‘I don’t know what’s happened, sweetheart. The policeman on the phone was relaying a message from the Commissario. He couldn’t say if they’d caught the prowler or not. I’m worried sick, and don’t want to put you in any danger.’
She gave him a hug. ‘For once, I won’t call you a caveman.’
Luca kissed her. I’ll see you shortly. You’ll be safe enough as long as you’re not on your own.’
‘Surely Fern can stay the night at my house?’ Aunt Susan interjected. ‘There’s no need for you to put yourself out.’
‘No, I think it’s for the best if she comes back to the villa. Just not straight away.’
‘Vanessa still needs my help with Chiara,’ Fern said.
***
‘What did Luca mean when he said “You’ll be safe enough as long as you’re not on your own”?’ Aunt Susan asked Fern as they sat in her kitchen, a plate of biscotti in front of them and glasses of Vin Santo in their hands. Fern had changed out of her costume and had put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
‘Luca believes I’ve been regressing to the past,’ Fern said, dipping a biscotto into the wine. ‘And he’s worried about my safety.’
‘Stuff and nonsense! I would have thought better of Luca. He seems such a sensible young man.’
‘Gosh, it’s hot tonight,’ Fern said, changing the subject.
‘There’s a storm on the way. Do me a favour, my lovely. Pop upstairs and check on the shutters for me, there’s a love. I’m suddenly feeling extremely tired.’
When Fern returned to the kitchen, her aunt had moved to the sofa in the sitting area, Gucci Cat on her lap, and her deep, rumbling snores bore witness to the fact that she’d fallen asleep. A crack of thunder rent the air. With an uneasy feeling of foreboding, Fern retook her seat at the table.
I hear the thunder and, through the open window catch sight of a fork of lightning. Lorenza rushes into my arms. My poppet is frightened of storms, and no amount of kisses and cuddles will still her fear. ‘’Tis only giants playing skittles in the sky,’ I tell her.
Lorenza gives me a quizzical look. ‘Tell the naughty giants to stop.’
I kiss her soft, warm cheek and hold her close. We’re at the Barco, but the court is not with us. Given the option to go with my lady to Venice last month or remain in Asolo, I made the decision to stay here. I could not have taken my daughter with me, because of my lady’s strict rule about “no children at the Venice court,” and no one could have foretold the way events have unfolded.
After Lodovico’s attempt to poison him, Giorgio Cornaro retired to Brescia with kidney problems. However, we all believed the magnificent army raised by the Serenissima would quell the French without difficulty. It’s been the greatest shock to everyone that the Republic has lost such an important battle.
And now the Emperor has raised his flag over Asolo castle. My whole body quakes. Maximilian and his soldiers came down the Sugana Valley, leaving a sea of devastation. How has it come to this? The Doge hasn’t raised a hand to help the defence of Asolo. Our hope rests with the troops in Treviso. Zorzo has gone to fetch them, and has sent word they’ll be here momentarily.
These past months with my true love have been so happy. He has been with me almost all the time, teaching me about art, loving me and our daughter. The women he played with in the past, the courtesans of Venice he also painted, are no longer in his life. Of that I am sure.
There’s the sound of horses neighing in the yard below. Then the stamp of hooves, the jingle of harnesses and the shouts of men. Could Zorzo be back with our soldiers already? I go to the window, Lorenza tugging at my skirts. Holy Mother of God! These troops aren’t ours; they’re Austrian. I can tell from their standards and the guttural sound of their language. Fear spikes my entrails. I pick my daughter up and make for the door. If I can get to Pegaso before the soldiers find us, there’ll be a chance for us to escape.
A shadow crosses the floor and I step back. A man bars our exit. I peer at him. Maria Santissima! Lodovico stands before me, smiling his thin-lipped smile. ‘Greetings, wife! I have come to take you to safety.’
I back away. ‘With you? A traitor? Never!’
‘I can’t leave you and Lorenza here.’ Lodovico grabs me and shakes me. ‘The Emperor’s troops are half-starved, half-crazed, and set on pillage. They’ll make mincemeat out of you. My job was to show them the Barco’s location. I had no idea you were still here. Thank God your maid told me.’
