In Love In Lucca

by Barbara Cartland

  She was not surprised to see that just inside, tending the grass and the flowers, were two gardeners.

  Pushing open the gate, which was ajar, she hurried to the nearest man.

  She put the letter into his hand saying,

  “Please, give this to the Marchese. It is very important.”

  The gardener, who was a young man, looked up at her and smiled.

  “I will do that, signorina,” he promised and there was a look of admiration in his eyes as he spoke.

  “Thank you, thank you very much,” Paola said hurriedly.

  She ran quickly back towards the shop where she had left the Contessa and she only slowed down at the last moment as she reached it.

  She made it appear as if she was looking round outside the shop.

  The Contessa then came out of the door into the sunshine.

  “Oh, there you are, Paola!” she said. “I wondered what had happened to you.”

  “I was thinking how fascinating this narrow street is,” Paola said. “I am sure it must have seen so many people pass by from the days of the Romans. I expect that it was the over-dressed but very beautiful ladies who started the silk trade here in the fourteenth century.”

  “I see you have been mugging up on your history,” the Contessa smiled, “and, of course, you must write it all down for your mother. Don’t forget that after Napoleon’s Italian Campaign he bestowed the title of ‘Princess of Lucca’ on his sister.”

  “I will certainly include that!” Paola exclaimed.

  “We had better make our way home now,” the Contessa went on. “Luncheon will be ready and I am sure that you have seen enough already this morning to write two books, let alone one!”

  As Paola hurried back towards the villa, she could not help feeling a little guilty.

  She wondered what the Marchese would think when he read her note and she was half-afraid that he would think it was a hoax.

  Then she reckoned that he would have received Hugo’s letter by now.

  Although he might think it a strange way to receive the diamond ring, she felt that he would be too curious not to go to the Cathedral.

  If the diamond had such a history, he would do anything to get it back into his keeping.

  ‘What I have to do,’ Paola decided as they walked back to the villa, ‘is just to place it in his hand and then vanish. There is no reason why he should thank me. He will not know who I am or even if it was me who brought the diamond from England.’

  ‘I really have been very clever,’ she told herself as she walked into her bedroom. ‘I need not be involved with the Marchese, which would upset Mama, and I shall have kept my word to Hugo. No one could ask more than that!’

  She smiled at herself in the mirror as she sat down at the dressing table and just to make certain that it was still there she took it out of her handbag.

  Then it was impossible to resist the temptation to take a look at it.

  She took out the little parcel that Hugo had given her and she gazed at it curiously before she went across the room to lock the door.

  Slowly, because it was so exciting, she undid the coarse cotton that was wound round the linen.

  And now, for the first time, she saw the diamond.

  She could only gasp as she took it out of its wrapping.

  It was the most beautiful, and certainly the largest, diamond that she had ever seen.

  It was affixed to a ring, but was really too big to be worn as one.

  It was heavy, and it shone and sparkled. It seemed as if the sun coming through the window swept into the centre of it and sent out myriad lights from the diamond itself.

  Staring at it Paola could understand why men were prepared to fight and even to die for a gem of such loveliness.

  Because it glittered in the sunshine, it seemed to have a life of its own.

  It was hard to credit that she had carried it all these days in her handbag, wrapped in a piece of linen.

  She could not resist putting it on the third finger of her left hand, like an engagement ring and she could understand that any woman being given such a gift would consider herself crowned with glory.

  Then she wondered who was to be the recipient of such splendour.

  Would it be the beautiful Princess she had heard about from the Contessa’s friend?

  Or was there somebody even more important in his life?

  Suddenly she was afraid that somebody might knock on her door and so hastily she wrapped up the diamond as it had been before.

  Hugo had told her how he had nearly lost his life in retrieving it for the Marches and she had a sudden thought that perhaps whoever received the ring would incur bad luck and not good.

  She did not want to think about that.

  Quickly she put the ring back into her handbag.

  Somehow, and she was not certain why, she did not want to look at it again.

  It frightened her!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Paola stepped out of her bedroom shortly before nine o’clock.

  She had been called at eight with her breakfast, but she knew that the Contessa never woke before nine.

  She had learnt too that her hostess had no wish to see anybody before she was dressed.

  She had been very attractive when she was young and now she resented, although she did not often say so, that she was growing older.

  Paola therefore knew that she was quite safe in slipping out of the villa to go to the Cathedral and she would be able to give the ring to the Marchese if he came as she had asked him to do.

  She would be back in the villa long before the Contessa realised that she was missing.

  Thinking it would be a mistake to go looking too smart, she had chosen a simple white gown and instead of one of her attractive hats, she decided to wear over her head a long scarf that looked like the small shawls the Italian women wore when working in the fields.

  She took the ring out of her handbag.

