Dante's Unexpected Legacy

by Catherine George

  ‘Who’s Elsa?’ asked Bea.

  Dante shot a remorseful glance at Rose. ‘A lady I used to know.’

  ‘Will she be at the party?’

  ‘No, piccola. Today is for family only.’

  Bea scrambled to her feet. ‘Mummy, can I have more juice?’

  ‘Go to the kitchen to ask Silvia for some,’ suggested Rose. ‘Daddy will tell you what to say.’

  ‘I can get it,’ said Dante instantly, but Rose shook her head.

  ‘It’s a good way to learn the language.’

  He bent down to Bea. ‘You must say “Succo, per favore, Silvia”.’

  She repeated it solemnly then went running into the house.

  ‘Forgive me, Rose,’ said Dante heavily. ‘I did not think. I will not mention Elsa again.’

  She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  His eyes flared as he pulled her out of her chair. ‘It does matter. Now you and Bea are in my life, I wish to forget she ever existed,’ he said, and kissed her fiercely.

  But without Bea this would not be happening, Rose thought unhappily, and with iron will managed to keep from melting into his embrace as he crushed her to him.

  Dante released her, smiling as Rose picked up the towel she’d lost in the encounter.

  She thrust her hair back from her hot face. ‘Maybe you should see how Bea is getting along with Silvia.’

  ‘With pleasure!’ He went into the house and eventually returned with a plastic beaker of juice, his daughter running beside him.

  ‘This is a special mug for me, Mummy,’ she informed Rose, beaming. ‘And I said grazie to Silvia for the juice.’

  ‘You’re a star! Come and sit down by Dolly to drink. Only don’t spill anything on her.’

  Bea obeyed carefully. ‘Mummy, can I wear my party dress today?’

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask about that,’ said Rose. ‘What do you want us to wear today, Dante?’

  ‘My women will look ravishing whatever they wear,’ he assured her.

  ‘Only if they’re wearing something appropriate and don’t feel out of place,’ Rose said tartly. ‘So are you wearing a suit?’

  ‘No, cara. Just ordinary clothes and one of my leather jackets.’

  ‘None of your clothes look very ordinary, Dante.’

  ‘Mummy!’ repeated Bea imperiously. ‘Can I wear my dress?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose in sudden decision. ‘I’ll wear a dress, too. But we’ll take some jeans and a T-shirt for you, just in case. What time are we due at Fortino, Dante?’

  ‘Noon.’

  ‘In that case I’d better make a start on my hair. You can take a look at the clothes I’ve brought, Dante, and choose for me.’

  ‘I always do that, Mummy,’ said Bea, pouting.

  ‘We shall choose together,’ said her father hastily, and snatched her up to give her a piggyback up the stairs.

  * * *

  On the approach to Dante’s childhood home through the vast vineyards of Fortino, the house which came into view looked familiar to Rose.

  ‘It’s the label on your Fortinari Classico,’ she said, impressed. ‘I’d assumed it was a reproduction of some Renaissance villa.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s very grand, Dante.’

  ‘But in bad condition when my parents inherited it,’ he informed her. ‘Much work was necessary to make it look as it does today. Part of it is used as offices, so Mamma wants a smaller, more private place to enjoy my father’s retirement. She would like Leo and Harriet to take over Fortino.’

  ‘Will they do that?’

  ‘Harriet says Leo spends most of his time here anyway, so she is willing to make the change. But Leo is attached to his present house because it is the home he brought Harriet to as a bride.’

  ‘Look, balloons, Daddy!’ piped up a voice from the back. ‘And lots of people.’

  Bea was right. As Dante parked the car, people came streaming out of the house onto a loggia far bigger and grander than the one at the Villa Castiglione, with brightly coloured balloons tied to its venerable pillars.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ demanded Rose urgently, and Dante picked up her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘You are perfect,’ he said, and got out to help his little family from the car.

  Maria Fortinari came hurrying down the steps to greet them and kissed Rose in warm welcome, then planted kisses on her granddaughter’s cheeks. ‘You both look so beautiful,’ she exclaimed, and turned to the distinguished silver-haired man following behind. ‘Our newest granddaughter, caro.’ She drew Rose forward. ‘And this is Rose, her mamma.’

