'You can be ready to leave now,' she told him. 'I have nothing more to do here.'
The post-chaise bowled on through the park, with Gracchus sitting on the box in all his former dignity. It reached the vast spreading lawn where the white peacocks were wont to parade majestically, came in sight of the house and drew up at last at the foot of the broad sweep of stone steps lined with white and gold footmen, one of whom stepped forward quickly to throw open the door.
Marianne sprang out, disregarding Jolival's proffered hand, her eyes looking instinctively for the turbanned figure of Turhan Bey. She was followed by Adelaide and by Barbe, and Barbe it was who suddenly clasped her hands together with a soft exclamation.
'Oh! What a little darling!'
Marianne turned. A strange little procession was coming along the driveway from the stables. Rinaldo, the head groom and formidable ruler of the magnificent Sant'Anna stables, was leading a minute grey donkey by the bridle and, perched on its back, held upright by Dona Lavinia's careful hand, was a laughing, black-haired baby boy. And Marianne thought that Rinaldo could not have looked more proud and happy if he had been leading the Prince's favourite stallion, the splendid Ilderim himself.
Dona Lavinia, meanwhile, had caught sight of the travellers and started so violently that she all but let go of the child. But it was only for an instant and then Marianne, standing rooted to the spot by the emotion that swept over her, heard her cry out incredulously.
'Her Highness! Oh God, it is her Highness!'
The next moment she had lifted the protesting boy out of the saddle and was running forward with him bouncing in her arms.
'Hush, my treasure,' she told him, laughing and crying at once, when he objected to this cavalier treatment. 'It's your Mama!'
'Mama – Mama—' At the sound of the baby voice Marianne's heart melted in her breast.
In that instant all the shyness that had paralysed her a moment before suddenly vanished and she leapt forward in her turn, to reach Lavinia only just in time to prevent her from attempting the impossible feat of curtsying with Sebastiano in her arms. Her own arms had gone out to take the child, but then she paused.
His head resting on Lavinia's shoulder, he was looking at her with the mixture of curiosity and alarm that children frequently accord to strangers and Marianne found herself powerless to move. She stood with her hands clasped before her, just as Barbe had done a few seconds before, her eyes devouring this child of hers and her heart turned upside down at the beauty of him.
Sebastiano was big for his fifteen months. His little round face was illumined by a pair of huge green eyes, the very image of his mother's. The white suit he wore showed up the warm golden colour of his neck and his plump little arms. His curly head was black and shining and when all at once he smiled, Marianne caught the gleam of three or four white teeth in the tiny mouth.
Meanwhile, Lavinia was gently detaching the baby's arms from round her neck.
'Well?' she said softly. 'Take him, my lady. He is yours.'
The child made no resistance, as Marianne, in the flurry of heart, had feared he might. He simply went from one pair of arms to the other as if it were something he did every day of his life. Marianne felt the touch of the little bare arm against her neck.
'Mama—' the baby said crooningly. 'Mama.'
Then and only then, holding back her tears for fear of frightening him, did she dare to kiss him. A tide of love rolled over her and drowned her, a torrent that swept away the last doubts, the last hint of regret, while a voice within her whispered in terror as it died away: 'You might never have seen him… You might never have held him in your arms… You might never…'
Carrying her son as proudly as any empress, and with Lavinia at her side, Marianne walked back to the little group at the foot of the steps. They, too, had been moved to tears by the little scene which they had looked forward to, ever since leaving Paris, with an impatience not unmixed with apprehension. Jolival greeted Lavinia as an old acquaintance and introduced his wife. Then, as they were all about to go inside, Marianne plucked up courage to ask the question which had been on the tip of her tongue all along.
'The Prince – my husband—Shall I be permitted to see him?'
The housekeeper's face broke into a beaming smile which left her utterly confused.
'But of course you shall see him, my lady,' Lavinia cried, 'just as soon as he returns.'
'Returns? Is he not at the villa? Oh my God! Do you mean he is away—?'
She had a sudden sense of disappointment, a disappointment so sharp that she herself could not understand it. For months now she had been living with the thought of meeting this strange, attractive man once more, of being with him and sharing the inhuman life that he had chosen for himself, and now she was finding that she must wait longer yet to offer him the gift of herself that she had come to make.