  She hesitated for a moment and then unwrapped it from the handkerchief she had concealed it in.

  As she had done yesterday, she put it on the third finger of her left hand, twisting the diamond into the palm of her hand where it would not show.

  It glittered and gleamed in the sunshine streaming through the window as she did so.

  She thought as she had done before that it seemed to have a life of its own and she was still not certain whether it was a good or an evil one.

  As she walked down the stairs, she saw a maid carrying a tray containing the Contessa’s breakfast into her bedroom.

  ‘I have planned it very cleverly,’ Paola again congratulated herself.

  It was a lovely day and so far not too hot with a slight breeze.

  She walked out into the sunshine and thought that the flowers in the front of the villa and the main street that led to the Cathedral were delightful.

  There was so much for her to see in Lucca and she almost grudged the time the Contessa insisted on staying in the villa and resting.

  “There is no hurry, my dear,” she had said to Paola yesterday. “You will be here until the end of the summer, and once you have seen everything, perhaps you will be bored.”

  “I think it would be impossible to be bored in Lucca,” Paola answered. “I never imagined any City could be so attractive or boast so many beautiful buildings.”

  “That is what I feel myself,” the Contessa said, “and when I travel to other countries, I am always glad to come home.”

  Now Paola was walking alone.

  She knew that, if she was behaving properly, she would have taken a servant with her.

  She therefore hurried towards the Cathedral.

  There were very few people about and she was sure that no one who noticed her would suppose from the way she was dressed that she was of any consequence.

  A few minutes later the Cathedral came in sight and she thought again how beautiful it was with its arched doorways and huge Campanile towering above it.

  Th
e Campanile was built of stones of two different colours and looked more unusual than any town Paola had ever seen before.

  She entered the Cathedral and was relieved to see at a glance that there were very few people inside.

  As she went towards the Chapel of St. Francis, she saw that there was nobody there.

  Crossing herself with Holy Water, she then bought a candle.

  There were several candles already alight in the Chapel and she wondered whether those who had lit them had asked a special favour of St. Francis.

  Perhaps they were just venerating him for his kindness and love of birds and animals.

  Holding the candle in her left hand, she went first to where the others were burning.

  She was praying as she did so that the Marchese would appear so that she could give him the diamond.

  She could feel it cool and rather lumpy in her closed left hand.

  She was coming to the end of her prayer when she became aware of a sound behind her.

  She turned her head and saw a man.

  He seemed to be peeping at her from behind one of the massive columns of the Nave.

  It was only a quick glance, but she knew instinctively that it was not the Marchese, but she wondered why the man should be staring at her.

  She turned her back to him again.

  Yet she was conscious and was sure it was not part of her imagination that she was being watched.

  She could almost feel his vibrations touching her.

  Quite suddenly she felt afraid.

  There was in fact very little light in the Cathedral, but the glimpse she had had of him made her think he did not look like an Italian.

  She might have been mistaken, but she was sure that his skin was very much darker.

  Everything that Hugo had said about there being danger in what she was doing came surging back to her.

  On an impulse, because there was still no sign of the Marchese, she decided that she must hide the ring.

  She raised the candle to her lips as she had been taught to do when she had been still a small child and then she lit it from one of the other candles.

  As she did so, she slipped the ring from her left finger over the base of the candle.

  Very carefully she placed it in line with the other candles burning below the image of St. Francis.

  Only as she finished hiding the ring was she aware that a different man had entered the Chapel from another direction.

  He had come in by the West door of the Cathedral and it was as if he had been looking at the High Altar before coming down the side aisle.

  One glance at him told Paola that this was undoubtedly the Marchese.

  He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair swept back from a square forehead.

  She had expected him to be handsome after all the things that had been said about him.

  Now she knew unmistakably that he had come, as she had asked him to do, to receive the ring.

  She thought immediately that she had been very stupid in hiding it where she had.

  She glanced behind her again, but there was no sign of the other man.

  Yet she was instinctively conscious that he was still there.

  On an impulse she moved away from the candles, genuflected to the altar and walked to where the Marchese was standing.

  He was looking up at the statue of St. Francis.

  “You have – come,” she whispered hesitantly, “as I thought – you would – but – ”

  She opened her lips to tell him where the ring was hidden.

  Then four men, moving so swiftly that she could hardly realise what was happening, surrounded them.

  There was one on either side of her and the Marchese and two behind them.

  Before they spoke Paola felt something hard pressing against the small of her back.

  “Unless you wish to be injured,” one of the men growled, “you will go where we lead you, and if you protest or make any noise you will die!”

  Paola gave a gasp and she sensed that the Marchese stiffened.

  Then he asked in a calm unhurried voice,

  “What is all this about?”