  Lorenzo Fortinari took Rose by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Benvenuti, Rose.’ He smiled down at the child clinging to Dante’s hand. ‘Welcome to you, also, piccola. May I have a kiss?’

  ‘This is my daddy, Bea,’ Dante informed his daughter. ‘But to you he is Nonno.’

  Much to Rose’s relief, Bea held up her face for her grandfather’s kiss, then her eyes lit up and she broke away to dart up the steps to the people clustered there watching. ‘Auntie Charlotte, Auntie Charlotte!’

  ‘Honey Bea!’ Charlotte Vilari hugged her tightly. ‘How’s my lovely girl?’

  Bea smiled up at her joyfully. ‘I got a big secret, Auntie.’

  ‘Have you, darling?’

  Bea nodded vigorously. ‘Dante’s my daddy!’

  There was delighted laughter and, to Rose’s surprise, a ripple of applause from the people gathered waiting there. Charlotte passed Bea to her husband, Fabio, and hurried down the steps to throw her arms round her friend, both of them too emotional to say a word until Rose drew back, grinning happily through her tears.

  ‘This is a lovely surprise—mind the bump, little mother!’

  Dante gave them time to recover then introduced Rose to his sister Mirella and her husband, Franco. ‘This is Rose,’ he said with pride. ‘And the little angel with Signora Vilari is my daughter—as she has already informed you.’

  ‘And I am his brother,’ said a deep voice with a more pronounced accent, and Dante grinned as he turned Rose to meet Leo Fortinari, easily recognisable as an older, more saturnine version of his brother.

  ‘Il capo, Rose. My boss,’ said Dante, saluting smartly.

  ‘Senior partner, not boss,’ said a familiar voice as Harriet Fortinari detached Rose from Dante. ‘I’m so glad to see you here. Come and meet my children—they are dying to play with Bea. Will she like that?’

  ‘She’ll love it,’ Rose assured her, and looked at Dante. ‘Will you get her?’

  ‘Yes, amore.’ He grinned. ‘If you think Charlotte will let her go.’

  Leo Fortinari issued strict instructions to his son, Luca, and daughter, Chiara, to take great care of Bea, and Franco Paglia did the same with Mario, Renzo and Vittoria, who were older, but just as eager to play with the child as the others, but brought her running back to Rose first.

  ‘I want my jeans,’ Bea said urgently, and Maria Fortinari nodded in approval.

  ‘Come with me and your mamma to change, bella. It would not be good to spoil that lovely dress.’

  While the exchange was made, Maria smiled warmly at Rose and patted her cheek. ‘Welcome to our home, cara.’

  Rose blinked hard. ‘Thank you, signora.’

  The striking dark eyes misted over. ‘It is so good to see Dante happy again. I am very grateful to you.’

  ‘Nonna!’ said Bea, dancing impatiently in her blue trainers. ‘Want to play now—please,’ she added at a look from her mother.

  ‘Va bene,’ said Maria, clearing her throat. ‘Let us go out. Come, Rose, join the others for a glass of wine while I return to the kitchen.’

  ‘Can I help in any way?’

  Maria patted her hand.
‘Not today, grazie. I have help in the kitchen. Enjoy the day with the others.’

  Rose found it only too easy to enjoy herself in company with Charlotte, Harriet and Mirella on the loggia while she watched a very happy, excited Bea running riot with the other children.

  ‘I’m on lemonade,’ said Charlotte, pulling a face as she raised her glass to her husband, who was talking to the other men, but with one eye on his wife.

  ‘It is best for now,’ said Mariella with sympathy.

  ‘You still have to keep off the wine if you nurse the baby yourself,’ put in Harriet. ‘But it’s worth it, isn’t it, Rose?’

  Rose smiled ruefully as she watched Bea trying to catch a ball Luca tossed to her. ‘I couldn’t do it. I had to resort to bottles.’

  ‘I remember how upset you were about it,’ said Charlotte. ‘She tried so hard to be the perfect mother,’ she told the others.

  ‘You succeeded,’ said Harriet, waving a hand towards Bea. ‘Just look at the result—oops, she’s fallen over.’

  Rose surged to her feet but Dante was first to scoop up his daughter and make anxious enquiries.