Lorenza is crying, and I put her down. She cries even more loudly when her supposed father pulls me against him. ‘You are my wife. Do as I say!’
‘I will not.’ I lift my hands and push at his chest. The little man, as my lady called him, takes hold of my wrists. Even if he is short and thin, he’s stronger than I am. ‘Leave me!’ Zorzo is due to arrive with the troops from Treviso, I tell myself. He won’t know where to find me if I go with Lodovico.
‘Is that what you wish? That I should leave you?’ He smiles again. ‘With pleasure. You’ve been less use to me as a wife than a jouster’s dummy. But my daughter comes with me.’
Before I know what’s happening he snatches Lorenza up and scurries out of the room, slamming the door. I hear the key turn in the lock. There’s another crash of thunder and dark clouds obscure the sun.
She blinked in the darkness. She had to find Lodovico and get to Lorenza. Where had the door disappeared to? She peered through the gloom, but couldn’t see it. Letting out a gasp, she doubled over with sudden shock. She was at Aunt Susan’s house, not the Barco. And the bloody lights have gone. The storm raged outside, forks of lightning splitting the sky.
Where the hell is the torch? She felt her way to the kitchen cupboards and rummaged around. A candle. Good. Her fingers encountered a box of matches and she struck a light.
‘What’s happening, my lovely?’ Aunt Susan asked from the sofa, her voice groggy.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Fern said. There’s everything to worry about for Cecilia. ‘The storm has come, and the lights have gone.’
‘As ever. Well, we’re perfectly safe. Luca sent someone to install that conductor this afternoon.’
‘Oh, he didn’t tell me.’
‘I expect he had other things on his mind. Talking of which, when’s he coming to fetch you? It’s just that I’d like to go to bed.’
‘You go up, Auntie. I’ll be all right.’ I hope. ‘Where’s your torch?’
‘The battery ran out and I forgot to get a new one. There’s another candle in the drawer. I’ll take that.’
Fern saw her aunt to the stairs, then settled herself on the sofa. She could feel Cecilia clamouring in her head, and there was nothing she could do to stop her. The television set disappeared before her eyes and her fists were suddenly pounding.
I hammer on the door, screaming, Lorenza! I go to the window. Lodovico is on his horse, my struggling daughter on the saddle in front of him. He catches my gaze and waves. Then he gallops away, leaving the soldiers to rampage in his wake. If I jumped I would land in the midst of them. Madre di Dio! They might break down the door; I have to hide.
Trembling, I search the room for somewhere. There’s a large wooden chest in the corner, half-filled with blankets. I run to it. Then I squeeze into the space beneath the layers, and let the lid slam shut. Putting my hands to my ears I try to shut out the mayhem below, but the shouts of the soldiers and the screams of the kitchen maids still echo inside my head. What are the troops doing to them? And what they will do if they find me?
I touch my gold necklace, cool against my skin. Hope flickers within me. The soldiers might not know I am here; they might not even come upstairs. I take a deep breath and let it out. Keep calm! Yet my heart beats with such force and I shake with such violence I’m sure they will discover me at any moment.
Oh, Gesù bambino! What’s this acrid smell? This sudden warmth? This roaring sound? I move the blankets to one side and peer through a crack in the wood. Maria Santissima!
&nb
sp; Flames are licking their way across the floor.
Fern sniffed. Something was burning; she was sure of it. Fear seethed through her. She remembered the smoke pouring through tunnels, the panic and the choking and the searing in her lungs.
Acrid fumes stung her eyes. A roaring sound filled her ears. She shook herself, willing her mind to be cleared of what had happened in the past. There was nothing she could do about it. The fire was at the Barco, not here.
Then why couldn’t she breathe? And why were her eyes stinging? Oh my God! Flames were leaping across the curtains. The window must have blown open, toppling the candle onto its side and setting the fabric alight. She leapt up from the sofa. She had to wake Aunt Susan and get the hell out of here.
I cross myself as a fiery wall of death dances towards me, blocking any chance of escape. Where can I go? My whole body quakes; there’s no way out.
