get married without your freely given consent, Marco.’
‘ So she is resorting to emotional blackmail?’
‘Weren’t you? Didn’t you twist her arm to make her marry the man you’d chosen for her? Not physically, of course, but emotionally. Honour of the family, the responsibilities of great estates, and all that? Fair’s fair in love and war. She is playing your game, Marco, and playing it well.’
‘ But if she’d told me—’
‘ Maybe she tried. Maybe she knew it wouldn’t be any good trying. He’s probably neither wealthy nor noble, but just a nice ordinary boy she loves. Find her, Marco. Get a message to her somehow, letting her know you will listen to what she has to say. Because she’s going to win, whatever you say. You may as well accept that as a fact.’
He pushed back his chair, stood up abruptly.
‘ You’ve been up all night. Time I let you go and get some sleep. You’ve given me a lot to think about, and you may well be right. I don’t know how women think, and perhaps I didn’t handle the situation very well. It’s been—difficult. You see how my mother is—not really of this world any more. I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough, was it? You’ve changed your mind about leaving today?’
‘ If I’m forgiven for throwing things at my host, I’d like to stay.’
He held out his hand and after a brief hesitation she placed hers in it. His fingers closed over hers, and she was aware of the leap of her blood, the racing pulse, as she felt his warmth and strength. Then, without a word, almost without movement, he took her into his arms and there was nothing uncertain about the way he kissed her. Held closely in his arms, his lips hard on hers, feeling the warmth of his body and with the man-scent of him in her nostrils, it seemed as if her cup of joy was full.
Then the joy drained away, replaced by despair. The kiss had done nothing but deepen the feeling she had for him, the need of her body, the yearning of her heart. But there was no future in this love. How could he, with his rigid ideas of tradition, of the importance of wealth and estates in a marriage contract, ever think of marriage with a penniless working girl from another country, another culture?
And neither he nor she could accept anything less. She had perfect confidence that he would not cheapen her, although she must seem like beggarmaid to his king; nor would she cheapen herself.
The end of the holiday, the end of her time at Villa Tramonti, could not come too soon. For her peace of mind, any hope of happiness she had in the future, it was imperative she should get away as soon as possible.
Yet every remaining hour was precious. They were all she would ever have of Marco’s presence. The next few days had to last her the rest of her life.
CHAPTER V
Jan woke slowly, drowsily aware of Francesca standing by her bedside with a tray; of a delicious smell of coffee and hot rolls.
‘ It is almost lunchtime, signorina, but the Signore said to bring coffee but not to disturb you if you were asleep.’
Recollection flooded back. Jan sat up. ‘ The Signora? How is she? She was not well last night, Francesca, which is why I did not get to bed till nearly morning. The Signore should have sent you to wake me hours ago.’
‘ The Signora is well. She had breakfast in bed, and is now in the garden. She—’ the girl hesitated, then burst out with what she wanted to say. ‘ My mistress is sick, signorina. She remembers nothing one tells her. And she is sad because Signorina Bianca is not here.’
‘Where is Signorina Bianca?’ Jan put the question sharply, with a vague idea that the young girl might know, or suspect, where another young girl had sought refuge.
The girl shrugged expressively. Jan w as beginning to learn something of the infinite variations of Italian shrug, and interpreted this one as meaning How should I know ? But, she noted, Francesca did not come out with the stock answer that Bianca was
‘ So she is resorting to emotional blackmail?’
‘Weren’t you? Didn’t you twist her arm to make her marry the man you’d chosen for her? Not physically, of course, but emotionally. Honour of the family, the responsibilities of great estates, and all that? Fair’s fair in love and war. She is playing your game, Marco, and playing it well.’
‘ But if she’d told me—’
‘ Maybe she tried. Maybe she knew it wouldn’t be any good trying. He’s probably neither wealthy nor noble, but just a nice ordinary boy she loves. Find her, Marco. Get a message to her somehow, letting her know you will listen to what she has to say. Because she’s going to win, whatever you say. You may as well accept that as a fact.’
He pushed back his chair, stood up abruptly.
‘ You’ve been up all night. Time I let you go and get some sleep. You’ve given me a lot to think about, and you may well be right. I don’t know how women think, and perhaps I didn’t handle the situation very well. It’s been—difficult. You see how my mother is—not really of this world any more. I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough, was it? You’ve changed your mind about leaving today?’
‘ If I’m forgiven for throwing things at my host, I’d like to stay.’
He held out his hand and after a brief hesitation she placed hers in it. His fingers closed over hers, and she was aware of the leap of her blood, the racing pulse, as she felt his warmth and strength. Then, without a word, almost without movement, he took her into his arms and there was nothing uncertain about the way he kissed her. Held closely in his arms, his lips hard on hers, feeling the warmth of his body and with the man-scent of him in her nostrils, it seemed as if her cup of joy was full.
Then the joy drained away, replaced by despair. The kiss had done nothing but deepen the feeling she had for him, the need of her body, the yearning of her heart. But there was no future in this love. How could he, with his rigid ideas of tradition, of the importance of wealth and estates in a marriage contract, ever think of marriage with a penniless working girl from another country, another culture?
And neither he nor she could accept anything less. She had perfect confidence that he would not cheapen her, although she must seem like beggarmaid to his king; nor would she cheapen herself.
The end of the holiday, the end of her time at Villa Tramonti, could not come too soon. For her peace of mind, any hope of happiness she had in the future, it was imperative she should get away as soon as possible.
Yet every remaining hour was precious. They were all she would ever have of Marco’s presence. The next few days had to last her the rest of her life.
CHAPTER V
Jan woke slowly, drowsily aware of Francesca standing by her bedside with a tray; of a delicious smell of coffee and hot rolls.
‘ It is almost lunchtime, signorina, but the Signore said to bring coffee but not to disturb you if you were asleep.’
Recollection flooded back. Jan sat up. ‘ The Signora? How is she? She was not well last night, Francesca, which is why I did not get to bed till nearly morning. The Signore should have sent you to wake me hours ago.’
‘ The Signora is well. She had breakfast in bed, and is now in the garden. She—’ the girl hesitated, then burst out with what she wanted to say. ‘ My mistress is sick, signorina. She remembers nothing one tells her. And she is sad because Signorina Bianca is not here.’
‘Where is Signorina Bianca?’ Jan put the question sharply, with a vague idea that the young girl might know, or suspect, where another young girl had sought refuge.
The girl shrugged expressively. Jan w as beginning to learn something of the infinite variations of Italian shrug, and interpreted this one as meaning How should I know ? But, she noted, Francesca did not come out with the stock answer that Bianca was
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