The Venice Atonement

by The Venice Atonement (retail) (epub)

  Nancy understood then that she would get no more. But Marta had visited, she had spoken to her daughter, and it seemed very much that Archie’s conclusion was the right one. Marta had confided her troubles to her daughter and Angelica had left the convent to protect her mother. Archie was aware of it, too. She saw a smirk just beginning as they walked back along the corridor in search of the chapel.

  The chapel was much as Nancy had expected: a flagged floor, upright wooden pews, a sculpted white ceiling and stark white walls. Cold, austere, uninviting. Until, that is, she walked down the narrow aisle and came face to face with an altar of solid gold. It was not a large altar, but its glow burnished the entire far end of the chapel, bringing statues and a dark painted tryptich to life. But this glorious warmth did not stop with the altar. Above it, and seemingly hanging in the air, was an almost life-sized golden crucifix. The pièce de resistance.

  Mother Superior allowed them time to take in the magnificence of which she was justly proud. Archie soon sank onto a wooden pew, his interest in religious art limited, but Nancy stood for minutes absorbing the craftsmanship that had gone into making the altar and its accompanying crucifix. It was only when she heard the rustle of keys that she turned to say thank you to her host.

  ‘It is the most exquisite altar,’ she said.

  ‘We think so.’

  ‘And the crucifix. What date is it?’

  ‘It is slightly younger than the altar. Eighteenth century, I believe.’ Reverend Mother had unbent slightly, now that Nancy’s questions were focussed on the place she loved.

  The swish of a gown on the stone floor had them both turning. A nun was walking quickly towards them. She bowed to her superior. ‘I am sorry to interrupt, Mother, but there is a telephone call for you. I think it is important.’

  Reverend Mother smiled graciously, relieved, Nancy thought, to be free of her troublesome guests.

  ‘I’m afraid I must return to my office,’ she said, ‘but Sister Aurelia will escort you to the courtyard. Naturally you are welcome to look around our estate.’

  ‘Thank you. You are most kind,’ Nancy replied. ‘But we must be getting back to Venice. We leave for London tomorrow.’

  Mother’s face expressed a pleased calm. She turned and walked swiftly out of the chapel, leaving Sister Aurelia to escort them back along the aisle.

  ‘How many nuns live in the convent?’ Nancy asked, trying to find a way to the question uppermost in her mind. Archie might be right about Angelica’s reason for leaving, he probably was, but there was still a small part of Nancy that wouldn’t let go, and Sister Aurelia might prove more forthcoming than her Mother Superior.

  ‘Around fifty, Mrs Tremayne.’

  ‘And do nuns ever leave?’

  The Sister’s face expressed shock. ‘Leave?’

  ‘Yes, leave. Can they walk out of the door if they wish?’

  ‘The convent is not a prison,’ the nun said reprovingly. ‘But nuns have a long time in which to make their decision. Many years to think whether they are suited to a life of devotion.’

  ‘How many years?’ She wondered how far along this road Angelica had travelled.

  ‘They are first postulants for a year maybe, then novitiates for, say, another three. Then nuns will take their first vows. But it is three, four, five years later they will make final vows.’

  ‘And those final vows – are they binding?’

  ‘They are most serious.’ Sister Aurelia’s voice was grave. ‘The nun has committed her life to God.’

  ‘But if someone felt, for instance, that they no longer had a vocation?’ Nancy was making it up as she went along.

  ‘Then our Sister would go to Reverend Mother and talk to her. Reverend Mother would try to discover the problem, but if the nun still wished to leave, she must request a dispensation from the Holy See.’

  ‘And is that easy?’

  Sister Aurelia frowned deeply. ‘It takes time.’

  ‘And if she didn’t have that time, could she walk out of the door?’

  The woman looked scandalised. ‘She would then live her life in sin – and die in sin,’ she added crisply. ‘Please, follow me.’

  They were half way along the aisle when Nancy saw a small side chapel she hadn’t noticed before. Earlier she had walked right past, too entranced by the glory beckoning her to the main altar, but now she took a few steps through the archway and looked around. Archie had walked on.