Letting out a sob, I clutch at my belly. Lorenza! She must be so frightened. Lodovico doesn’t love her. He took her out of spite. What if I die here? What will become of her? Lorenza!
Tendrils of smoke seep through the wooden slats of the chest and curl their way down my throat, making me cough. Tears furrow my cheeks. Dear Lord, how could you let this happen to me? Fire is about to take me from this world, from everyone I love.
Fern’s mind was whirling. Focus, girl! She ran up the spiral staircase. The landing had filled with smoke; she could hardly see. She raced to the bathroom and grabbed two hand-towels, wet them, and scurried to her aunt’s room.
Through the gloom, she could make out the shape of Aunt Susan on her bed. She shook her and shouted, ‘Wake up, Auntie! The house is on fire. We have to get out. Quick!’
Aunt Susan gave her a befuddled look, then swung her legs from the bed. Fern handed her the wet towel and said, ‘Hold this over your mouth and nose. It’ll allow you to breathe.’ She held out her hand and her aunt slipped hers into it.
They felt their way down the stairs. The wooden kitchen cabinets were alight now, but the way was clear to the front door and they staggered through it, Gucci Cat in their wake.
On the front step, Aunt Susan turned around. ‘My manuscript. I have to go back for it.’
‘No, Auntie. I’ll get it.’ The fire hadn’t travelled that far. She could race upstairs and back in no time.
She left her aunt standing on the garden path. ‘Run next door and call the firefighters!’
It was simple enough. Aunt’s manuscript was on the desk in her study, just at the top of the stairs. The lower part of her face covered in the wet towel, Fern took the steps two at a time. She pushed open the door and, peering through the smoke-filled room, spotted Aunt’s old typewriter and a box of papers. Fern grabbed the box and, within seconds, was back outside. She handed the manuscript to her aunt and said, ‘I want to save my paintings.’
‘Be careful!’
Fern headed back into the house. Her makeshift studio was in the corner of the kitchen where the flames hadn’t yet taken hold. She grabbed her watercolours and a couple of canvases, then hurried towards the front door. The wet towel was no longer wet, so she dropped it. Her mouth and nose filled with smoke. Fern’s lungs screamed in searing agony as she took in a ragged breath. She was back at King’s Cross, staggering through the smoke-filled tunnel. Only, this time, there wasn’t a train she could get on. This time, the fire had spread and was licking its way along the ceiling timbers. An enormous bang and the joist above her head came down. This time she really was going to die.
A crash resounds. Maria Santissima! The shouts outside fade. The blaze spits and crackles, and the searing heat forces my back against the wood. There’s nothing I can do.
Zorzo, where are you? You’re too late. Too late to save me. Too late to save anyone. I shall never see you or Lorenza again. Never feel your warm lips on mine. Never hold our child in my arms. Never have the future I’d dreamed of with the two of you. Who will look after her? Lorenza!
Smoke fills my nostrils and I breathe it in, willing the fumes to take me before the flames do. Heavenly Father, let this be quick!
The heat is a shock, burning my nose, my throat and my lungs. I gasp and inhale scorching air, choking and retching as my vision blackens.
My breath is sucked from me. The bitter stench of my singed eyebrows, hair and skin fills my nostrils. The gold at my neck is too hot to bear, and a deafening sound echoes in my ears.
‘Lorenza,’ I whisper through cracked lips. How can I speak when I can’t breathe? The pain consumes me. I writhe and then my head is filled with a buzzing, and then a shimmering and then . . .
***
Lightning zigzagged across the sky as Luca arrived at the villa. A police car was parked out front. He pulled up next to it and yanked the door of his Alfa open. Through the sheeting rain, he raced up the front steps and into the sitting room, all the while the voice in his head repeating, Too late, too late, too late.
Chiara was perched on the grand piano stool, her leg in plaster stretched out in front of her. There was an angry-looking bruise on her left cheek. A portly, balding police inspector with a pencil-thin moustache sat on one side, Ma on the other, and Antonio stood next to them.
