‘Paula? Raphael? Will you not come along with me?’
‘Aunt Claire, I do not think I could have managed it without blurting out that we came to Ravenna to see Teresa Guiccioli,’ she protested. ‘Why did you not tell him?’
Shrugging, I sipped my oolong tea. ‘I do not know, but his abrupt arrival has made me wary that something else is afoot. He knows more than he is saying about the Cades theft, and I was not ready to reveal our true reason for being here.’
‘I agree,’ Trelawny said. ‘It is highly unusual for a police lieutenant to travel this far based solely on rumors of a stolen piece of artwork, yet he is not a man to be trifled with under any circumstances.’
Georgiana began to squirm around restlessly, demanding tea and biscuits. While Paula and Raphael attended to her, I whispered to Trelawny, ‘Baldini’s reason for showing up in Ravenna seems a bit contrived – and he would have had two hard days of travel to cover the distance between here and Florence. Could he have been trailing us the entire time? Do you trust him?’
‘Partly, though I do not believe he read the note that I sent to him. He seemed surprised when I mentioned it. If he is telling the truth about the Cades sketch and his journey here, we have one more ally in Ravenna. If not, we have a formidable enemy. Everything that has happened to us since we left Florence can be explained away, like a ghost in the night – the unseen rider, a mysterious stranger near Vergato, your attacker near Byron’s palazzo. It has all been carefully orchestrated to be inconclusive every step of the way, but it feels as if events are converging …’
I swallowed hard. ‘Say nothing to Paula and Raphael. I shall meet with Baldini tomorrow and see if I can persuade him to reveal anything else to me.’
‘And I will be nearby at all times, just in case.’
I sat back, letting these recent developments sink in. I hardly knew what to believe at this point, except that our situation had just worsened. Whether it was Baldini or a stranger behind this plot, we were under greater threat than ever from someone willing to take great risks to achieve his ends.
Even murder?
After a dreamless night, I rose early and was ready in the lobby downstairs in my favorite yellow cotton day dress when Baldini appeared.
‘You seem refreshed, Signora.’ He offered me his arm; careful not to jar my sore shoulder, I slipped my hand through it, allowing him to escort me into the street. Clear, blue skies greeted us – slightly cooler, with a fresh breeze coming in from the east. I did not see Trelawny, but sensed he was close.
‘I appreciate that you are willing to make time in your busy schedule to sightsee with someone who could be your mother,’ I commented as we strolled past several open-air markets featuring the lush fruit of the region – fresh peaches, apples, and plums. Slowing down to take in their bursts of color in neat little rows, I savored the vast array of produce. ‘You must have more important things to do … in your investigation.’
He matched his pace to mine. ‘I have alerted the local polizia, so if the Cades drawing surfaces, I will know immediately. As for the rest, my own mother died years ago, so I am happy to enjoy the company of a woman who is of the same generation. I miss her dearly.’
‘One never really recovers from the loss of a mother.’
‘Or a child?’
‘No, indeed not.’ I picked up a random peach and inhaled its soft scent, then casually asked, ‘Do you really believe that a thief followed us to Ravenna?’
‘Si.’
‘And you felt so strongly about it that you traveled night and day to warn us?’
He shrugged. ‘That is my job.’
Perhaps.
As I started to hand the fruit vendor a few coins for the peach, Baldini brushed my hand away and paid the young woman himself.
‘Grazie, Lieutenant.’ We moved on and I slipped the peach into my small bag, knowing Georgiana would love something sweet later. Baldini seemed so sincere, so honest … causing a twinge of guilt over my hidden reason for meeting him and our secret trip to meet Teresa that afternoon. ‘On the subject of thieves, may I ask you a question: how well did you know Matteo?’
‘Not very. He was an aristocrat from a very old Florentine family, and my late mother was a seamstress in his household.’
Interessante. ‘And your father?’
His face shuttered down. ‘I never knew him.’
