

‘We always had to spend a few weeks here in the summer. I just remember longing to get away.’

So much for her dream of living here with him. A fantasy, born of ignorance, like so many of her thoughts of Lorenzo, she realised. If they had known each other longer she would have seen her infatuation for what it was.

They had wine on the terrace overlooking the garden. Lorenzo was looking mischievous. ‘I heard about the row,’ he said.

‘Row?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Come on, everyone knows what happened. Mamma tried to arrange a match between you and Renato and you just roared with laughter. I wish I’d been there to see that. My brother, who spends most of his time dodging traps by determined women, actually getting the cold shoulder.’

‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ Heather said firmly. ‘Renato and I both felt that it wasn’t a good idea.’ How dull and prim the words sounded against the explosive reality. But it was best that way. Whatever she might feel about Renato she wasn’t going to offer him up for Lorenzo’s amusement.

‘I’m sure you don’t like the idea, but him? For one thing, you’ve got this place.’

‘Which I’m giving back as soon as the paperwork’s sorted.’

‘Plus you turned him down. Who do you think was the last woman who did that?’

Me, Heather thought, remembering how she’d told Renato to jump in the river on the first evening.

‘Refused him before he’d even asked,’ Lorenzo went on with a grin. ‘I’ll bet that got under his skin. He’s been in a foul temper ever since he got back from America. Careful! You nearly spilled your drink.’

He was back, she thought. And he hadn’t called her.

Well, why should he?

Because he had no right to leave her on hot coals.

Hell would freeze over before she asked when he’d returned.

‘Let’s drop this subject,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to marry Renato.’

‘I wouldn’t care to take a wager on that. You laughed at him. He can’t just ignore that.’

‘What are you saying? That he’ll try to win me over to save his pride?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s not used to having to win a woman over. Usually they’re only too willing.’

She didn’t answer and he gave a rueful half-smile. ‘We could have made it, you know-if he hadn’t interfered.’

‘We’ll never know,’ she told him. ‘It’s in the past. Over.’

But he laid down his wineglass on the stone balustrade and reached out to draw her into his arms. Heather had half expected it, and she allowed it to happen because there was something she wanted to know. She even kissed him back. Not out of love. Or passion. Curiosity.

Once she’d loved him so much. The sweetness of his kisses had transported her to heaven. Or so she’d thought. But heaven had turned out to be a rather narrow cul-de-sac. A kiss should open up infinite vistas of joy and passion, even when it was gentle, hovering on the verge of passion, but uncommitted, so that you yearned for…

She sighed and freed herself. It had been a useful experiment and she’d learned what she wanted to know. Lorenzo was basically a pleasant young man, but he still had some growing up to do. It had been like kissing cardboard.

Then she turned her head and saw Renato, regarding them sardonically.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise the two of you would be occupied.’

‘Then you should have done,’ Lorenzo said cheekily.

Renato advanced and took his arm. ‘You were just leaving.’

‘Was I?’

‘No,’ Heather said, furious at this high-handedness. ‘I’d just invited Lorenzo to lunch, and he’d accepted.’

Lorenzo caught Renato’s eye and what he saw there seemed to decide him. ‘Perhaps another time,’ he said.

Even knowing it was futile, Heather made an attempt to assert herself as mistress of her own home. ‘Not another time,’ she said firmly. ‘Now. Gino will have prepared food for two-’

‘Don’t worry, I’m hungry,’ Renato said. He regarded Lorenzo with surprise. ‘Are you still here?’

‘Just going,’ Lorenzo said. But he deposited a cheeky kiss on Heather’s cheek before vanishing.

When they were alone she turned on Renato, who was looking at her coldly. She even thought she detected a hint of scorn in his eyes, and her temper rose to meet it.

‘You’ve got an unspeakable nerve!’ she told him.

‘My apologies,’ he said, not sounding at all apologetic. ‘But I wanted to be rid of him and that was the quickest way.’

‘And what about what I wanted?’