  ‘Down, Daddy,’ she said crossly. ‘Want to play!’

  Dante obeyed, and exchanged a wry grin with Rose as Bea returned to the ball game. ‘It is hard to stand back, yes?’

  ‘Unless they’re bleeding you leave them to it,’ Harriet advised, and Mirella laughed.

  ‘It took me a long time to learn that.’

  ‘Are you taking notes, Charlotte?’ asked Rose.

  Her friend smiled contentedly. ‘I’m just enjoying the moment, love. To have you and Bea here like this is just wonderful.’

  ‘Mamma thinks so, too,’ said Mirella. ‘She has worried much over Dante, but now he is happy, Mamma is happy. I am happy, too,’ she added, sniffing hard.

  ‘So when are you going to marry him, Rose?’ asked Charlotte bluntly.

  ‘There’s a lot to consider before making any decisions. For one thing, I have to sell my business first.’ And far more vital than that, before she said yes she needed to be sure that Dante wanted her as his wife rather than just the mother of his child.

  ‘Just put it in the hands of an agent—the house, too.’

  ‘First I need to talk with my mother—and your father, too.’ Rose grinned suddenly. ‘I was most impressed with your mother, Mirella. She didn’t turn a hair when Bea told her my mother lives with Tom in his house.’

  Mirella laughed. ‘She was so delighted her new granddaughter was talking to her, yes?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Though to be fair to Charlotte’s father, he’d marry my mother tomorrow.’

  ‘Perhaps Grace will finally agree if you marry Dante,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Not “if”, Charlotte, “when”,’ said Dante, coming to join them. ‘For me it could be tomorrow, but Rose is making me wait.’

  ‘What for, Rose?’ demanded her friend as Mirella and Harriet rushed to settle a squabble among their offspring.

  Charlotte’s question was hard to answer. Here in Fortino, surrounded by Dante’s warm, hospitable family, Rose experienced an urgent longing to become part of it. Grace would understand; it was what she’d always wanted for her girls. ‘We’ve only just got together again,’ she said lightly. ‘Give me time to get used to the idea. I’ve been running my own life—and Bea’s—for quite a time, remember.’

  ‘But there’s a man here who will gladly help you with that if you let him,’ Charlotte said. ‘Right, Dante?’

  ‘With great pleasure,’ he agreed, and smiled fondly as he watched Bea playing with the other children. ‘She is a delight. I still find it hard to believe I am her father—’

  ‘You have doubts?’ demanded Rose.

  ‘None!’ He grasped her hand tightly. ‘It is you who have the doubts, not I, Rose. I long to marry you and give you and Bea the life you both deserve. We would be good together,’ he added, his eyes boring into hers to remind her how it had been between them the night before.

  ‘So for heaven’s sake say yes, Rose,’ said Charlotte and smiled up at Fabio. ‘If Rose and Dante get married in England you’ll just have to let me fly there, darling.’

  Fabio flung out a hand to Dante in appeal. ‘In that case, amico, make it soon, yes?’

  ‘I will do my best,’ Dante promised, and sprang to attention as his mother came out on the loggia. ‘It is time to eat, Mamma?’

  ‘Subito, figlio mio.’ She smiled at Rose. ‘I have washed the little one’s face and hands with all the others. So now we eat, yes?’

  A long table had been set up in the garden with a snowy-white cloth obscured by great platters of food and soon everyone was crowded round it, elbow to elbow, and talking non-stop. The children were seated together at one end, with a parent occasionally jumping up to serve them or settle squabbles. Vittoria and Chiara vied with each other to look after Bea, who was so obviously having the time of her life Rose eventually relaxed, enjoying not only the meal but the feeling of belonging.

  Lorenzo Fortinari got up when the wine was poured and held his glass high. ‘A toast to welcome Rose and little Bea to Fortino!’

  Everyone surged to their feet to echo the toast, and Rose followed suit, smiling gratefully. ‘From Bea and myself, grazie tante!’

  ‘Brava, carissima,’ said Dante as she sat down amidst cheers.

  She smiled. ‘Just look at Bea. She’s having so much fun.’

  He nodded. ‘It is easy to see her gold head among her Italian cousins.’

