The Echoes of Love

by Hannah Fielding

  Hurriedly, she picked up her bag, and fled from the room. Aware of Umberto’s voice swearing savagely behind her, she prayed that he would not follow her and her legs would not give way, at least until she got out of the building.

  Venetia didn’t wait for the lift, which was too slow in coming, and ran down the stairs, hardly knowing what she was doing. She stepped out of Umberto Palermi’s offices with a nervous shudder of relief. Once in the road, the dazzling light and the blue sky of Venice greeted her. The cool air, full of delightful spring scents, revitalised her, easing the hammering of her heart and her shaking limbs.

  Damn all men! she cursed, as she joined the bustle of strolling people out in the sunshine. She was feeling physically ill, not only because of Umberto’s despicable behaviour – oddly enough, that was the least of it – but mainly because her brain was endeavouring to cope with the shattering revelations just thrown at her out of the blue. The shock of learning that Paolo was not only amnesic, but also that he had been married, widowed, and now had a regular mistress, heaped up in a mass of chaos in her mind.

  Venetia was bewildered by his deceit, but also hurt. How could he have been so underhanded? She had always thought Paolo was an enigma, but she had been miles away from suspecting he was hiding so many devastating secrets. L’Amante delle Quattro Stagioni, the lover of four seasons… her mouth trembled piteously as tears of anger quivered on the edge of her lashes. It was humiliating to think she had been just another one of his conquests.

  Though, even in her unhappiness, Venetia could not bring herself to hate Paolo. Her mind turned over the tragedy he had experienced – how frightening it must be to live without a past, how sad to have death ravish the one you love at the very dawn of a new life together, and so heart-wrenching to be deprived of the beautiful memories of that love. Venetia could just imagine the horror of it all.

  He desired me though. The potency of his arousal had certainly not been deceit, she reasoned; men, unlike women, couldn’t fake that sort of thing – nevertheless, it had been only desire, not love. Anyway, what did it matter now? Before these revelations, despite her overwhelming attraction towards Paolo, she had already decided that he was not for her… hadn’t she?

  Venetia stopped in front of Ping Lü’s shop. Her legs had unwittingly led her to the old Chineseman’s emporium; but it seemed that this day was fated to provide her with one disturbance after another: the blinds were drawn and there was a sign in the window saying: ‘Closed until further notice’.

  That’s just my luck, she thought. She would have liked to unburden herself to the wise, friendly little man. There seemed to be even more paradoxes surrounding Paolo now; maybe Ping Lü would have had some logical answers to her questions and given her his sage advice. With a sigh she turned away and started back to the office. At Bianchi e Lombardi’s reception she was told that her godmother had asked to see her as soon as she got back from her appointment with Count Umberto.

  Giovanna was sitting behind her desk, scrutinising the company’s book of accounts, when Venetia was showed into her office by Sabina, her assistant. Looking up as her goddaughter came in, her face lit up with a tender smile.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Venetia. What did that so-and-so of a Count want from you, carina? I bet he’s still hectoring you about marriage.’ She spoke with the warmth and spontaneity that she reserved for her loved ones, but which was always held well in check behind an appraising coolness with strangers.

  Venetia smiled lamely and sighed. ‘Yes, you could say that… Unfortunately he won’t leave me in peace.’

  ‘Well, he’ll have great difficulty in finding you when you go to Tuscany.’

  Oh no! Venetia’s stomach made a strange somersault as the reason became clear why she had been called to her godmother’s office with such urgency.

  The alarm must have shown on her face because Giovanna burst out laughing. ‘Venetia, cara, don’t look so horrified. I had an email this morning from Signor Barone, saying you had turned down the restoration assignment for his chapel, alleging that you had too much work.’

  ‘Zia Giovanna, I don’t see how I can leave the workshop to Francesca. We have a couple of difficult restoration jobs which she would not be able to handle on her own, let alone finish by the handover dates agreed with the clients.’

