The Autumn of the Witch

by Anne Mather

  Stephanie hesitated. ‘That is a rose,’ she replied.

  ‘Una rosa,’ said Lucia.

  ‘Yes, a rose.’

  ‘Rose,’ said Lucia carefully. ‘A rose!’ She ran suddenly to Maria. ‘C’e—a rose,’ she asserted with obvious satisfaction.

  Maria smiled at her agitation and Lucia came back to Stephanie. ‘Piu!’ she demanded, and Stephanie crossed her fingers and told her some more.

  The morning passed swiftly and when Maria approached them to tell them it was time for lunch, Stephanie was amazed. Lucia looked rather regretfully at her new playmate as though not wanting her to go, but Stephanie gauged that it would be best not to press on too quickly, and with a smiling arrivederci she left them and went downstairs.

  Pietro was not in for lunch and when she searched for him afterwards she found he was not in the castello. She was sorry as she would have liked to have told him of her achievement with the child, but that could wait. For the present Stephanie decided to put another part of her plans into action.

  Crossing the hall, she opened the door to the kitchen, and went down the short passage to the kitchen door. It stood slightly ajar and she suppressed the nervousness that suddenly enveloped her at the thought of tackling Sophia on her own ground and entered the room. It was a large kitchen, clean and modem, with gleaming fitted units and a tiled floor. A long scrubbed wooden table was the only concession to the past although it too had its uses as a chopping board. Stephanie halted uncertainly as she met Sophia’s surprised eyes and for a moment her courage wavered. But with determination she asserted herself, advancing into the room steadily, and closing the heavy door behind her.

  Apart from Sophia there were three other people present. A round buxom woman, who she guessed was Dominica, the cook; a tall, gaunt-faced man with gnarled hands cupped round a beaker of coffee, who she also guessed was Carlo, the gardener that Pietro had mentioned; and Teresa, the maid she had met earlier. They were all regarding her with shocked expressions on their faces and she wondered why they thought she had come.

  Turning to Sophia, however, she said: ‘I’d like to be introduced to the other members of the staff, Sophia.’

  Sophia hesitated, raised her eyebrows disapprovingly, and then, with a shrug, complied. Stephanie shook hands with them all, much to their obvious surprise, but she had decided it was as well to win their approval before intimating why she was here. Sophia looked on, her arms folded across her thin chest, and although she clearly did not approve there was nothing she could do. Stephanie was just beginning to realize what being Santino’s wife and the castello’s mistress meant.

  ‘Now,’ she said, when the introductions were over, ‘you will all be wondering why I am here.’ She looked at Sophia. ‘Perhaps you could translate for me, Sophia.’

  Sophia grimaced. ‘I speak very little English,’ she demurred.

  Stephanie managed a smile. ‘I am sure you can manage,’ she asserted. ‘Er—the signore told me you possessed quite a fluent knowledge of my language.’ Santino had said no such thing, but Stephanie guessed that mention of Santino’s name would mean more to this old woman than any amount of her persuasion. And she was right. Sophia coloured, and then muttered something about doing her best. Stephanie smiled again, and turned back to the others. She had made up her mind that no matter what opposition Sophia might put in her way she would take up the running of the castello. If Santino imagined he could use her as a figurehead he was mistaken. He had dealt the cards, but she would play them, and she did not intend to remain idle while her duties were performed for her. She was quite aware that this decision might cause dissension, but Santino could not have it all his own way, and she had to have something to occupy her mind. She was not naturally a sybarite, and she did not intend to become one.

  Talking carefully, giving Sophia time to translate, she told the staff a little of what she planned. She chose her words carefully, not wanting to offend anyone, although she knew that Sophia was almost bound to take it as a personal slight. She told them that she intended to work with all of them for a period, learning what their duties were and seeing whether there were any improvements to be made. She said she had no intention of changing things unless it should be for the better, and she ended by complimenting them all on the efficient running of the castello.