  The side chapel was unremarkable and after a quick glance, she turned to go. Then something stopped her. On the bottom step of the modest altar was a gold statuette sitting atop a black pedestal of carved wood. Her gaze slid along the step. On the left side was a matching pedestal, but it was empty.

  Nancy felt Sister Aurelia hovering behind. It was clear the nun was eager to usher her guests from the convent and was hoping this foray into the small chapel would be brief.

  But Nancy knew that statuette. She swallowed hard. ‘This is quite beautiful,’ she said, marvelling again at the figure’s luminosity and the skill with which every intricate detail of the saint’s clothing and expression had been crafted.

  ‘It is a statue of Santa Susanna,’ the nun said. ‘A saint very dear to our convent.’

  ‘I see.’ She pretended ignorance, though she remembered every word of that other conversation. She waved a hand at the empty pedestal. ‘It looks as though there should be another to match.’

  The Sister’s face fell. ‘You are right, Mrs Tremayne. We have lost the precious statue that was part of a pair. For centuries the convent has protected them.’ Her voice cracked slightly. ‘And then to lose them when we are guardians… it is so very sad. But over the last few years many places of devotion have suffered theft and our convent has not been immune. The depth of wickedness in this world is difficult to understand.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’ Nancy managed to utter the expected sentiment, though her head felt ready to burst. ‘But do you have the remaining statue safe?’ she gabbled.

  ‘This is a replica. Made not of gold but of gold leaf. The original is under lock and key – we could not take the risk that it, too, would disappear. And next week the goldsmith will deliver a second replica and we shall have a pair once more. It will not be the same, but we must accept God’s will and pray for the souls of those who would do Him harm. Now…’

  Sister Aurelia extended her arm as though to shepherd Nancy away. ‘If you have seen enough?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she stumbled to say. ‘You have been more than generous with your time.’

  The Sister gave her a long look, as though she had divined the reason for Nancy’s visit and could see into her heart. Then she folded her hands in her robe and bowed her head. ‘May you go with God, Mrs Tremayne, and your troubles be as nothing.’

  Nancy had the unpleasant feeling that her troubles might only just be starting, but somehow she followed Sister Aurelia out of the chapel and into the cloister. From there it was a short step to the wrought iron door and the courtyard beyond.

  Archie was waiting for her by the car. He looked mystified, shaking his head slightly, when she weaved an almost drunken path towards him. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked, as she stumbled up to the car and collapsed against the bonnet. ‘What’s been going on back there?’

  ‘The side chapel – the one I looked in.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There was a statue there. Santa Susanna. Golden. Beautiful.’ She was rambling. ‘There should have been two, an identical pair, but one has been stolen.’

  Archie gave a low whistle. ‘It’s what Enrico was saying – crime has reached this backwater. But why are you so wound up?’

  ‘The statue – you don’t understand. I know where the other one is. The one Sister Aurelia says has been stolen.’

  Archie looked sceptical. ‘Then you’d better go back and tell our formidable hostess where she can find it.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Nancy’s face was drained of colour. ‘I can’t,�
�� she repeated. ‘It’s in the Moretto palazzo.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Archie looked dumbfounded. It was the first time Nancy had known him completely fazed. ‘You saw the statue that’s been stolen?’

  ‘Yes. I’m telling you.’ She straightened up and her voice was firm. ‘I noticed it as I was leaving the Moretto house. It was such a beautiful piece that I went over for a closer look. Angelica said she was keeping the statue at the palazzo to take it for cleaning.’

  ‘Do statues get cleaned?’

  ‘Sometimes. But this one… I don’t know. I imagine so. At the time, I didn’t question it. I assumed she knew what she was talking about.’

  Archie opened the car door and gestured to her to get in. ‘We’d better leave or we’ll be attracting attention we don’t want.’ He slid into the driver’s seat, then half turned towards her. ‘You’re absolutely certain that the statue you saw matched the one in the chapel here?’

