The Mermaid Garden

by Santa Montefiore

  Floriana waited for rain, but it did not come. She wanted the skies to cloud over and the rain to wash the summer away, so it couldn’t linger to torment her. But it lingered in long, hazy days and golden evenings, and she felt Dante’s absence as sharply as a knife to her chest.

  When she went to La Magdalena, the family had left for Milan. The house was quiet—only the staff were there tidying up, closing shutters, and laying dust sheets over the furniture. Good-Night welcomed her in the same affectionate way he always had, but Violetta, Giovanna, Damiana, and Dante were all gone. She wandered around the gardens like a pining dog, besieged by the ghostly echoes of summer carried mournfully on the autumn wind.

  School started again, but Floriana got a full-time job in a restaurant. The countess hired a private tutor for Costanza as the count’s summer of networking paid off, rewarding him with various offers of work. They began to discuss the very real possibility of returning to Rome. The two girls saw each other very rarely. Once they had shared everything, but now the gap between them widened, and their brief meetings, outside church after Mass, or sometimes in the town when Costanza came in to shop, were awkward. Costanza had made many friends over the summer; Floriana’s one friend was gone, leaving her isolated and alone.

  Dante wrote daily, and Floriana replied, expressing her enduring love in small, deliberate handwriting. She treasured his letters and kept them in a drawer in her dressing table, tied with the pink ribbon Violetta had used to wrap her bracelet. Her diamond ring was her most vital link to him, and she cherished it, taking comfort from its value, which surely reflected his intentions to marry her eventually.

  When she began to feel sick, she thought it was the result of not eating properly. But even the smell of food made her want to vomit. After a few days of constant nausea she worried that she might be very ill and went to see Signora Bruno. The old woman asked her a few probing questions about how often she had thrown up and for how long she had felt like this, and Floriana answered earnestly, afraid she was perhaps dying.

  But Signora Bruno took her into her apartment and sat her down in the sitting room, closing the door behind her. She looked as stony as a grave and asked whether Dante had made love to her. At first Floriana was evasive, remembering the promise she had made. But when Signora Bruno suggested that she might be pregnant, Floriana admitted that he had.

  “Is that how it happens?” she inquired innocently.

  Signora Bruno shook her head, appalled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

  “Who was going to tell me?”

  “Your aunt?”

  “Zita? No, we never discussed it.”

  “Curse that woman for her incompetence. What about Costanza?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “It’s not possible. Do you realize how serious this is? You’re going to have a child. How will we hide it?”

  “Why would I want to hide it?”

  “Because you are a child, my dear, and it’s against the law. Dante could go to jail. He’s a grown man; he should have known better. What came over him?” Signora Bruno wrung her hands. “What will Beppe Bonfanti do when he finds out? God help you.”

  Floriana’s initial joy at not being terminally ill slid away as she now realized the gravity of her situation. “What am I going to do?”

  “You go and speak to Father Ascanio at once. He is the only one who can help you.”

  “Won’t I get Dante into trouble?”

  “Father Ascanio’s a priest; he’s bound to secrecy. There’s not a secret of mine he doesn’t know. In fact, I suspect he knows all the secrets in Herba. He won’t tell and I won’t tell, so help me God.” She crossed herself. “But I can’t help you. I’m not equipped. He is the only one who will know what to do.”

  “I must tell Dante.”

  Signora Bruno rounded on her like a spitting yak. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. I knew that family were bad news right from the start. I should have warned you instead of letting your heart run away with you. Don’t breathe a word of it to Dante, do you understand? Not before you tell Father Ascanio. You need to take advice from him and him alone.”

  Floriana should have felt fear, but she ran her hands over her belly and felt nothing but awe and happiness. She was going to have Dante’s baby. His father would not be able to deny them his consent now that she was carrying his grandchild—a son, perhaps, and heir to his great fortune. She smiled, musing on Fate and how very clever it was to give her the one thing that would irrevocably tie her to Dante forever.

  This was all meant to happen. God had answered her prayers and given her something that only He could bestow: a new life that belonged exclusively to her and Dante.

  Ignoring Signora Bruno’s advice, Floriana wrote at once to Dante. A few days later the butler from La Magdalena appeared at her door with a message: Dante had telephoned to say he was coming down to see her. Overjoyed at the prospect of being with him again, she set about cleaning her apartment, humming a merry tune as she went about her work. She looked around at the modest room and simple furnishings and thought of the future that would take her away from her father and this pitiful place. She envisaged sitting in the mermaid garden with Dante beside her, reading poetry, while their son floated his toy boats in the fountain. Good-Night would be lying at her feet, snoozing in the sunshine. Perhaps she’d be expecting another child. They’d have many. In a house the size of La Magdalena she could have as many as she wanted.

  However, she was to be disappointed. The Dante who appeared in her doorway was not the radiant, overjoyed young man she had expected. Instead of sweeping her into his arms with excitement, he looked gray and terrified. Her heart plummeted like a stone.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, tentatively wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “We need to talk, Floriana. I came as soon as I heard. Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

  “I think I am, but I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Who have you told?”

