by Anne Mather
With a cry of self-recrimination, she flung herself down on her knees beside Lucia, gathering the little body close into her arms. ‘Lucia, Lucia,’ she said over and over again, smoothing her hair back from her brow and kissing the petal-soft cheeks, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Mi spiace molto!’
For a few dreadful minutes it seemed as though she had committed the unforgivable sin and killed Lucia’s faith in her, but slowly the child responded to this display of affection by putting her arms round Stephanie’s neck and clinging to her, her lips warm against Stephanie’s cheek. ‘Che cosa hai, Stephanie?’ she whispered bewilderedly.
‘Niente, niente, nothing, nothing!’ exclaimed Stephanie, drawing back to look at her. ‘I was very foolish—mi sciocco!’ She smiled gently. ‘I’m sorry, Lucia.’
Lucia fingered the collar of Stephanie’s dressing-gown’ curiously, obviously unsettled by the scene that had just taken place, and Stephanie picked her up and stood her on the bathroom stool that was standing near the door.
‘What would you like to do today?’ she asked carefully. ‘You…’ she pointed to Lucia, ‘and me…’ she pointed to herself. ‘Shall we go for a walk, si? Er—passeggiata a piedi?’
Lucia frowned, and then she seemed to understand what Stephanie was trying to tell her and nodded vigorously. ‘Si, si,’ she exclaimed excitedly. ‘Voi e mi!’
Stephanie nodded. ‘That’s right.’ She lifted her down from the stool and patted her bottom encouragingly. ‘You go for breakfast, and I’ll see you downstairs, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Lucia smiled and darted off across the bedroom, her earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of an outing.
After she had gone Stephanie looked longingly at her bed. She would have liked nothing so much as to crawl back into its anonymity, but she knew that to do that was simply delaying the inevitable and sooner or later she would have to face Santino again.
In actual fact it was several days before she saw her husband to speak to again.
It seemed that in his absence a great deal of work had piled up and in consequence he spent most of his time commuting between the castello and his office in Palermo. Mario and Pietro were almost always with him and Stephanie was left to her own pursuits. She missed Pietro dreadfully, for even when Sophia and the others had walked out she had had his company. He spoke English and in this remote place that was important to her, particularly as apart from Sophia she had no one else to talk to.
Sophia in fact had become very considerate towards her young mistress and Stephanie supposed that she was gradually achieving everything she had come here to achieve. It seemed strange to realize that her life in England, her family there, everything, had become so remote and only the Castello di Strega was the reality. Lucia was slowly picking up sentences and she had accepted Stephanie completely now, even though Stephanie herself knew that this acceptance was a very tenuous thing. It would take time to win her confidence wholly, but superficially they had a lot in common.
Whenever Stephanie saw Santino it was only in passing, in the hall or on the stairs, and although he invariably spoke brusquely to her, she did not look at him. He ate all his meals in the study when he was at home and only very occasionally did Pietro find time to join her in the dining-room. It was as well that he was engrossed with his own affairs or he might have glimpsed the haunted look in Stephanie’s eyes or commented upon the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the faint hollows in her cheeks. She was eating very little and sleeping badly, and in consequence it was beginning to show.
The weather was much cooler now and Stephanie felt no desire to swim these days. Once she drove into Palermo, taking Lucia with her, and once they traversed in the opposite direction, driving into the wine growing areas of Marsala, but apart from these two outings and occasional walks around the gardens, Stephanie was confined to the castello.
About ten days after that frightening scene which had taken place when Santino found Stephanie had opened up the storeroom Pietro joined her for dinner and told her that Santino would be leaving again in the morning.
‘Leaving?’ Stephanie linked her fingers, resting her elbows on the table. ‘Where—where is he going?’
‘Well, first to New York, and then on to Japan,’ replied Pietro, pouring wine into their glasses. ‘Try this—it’s our own.’
Stephanie sipped the wine obediently, but it might have been tasteless for all the enjoyment she got out of it. ‘Japan,’ she echoed slowly. ‘Why is he going there?’
