Secret for a Nightingale by Victoria Holt Page A

was describing that Mrs. Freeling looked at her watch and said they must go.
    They shook hands and we parted.
    As we walked back to the palazzo, Aubrey said: “It’s a small world.
    Imagine meeting them. “
    “I wonder why he resigned from the army.”
    “Fancied some other way of life, no doubt.”
    “People don’t usually.”
    “There speaks the soldier’s daughter. There are some who might not find it such a glorious way of life.”
    “I mean, I don’t think it is easy to resign. I’ll ask my father. I suppose we shall see them again.”
    “Have to, I suppose. But they are going in a day or so.”
    He sounded unenthusiastic, which pleased me.
    “And so are we going very soon,” I said.
    “Oh Aubrey, it has been so wonderful. Do you think anyone else ever had such a honeymoon?”
     
    “Of course not,” he replied.
    And we laughed and walked into the marble hall of our palazzo.
    We did not speak of the Freelings after that. I fancied that Aubrey felt as I did, and that was that we could have done without the intrusion. The remark that we must meet before we left Venice was, I suspected, one of those vague statements which people make out of politeness rather than intention.
    Two days after the encounter Aubrey asked me when I was going shopping for the gifts I intended to buy and why did I not do it that afternoon.
    “I know you don’t really care to have me around while you’re doing it,” he said.
    “So why don’t you go and spend as much time as you like in those little shops and I’ll wait for you. Oh … I know what I could do. I could look in at the Freelings’ place and perhaps spend an hour or so with them. I know you are not very keen on seeing them. And I suppose it is only common politeness … having met them here.”
    I said I thought it was a good idea.
    I spent several hours in the shops making my decision. There was so much to choose from. I bought a bracelet for. Amelia. It was gold, studded with lapis lazuli; and just as I was about to settle for a marble paperweight for my father, I saw some beautiful wall plates which I felt I had to buy. So I bought one with a picture of Raphael for Stephen and of Dante for my father. I was sure they would like them and they would remind me for ever of those magical days in Venice.
    When I returned to the palazzo it was about six o’clock. Benedetto informed me that Aubrey was not yet home. I had a leisurely bath and lay on the bed reading for half an hour expecting Aubrey to return at any moment.
    As time passed, and he still had not come, I began to be’ alarmed. ;
    Benedetto came to ask me if I would have dinner served,;
    and I said I would wait.
     
    He smiled sympathetically. I knew he was thinking that we had had a lovers’ quarrel.
    I began to be afraid. I thought of those dark alleys; memories came back to me of the man I had seen lying with blood on his clothes . dragged out of the canal. I had not heard the end of that story. Who had he been? A tourist who had been set upon by robbers or was his death the result of some long-standing vendetta?
    I sat on the veranda. I went back to my room and paced up and down.
    Aubrey had gone to the Freelings. I had not heard the name of their hotel. Mrs. Freeling must have told him but he had not mentioned it to me.
    I felt inadequate. Here I was in a foreign country, not speaking the language, and I could not think how I should act. Surely Aubrey would not stay away so long unless something awful had happened. Suppose the Freelings had invited him to dine with them. Surely they would have asked me to join them or perhaps sent word to me that he was with them. No. It could not be that. Something must have happened to him.
    What should I do? Go round the hotels? Go to the British Consul? Where was that? Call a gondola and ask to be taken to the Embassy? Was I making a fuss? There had been times when Aubrey had made me feel a little naive. Was I? Would he come in and say: “The Freelings asked me