  “Signora Bruno. I had to tell someone.”

  “I understand.” He turned to face her. She had never seen him look so defeated. “And she thinks you’re pregnant?”

  “Yes.” She frowned up at him. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Happy? My darling Floriana, you have no idea what this means.”

  “We can get married.”

  “This is no time for fantasy. My father will never allow that.”

  “But I’m carrying his grandchild.”

  “He doesn’t care about his grandchild. He barely cares about his children. He’s as sentimental as one of those silly statues in the garden. All he cares about is money and reputation.”

  “So, you’re not going to tell him?” Floriana’s chin began to tremble. She took a deep breath and puffed out her chest, willing herself to overcome her disappointment.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He took her hands in his, overpowered by the sight of the woman he loved. “But I’m not going to desert you. We’ll think of something.” He drew her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. “It’s my responsibility. I got you into this, and I’ll get you out of it. Somehow we’ll be together, I promise.”

  “I’m happy, Dante. I feel no fear at all. I realize now that all I have ever wanted is a child. Someone to love and care for. A little part of you that will always be with me, no matter what.”

  He put his hand on her flat belly. “Hard to imagine there’s a child in there.”

  “I know. Signora Bruno says I won’t show for a few months.”

  “Then, that gives us time, at least. Don’t breathe a word to a soul, do you understand?” She nodded. “I’ll find you somewhere else to live, far away from here.”

  “But I want to be with you.”

  “That’s just not possible, Floriana. Can you imagine the scandal? No one must ever know.”

  “But our child will be born out of wedlock.”

  “There is no other way.
”

  Floriana blanched. “We can’t have a child out of wedlock. It’s a sin.”

  “We have already committed the greatest sin, Floriana.”

  His words slapped her in the face and stung, but she lifted her chin and fought for her unborn baby. “We can marry in secret.”

  He pulled away and strode over to the window as if searching for a means of escape. “It’s all so simple for you because you’ve got nothing to lose.”

  She sat on the bed and folded her arms. “All that matters is that I love you and our child.”

  “But life is more complicated than that.”

  “Only if you let it be.”

  “I am my father’s heir.”

  “Can’t you just walk away?”

  “And what will we live on?”

  “I’ve lived on nothing all my life, and I’ve been happy.”

  “I have a responsibility to my parents. I am set to inherit my father’s company. I can’t throw it all away and ride off into the sunset. My father will disown me. My mother’s heart will break and I’ll have nothing. Don’t you see? I’ll lose everything.”

  “You’ll only lose what doesn’t matter.”

  Dante felt like a drowning man. He didn’t doubt his love for Floriana, but he did doubt his ability to stand up to his father. All his life he had done what was expected of him and earned Beppe’s love, which was entirely conditional. He held his father in the highest respect, but if he searched deep inside his soul where all truth lies hidden, he’d find the residue of fear that remained at the very bottom, left over from his boyhood, with the same old need to please. He cursed his weakness, but there was nothing he could do. Confiding in his father about Floriana was inconceivable. His mother would probably be more sympathetic, but even she, with her sentimental heart, could not condone marriage to Floriana, even if she were the right age.

  Dante gave Floriana money to use the public telephone to call him, and promised that he would go away and think about how best to deal with the situation. However, he had no idea how he was going to resolve it. If only he could just turn his back on it all and return to his old life—but that possibility no longer existed. His love bound him to Floriana, and the knowledge that his child was growing inside her made walking away impossible. He was responsible for them both. Never before had he felt the weight of duty so heavily upon his shoulders.

  He cursed himself for not having the courage to elope and start again in a new place. But marriage was impossible, whichever way he looked at it. He could set her up in a flat somewhere near Milan so she could give birth in secret, but then what? The future was grim for both of them. He stopped the car on the side of the road just outside Herba and put his head on the steering wheel, closing his eyes in desperation, wishing to lose himself. What had he been thinking? He should never have fallen in love with Floriana. It was doomed from the beginning. His mind whirred with images that grew large and distorted: the scandal, his father’s wrath, his mother’s disappointment, Floriana’s hopes dashed yet again. It was all too horrible to bear.

  Then a tiny pinprick of hope glimmered through the darkness. He sat up and stared at it. The more he stared the bigger it got, until he was sure that light would show him the way. He turned the car round and drove back into Herba.

  Father Ascanio was surprised to see Dante. The family had long gone back to Milan and didn’t usually return until the following summer. When he saw the young man’s stricken face, he was sure there had been a death in the family, and that Dante had come to inform him personally.

  “My son, what has happened?”

  “I need to speak with you urgently,” Dante replied.

  “Of course. Please.” The priest led the way to the little chapel where, not so long ago, he had advised Floriana that nothing could come of her love. They sat down. Dante inhaled deeply. He noticed a faint smell of alcohol waft in from behind him and turned to make sure that they were alone. “How can I help you?” Father Ascanio asked, his tone soft and reassuring.

  “I’m in terrible trouble, Father. I have sinned.” Dante put his head in his hands.