  ‘Be realistic, my dear girl. The project Signor Barone is offering us is huge in comparison to those two small restoration jobs you’ve mentioned. He’s not only talking about the mosaics in the chapel, but also the reconstruction and refurbishment of the entire villa, and the building of a resort.’

  Venetia’s shoulders went back and her spine stiffened. ‘Well, exactly. What he’s asking for is a huge job,’ she exclaimed. ‘I can’t just relocate to Tuscany for a few months. Anyhow, he was talking about me living at his home, which quite frankly is unacceptable.’

  ‘No, no, no. You misunderstood him. We had a long conversation over the phone this morning and he explained to me that he has a separate cottage in the grounds of his property that he uses to accommodate guests, and he is proposing to have you stay there. Alternatively, he would be happy to rent a cottage in the village for you, if you would prefer. The man is bending over backwards to accommodate us.’

  ‘Really, Zia, I think it’s most impractical and —’

  ‘Listen to me, Venetia,’ Giovanna interrupted her, raising her hand firmly, ‘I don’t often put my foot down, but this time I must insist. This is a sizeable commission that we simply cannot afford to turn down. I have accepted the appointment and I will not hear otherwise. I will pay for you to come back to Venice every weekend if you wish – though to be blunt,’ she added, eyeing her goddaughter, ‘as you don’t have anyone special in your life to come back to, you might as well explore fresher pastures – so please set aside whatever misgivings you have and be ready to leave on Monday.’

  If Venetia had been the sort of woman to stamp her foot, she would have stamped it right then, but instead, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and folded her arms across her chest.

  Giovanna Lombardi was quick to interpret the aggressive downturn of her godchild’s mouth and the two glaring flames Venetia’s amber eyes had become. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Venetia. It may intimidate others, but not me,’ she said curtly. ‘If I didn’t think that the firm needed this assignment, I wouldn’t have forced it upon you.’

  ‘Can’t we just get the architecture part of the job?’

  ‘No, Signor Barone insisted that it would be either all or nothing.’

  ‘And that didn’t strike you as strange.’

  ‘Maybe, but you are no longer a child, and to be honest it’s high time you grew up and got over this fear of men, which has been stifling you for so long. It will be good for you in every way. Signor Barone has a certain reputation, it’s true, but I’m hardly asking you to marry him. A little fun wouldn’t do you any harm, if he is interested in you. Anyhow, as your dear mother used to say, no man can get from a woman what she doesn’t want to give. You are neither the first nor the last girl to have had an unhappy romantic experience.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘The matter is closed, Venetia,’ her godmother told her firmly and turned her attention back to the book of accounts.

  Venetia viewed Giovanna mutinously, but refrained from any untoward remark and turned on her heel to leave the room. She knew that once Giovanna had made up her mind about something, there was no leverage for discussion, especially when the decision taken had to do with the business.

  ‘Signor Barone is taking care of the travel arrangements,’ Giovanna said, without looking up from her papers. ‘You’ll be flying to Pisa, which is the closest airport to Porto Santo Stefano, where he has his villa. He promised to email the details before lunch. Ask Karina, she’s probably received them already.’

  Venetia scowled and made an impatient sound
. ‘That man’s a control freak! How did he think I would get around once I’m in Tuscany? I’m not flying, I’ll drive – it can’t be more than three or four hours. It’s obvious that I’ll need a car down there.’

  Her godmother glanced up. ‘Signor Barone is only trying to be courteous, Venetia, and save you the trouble of a long and tiring journey – more like five or six hours if you’re a sensible driver. He said that he would of course provide a car at your disposal, but if you prefer to drive down, suit yourself,’ Giovanna retorted, returning to the scrutiny of her books, ‘but please let him know your plans and ask Karina to get in touch with his office to find out all the necessary details.’

  Venetia left her godmother’s office and made her way up to the workshop. Six hours is a long drive, she thought. Should she be gracious and accept his invitation to fly? Or maybe she should take the train and rent a car when she got to the other end? No, she would drive down and show this man that she could not be bossed around, and was quite capable of managing a journey of six hours on her own.