Pietro frowned. ‘The corporation are taking over a Japanese airline,’ he explained. ‘Western International want a worldwide connection and gradually they’re getting it.’
Stephanie nodded. ‘I suppose that’s why—he wanted W.A.A.’
‘Partly, yes.’ Pietro poured himself more wine. ‘This is very good. I must tell Marchesi. He’s Santino’s manager, you know.’
Stephanie cradled her glass in her fingers. ‘Have—have you heard how my father’s business is going?’
Pietro hesitated. ‘Yes.’
‘Well?’ Stephanie looked up sharply. ‘It’s all right, isn’t it?’
Pietro shrugged. ‘I guess so. Don’t you write to him?’
‘I—I wrote when I first came here, but that’s all. And he’s never replied. I—I guess he’s been too busy.’
Pietro nodded. ‘I suppose so.’
Stephanie stared at him curiously. ‘Did—did Santino see him—while he was away?’
‘He may have done.’ Pietro was vague.
Stephanie heaved a sigh. Obviously Pietro had no intention of being accused of any more unsuitable behaviour and was therefore guarding his tongue. Changing the subject, she said: ‘Will you be leaving tomorrow, too?’
Pietro bit his lip. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I see.’ Stephanie bent her head. ‘I suppose—my husband is reluctant to trust you now.’
‘Something like that.’ Pietro was uncomfortable. ‘But you’ll be all right here, won’t you? After all, Sophia is your defender now, isn’t she?’
‘Sophia?’
‘Yes, Sophia!’ Pietro looked at her intently. ‘Arid not even Santino would care to antagonize her without good reason.’
Stephanie frowned. ‘But I don’t understand. How—how has Sophia defended me?’
Pietro shrugged. ‘It was the morning after you had opened up that room which adjoins yours. I heard Sophia and Santino arguing about it. The gist of it was that she was angry with him for upsetting you just because you’d wanted to clear the place out. You should have heard what she said to him.’ Pietro shook his head. ‘And Santino said very little. He didn’t try to defend himself at all. I was frankly amazed!’
Stephanie’s cheeks burned. ‘I see.’
Pietro finished his wine and lay back in his chair. ‘Well, I suppose I will have to be going. Santino wants some reports typing to take with him tomorrow, and I’ve got to get them done.’
Stephanie sighed. ‘I shall miss you, Pietro.’
Pietro leaned forward. ‘And I shall miss you, Stephanie,’ he said huskily, putting out a hand and taking one of hers. ‘You’re looking tired, cara; use this time that we are away to take it easy. Rest! Doing all that housework was too much for you.’
Stephanie felt a tightness in her throat, unutterably moved by his sympathy. ‘I’m all right,’ she denied softly. ‘But thank you for everything. I mean—I don’t know how I’d have managed without your—’
‘Pardon me for interrupting you,’ said a clipped voice behind them, and Stephanie did not need to turn to know who it was, ‘but I should like to see you right away, Pietro. There is something I want to discuss with you.’
Pietro thrust back his chair and got to his feet. ‘Of course, Santino; excuse me, Stephanie. You understand?’
Stephanie managed a tight smile and Pietro crossed the room and went out after his employer. Stephanie heaved a shuddering sigh and remained where she was until she heard the door of Santino’s study close and only the
n did she rise from her seat and make her way rather unsteadily to her bedroom.
In her room she seated herself in the chair by the balcony doors and not bothering to turn on the light she sat there in the darkness looking down on the moonlit surges of the sea. There was a kind of peace to be found in the continual steadying roar of the waves breaking on the rocks and after a while the calmness overtook her and she relaxed.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when there was a knock at her door, and thinking it was either Sophia or even Lucia she called ‘Come in!’
The door opened and in the light from the hall beyond the door she saw the silhouette of a man and at once her heart palpitated furiously. The figure halted in the doorway unable to see her in the darkness and she wondered why she had just not answered and allowed whoever it was to imagine she was in bed and asleep.
