by Liz Fielding
She was even content to see Holly move out of her room and into the one Galina prepared for her as the new mistress of the house. It satisfied her sense of what was right and proper, and strangely made her feel even safer.
‘And I’m not far away,’ Holly pointed out. ‘Just across the corridor.’
Liza smiled, content.
A special licence was obtained for a hurried wedding, to take place in two days’ time, in the private chapel at the back of the house. A few close friends were invited and everything was to be kept as secret as possible. Only Liza had any fault to find with this. She wanted to celebrate properly, and it was impossible to tell her the truth-that if the news leaked out that Judge Fallucci had married so quickly after Fortese’s escape, it would be practically an announcement that he was expecting the worst.
That this was no ordinary wedding was brought home to Holly in a dozen little ways, starting with Matteo saying, ‘Order your clothes online and have them delivered. On no account go into Rome.’
She didn’t have to ask why. She had said she was plunging into the unknown. Now she discovered how true that was.
Another time Matteo returned her passport to her. She studied it, her familiar name, and the face that now seemed to belong to someone else.
‘So now I’m me again,’ she murmured. ‘Whoever that is.’
The man who was to be her husband was a mystery to her. She knew that the tragedy of his marriage and his ruined fatherhood had caused him to shut down his heart. She knew him to be suspicious, harsh, exacting and alarmingly vulnerable. Beyond that she knew nothing.
Matteo spent the day before the wedding locked in his study with a civil lawyer who had brought papers for him to examine. The actual signing would take place tomorrow, immediately after the ceremony. He showed them to Holly, who saw that her legal position had been safeguarded. She was Liza’s guardian and the trustee for the child’s inheritance, which was two-thirds of Matteo’s fortune. The other third came to herself, plus a lump sum that became hers as soon as she was his wife.
When she saw the size of that sum she stared in astonishment.
‘It’s only fair,’ Matteo said before she could speak. ‘Let’s say no more about it.’
Her dress was a modest design of ivory lace, worn with a small, flowered hat. By good luck, the online store also had one small dress that exactly matched it, and Holly bought this for Liza, her bridesmaid.
The night before the wedding they were joined by his only other family members, the cousin who antagonised him and her husband. Holly disliked her on sight, and knew that it was mutual. Now she understood why Matteo was determined to keep Liza away from her, and that was a help. It enabled her to focus her whirling thoughts.
When the family was saying goodnight and mounting the stairs Matteo said quietly, ‘Will you give me a few moments?’ and showed her into his study.
So many times they had talked in the severe room, starting with the first night, when they had faced each other as adversaries whose mutual dependence drove them mad. Now they met for a reason that was almost as difficult.
‘These are for you,’ Matteo said, indicating something on his desk.
She was stunned at the sight of the three-stranded pearl necklace and matching earrings. Ignorant as she was about jewels, even she could see that these were real, and fabulously expensive.
‘My wedding gift,’ Matteo said.
She fingered them lovingly, awed by their beauty. But then a horrid thought struck her.
‘They’re not-you didn’t-?’
‘No, I didn’t give them to Carol. I wouldn’t insult you like that. Carol’s jewels are locked away until I can give them to Liza. My mother chose these to go with your dress.’
If this had been a real wedding he would have chosen her gift himself. If he had loved her he would have draped the pearls around her neck and fastened them. If she had loved him she would have given him something in return. As it was-
‘I haven’t got anything for you,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten about presents.’
‘You’re already giving me the only thing I want or need. No other gift could mean anything next to that. Now, it’s getting late, and we should both retire. Tomorrow will be a heavy day.’
He held out the jewel box in businesslike fashion, she took it in the same way, and they bid each other goodnight.
Galina waylaid her on the stairs, full of delight, and led her into her new room.
‘I had your things moved in here an hour ago,’ she said. ‘There won’t be time tomorrow. You sleep here tonight.’
Her nightgown was laid out on the great bed. Her personal things were on the dressing table. There was nothing for her to do. In this drama she was really little more than a bit-player.
When she was alone she went around the room, trying to get her bearings. The house was several hundred years old, built at a time of greater formality. So the master and mistress occupied separate rooms, with a door connecting them. She stood before that door, trying to picture Matteo’s room on the other side. There was no sound and she guessed he was still downstairs.
She undressed, turned out the light and went to the window, where the curtains were still drawn back, and sat on the window seat, watching the moonlit garden. Now and then she glanced at the slight gap beneath the door where any light would show. There was none, and she wondered what he was doing downstairs. Was he finding excuses to stay there, unwilling to come to bed?
At last she heard his outer door opening and closing. But the light didn’t come on. Instead there was the sound of footsteps, then the soft click as the connecting door opened.
He had promised not to come to her, but it hadn’t occurred to her to check whether that door was locked. Now she sat, frozen, as he appeared. He was in his shirtsleeves, the collar torn open.
Slowly he went to the bed and stood there, looking down. The moon, shining in, showed clearly that there was nobody there.