  Francesca was waiting for Venetia in her office. ‘It’s almost time for lunch, where have you been all morning?’

  ‘Don’t ask. It’s been one of those days already.’

  ‘You look really frazzled. Let’s go and have a spot of lunch and you can tell me about it.’

  So over a tomato and mozzarella salad, Venetia told her friend all that had happened that morning, including her unpleasant encounter with the Count. Francesca dropped her fork, her eyes wide.

  ‘You’re not going to let that bastard Umberto get away with his outrageous behaviour, are you? You must report him!’

  ‘The man is poison and it would be his word against mine, Francesca. I’m sure he’s got half the police force of Venice eating out of his hand. And, anyhow, I’m going away, which after all may not be such a bad thing,’ she admitted, a small part of her secretly relieved that the decision had been forced on her. Perhaps this was Fate pushing her in the direction she needed to go.

  ‘I find the thought of that animal getting away with it really galling. He’ll just try this sort of thing again with someone else.’

  ‘He’ll try it anyway.’

  Francesca sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  The two young women sipped their coffee in silence.

  ‘Shouldn’t you tell Signora Lombardi the truth about why you’re reluctant to take on this job?’

  ‘No, please, let’s leave my godmother out of all this. You know that I’m a very private person and don’t like talking about my affairs, even to her. She’s like a mother to me and would only try and meddle. You’re my friend. It’s different.’

  ‘What are you going to do about Paolo? Are you going to confront him with what you’ve found out about him?’

  ‘No, I’ll confine our relationship to business, and there’ll be nothing intimate or personal between us. It’s the only way I might be able to handle the situation.’

  ‘I mean, face it, Venetia, less than twenty-four hours ago you were in the man’s arms – you even admit to having had a magical evening. Don’t you think that you’ll find it difficult to work with him after what’s happened between you? Attraction doesn’t evaporate just like that,’ Francesca snapped her fingers.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know, I’m all confused. To be honest, I’m really appalled at the effect Paolo has on me. I thought I’d become stronger than this. When Judd left me, and even more when I lost the baby, I thought my heart would snap in two, and that nothing in the world was going to be right again.’ Venetia paused and gazed off into the distance before looking back at her friend. ‘As you know, for the past ten years I haven’t really looked at another man. I just dated them to pass the time.’ Her mouth quirked up in a wry smile: ‘I don’t know what it is about Paolo… what it is that makes me melt inside whenever he looks at me.’

  Francesca nudged her hand and gave her a sideways glance. ‘He’s an expert lover, that’s what it is – l’Amante delle Quattro Stagioni, as his friend told you.’

  Venetia’s pain ran deep, but pride made her dredge up enough poise to shrug. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. They’re all the same, these men. As I told you, I had turned down Paolo’s assignment anyway, even before hearing about the complicated details of his life.’ She sighed. ‘But Giovanna is adamant, the firm needs the work. Look, don’t worry about me, Francesca. I’m quite capable of dealing with this crisis. God only knows I’ve been through worse and come out the other side. I’m just furious that I haven’t been given the choice.’

  At Umberto’s revelations, Venetia had felt as if a chill wind was blowing over her and a dark cloud had blotted out the sunlight pouring into the Count’s office. However, she had the profound feeling that a piece of the puzzle surrounding Paolo was still missing. Something did not ring true about all this. It hardly seemed possible that the man who had almost declared his love for her the night before might have been feigning, and merely playing a cruel game of seduction. Yet, hadn’t Judd sworn his undying love to her too, then at the first real obstacle deserted her without even a word? No, she had to face reality. Men couldn’t be trusted, full stop.