  Mirella leaned forward, rolling her eyes. ‘Vittoria will want to dye her hair blond now.’

  Harriet groaned. ‘And Chiara—maybe the boys, too!’

  Franco shuddered theatrically. ‘Do not even think of it, per favore!’

  At the burst of laughter which greeted this Maria Fortinari came to join them to make sure Rose was enjoying herself and to press her to eat more food.

  Rose smiled warmly. ‘Signora, I couldn’t eat another thing, thank you. It was such a delicious meal.’

  ‘I did not make all of it, cara. Letizia, my cook, is still with me, grazie a Dio.’

  ‘Ah, but you made the pollo Parmigiano, Mamma,’ said Dante, and kissed his fingers. ‘It was superb, as always.’

  ‘I make it with the identical recipe.’ Harriet sighed. ‘But it’s never the same.’

  Leo patted her hand. ‘It is good enough for me. And you baked the wonderful English apple pies for us today, amore.’

  ‘Much too wonderful,’ said Charlotte, patting her stomach. ‘I was greedy.’

  ‘It is only natural right now,’ said Fabio fondly.

  At one time Rose would have been painfully envious as she watched the other couples together, but now that she had the chance of Dante permanently in her life, envy could be a thing of the past. Whatever his feelings for her, perhaps it was time to grasp this opportunity with both hands and make their marriage work for Bea’s sake. And for her own, she admitted, her eyes on Dante.

  ‘Just look at him,’ murmured Charlotte as he went off to check on his daughter. ‘He’s besotted with her.’

  Mirella watched her brother laughing among the group of clamouring children. ‘He is such good uncle, but now he can be wonderful father at last.’ She smiled ruefully at Rose. ‘My English is not like Dante’s.’

  ‘But very good, just the same,’ said Rose huskily. ‘I must try to learn Italian as quickly as I can.’

  ‘My wife can give you lessons,’ suggested Leo Fortinari to her surprise.

  ‘Brilliant idea, darling!’ Harriet smiled at Rose. ‘Don’t worry; I’m a qualified teacher—and you’ll be a much easier prospect than a classroom of teenage girls.’

  * * *

  ‘You have enjoyed the day?’ asked Dante on the drive back. ‘It was so good t
o watch you eating and laughing with my family—and with Charlotte. I did not tell you she would be there. I wished to give you a happy surprise.’

  ‘Which you certainly did. Thank you. It was good to see a familiar face, though heaven knows your family’s welcome couldn’t have been warmer.’

  ‘I am glad you were pleased. Our little one played very happily with her cousins, yes?’

  ‘Bea had such a great time,’ Rose assured him, and laughed softly as she glanced over into the back seat. ‘She’s fast asleep, but still clutching the string of her balloon.’

  ‘It is a pity we must wake her to put her to bed.’ He shot her a commanding look. ‘I am impatient to have you both with me permanently.’

  She nodded. ‘I know, Dante.’ She hesitated, but couldn’t quite make herself take the plunge. ‘Thank you for being patient with me.’

  ‘Then I am a good actor.’ He turned smouldering eyes on her. ‘Inside, I am not patient at all. Sleep with me tonight, Rose.’ He touched a slim warm hand to her knee. ‘If not your husband yet, you want me as a lover, yes?’

  Not much point in denying it. Rose nodded silently.

  Dante let out a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Then tonight we’ll make up for all the nights after you leave me alone.’

  Why not? thought Rose. If making love with her would make Dante miss her all the more she was all for it. And for her it would make up for the times she’d cried herself to sleep over him in the past. Besides, she wanted him physically in a way she would never experience with any other man, so why fight it?

  The silence between them was thick with sensual tension as Dante carried his daughter into his house. Bea never stirred as Rose sponged her face and hands and put her in her pyjamas, nor when Dante laid her gently in her bed and kissed the sleeping face. Then he led Rose outside onto the gallery and seized her in his arms.

  ‘Now I take you to my bed,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I should shower—’ she began, but he shook his head and picked her up.

  ‘We shower together—afterwards.’

  To Rose it seemed so natural, so right to slide naked into Dante’s arms in bed she almost said yes then and there to the prospect of doing so for the rest of her life as he rubbed his cheek against hers.