  At the finish there was complete silence, and Stephanie could not tell from their faces whether they approved of her speech or otherwise. Sophia herself showed no emotion and Stephanie had the distinct impression that they had not been listening. She didn’t know exactly what reaction she had expected, but surely they ought to show some interest in what she had said. Had no one a question to ask?

  However, when she intimated this to Sophia, the old woman shook her head blankly and Stephanie heaved a sigh. It was no use. She would have to learn more of the language and communicate herself. She did not altogether trust that Sophia had relayed everything she had said truthfully. She turned to go and as she took the handle of the door, she said: ‘So it is all quite clear to all of you.’

  Sophia moved forward. ‘I have been housekeeper at the castello now for many years, many many years,’ she said. ‘Since before the Signora Sancia was mistress here.’

  Stephanie frowned, wondering what was coming now.

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Si, signora.’ Sophia’s tone was harsh and accusatory. ‘And while Signora Sancia was mistress here she left the running of the castello to me.’

  ‘I see.’ Stephanie thought she ought to have guessed it was not going to be so easy. ‘What are you trying to say, Sophia?’

  Sophia’s lips tightened. ‘Am I to understand now that you are going to take over my duties, signora?’

  Stephanie sighed and bit her lip. ‘Not at all. At least, not in the way you mean.’ She spread a hand. ‘Look, I am the mistress here as you have said, and I want to share in the running of the castello. It’s my home now, and if I want to well, supervise the menus, or check the linen cupboard, or decide when a room needs decorating, surely that isn’t going to upset you so much. I know you do a good job here, I can see it, but I just want us to—well, discuss household affairs before they are implemented.’

  ‘I see, signora.’ Sophia stepped back again, looking rather pointedly at Dominica, the cook. Teresa, conscious of the older women’s reactions, twisted her hands together nervously, and even Carlo put down his beaker with rather a clatter on the draining board.

  Stephanie heaved a sigh. Why was she the one to feel guilty when actually she was only asserting her rights as the wife of the master of the household? She didn’t particularly care what Sancia’s involvement with the staff had been, she could only assume that if she had lived here for eight years without involving herself in the running of the castello she must have been incredibly bored.

  Now she opened the door, but before going out, she said: ‘Sophia, in the morning I should like you to show me round the castello. So far I only know my room and Lucia’s, and the few downstairs rooms I have used. I’m sure there’s a lot you can tell me about household affairs.’

  Sophia said nothing, and with a characteristic shrug, Stephanie left the room. It would be as well, she thought, to give them time to digest what she had said before attempting any further efforts at communication.

  Pietro arrived back at the castello in the early evening as Stephanie was dressing for dinner. She heard the roar of the powerful Lancia’s engine, and hurrying with her make-up went downstairs, eager to tell him about her success with Lucia.

  However, when she reached the hall she found Pietro pacing about it angrily, his face black as thunder, Maria fluttering beside him, attempting to make some explanations which he was impatiently waving away. Lucia herself was seated on the polished chest, swinging her legs and looking completely remote from the heated interchange that was taking place.

  Stephanie paused to smile at the child before saying: ‘Whatever is going on, Pietro? What’s wrong? What has happened?’
>
  Pietro swung round to face her as she completed walking down the stairs and crossed the floor towards him. ‘You may well ask!’ he said, bleakly, looking more angry than she had ever seen him.

  Stephanie’s brows drew together and she looked blankly from Pietro to Maria to Lucia and then back to Pietro again. ‘What do you mean? What’s happened?’

  Pietro thrust his face close to hers. ‘I’ll tell you what has happened, signora,’ he snapped, stressing the word signora, ‘you have succeeded in ridding yourself of the entire staff in the space of one afternoon!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘OH, no!’

  Stephanie pressed her hands to her mouth in horror, and gazed beseechingly at Pietro.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Pietro raked a hand through his hair and turned away, speaking rapidly to Maria who bobbed and hurried across to take Lucia’s hand to lead her away.

  But Lucia did not want to go. This contretemps intrigued her and she wanted to stay and see what happened. Maria tried to force her to leave, but Lucia slipped off the trunk and ran instinctively to Stephanie, hugging her legs as she had once hugged Santino’s.