He didn’t know she was there, Holly realised. Galina must have forgotten to tell him. He had come here because it was Carol’s room.
Slowly, terrified that he would notice her, she rose and moved further back into the shadows. From here she could see the outline of his face but not his expression as he regarded the bed where he had once known such joy and such bitterness. It was impossible to tell which of the two he was remembering as his eyes were deep-sunk black hollows from which all light had vanished.
He seemed to stand there forever, motionless, as though transfixed by thoughts too sad for words. Holly held her breath, afraid that he would sense her there, perhaps because her heart was beating so loudly that he was bound to hear it.
But at last he gave a sigh, as if the strength had drained out of him, leaving him only just able to stand. Slowly he turned and walked out of the room. After a moment Holly heard the key turn in the lock on his side.
Next morning Galina and Liza helped her to dress. Then they went to the chapel, where Liza took her place as bridesmaid, and they advanced down the aisle.
When Holly saw Matteo standing by the altar, waiting for her, the mists of the dream shifted and she discovered that it was really happening.
But then another reality intruded. This was a different Matteo, ten years younger, full of love and joy as he watched his beloved approach, to become his wife. That trusting young man had believed that a life of perfect happiness was opening for him.
How much of that other wedding was he remembering? Was he looking at her and seeing Carol, the one great love of his life, whose betrayal had ruined him for all other women? Did he regret this impulsive decision?
His face gave no clue. As she drew level he inclined his head to her, but he had no expression. His eyes, as he took her hand, were blank.
It went like clockwork. The words were spoken, the promises were given, the ties were bound. She was his wife.
No wedding would be complete without photographs, so they posed again and again, while one of Matteo�
��s friends took the shots that were expected: the bride and groom with the groom’s mother and little girl, the bride and Liza, happy together, the groom and his daughter, his mouth smiling, his eyes wary.
When it could no longer be avoided the bride and groom stood together, his arm about her shoulders. In the total unreality of this day she found it unnerving to be pressed so close to him, smiling into his face.
But there she saw that it was the same with him. His eyes met hers and his lips moved silently saying, ‘Bear up. Not long to go.’
It was only a moment, but it told her that they were on the same side, and after that it was easier.
The wedding breakfast was a sedate affair, with some short speeches, a few toasts. Then it was time for everyone to go. Watching the departure, Holly saw that the grounds were filled with unfamiliar figures and she realised that an extra contingent of police were guarding her wedding.
Finally the last guest had gone, although the officer in charge assured them that his men would remain in the grounds. Matteo thanked him formally and invited him into his study for ‘further discussion’. Relieved, Holly hurried upstairs to where Galina was putting Liza to bed.
The child was slightly shocked to see her.
‘You should be drinking champagne with Poppa,’ she said.
‘We’ll do that later,’ Holly said. ‘Not all weddings are alike.’
‘Yes, they are,’ Liza insisted. ‘You get married and you drink champagne, and you go away on honeymoon.’
‘There wasn’t time to arrange that,’ Galina said hurriedly.
‘Will you have one later?’
‘Not for some time,’ Holly said. ‘Your father has a lot of work to do for the next few months.’
‘But where will you go?’
‘We’ll talk about that another time,’ Holly improvised.
Luckily this kept Liza content for the next few minutes while she went through a list of places she considered suitable. They grew crazier with every minute and the three of them were laughing when Matteo came in.
Galina immediately declared that she was ready for bed. Before departing she told Matteo, ‘We were just settling your honeymoon, when you have time for it. Liza favours Timbuktu.’
To Holly’s relief Matteo joined in the game, declaring that he could think of much more outrageous places. All went well until Liza said, ‘I won’t come in too early. Promise.’
‘Come in?’ Matteo echoed.
‘Your room. Remember how I used to come in, in the mornings, and bring you coffee?’ She gave a happy sigh. ‘And you and Mamma would be all snuggled up together, cosy and warm.’ She looked worried. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Yes, piccina,’ Matteo said in a voice that wasn’t quite steady. ‘I remember.’
‘And it will be just the same, won’t it?’ Liza asked anxiously.
Matteo couldn’t reply. Holly could feel the air vibrating with strain, and it was she who said, ‘Yes, darling, it’s all right. It will be exactly the same.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS SOON as they were alone in her bedroom Matteo turned to face her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said urgently. ‘I promised to keep to my own room and I meant it. I had no idea this would happen. Holly, please say that you believe me.’
‘Of course I do. I know you’re a man of your word.’
‘I had forgotten how Liza used to come in to see us in the mornings. I didn’t know it meant that much to her.’
‘But she gave you the clue,’ Holly reminded him. ‘She said you and Carol were “snuggled up together, cosy and warm.”’ She smiled. ‘It made me think of a pair of cats I once had. They were elderly neuters, and they slept wrapped around each other because that way they were blissfully content. Seeing you two like that made Liza feel safe, and it’s that safety she wants back.’