  Although Venetia would have preferred not to be faced with Paolo again for some time, she was aware that deep down she couldn’t help but feel a strange excitement at the idea of working close to him for the next few months, and her heart beat faster in anticipation. She would try very hard to be her usual self in his company and not give the slightest inkling of what she knew about him; she only hoped to succeed in fooling everyone… but was she such a good actress? And could she conceal her feelings from him, which she reluctantly accepted now had nothing to do with either friendship or business, knowing she must stifle them, if only for her own sake? Of course she could, she told herself: she was an adult, mentally and emotionally. The young woman resolved instantly that, whatever it cost her in self-restraint, she would not make a fool of herself.

  Back at the office, Venetia went straight to Karina, who was in charge of all travel arrangements at Bianchi e Lombardi, and dictated an email for Paolo, telling him of her decision to drive down to Porto Santo Stefano. After his arrogant manipulation to get her appointed to the job, she wasn’t about to give him even more access to her by including her mobile phone number, that would be playing far too easily into his hands; so with a small degree of satisfaction, she told Karina that Signor Barone could contact the office if he had any questions. Venetia also asked the secretary to buy a couple of maps that would help her on the journey, especially given that Fabrizio told her that although the route from Venice to the west coast was pretty straightforward, as it was mostly motorway, the last hundred kilometres or so across country were more complicated to negotiate. He had also suggested driving Venetia there, with a hopeful expression on his face, but she turned down his offer as kindly as she could, saying that she would take it slowly and would enjoy the drive.

  During the coming days, Venetia worked furiously in an effort to damp down the excitement that kept surfacing. Yet, she was conscious all the time that she was merely trying to escape thinking too closely about Paolo and what the future might bring. He had rung the office a few times to speak to her, but she had always either been in a meeting or out, and deliberately did not return his calls. Finally he had resorted to sending her an email, simply saying he was delighted that she had decided to take on the assignment and he would be at Miraggio to welcome her when she arrived.

  As much as she tried, and no matter how busy she was, Venetia couldn’t keep Paolo out of her mind. The more she fought against it, the more thoughts of him haunted her, especially at night in the most erotic dreams she never knew her imagination could conjure.

  After a while, she had to admit that one part of her mind – the wounded, self-protecting, cynical part – remained aloof from all other considerations, and occupied itself in turning the new situation round and ro
und, examining it from every angle. There seemed to be an unreality about everything in her world now, as if her romantic ‘real self’ was sitting away somewhere up high, at an altitude, looking down upon the poised and controlled Venetia, restorer of mosaics, as she went about her normal routine: walking along the crowded streets of Venice, entering the equally crowded restaurants, choosing and eating lunch with Francesca as usual, and afterwards walking back to the office. Then, having waded doggedly through the great bulk of the day’s work, Venetia would return to her flat to join that other remote self in silent battle, concentrating entirely upon the dreams that might come true, balancing all the delights they would offer against the embarrassments, and even the temporary unhappiness they might bring as their penalty.

  Nonetheless, at the end of each deliberation, she remained appalled at how she could have surrendered her stronghold, knowing how much pain it promised. You don’t fall in love with someone you hardly know, almost a stranger, whose heart is already given elsewhere, she repeated to herself, endlessly. How could Paolo have become so firmly entrenched in her heart that, despite what she now knew about him, not only could she hardly bear the prospect of not seeing him again, she couldn’t wait to be with him once more?

  * * *

  On Monday, Venetia went to pick up her car at the garage, where she had taken it to be checked over before her journey. It wasn’t ready and she was forced to wait around for almost an hour, so it wasn’t until noon before she set off.

  The trip down to Tuscany was not exactly a pleasure. The weather changed with dramatic abruptness; the false early spring disappeared and was replaced by rain. The first four hours on the motorway were grim, but Venetia was used to driving long distances on motorways. She had always preferred to travel by car than plane or train, and she cruised along steadily, listening to the radio, unfazed by the fog and drizzle. She hadn’t had much breakfast that morning so she stopped for a snack and a cup of coffee at one of the ubiquitous Autogrill SpA restaurants on the Italian autostrade.