‘Stephanie?’
She recognized Santino’s voice and her heart rose into her throat and threatened to choke her. She rose shakily from her chair as he reached out a hand and flicked the light switch and she blinked rapidly in the unaccustomed brilliance. Santino came into the room and closed the door, leaning back against it while she continued to regard him in a terrified fashion, and he shook his head in an exasperated gesture of resignation and said huskily:
‘For God’s sake, Stephanie, don’t look at me like that!’
Stephanie put both her hands to her throat. ‘What have you come for?’ she asked chokily. ‘This is my room. Am I to have no privacy unless I lock my door?’ Her voice almost broke on the words.
Santino pressed his lips together, sliding his hands into the pockets of the dark trousers he was wearing. In a navy blue silk shirt, opened at the throat to reveal the tanned column of his throat, he looked disturbingly attractive and Stephanie wondered how she could find him so after the way he had treated her.
‘I came to tell you I shall be going away tomorrow,’ he said, ignoring her outburst. ‘And also—and also for something else.’
‘Oh—yes?’ Stephanie trembled.
‘Yes.’ Santino raked a hand through his thick hair. ‘Yes, Stephanie, I had to see you before I left—to talk to you.’
Stephanie swallowed hard. ‘I don’t see what we have to say to one another.’
‘Don’t you?’ He shook his head. ‘Then you are incredibly naïve.’
Stephanie twisted her hands together. ‘Not any longer, Santino, you saw to that!’
His expression darkened momentarily and a look of anguish crossed his face so swiftly that she thought afterwards she must have imagined it. ‘Do you think I would have—do you imagine I thought—’ He broke off harshly. ‘Dear God, Stephanie, you always acted so—so confidently, I thought—’ He pressed a hand to the back of his neck. ‘Can’t you understand what I’m trying to say? Do I have to spell it out to you? Or do you want me to grovel? And believe me, I’ve been tempted to do just that these last ten days!’
Stephanie stared at him disbelievingly. ‘I must be stupid,’ she said slowly, ‘because I really don’t know what you expected of me.’
Santino uttered an exclamation and strode swiftly across the room to her side, grasping her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. ‘Stephanie, listen to me! Do you suppose I am such an animal that I would have destroyed your innocence so carelessly if I had known—?’ He broke off again, shaking his head. ‘You English women are so self-assured, so—so sophisticated—it never occurred to me that—that—you might not—’ He released her and turned away abruptly. ‘I’m sorry. I know that’s inadequate, but I am sorry!’
Stephanie put a hand to her forehead weakly. Was this really Santino Ventura apologizing to her? Was she going crazy and imagining this whole scene, or was he actually trying to tell her that he regretted what had happened?
‘I—I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured softly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
He moved a few feet away from her, thrusting his hands back into his pockets and staring out grimly, at the scene which earlier had given Stephanie so much peace. ‘There’s something else I have to say,’ he said bleakly.
‘What more is there?’ Stephanie was holding the bed rail for support.
Santino turned. ‘It’s about your father,’ he said grimly. ‘About the business.’
Stephanie frowned. ‘What about the business? My father? Is he all right?’
‘I believe so.’ Santino shrugged. ‘I must warn you there is talk in London that he and his wife are separating, but how true that rumour is I cannot say.’
‘Oh no!’ Stephanie stared at him unhappily.
‘I’m afraid so. But that is aside from what I have to say. I must tell you that I did something—which since I have lived to regret.’
Stephanie’s throat was dry. ‘Go on.’
‘Those shares, owned jointly by Jennifer and your aunt: I bought them up.’
Stephanie took several moments to digest this and then she stared at him in bewilderment. ‘But—but why? I thought—I mean—our marriage was to assure my father a chance to make W.A.A. pay. What point was there in buying the shares? To have—to have your revenge at some later date?’ Her voice shook.
‘No!’ His repudiation of this was almost violent. ‘But I could not take the chance that after my interest had been shown someone else might come along with a better offer and persuade Jennifer, if not Mrs. Lacey, to sell to them.’