She was so disappointed that it came as something of a shock to hear Lavinia laugh and she did not take in immediately what she was saying.
'No, your Highness, he is not away from home. He is not here at the moment, that is all. But he'll not be long. He has only gone out to the fields.'
'Oh, he has gone—' And then, abruptly, she understood. 'Dona Lavinia, do you mean he has gone out? Outside – in broad daylight?'
'Yes, my lady. The nightmare and the curse are all done with now. You see, he wanted there to be flowers everywhere and all the old, bad memories to be wiped away – for the child's sake. He could not go on living secluded as he had done. The child loves him and would not have understood. It was not easy, but I managed to convince him at last, with Father Amundi's help. And then, when we came back here, we gathered all the servants together, and all the tenants on the estate as well. They were all here, at the foot of these very steps. Father Amundi spoke to them, and then I said a few words, for they all know me and I am one of them, and then at last the Prince came and he burned the white leather mask in the sight of them all.'
'And what then?' Marianne asked anxiously.
'Then? Why then they knelt, every one of them, as though in church, and after that they cheered and cheered until the echoes rang. And they made a feast for two whole days because their prince had shown them his face at last. Listen! Here he comes!'
The sound of galloping hoofbeats made itself heard, waking memories for Marianne. That thunderous beat had haunted her nights in the dark days after her marriage, beating time to the wild gallop of a snow-white stallion. The noise grew louder, nearer, and then in a moment Ilderim and his rider were soaring like white lightning over a tall hedge. The horse came on, leapt again and sailed over the basin of a fountain as lightly as a swallow. Sebastiano, in Marianne's arms, was shouting joyfully: 'Papa! Papapapa!'
Marianne kissed him gently on his little nose and handed him to Lavinia. Then, slowly and steadily, she walked back down the steps and across the lawn to meet the man on the horse. He was on her like a thunderbolt. It seemed likely that he had not even seen her. Yet even then she did not flinch, held spellbound by the wild beauty of that gallop, and in imminent danger of being ridden down if Corrado could not master Ilderim in time.
But there was no question of his mastery of that kingly animal who for so long had been his only friend. Only a few yards away from Marianne, who still had not made the slightest move to avoid him, the great horse reared back, slender legs pawing the air, then dropped on all four feet and stood quietly while his rider sprang lightly to the ground.
Marianne saw then that the bronzed god of her recollection had indeed become a man. He was dressed like any country gentleman going about his land on a summer's day, in well-cut dark breeches, soft leather boots and a white shirt, open at the neck to reveal the dark, smooth muscles of his throat. But his blue eyes were smiling and there was a light in them that she had not seen before.
She was gazing at him so intently that it did not even occur to her to speak. She felt as if she were waking from a dream when he gently took her hand and brushed i
t with his lips.
'You are welcome,' he said in the low, deep voice that had always moved her so strangely. 'Have you come – to pay us a visit?'
She guessed that even now he could not quite believe that she had come back and that, chivalrously, he was offering her this one last avenue of escape. Yet it seemed to her that in his voice she caught a note of anguish that smote her heart.
'No. I have come to stay, if you still want me to. I have come to be your wife, Corrado, wholly and entirely. I do not ask you to forgive me for all that you have suffered on my account but I am offering myself to you. Will you have me?'
For a moment they stood without speaking. The Prince's blue eyes gazed into hers as though seeking to plumb their uttermost depths, and Marianne was overwhelmed at the passionate desire she read in them, yet the green eyes did not flinch or turn away.
Then, gently, almost timidly, he drew her into his arms.
'What man ever turned his back on the dream of a lifetime?' he murmured.
Marianne knew that night that this was not the first time Corrado Sant'Anna had made her his own, and that the mysterious lover of Corfu had returned to her.
Footnotes
1. Fifty thousand Russians and 28,000 of Napoleon's troops were left dead on the field.
2. In fact it disappeared during the retreat from Moscow, possibly sunk in the Beresina.
3. See Marianne and the Privateer.
[Marianne 6] - Marianne and the Crown of Fire Page 34