‘Then what do we do?’
‘Give her what she wants. That’s what this is all about.’
‘You mean we have to guess when she’s going to arrive in the morning? I set an alarm clock, or do you come next door and awaken me?’
She regarded him with an exasperation that had a touch of fondness.
‘I don’t think that would work,’ she said slowly.
They looked at each other. He spoke cautiously.
‘So your suggestion is-that we spend the night like a pair of elderly neutered cats?’
‘Not the whole night. Just the last half-hour. That bed must be eight feet wide. Room enough to stay clear of each other.’
He didn’t speak but his eyes said, You think so, do you? And for a moment the one kiss they’d shared flamed between them. With a great effort she put it aside.
‘Unless you’ve got a better idea,’ she said.
A faint gleam of humour crept into his rueful smile.
‘What must you be thinking of me?’ he asked.
‘That you’re reacting to situations that are beyond your control, as we all are,’ she said gently. ‘We just have to play everything by ear and hope we get it right.’
‘How will we know when we’ve got it right?’
‘When Liza smiles, we’ll know. That’s what it’s all about. We must never forget that.’
He nodded. After an uneasy moment he said, ‘I have something to give you.’
He went into his own room and she took the opportunity to change into her nightgown, relieved that she had chosen something plain and simple, not designed to be alluring. Her dressing gown, too, was elegant but not seductive.
When he returned he, too, was wearing a dressing gown, and carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses, which he set down on a small table.
‘Take these and keep them in a safe place,’ he said, reaching into a deep pocket and producing papers. ‘They’re your copies of the forms I signed this afternoon. Everything is now in order.’
She could see that it was. She was Signora Fallucci, now a wealthy woman in her own right and possibly heiress to a large inheritance. She was also named as the guardian of Liza Fallucci, and her joint trustee, with the lawyers, for an even larger inheritance.
Everything was provided for, down to the last comma, the work of a thorough lawyer.
But when she looked up he was holding out a fluted glass of champagne.
‘We drank champagne with our guests,’ he said, ‘but this is between us. My gratitude-for today, and for the future.’
The future which might contain his death, perhaps very soon. Neither said it, but each knew what the other was thinking.
They clinked glasses.
‘Any regrets?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ she said lightly. ‘I’ll keep you informed. At any rate, this is nice and quiet.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s just that we seem unable to discuss anything without shouting,’ she said, still in the same light tone. ‘It’s practically a form of communication.’
‘Ah, you’re talking about my proposal.’
‘Yes, I suppose I am.’
‘And a few other things,’ he said, considering. ‘I don’t normally shout and get so worked up.’
‘Me neither.’
‘And I’m not the bully you might think from my behaviour.’
‘I know. You just like to have your own way.’
‘I shout when I’m scared,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It doesn’t happen often but-well.’
She nodded.
‘I’m not scared of Fortese, but when you refused to marry me-it was like trying to seize hold of something in the darkness, only the “something” kept darting away. Usually it’s easy. A judge can mostly get what he wants by signing a bit of paper and letting other people do the work. But it was clear that no force was going to control you.
‘Even when you seemed to be almost my prisoner I used to feel a moment of apprehension when I reached home in the evening, in case you’d mysteriously vanished during the day.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘I couldn’t afford to let you suspect. You’d have found it too easy to run rings around me. You didn’t find it very hard in any case.’
Holly stared. She had known none of this. He’d always seemed so totally dominant. Now he was revealing the weakness in his defences, and it seemed not to trouble him at all that she should know.
After a moment he went on in a reflective voice. ‘I think I realised how important you were going to be from the first day. I didn’t know how, but you appeared out of nowhere, and everything about you was inevitable. It almost makes me believe in fate.’
‘You? A judge, believing in fate?’
‘No judge is ever only a judge. He’s a man too, no matter how much he might sometimes wish…’ He checked himself. ‘Well, anyway-it’s been a long day and I expect we’re both tired.’
‘Yes,’ she said. She’d had as much as she could stand for the moment, and she guessed he felt the same.
They climbed into opposite sides of the bed, solemnly bid each other goodnight and turned out the lights. Almost at once Holly discovered that she really was worn out, and when she closed her eyes she was asleep in seconds.
She awoke because a strange noise was reaching out through her sleep, seeking her, imploring her attention. As soon as she opened her eyes she realised what had disturbed her. A low growl, almost like a moan, was coming from the other side of the bed.
Matteo was lying on his front, his face turned towards her, half-buried in the pillow. One hand also lay on his pillow, clenching and unclenching as choking sounds came from him. He was talking in a language that Holly didn’t understand.
‘Matteo,’ she said softly. ‘Are you all right?’
The reply was a torrent of unintelligible words, while his hand clenched convulsively. Only then did she realise that he was still asleep.
‘Matteo,’ she repeated, uncertain whether to awaken him or not. The feeling of pain that came from him was too intense to be ignored.