  Stephanie was tom between the desire to have Lucia do as she was told and the wholly maternal desire to keep the child with her, and Pietro was frankly astounded that Lucia should have reacted as she had.

  ‘Oh, leave her, then,’ he said, and with a brief wave urged Maria to go. The old nanny looked back rather resentfully at Stephanie, and she thought with a disturbing wave of foreboding that she had succeeded in offending yet another member of the staff. Now Pietro turned back to her and said: ‘I want you to tell me what happened.’

  Stephanie sighed, disentangling herself from Lucia and holding her hand instead. ‘Nothing happened,’ she denied warmly. ‘I simply spoke to the servants in the kitchen, that’s all.’

  ‘But what did you say?’

  Stephanie shrugged. ‘Very little really.’ Then she flushed. ‘Oh, well, I told Sophia that I wanted some say in the running of the castello.’

  ‘You did what!’

  ‘You heard what I said, Pietro,’ returned Stephanie, with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘After all, Santino can’t expect me to vegetate here like a cabbage, not taking any interest in the running of the place. I am his wife, after all, however empty a statement that might sound. He can’t have it all his own way. I have to have some authority while he’s away!’

  Pietro raked his hair again. ‘I see. I might have known it was something like this!’

  ‘But when did they go? I didn’t hear anyone leave.’

  Pietro shrugged. ‘Why should you? I expect they just packed their things and went. Their villages are nearby although all but Teresa live in the castello in the normal way. Carlo is the husband of Dominica.’

  ‘I see.’ Stephanie sighed. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but what can I do?’

  ‘You could go and see Sophia and tell her you didn’t mean what you said!’ said Pietro hopefully.

  Stephanie stared at him incredulously. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I did mean what I said.’

  Pietro uttered an impatient curse. ‘And how do you propose to manage without any staff?’

  ‘I can employ others,’ returned Stephanie, attempting a little of Santino’s arrogance.

  ‘Who will work for you?’ Pietro was scornful. ‘These people are intensely loyal. They will not come here to work when they would be taking the jobs of Sophia and Dominica and Carlo!’

  Stephanie’s cheeks burned. ‘Then you will have to employ me somebody from further afield!’

  ‘No! It can’t be done. Sophia and the others must come back. Have you any idea how angry Santino will be when he returns if they are not here? Sophia has looked after his family since he was a boy! She is the closest thing to a mother he has ever known!’

  Stephanie trembled a little, and she sensed Lucia’s heightened interest. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not humbling myself for any servant! I haven’t done anything wrong. I haven’t even dismissed anyone, although I can quite see that Sophia might imagine herself badly treated because I happen to behave like an emancipated woman and not a clinging vine!’ She gave an exclamation. ‘Heavens! In England this situation would be laughable! Can you imagine an English housekeeper complaining because she had too little work to do?’

  ‘This is not England!’

  ‘No, and I’m not Sicilian, so where do we go from here?’

  Pietro chewed at his lower lip. ‘I suppose I could go and see Sophia.’

  ‘And what will you say?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He ran a tired hand round the back of his neck. ‘Maybe I could persuade her you meant to supervise her in a purely academic way.’

  ‘But I didn’t! I said I intended working with all of them and learning what their duties were—’

  ‘Oh, Stephanie, why on earth did you say a crazy thing like that?’

  ‘Because I meant it!’

  Pietro laughed mirthlessly. ‘You! In a kitchen! Washing dishes!’ He shook his head derisively.

  ‘Why not?’ Stephanie was indignant. ‘I can, you know. I took a domestic science course—’

  ‘This is not the schoolroom, Stephanie!’

  ‘I know that.’ She pressed her lips together angrily. ‘You seem to imagine I’m completely helpless as well as irresponsible!’

  ‘I haven’t noticed you doing anything particularly exhausting since you came here,’ Pietro retorted.

  Stephanie straightened her shoulders. ‘No, I know. And that’s why I said what I did!’