‘It’s fairly obvious what you wanted. Nome de dio, I thought you had more dignity!’

‘How dare you?’

‘Oh, please! You were being pretty obvious. No doubt the first step to luring him upstairs to bed.’

She gasped, and would have struck out if he hadn’t caught her wrist. ‘No, don’t attack me just because I speak plainly. If your aim was to get Lorenzo back to the altar, you won’t do it that way.’

She was angry enough to speak without thinking. ‘If I’d wanted to trap Lorenzo by taking him to bed I’d have done it before now.’

His grip tightened, and there was a strange light in his eyes. ‘Are you saying you never did?’

She drew a sharp breath. ‘Let go of me at once.’

‘I wondered if you’d slept with him-you denied it the day we met, or I thought you did-but I could be wrong-tell me-’ There was a flash of anger in his eyes. ‘Tell me!’

‘I’ll tell you nothing. It’s none of your business.’

‘The best thing Lorenzo did was running off that day. He’d have disappointed you. You know that, don’t you?’

She did know. The beating of her heart told her, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. ‘If you thought that, it’s a pity you pushed me into his arms,’ she said.

‘I didn’t know then. Neither of us knew. But we know now. He’d have let you down, and then-’

‘And then-?’

He didn’t need to answer, but it was there between them. And then she would have turned to him.

‘Never,’ she whispered. ‘Never. If I was Lorenzo’s wife, I’d have been faithful to the very end.’

‘To the bitter end,’ he corrected.

‘If necessary.’

‘No matter how bitter the end would have been for all of us?’ His voice became cruel. ‘We could all have burned in a self-made hell for all you cared.’

‘You needn’t have. You have other diversions.’

‘Sometimes they’re not-’ He became aware of what he was saying and stopped abruptly. ‘Shall I tell you what hell is?’ he asked after a moment.

‘I’m sure you know many kinds.’

‘It’s to love without desire, and desire without love.’

She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Let me go, Renato. Let me go now. You have no right to do this.’

She wrenched her wrist free and backed away. But she kept her eyes on him as she would have done a wild animal that might spring either way. This was Renato, a man it was always safest to treat as an enemy. He was still in a state of suppressed anger, his face paler than she had ever seen it, and she knew his control could slip at any moment.

And then Jocasta’s step outside the door brought them both out of the fevered dream and they turned forced smiles on her. Somehow the jagged air settled back to normal, leaving only unbelievable memories behind.

Renato greeted Jocasta like an old friend and Heather could see how delighted the housekeeper was to see him. As they exchanged some backchat in Sicilian she mentally stood back, trying not to be aware that she was tingling and newly alive after their brief exchange. Once again they were fighting within a few minutes of meeting, but with Renato fighting held an excitement all its own.

Like Lorenzo, Renato was dressed informally in a short-sleeved shirt, open at the throat, but on him the effect was different. Lorenzo blended into his surroundings. Renato stood out from them. His vital masculinity made him always more noticeable than anything else. Heather found her anger slipping away. He’d been gone so long, and the little ache that had been in her breast for days was explained now, hard though she found it to admit to herself.

‘Your favorite wine, signore,’ Jocasta said, pouring for him.

‘Good. And I’ve had a pressing invitation to lunch,’ he said shamelessly.

‘Then I’ll tell Gino to prepare some meatballs in tomato soup,’ Jocasta said.

‘Not for lunch, because they’ll take time to prepare and we’d like to eat quickly before we go out,’ Renato said. ‘But I’ll have them for supper tonight.’

‘I never invited you for lunch or supper,’ Heather pointed out when they were alone.

‘But you were just about to. I could tell.’

To think she’d actually been glad to see him! He seemed to ruffle her feathers for the devilment of it. Why couldn’t it have been him in the car this afternoon, as it should have been? But no, he had to arrive at the wrong moment, teasing and tormenting her, putting her on the defensive, ruining what might have been a delightful visit. And doing all this while looking so vividly alive that something sang inside her and she wondered how she had endured so long without the sight of him. She could gladly have wrung his neck.