  “Don’t be afraid. God forgives those who repent.”

  “Oh, I do. I regret my transgression wholeheartedly.”

  “Would you not prefer to use the confessional?”

  He sat up and gazed at the priest in despair. “No. I need more practical help.”

  “I see.”

  “Father Ascanio, you have known me since I was a child.”

  “I have.”

  “And you have always guided me to the best of your ability, with the greatest wisdom and tact. Is that not so?”

  “I have always done my best.”

  “Well, I need your wisdom now, but I fear your judgment.”

  “My son, I’m not here to judge you. That is not for me to do, but for God, in His wisdom. Tell me what troubles you have, and I will do my best to advise you.”

  Dante swallowed hard. He could no longer look into the priest’s eyes and dropped his gaze onto the flagstone at his feet. “Floriana is pregnant.”

  Father Ascanio caught his breath. His hand shot to his chest where a sharp pain caused him to wince. He stifled a groan. His first thought was for Floriana, so innocent and trusting and brave, and his heart flooded with compassion. His second thought was for Dante and his foolishness, and he tried very hard not to condemn him to the harshest criticism.

  Dante felt the priest’s horror without having to look at his face. He buried his head in his hands, overcome with shame.

  Father Ascanio stood up and walked over to the altar. He put his hands on the white linen cloth and closed his eyes in prayer. What was the right thing to do for Floriana? He tried to remain detached, like a surgeon poised to cut through the flesh of a patient, but his heart swelled and contracted as he explored every alternative.

  Finally, he returned to his chair. Dante raised his eyes. “What shall I do?” he whispered, feeling worse for having shared his problem.

  “There is only one thing you can do,” the priest replied with a sigh.

  “Anything. I’ll do anything for Floriana.”

  “There is a convent not far from here where she can go for the duration of her confinement. I have known the Mother Superior for many years and it is not uncommon for her to take in girls like Floriana.”

  There followed a heavy pause, and Dante knew what he was going to ask, for the question hovered in the air between them like a bright red balloon.

  “Do you intend to marry her?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly and dropped his head. “I’ve dreamed of marrying her. I thought I’d wait until she was old enough and then …” His voice trailed off. “Love blinded me to the reality of my situation. My father would never accept her as his daughter-in-law. I’d have to give up everything.” He choked on his words for he was well aware that sacrifice was the way of the Lord. “Father, I am weak!”

  Father Ascanio drew on all his strength. He wanted to shake the boy and berate him for having ruined the girl’s life. “But you will support her financially?” he asked with forced calmness.

  “Of course. I will look after her and our child. She will live like a princess.” His words sounded hollow, and he wished he hadn’t said them. “I will wait until I am rich enough in my own right, and then I will marry her.”

  “So, you must tell Floriana what you have decided, and she must make ready to leave as soon as I have arranged it with the Mother Superior.”

  “I will.”

  “She must not tell a soul.”

  “She has told only Signora Bruno.”

  “Teresa is a good, discreet woman. You can count on her to keep it to herself.”

  “I’m humbled, Father, and deeply in your debt.”

  “There are no debts to repay, Dante, only amends. Go and look after Floriana, and love her very dearly. You are responsible for her predicament and for her future. It is human to transgress, but you can raise y
ourself up by doing your duty before God—repent, pray for forgiveness, and put it right.”

  “I will, Father.”

  “Now go.”

  Dante left the little chapel and strode over the flagstones towards the door. He did not notice the sacristan who kneeled in prayer in the chapel next door. The alcohol seeped through his pores and evaporated into the air to mingle with the smell of burning wax.

  As Dante’s footsteps grew faint, he raised his head and narrowed his eyes. So, Floriana was pregnant. That was a surprise. Out of all the secrets he had overheard during the many years he had worked in the Church, this was by far the most shocking. But he was a man of discretion. He prided himself in keeping secrets. He fished behind the confessional, in the cracks between walls and doors, and picked up little pieces of information, then saw how deeply he could store them away. So far, he had never let a fish slip out. The trouble was, this fish was the biggest and most slippery fish he’d ever caught.

  27.

  Floriana knocked on Signora Bruno’s door. The smell of frying onions seeped out and under her nose, causing her stomach to churn with nausea. She wondered how long the sickness would last. Putting a hand on her belly, she silently told her child that she would suffer whatever nature threw at her in order for him to be born healthy and strong.

  The door opened, and Signora Bruno’s anxious face peered out. “Ah, Floriana. What news?” she asked, pulling the girl in by her skirt. “Have you spoken to Father Ascanio? What did he say?”

  “I have spoken to him,” Floriana lied. Well, she had, indirectly.

  “Well?”

  “I’m going to a convent.”

  “That’s the best thing for you. Thank God.”

  “It’s called Santa Maria degli Angeli. Father Ascanio will arrange it for me.”

  “I told you he would know what to do.”

  “I am happy. I will give thanks to God every day for the gift of my child.”

  Signora Bruno sucked in her cheeks. “When do you leave?”

  “As soon as he has organized it.”

  “Who will take you?”

  “Dante.”