  “You will learn that later,” one of the men answered. “Now move as we have told you to do, unless you want to be manhandled.”

  He was speaking, Paola realised, in fluent Italian. However his pronunciation was coarse and his voice guttural.

  As if the Marchese knew that they were powerless to do anything but what they ordered, he followed the man who walked just ahead of him.

  Because there was a man beside her and another behind, she could do nothing but follow the Marchese.

  She could feel her heart beating frantically because she was so frightened.

  She knew exactly why they were there and she wondered if it would be best to tell them where she had hidden the ring.

  They would perhaps then leave her and the Marchese alone.

  Even as she thought of it she remembered how Hugo had almost died in obtaining it and especially what it meant to him if the Marchese received it safely.

  ‘What – shall I – do? What – shall I – do?’ she asked herself frantically.

  In the meantime she was vividly conscious of what she guessed was a revolver pressing against her back.

  She could not really believe that the men would shoot both her and the Marchese in cold blood while they were in the Cathedral. Yet there was no one about and, if they did so, there would be plenty of time for them to escape.

  ‘What – shall I – do?’ Paola asked herself again.

  She was aware that they were moving first towards the High Altar and then behind it.

  Still there was no one to be seen.

  There was only the sound of their footsteps as they walked over the flagged floor and she thought that she could also hear the heavy breathing of the man behind her.

  Now in front there was a dark doorway and she was sure, although she had not seen it before, that it led down to the crypt.

  She felt it was dangerous to go below ground with these men.

  But how could she and the Marchese fight four of them?

  The crypt door was open and they went through it and started to go down the steps.

  The two men in front of her each picked up a lantern that had been left there.

  ‘All this has been planned,’ Paola thought and the idea of it made her even more frightened than she was already.

  What did they intend to do with her and the Marchese and what would they say when they could not produce the ring?

  There were two flights of steps leading down to the crypt and, when they reached the bottom, they passed through yet another door. It was unlocked, although a large key was in the keyhole.

  Now they were moving along what seemed to be little more than a tunnel.

  The ceiling was so low that the Marchese was obliged to bend his head and then they passed through another unlocked door into a large cellar.

  Paola could see in the light of the lanterns that it was in a state of considerable disrepair.

  There was rubble scattered over the floor and plaster had fallen from the ceiling.

  There appeared to be no other entry except by the door that they had just come through.

  The two men in front came to a halt and then one of the men behind said,

  “Now, signore, tell this woman to give us the ring she has brought for you, which was stolen from me in India.”

  “Where it had been stolen from me!” the Marchese contradicted him. “As you are doubtless aware, it was given to me by the Nizam of Hyderabad and belongs to me personally.”

  “That is what you may think,” the man replied sneeringly, “but, as I was among the men who worked in the mine, I consider my claim to it is greater than yours!”

  He spoke in a crude and aggressive manner and Paola, looking at him, thought that he was the most evil-looking man she had ever imagined.

  He was obviously not a pure Indian and in fact there might ha
ve been several different races in his blood.

  He was much larger and stronger than the other men appeared to be and Paola mentally named him ‘the Big Man’.

  She knew that he was evil and would have no compunction in using violence to get what he required.

  He was carrying a large revolver in his hand and the man who had been behind her also carried one.

  The other two men were obviously Indian, but she thought that they too had cruel expressions and shifty eyes.

  “We have been brought here very unpleasantly by force,” the Marchese was saying. “I now suggest you let this lady go. I have never met her before and I very much doubt that she could give you the object you require.”

  “She came to the Chapel in order to deliver to you the diamond that you have been seeking these past months,” the Big Man replied sharply. “Either she will now give it to me or I will kill you both!”

  Paola gave a gasp of horror, but the Marchese said calmly,

  “In which case I am quite certain that the lady will oblige you. But I would like to be quite certain that, if she does so, we can both return the way we came.”

  Paola was looking at him as the Marchese spoke and she saw a flicker in his eyes.

  She was almost certain that, if he did get what he wanted, he would not hesitate to kill them both to stop them informing the Police of what had happened.

  After a moment, because it was difficult to speak, she said,

  “I-I cannot give you – the ring, because I do not – have it – with me.”

  “What do you mean not have it with you?” the Big Man asked angrily. “You brought the Marchese here so that you could put it into his hand.”

  “Y-Yes – I know,” Paola said, “b-but – I was not certain if he – would come – and I intended to arrange to make – the handover on – another day.”

  The four men were staring at her, but she was looking only at the Marchese.

  “I-I am sorry,” she said to him, “I – did not imagine that – anything like this – could happen.”

  “Nor did I,” the Marchese replied.

  He turned towards the Big Man.

  “Now you see, my good men, that we cannot oblige you, so you will have to let us go.”

  “Search them!” the Big Man ordered.