‘I see.’ Stephanie tried to assimilate what this meant. ‘And do you intend to assert your authority now? Is that why you are telling me this?’
‘No!’ Santino was fierce in his denial. ‘No, Stephanie! Do not be prepared always to think so badly of everything I do! I realize my actions have destroyed any chance of friendship between us, but at least do not jump to conclusions that do not apply. My reasons for telling you this are quite simple.’ He hesitated for a moment before going on. ‘I—I have decided to let you go.’
‘To let me go?’ Stephanie could not believe her ears.
‘That is right. To let you go—back to England—to your father.’
Stephanie sank down weakly on to the side of the bed, wondering why his words gave her so little pleasure. ‘But but—’
He shook his head. ‘I am not altogether evil, Stephanie. When I brought you here my intentions were almost ludicrously simple. Your attitude had annoyed me, it had infuriated me. The way you defended your father, the way you attempted to gain Pietro’s confidence! Sicilian women do not do these things. They leave the bargaining to the men. And so, as I required a companion for Lucia, I used your so-annoying confidence to my own advantage. It was quite amusing for a time, dangling you from my string, and making you dance to my tune.’ He shrugged. ‘It was a juvenile act, for which I am sorry, but my only excuse is that I did not intend your sojourn here to last for ever. Our marriage is no marriage in the eyes of my church, and without a priest’s blessing an annulment is not a difficult thing to arrange. I should have let you go in due course once Lucia was old enough to go to school.’
Stephanie’s lips trembled. ‘You mean—it was all a game?’
Santino’s eyes darkened. ‘It was. But then it didn’t quite work out as I had planned and you began to get under my skin!’ He uttered a derisive exclamation. ‘Don’t worry, I do not blame you. I blame myself. After Sancia died I vowed I would never marry again. I could not go through the mental agony of seeing any woman die in childbirth because of me. Perhaps if I had not been so persistent her death would not have occurred, but our marriage was such that children were important to us!’ He raked a hand through his hair roughly. ‘I know this is all of little interest to you, but I am trying in some small way to show you that I am not the monster you imagine me to be!’
Stephanie could not take it in. He had said so many things, explained so many actions, and yet still she could not accept it. He was telling her he had played a game with her that was now over, that he had never intended to hurt her, and that she was free to go back to
everything she had known and loved in England.
So, dear God, why did she feel this terrible, overpowering sense of despair?
Now Santino turned away again. ‘There is only one thing I ask of you,’ he said. ‘I must make this trip to the States and Japan and consequently Lucia will be here alone. I wish you would stay until I get back.’ He looked back at her. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
Stephanie was pale, but she stood up again and shook her head helplessly. ‘About Lucia—’ she began. ‘How do you propose to explain your change of plans to her?’
Santino shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll think of something. I can arrange to be free for a couple of months when this trip to Japan is over and maybe I’ll take her away somewhere for a while.’
‘I—I see.’ Stephanie felt desolate.
Santino looked at her broodingly. ‘You don’t sound particularly excited at the prospect of returning home.’
Stephanie coloured. ‘I haven’t had time to consider it yet,’ she said hastily.
‘No. No, perhaps not.’ He continued to regard her, his gaze flickering over the palpitating rise and fall of her breast beneath the soft material of the cashmere sweater she was wearing, and returning to her face with penetrating appraisal. His eyes darkened momentarily and he looked away, but Stephanie trembled, aware that his eyes upon her were as disturbing as his touch. ‘What will you do? I mean, of course, after the annulment has been arranged?’
Stephanie shrugged. ‘I—I suppose I can go back to, my job as a children’s nurse.’
‘It occurs to me that I should maintain you until you find some suitable young man to marry,’ Santino averred.
‘No! Oh, no!’ Stephanie’s refusal was abrupt.
Santino’s eyes turned back to her. ‘Why? Is the offer of my help so distasteful to you?’
‘I—I don’t need anything from you!’ Stephanie’s lips trembled.