‘And as for telling her when to serve lunch-’

‘We’re going out straight after and there’s no time to waste.’

As they sat down to lunch they had each managed to slide the polite masks into place, and Renato had done more. He managed to look as though the whole scene hadn’t taken place. Heather only hoped her own efforts were as successful.

‘Tell me, how have you been while I’ve been away?’ he asked.

‘I’ve enjoyed your absence considerably. Can I hope to have it repeated again soon?’

‘Not for a while, I’m afraid. This estate has always been one of our most productive, and it has to stay that way. That means you must know what to do. Luigi will take responsibility, of course, but if you don’t know what he’s doing he won’t respect you.’

‘But-’ Heather meant to explain yet again that she was going to return the estate to its rightful owner, but gave up. Nobody had listened to her so far, and plainly Renato wasn’t listening now.

In fact he seemed to regard her chiefly as an audience. He talked at her rather than to her, and once remarked that she wasn’t listening properly. He was totally businesslike and the electricity that had flashed between them earlier might never have been.

‘The rains are due,’ he told her. ‘But with any luck we’ll have a few days first. That’s why I’m here now. Let’s go.’

A small crowd had gathered to watch them get into his open-topped car at the front of the villa. ‘Your tenants,’ Renato told her.

‘You mean some of them live in houses that belong to the estate?’

‘All of them live in Ellona, which is yours.’

‘But I thought-just one or two houses-’

‘Every house in the village. That’s why they’re watching you. What you do affects them.’

That was only the start. As they drove out that afternoon he showed her vineyards, orchards and olive groves that were all hers. Everything was well kept and flourishing, the tenants celebrating bumper harvests, eager to talk about loans for next year’s fertiliser. This was Renato’s territory, and Heather had expected him to use his expert knowledge to reduce her to silence. But she had to admit that he behaved beautifully, bringing her into every conversation, treating her with respect, explaining what she needed to know without talking down to her.

At one sheep farm she became fascinated, asking a series of intelligent questions that had the tenant family nodding approval. In a combination of English, Italian and Sicilian she explained that her uncle had been a shepherd.

‘We used to spend holidays with him and he’d let me help with the lambing. I loved that.’

‘What kind of sheep?’ they wanted to know.

‘Blackface, some angora-’ And she was away, talking eagerly.

They took her to see their best ram and watched as she ran knowledgeable hands over it. They discussed vets’ bills. Scandalous. And milking. Did they milk their sheep? They did but they hadn’t expected her to know it was possible.

At last the talk died. She looked around and found them staring at her with interest. Renato was smiling as though he’d won something. Heather felt a prickle on her spine as a suspicion came to her.

As they drove back through Ellona Heather’s suspicions increased. Every window and door in the main street was open, and they were being studied by curious eyes. The plump little priest stepped out to hail them, and they stopped at his house for a drink. When they emerged they were watched even more intently. It was obvious that this scrutiny had a reason, and she was beginning to fear that she knew what it was.

As they reached the villa Renato said, ‘Tomorrow we’ll go on horseback.’

‘You’re coming back tomorrow?’

‘I’m staying overnight. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not at all,’ she said politely. ‘I’ll tell Jocasta.’

‘No need. I should think she’s put my things in my room by now.’

He was right. Clearly he was a favourite with Jocasta, who had not only unpacked his case but ordered the evening meal to suit him. Heather didn’t know how to protest about the way he’d taken over. After all, she kept saying that Bella Rosaria wasn’t really hers, so it was hard to complain when he took her at her word.

They enjoyed the last of the light wandering in the garden. ‘I loved playing here better than anywhere else,’ he remembered. ‘This was a wonderful place for gangs of bandits. I used to get the boys from the village in and we created mayhem.’

She smiled. ‘I wonder how Baptista felt about that in her flower garden.’