  Nancy nodded. ‘It was identical, even down to the story behind it. I learned about Santa Susanna from Angelica and a few minutes ago Sister Aurelia was telling me how much the convent venerated this particular saint.’

  Archie made no reply but put the car in gear, turning the vehicle in a smooth curve to begin the bumpy ride back along the uneven track. The main road was in sight before he spoke. ‘It has to be nonsense. What you’re saying in effect is that Angelica Moretto stole the damn thing.’ He sounded incredulous, as well he might.

  ‘It is nonsense, I agree.’ Nancy spoke quietly from the rear seat. She had herself under control now, though her head was still a maelstrom. ‘Angelica can’t have stolen it.’ There was silence between them while Archie turned the car towards Venice, until Nancy burst out, ‘But what other explanation is there?’

  ‘A nun stealing a religious icon?’

  Another long silence, then Archie said gloomily, ‘I suppose there must be bent nuns. Why should they be exempt? And it would explain why she left the convent in a bang. At least, I’m presuming she did.’

  ‘I wasn’t able to ask about Angelica in particular. The nuns are very frosty about women renouncing the order. But it’s clear from what Sister Aurelia said that after a nun has taken her final vows, it’s difficult to leave. The woman has to jump through hoops before she’s granted permission. And if she simply walks out, she becomes the worst kind of sinner for the rest of her life – and afterwards.’

  ‘And the woman we’re talking about is fanatically religious?’

  ‘So Luisa suggested. And I felt it, too, even in the short time I had with Angelica. That’s why it doesn’t make sense.’

  Archie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Enrico might have helped. He must be pretty thick with the nuns – he’d be aware of any gossip in the convent. But he isn’t at home. After he left us, he went off to be priestly and visit his parishioners.’

  ‘So what do we do? Sorry,’ she corrected herself, ‘What do I do?’

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing you can do and tomorrow we’ll be gone.’

  Nancy settled back into the comfortable red leather, but she was gripped by frustration. She was certain the missing statue was at the heart of the tragedy. The statue and the visit that Marta had made to the convent. But Archie was right. She had run out of time and there was nothing more she could do.

  Her mind, though, stayed unquiet, and when they were once more passing by Mestre and the distant smokestacks of Marghera, she said, ‘If Angelica did steal, why did she do it? For money – but why? Nuns can’t possess property and, in any case, the Moretto family are wealthy, or have been. And if she stole money for a reason we don’t know, wouldn’t she have sold the statue?’

  ‘That would be difficult.’

  ‘Gold can be melted down and if she were prepared to take a lower price…’

  How horrendous was that! Too horrendous for Angelica certainly. ‘But if it wasn’t for money,’ Nancy went on, ‘if Angelica stole it because she loved it and thought the convent owed her in some way, why leave it on open display for anyone to see?’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t expect visitors.’

  Nancy thought about this. ‘I don’t imagine they had many visitors, if any. It didn’t seem a house you’d invite people to. But even so, her mother lived there with her – until a short while ago. Marta would have seen it.’

  ‘So what if she had and and recognised the work? She wouldn’t have reported the theft. She would have protected her daughter. Anyway, Angelica could have hidden the object away and only brought it out after her mother’s death.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘A death that was convenient, wouldn’t you say?’

  Nancy gasped. ‘You’re surely not suggesting that Angelica…’

  ‘Just a thought. Marta’s death was probably suicide, though no one will admit it – including you.’

  ‘And Luca’s?’

  ‘Why not a mugging gone wrong?’

  None of it rang true but Nancy’s mind had frozen, unable to process the multitude of conflicting facts. She hadn’t just run out of time, she’d run out of energy. And she still had to face Leo when they arrived home. Pretend she had enjoyed an innocent afternoon drifting through the Veneto countryside. How she was to do that, while she was in such turmoil, she had no idea.

  She would have to play a part – she often did – and at least Archie could be relied on to say nothing of the convent. She watched him as he drove, hands firm on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. He seemed impervious to the constant stream of shocks that had come her way. But then he wasn’t emotionally invested, as she was, in Marta’s death.