‘Then we have something in common – I never knew mine either. Even when my mother was dying, she refused to tell me his identity. All I know is that he gave her this piece of jewelry, which she passed on to me.’ I touched the gold locket at my throat. ‘I rarely take it off since it makes me feel close to the unknown man who fathered me, even though I know nothing about him.’
He studied me silently for a few seconds. ‘At least you have some type of memento.’
‘It is very precious.’ We turned a corner on to the Via Vitale, and I continued, ‘If your mother worked for Matteo, you must have known him when you were growing up. Did he ever show you that evil side?’
‘No, he was quite kind.’ Baldini’s voice sounded sad, almost regretful. ‘Of course, I was rarely allowed to visit the upper floors since we were considered lower class.’
‘I see.’ As we slowly passed the genteel palazzos that lined the street, my mind was racing ahead as I tried to piece together the relationship between Matteo and Baldini. ‘You must have found it quite painful to arrest him … and even more devastating to learn that he had killed himself.’
‘He chose to become a criminal,’ he said without emotion. ‘I have seen many men descend into such depths, and I have little sympathy for them. Matteo gambled away his fortune and then survived by lying and stealing – and even killing. If his murder of Father Gianni did not earn him eternal damnation, his suicide certainly will.’
In spite of the sun-flooded brightness of the streets, I shivered. ‘Do you think one of his associates stole the sketch? Is that the person we need to fear?’
‘Most likely. Matteo led a ring of corruption, and one of the remaining culprits must know the value of your letters from the English poets, but do not worry – I have no doubt that he will reveal himself before long.’ Baldini pointed to the austere façade of the basilica that lay ahead. San Vitale. It looked like a fortress with its rough exterior and small, arched windows. ‘Shall we go inside?’
I held back. ‘Lieutenant, do you think it is a sin to lie?’
‘It depends on the reason, I suppose,’ he responded quietly. ‘Is there something that you want to tell me, Signora?’
My heart beat a little faster – a quick staccato of indecision. ‘Only that many men have not always been truthful with me over the years … I hope you are not one of them.’
‘I am an honest man.’
Searching his face, I thought I saw a flicker of dissembling. ‘Then I think we understand each other quite well.’
We moved inside the magnificent basilica with its soaring dome of Baroque frescos and dazzling mosaics. The panels on either side of the apse depicted Theodora and her husband, Emperor Justinian, who was adorned with a halo around his head. It all came to life with jewel-toned colors – almost breathlessly vivid, though we were the only visitors there to appreciate it.
‘Bellissimo,’ my companion exclaimed.
Tilting my head back, I could make out the triumphal arch’s depiction of a purple-robed Christ-figure flanked by the apostles – all bathed in gold. He was handing a martyr’s crown to Saint Vitale.
‘Saints and sinners … Only art this beautiful could make the combination so attractive.’ Baldini’s mouth quirked upwards in an ironic expression. ‘Ever it was thus, I suppose.’
‘As a converted Catholic, I would have to agree with you.’ I laughed softly. ‘Perhaps the artist’s role is to bear witness to his own truth: that art transcends such matters.’
We strolled around the main section silently, taking in the two chapels and the mullioned windows – and even more stunning
mosaics of flowers, angels, and even peacocks. Amidst such beauty, I could almost forget the reason I had come to Ravenna.
Almost.
Eventually we circled back to the entrance and took one last look at the soul-stirring artistry, and I thought I spied Trelawny just outside the door.
‘Our last meeting in Firenze was in a church – and now we are here,’ I finally spoke up as I lit a candle for Allegra. ‘Somehow it seems fitting, though I cannot say why.’
‘Signora Clairmont, you never answered my question.’ He repeated it, this time in Italian.
‘I thought I did.’
He paused for a few moments, then shrugged and escorted me out. After I assured him that Trelawny would fetch me, he kissed my hand and bid me farewell. As I watched him walk away, I detected an air of wariness before he crossed the street, his glance darting back and forth, as if watching for someone lurking in the shadows. Baldini seemed nervous.
After the lieutenant was no longer visible, Trelawny appeared at my side. ‘Did you learn anything new?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then we must follow our plan while we wait for the shadow rider’s next move – I will arrange for Teresa’s carriage to await us.’ Without another word, he ushered me back to the Al Cappello.