‘I went to check on my horse,’ Chiara stuttered. ‘Then I heard a rustling of the straw in the empty stall next to his.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Federico was there, demanding to know why I hadn’t returned his phone-call. I told him to fuck off.
‘He said the girl was just a fling and that he really wanted to be with me. I laughed in his face. That’s when Federico grabbed me and knocked me to the ground. He started swearing at me and calling me a spoilt bitch. Then he punched the side of my face. At that moment I realised how much I hated him. He tried to pull off my shorts. I think he wanted to rape me. I managed to bite his hand. He was rolling around in agony, making such a fuss, what a mammone! I grabbed my crutches and got the hell out of there, slamming the door to the stable shut and locking him in.’
‘That was so brave of you, Chiara,’ Luca said, rushing up to her and embracing her. ‘Thank God you’re all right.’
‘Yes, thank God,’ Ma repeated.
Antonio huffed. ‘Commissario, I hope you will arrest that stronzo for assault.’
‘Si, signore.’
A sudden clap of thunder.
Luca spun around, the voice back in his head, Too late, too late, too late. ‘Oh my God, Fern!’
***
He could see black smoke rising from the end of the road leading out of Susan’s village. Bloody hell! He put his foot down on the accelerator, his head filled with the recurring nightmare, the dream that had stalked his sleep ever since he’d met Fern. Too late! Too late! Too late! This was what it had all been about. His pulse rate thudded.
Luca pulled up behind the fire engine, its lights strobing through the mist that had come down in the wake of the storm. An ambulance was parked in front of it. Firefighters were standing, hoses in their hands, spraying the blackened house. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Luca jumped out of his car and rushed forwards. A police officer barred his way. ‘Troppo pericoloso.’ Too dangerous, of course, but where the hell were Fern and her aunt?
The man pointed towards the ambulance and Luca’s heart sank.
25
Fern opened her eyes. Sunlight slanted through a gap in the curtains. She lifted her hands. Bandages. Luca was sitting on a chair next to her bed, lines of worry on his face. ‘Wh . . . wh . . . what happened?’
‘You’re in Castelfranco Hospital, sweetheart. Your aunt’s house caught fire. Thank God you’re all right.’ He got up from the chair and perched himself on the bed. ‘The paramedics had to resuscitate you and give you oxygen.’ Luca stroked her cheek. ‘They’re keeping you under observation to make sure there are no after effects from smoke inhalation. The second degree burns to your hands should heal completely in a couple of weeks.’
‘And Aunt Susan?’ she asked, coughing. Her lungs felt as if they’d been br
anded with a hot iron.
‘She’s fine. Checked into the Hotel Duse in Asolo. Oh, and she’s got your paintings with her. Whatever were you thinking of going back into that inferno?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were afraid of fire.’
‘I am, but I couldn’t bear it if my paintings had been destroyed. They’re like my children.’ She paused and marshalled her thoughts. ‘I know what happened to Lorenza.’
‘She died in the fire?’
‘No. Lodovico took her.’ Slowly, between sobs, Fern told him what happened to Cecilia.
‘I thought I was too late,’ Luca said. ‘But it wasn’t me, it was Zorzo.’ He pulled a tissue from the box on Fern’s bedside table and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I must have been dreaming I was him. The remorse he felt for not getting to the Barco in time must have come down to me through the centuries.’
‘We can’t change the past, can we?’ Fern took a deep breath. The pain in her lungs was easing. ‘The course of our lives can change on the tiniest decision. Cecilia resisted Lodovico. If she’d left with him, she would have saved herself. Zorzo went to fetch the army from Treviso. If he’d stayed with Cecilia, things would almost certainly have turned out differently.’
‘And if you hadn’t gone into the house to rescue your paintings, you probably wouldn’t be in hospital tonight. I nearly lost you, Fern.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘History could have repeated itself in the same way that Zorzo lost Cecilia.’
‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out what happened to Lorenza. Poor little girl, being brought up by an uncaring father. He only took her out of spite.’
‘At least she didn’t have to suffer the malice of the soldiers. Cecilia probably wouldn’t have been able to save herself and her child. So in a way he rescued her.’
Lady of Asolo Page 21