  Nancy was honest enough to recognise that her crusade, in part, had given her purpose, had helped her regain an identity, a voice. But it didn’t explain why she cared so very much about Marta. Perhaps it was the vulnerability she’d sensed in an otherwise strong woman, perhaps a fellow feeling for someone who carried within her a deep sadness, yet was struggling to live a good life. Whatever it was, since their conversation on the Zattere, Nancy had not been able to forget her.

  * * *

  Archie delivered the car keys to the office at the Piazzale Roma and together they took the vaporetto to San Zaccaria. Neither of them spoke again of the missing statue, disembarking from the boat and walking the short distance to the palazzo in silence.

  Leo greeted them at the door, a wide smile on his face. The meeting with Signor Trevi had evidently gone well. ‘How was the trip? What did you see? Did you stop off anywhere?’

  Nancy did her best to play the part she’d given herself, mentioning one or two of the places through which they’d passed, commenting on the bare fields, now harvested, the gentle hills and small villages. Her account was deliberately vague, but it didn’t seem to matter. Leo appeared preoccupied.

  They were still standing on the wide landing when Archie leapt up the stairs two at a time and went to pass them.

  ‘Archie,’ Leo called after him. ‘I’ve packed most of my papers, but can you check I haven’t left anything vital behind? And… if you should have a spare moment, could you take a look at my suitcase? I’ve only just got back from the meeting and I’ve not had time to sort it out. If you could chivvy it into some kind of order, I’d be grateful.’

  Nancy was surprised. She had not before heard Leo ask his assistant to help with anything approaching a personal chore, but when Archie had walked off down the long corridor leading to the small office at the back of the palazzo, Leo took her hand. ‘I’ve asked Concetta to bring us tea as soon as you got back. Let’s go into the salon.’

  The maid was already laying out cups and saucers. There was something afoot, Nancy was sure. When Leo had poured the tea and handed her a cup, he sat down beside her, the sofa sagging to one side in its customary fashion.

  ‘Nancy.’ He cleared his throat.

  ‘What is it? You’re worrying me.’

  ‘Sorry, it’s not that serious, but I do have more apologies to make.’ He took a long drink
of tea. ‘The meeting with Signor Trevi went well – it lasted hours, that’s why I’m so delayed getting myself organised for tomorrow – but even so, there are still things we need to tie up.’

  He took another sip of tea, and she waited patiently for him to go on. ‘Nancy, I wanted our last meal in Venice to be one we shared, but Signor Trevi is staying in the city overnight before he takes the train back to Bologna and he’s asked me to dine with him. I’d hoped Dino would have made the meeting today – or if not, taken the man out to dinner – that would have got me off the hook. But he called to say he was too busy. Apparently he’s getting ready to sail tonight.’

  A vision of the wooden crate came into Nancy’s head. Was that where Dino was going? To Albania, to sell his fraudulent paintings? She had learned from a casual comment of Leo that Andiamo had not left port since their trip to Burano; the crate she’d seen must still be on board. Dino and his captain would be keen to offload their criminal cargo, and now days after Archie’s raid on the boathouse and with still no repercussions, they must have thought it safe to sail again.

  ‘I know it’s a wretched way to end our honeymoon, darling.’ Leo reached out to clasp both her hands, interpreting her silence as disappointment. ‘But Trevi is likely to contribute heavily to the art fund and I can’t let the chance escape. You’re welcome to join us, of course, although…’

  ‘I’d be listening to several hours of business talk?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. I think I’ve convinced him that his contribution will be worthwhile. Worth his while, that is. That his firm will get real advantage from it. Their name on all the publicity material, that sort of thing. But tonight I’m hoping to talk actual figures. If Signora Trevi were with him, it would be different, but she’s still at home in Bologna.’

  ‘Then I think it’s best your dinner remains a men-only event.’ Nancy took back her hands but smiled warmly at him. ‘Have your last meal in Venice with Signor Trevi, but promise that your first in London will be with me.’