  Pietro gave an exasperated gesture. ‘All right, all right. I’ll accept that you’re bored and your motives for speaking to Sophia were valid ones. But that doesn’t alter the fact that Sophia has a privileged position here, and you can’t just take that away from her—’

  ‘I don’t intend to!’ Stephanie made an involuntary movement with her hands. ‘Pietro, try to understand, I want to take my place as mistress of the castello. If I must stay here, and it seems so for the time being, then surely I have the right to accept my responsibilities.’

  ‘When Sancia was here—’

  ‘Ah, I thought we’d get round to her sooner or later,’ snapped Stephanie. ‘I know. Sophia told me. Your sister left the running of the castello to her. But what did she do? How did she occupy herself?’

  ‘She did many things.’

  ‘Like what?’ Stephanie was impatient. ‘Gardening, I suppose.’

  ‘Among other things. Have you seen the paintings on the walls of the lounge? Sancia painted those.’

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. ‘Did she?’ she exclaimed, with interest. ‘I—I never guessed.’

  ‘How could you? In any event, Sancia was rather an unworldly person, content to potter about the rose gardens and do a little sewing, and when the mood took her—to paint!’

  Stephanie sighed. ‘Well, I do none of those things. Oh, I can sew a little, and if there are weeds in the garden at home—I mean, in England—I can usually pull them out, but that’s all. I have no particular artistic talent as she must have had. I can see now that Sophia must have found her a very undemanding mistress.’

  Pietro tugged at his ear lobe. ‘Well, that doesn’t solve our problems, does it? I mean—there is nothing for dinner this evening, if you’re interested.’

  Stephanie glanced down at Lucia who was beginning to look rather bored by the whole affair. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, looking ruefully at the slim-fitting silk trouser suit she was wearing, ‘I suppose I could prepare a meal.’

  ‘You!’ Pietro’s derision was sufficient to arouse Stephanie’s temper, but she refrained from saying anything further and instead turned and began to cross the hall to the kitchen door. She would have taken Lucia with her, but the child seemed to decide that she had lingered long enough and released Stephanie’s fingers to perch again on the polished chest staring at Pietro with wide eyes.

  In
the kitchen a scene of confusion awaited Stephanie. Obviously Dominica had departed while in the middle of preparing the evening meal, for there were vegetable peelings in the centre of the scrubbed table and a glut of unwashed saucepans in the sink.

  Hanging behind the door was a large apron, and Stephanie reached this down and putting it on tied the tapes twice round her slim waist. Then she tackled the dirty pans and the dishes which were piled haphazardly on the draining board. Luckily the huge stove was still burning, so there was plenty of hot water, but it made the atmosphere in the kitchen stifling, and even with the door and the windows open Stephanie still found herself sweating profusely.

  In the middle of scouring a saucepan the kitchen door opened and Pietro appeared staring in horror at her soapy arms and moist brow. ‘Dio mio, Stephanie,’ he exclaimed, ‘you cannot do this!’

  Stephanie brushed a loose hair back from her forehead. ‘Why not? Aren’t I capable?’

  ‘That’s not the point—’

  ‘Oh, go away, Pietro, if you’ve nothing constructive to say. We’ll talk about it later when the kitchen is tidy and we’ve had some food.’

  Pietro sighed. ‘But what do you propose to give us to eat?’

  ‘Dominica has made some soup. It’s there on the stove. I shall heat it up and we can have that with some bread. Afterwards there’s plenty of fresh fruit and cheese. Tomorrow I’ll organize things better, but for tonight that will suffice.’

  ‘But, Stephanie—’

  ‘Pietro, if you’re going to stand there—do something!’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like put some more coke on the stove before it gets so low that I shan’t be able to keep it going. And throw all those vegetable peelings into the dustbin. Oh, and then go and find Maria and ask her whether she intends to join the revolution or if she’s leaving!’

  Pietro couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at the comer of his mouth. ‘I don’t know,’ he said helplessly, ‘you’re an amazing woman, Stephanie!’ He shook his head. ‘But God help you when Santino comes home and finds out what has been going on in his absence!’