Hours later, on the way to meet la Guiccioli in her luxurious carriage, I recounted an abbreviated version of my encounter with Baldini to Paula, while Trelawny sat silently next to her. Raphael sat outside with the driver – and Georgiana, giving her a chance to play at handling the horses.
‘I was poised to tell Baldini about our excursion this afternoon, but I held back.’ Watching the scenery change from the flat, bare landscape to thickets of tall pines as we approached the woods of Filetto, I struggled to explain to Paula without revealing more about the shadow rider. ‘When Baldini said his mother often did seamstress work for Matteo – and they benefited from his generosity – I felt uneasy. Do you think it is possible that he is more deeply involved with the theft than he has led us to believe?’
‘It does seem odd that he came to Ravenna on a rumor about the Cades sketch.’ Paula leaned back against the green silk cushions next to me. ‘What do you think, Mr Trelawny?’
He sat across from us, distant and aloof again, in his formal jacket and trousers. In spite of his dutiful protectiveness, he had not forgotten our argument yesterday.
Oh, my friend, I wish I could take the words back …
One corner of his mouth twisted upward. ‘The lack of money can make men do evil – as did Matteo. If Baldini spent his youth poor and fatherless, he may have been quite attached to the one man who showed kindness to his mother and him. Then again, in our brief acquaintance with Baldini, I cannot see him as a totally corrupt officer. Perhaps he was simply trying to protect Matteo after his arrest … I cannot say for certain. But this day is about Allegra, as well – not only the stolen drawing.’
‘I somehow feel they are connected,’ I added.
‘We shall know soon enough.’ He sounded almost uninterested, but I knew it masked his deep anger. There was so much left unresolved between us that it might be better to not even try to repair our friendship.
‘So we may tie up both matters.’ Paula cleared her throat, obviously sensing the tension between us. ‘If Lieutenant Baldini locates the sketch and Signora Guiccioli has the missing pieces about Allegra, our quest may come to an end today – one way or another. What will you do then, Mr Trelawny?’
He averted his head to watch the passing forest. ‘I shall return to England, of course. My life is there.’
And mine is here.
‘I see.’ Paula nudged me slightly as if to prompt me to ask him to stay in Italy a little longer, but I kept my lips sealed shut.
We rolled on with only the sound of carriage wheels in the gravel from that point until we reached the Villa Gamba – the three-storied Baroque structure that I remembered Byron mentioning in his memoir. A pleasant country home of red brick and green shuttered windows. But within its walls, Byron and Teresa’s family had plotted revolution. In honor of this place, I brought along Shelley’s and his letters in my bag and had pocketed the final page of Byron’s confessione to read at the villa … it seemed fitting to conclude my reading of the memoir here.
The carriage halted, and a footman instantly appeared to usher us inside. The interior was just as quietly elegant, with marble floors, elaborately carved furniture, and gilt-framed paintings. It bespoke old wealth – the many generations who lived and died here, all linked through family ties. So different from my own life untethered to a permanent home.
We entered the parlor to find Teresa lounging in a sunlit parlor with flowered wallpaper and overstuffed chairs. A fire had been lit – even on such a warm day. A lady’s room.
The tea service had already been set out with an elaborately painted pot and china cups.
‘Buongiorno.’ She held out her hand to Trelawny.
‘It is good to see you again after so many years,’ Trelawny said, then he did the introductions as we each seated ourselves. As I settled into a needlepoint chair closest to her, I found myself somewhat surprised at her tiny, delicate form. Almost ethereal, with white hair and soft, unlined cheeks of rose and pearl. Her smile, open and friendly.
I wanted to hate her but could not do so.
‘You are most kind to receive us at such short notice,’ I began in Italian, ‘and to send your carriage.’
‘It is my pleasure,’ she responded in her native tongue. ‘My days are quite solitary now, so having visitors is a welcome treat, especially ones who remind me of my youth.’
Now it was my turn to smile. ‘And yet we never met.’