‘She didn’t mind. She said what mattered was that there should be happiness here.’ They had reached the rose arbour and sat on the wooden seat. ‘I used to come out in the evening and find her sitting in this spot, with her eyes closed.’

‘Did you ever find out why?’ she asked cautiously.

‘You mean did I know about Federico? Yes, the head gardener told me. He’d worked here for years and knew all about it. Apparently there were a lot of rumours when the young man vanished so suddenly.’

‘That was the hardest for Baptista to bear,’ Heather said. ‘Not knowing. You surely don’t think-?’

‘I doubt it, but I have to admit that my grandfather was a man who wouldn’t tolerate opposition.’

They had supper in the library, close to the open French windows. Renato’s mood had mellowed and he went on reminiscing about the villa as he’d known it in his childhood.

‘I always knew it had a special place in my mother’s heart. Perhaps that’s why it became enchanted to me too. The Residenza was just a building, but Bella Rosaria was special.’

‘Then take it back.’

He gave her an ironic look. ‘There’s only one way I can do that.’

‘No marriage,’ she said at once. ‘We both agreed.’

He shrugged. ‘My mother is a very persuasive woman, and I’m a man with a strong sense of duty.’

She rested her elbows on the table and met his eyes. ‘Rubbish!’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you can forget it. No marriage. Not now. Not ever. You can take that as final.’

He grinned. ‘Suppose I don’t choose to?’

‘Oh, stop this! I know you’re only fooling but it’s not fair to give the village ideas. Do you think I don’t know why they were out in force, watching us? And the priest, practically giving us his blessing. You ought to stop them thinking things. It’s not fair.’

‘To whom?’

‘To them. They obviously like the idea.’

‘Yes, you’ve made yourself popular. And the fact that you know about sheep will be all over the district tonight. Everyone around here sees the propriety of our marriage as clearly as Mamma does.’

She laughed. ‘They’d think differently if they could have heard what you said about swimming the Straits of Messina in lead weights.’

He winced. ‘I deny it. I never said any such thing. Anyway, a man can grow wiser.’

She refused to rise to the bait. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said.

‘You’re right. We’ll make an early start in the morning. Don’t be late. I dislike women who keep me waiting.’

This was so clearly meant to be provocative that she said, ‘I really will kick your shins in a minute,’ in a teasing voice.

‘Exactly what Mamma advised, night and morning. You see, we’re acting like an old married couple already.’

She began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She ought to at least try to stay cross with him, but the excellent wine and the company of a man who, for all his infuriating behaviour, was still more mysteriously attractive than anyone she’d ever known, was a potent combination. Tonight he’d been pleasant company, making her like him better than at any time before.

‘That’s better than the last time I heard you laugh,’ he said approvingly.

The night in the garden, when she’d laughed on the edge of sobs, and he’d kissed her with a tenderness that had haunted her dreams since. She met his eyes and looked quickly away, confused. She no longer knew what she wanted.

They climbed the stairs together. Outside her door he took her hand, said gently, ‘Goodnight, Heather,’ and went across the corridor to his own room without waiting for her answer.

When she’d closed her door she stood for a long time, listening to the sound of her own heart beating. He would come to her tonight. She knew that beyond any doubt. Suddenly decided, she turned the key in her lock.

She undressed slowly, torn this way and that, until she crept to the door and unlocked it. Then she got into bed and lay listening to the creaks of the old house, as the night grew quiet around them, staring into the darkness.

Renato wanted to marry her. Or rather, he’d decided in favour of the marriage. That was more accurate. The family needed an heir, and Lorenzo had proved too unreliable, so Renato had reluctantly bowed his neck to the yoke. Marrying her would please his mother and satisfy his sense of duty.

Nothing else?

Yes. She’d challenged him, laughed at him, snubbed him. His pride was at stake. And he wanted to sleep with her. He’d made no bones about it. But she already knew how little physical relationships counted with him. When he’d soothed his pride and gained what he wanted-what then?

Hell is love without desire, and desire without love-desire without love-

At last she fell asleep.