‘Such a shame.’
Teresa asked Paula to serve tea while she exchanged polite conversation with the rest of us. Trelawny stood off to the side, struggling to follow with his shaky command of the language. Teresa seemed particularly taken with Georgiana and asked many questions about her age and interests, as she played with her doll on a window seat. ‘You had no children of your own?’ I asked, handing her a teacup.
‘Sadly – no.’ She sipped the tea. ‘And this house was built for the sound of little ones’ laughter. When I was a girl, I spent all of my summers here with my brother, Pietro, roaming the woods and picking flowers along the river. Paradiso. It seems a bit lonely now that I am the only one left.’
Ah, yes … we shared the bond of outliving many of those whom we loved most in the world.
‘Speaking of children, that is the reason we have come to Ravenna.’ I waved off Paula’s offer of tea, not sure that I could manage it with my inner tumult of emotions. I gave a quick summary of events during the last fortnight, including Trelawny’s revelation about Allegra.
She blinked in surprise. ‘But this is unbelievable … She died during the typhus epidemic at the convent.’
‘Are you certain?’ Trelawny pressed.
‘Si.’ Teresa’s hand began to shake and she set the cup in its saucer. ‘It was April of 1822 – a chaotic time. The revolution had collapsed … and we were all under threat of arrest as the Austrians sought out those who had conspired against them. My brother, Pietro, fled to Pisa, and my father and I soon followed, but Byron stayed on because Allegrina had developed a fever. He wanted to remain close to Bagnacavallo in case she worsened—’
‘Which she did,’ I said with a sharp edge to my voice.
‘The nuns told him she was out of danger on the fifteenth of April – I recall the date because Byron sent me a letter on that day, saying he was much relieved to hear the news—’ She broke off. ‘Then I learned five days later that the Abbess contacted him to say Allegra had succumbed to her illness. I had no communication from Byron for weeks. When I did hear from him, he did not mention her demise. Nor did he speak of it to me afterwards.’
Raphael’s brows knit in confusion. ‘But he told Trelawny a very different story when they were in Greece.’
‘Byron said he fa
ked his daughter’s death because she was still in danger, even though the possibility of open war had passed.’ Trelawny moved his shoulders in a perplexed shrug. ‘Perhaps he felt his role with the Carbonari would cause the Austrians to take revenge – someone had tried to assassinate him only months before, and an intruder had broken into Allegra’s room at the convent—’
‘Dio mio,’ Teresa gasped. ‘I did not know.’
‘I still cannot believe that someone would harm an innocent child,’ Paula murmured, her eyes shifting to Georgiana as if to reassure herself that she was still there.
‘Nor I.’ Trelawny’s face turned grim. ‘It shook Byron to the core.’
Teresa leaned forward and touched my arm for an instant. ‘I only wish I knew more. All I can say is that I loved Allegra as if she were my own daughter, and I would have done anything to protect her from harm.’
A twinge of pain tugged at my heart. Certainly, I did not doubt her sincerity, but it brought back my hurt feelings of knowing my daughter called another woman Mama. Trying to maintain my fragile control, I shifted my regard away from Teresa to the bric-a-brac around the parlor, with its lovely oriental figurines and delicate painted vases – until I spied a small, oval-shaped curio with Byron’s image. The familiar, handsome face that haunted me.
Teresa rose to her feet. ‘May I show you the garden? It is in full bloom.’
‘Si.’ I stood as well.
Had she seen my reaction?
As she gestured toward the open French doors, I insisted that everyone else finish their tea. Paula nodded, and I suspected she understood only too well that I needed time for a private conversation with Teresa.
We emerged into a small, carefully manicured garden with a variety of rose bushes – all shapes and colors, each one as fragrant as the sweetest perfume. Matching my steps to Teresa’s slower ones, we moved along a path of tiny stones toward an arbor made of lattice work and covered with vines.
‘I am sorry, Signora Clairmont, if I caused you any upset.’ Teresa plucked a large, pink rose. ‘I thought I had put away any … mementos from Byron.’
A Shadowed Fate Page 18