Roman Summer

by Jane Arbor

  ‘Except,’ said Ruth again, ‘that he isn’t often as unattached as all that.’

  ‘The wolf type, eh? I’d judge you to have poise enough to keep that kind at a distance. And you can’t run away from all men, just to escape the nasty few. That way you could become so—desiccated that you could forget how to respond to the real thing when it happens again.’

  Ruth hesitated. She hadn’t meant the exchange to take this personal turn. For her it was dangerous.

  ‘Sometimes I think—’ She stopped. Since last night the present tense wasn’t honest. ‘There have been times when I’ve thought I’d already forgotten,’ she amended.

  ‘You should keep in practice by giving even the most unlikely affair a chance to develop for you.’ Erle turned to lean back against the parapet, so that he faced her. ‘In that regard,’ he said, ‘I wonder if you know why I suggested we come up here, hoping we’d be alone?’

  She was trembling a little. ‘Why did you?’

  ‘For curiosity’s sake.’

  ‘Curiosity—about me?’

  ‘About all this,’ he nodded. ‘To see whether you’re really as detached as you appear and as cloistered as you claim to be; whether your lack of the girl-tricks that most women employ—all eyes and invitation— means that you’ve indeed gone cold. And about that, there’s only one way I know of for a man to find out—’

  As he spoke, his hands went out to her shoulders, then about her, drawing her to him. She drew a sharp breath, panting, her lips parted, as his mouth found hers in a long searching kiss which merged with another ... and another to which she responded with all the pent-up, starved emotion of years. Yet not only because she was hungry for love but because, though he didn’t know it, he was her love, the one man now alive who could rouse her so. Her body willow-bent to the pressure of his arms, she gave herself up to the moment; her hands wandered over his back—and clung as urgently as his until the engulfing tide of feeling ebbed; cold sanity returned, and she wrenched herself desperately free.

  She smoothed down her dress and thrust back her hair. ‘That was—’ she began.

  ‘Unfair? Yes.’ Erle stood, his hands limp at his sides, his breath coming as deeply as a runner’s. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have invited it. But I didn’t know—’

  ‘Didn’t know what?’ she echoed sharply, afraid.

  ‘Just how much need you’ve had to keep dammed up ... bottled inside you behind the calm face you show to the world.’

  ‘You claimed that it was what you kissed me for—to find out,’ she accused him.

  ‘I never expected to spring a mine at your feet. After all, I’m just any man to you. Yet that was neither an iceberg nor a lukewarm response. It was the kind of woman-answer you’d give to a lover, and I shouldn’t have probed something that has so little to do with me.’

  So she hadn’t betrayed her secret to him after all! It gave her spirit to say distantly, ‘For mere curiosity, no. And what makes you think you betrayed me into the kind of answer I’d give to someone who really loved me?’

  ‘Just that, supposing I were a man with hopes of you but no certainties, I’d have been—encouraged.’

  ‘You were putting on an act. Doesn’t it occur to you that I was entitled to do the same?’

  His scrutiny of her face was calculating, as if he were weighing that up. ‘If you say so, then I hope so,’ he said. ‘I’d rather not think of your showing that degree of co-operation to any Tom, Dick, or Harry who made an experimental pass. So where do we go from here—into a state of war?’

  ‘How can we, placed as we are in relation to Cicely? If I can forget a piece of appalling taste, I should hope you can do the same.’

  Erle said, ‘Agreed. I only asked because in war, they say, you can’t afford to blunder twice, and I wanted you to know that I’ve no intention of offending again.’

  ‘Good,’ said Ruth. ‘Once was enough for something as meaningless as that.’

  Without replying, he turned with her and went ahead of her down the stairs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ruth supposed it must be Erle’s experience with temperamental women stars that enabled him to put the overnight incident behind him. She played her part too, and on the journey back their relationship could not have been more matter-of-fact.

  For some time after that Erle virtually disappeared into his own circles and Ruth’s and Cicely’s days took up their former pattern. Then, one evening when Cicely was out and Ruth was alone in the flat, she answered the door to find Cesare there.

  ‘Are you engaged?’ he asked diffidently.

  ‘No, I’m alone. Come in, won’t you?’ Ruth invited.

  ‘Thank you.’

  In her sitting-room he looked about him. ‘I’ve never ventured to call on you here before,’ he said.

  ‘No. Will you have a drink?’ For something to say in the slightly uneasy atmosphere, Ruth added, ‘Cicely is out, exploring on her own. But she’s been gone rather a long time. I hope she’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Thank you. Just a sherry.’ Cesare ran a finger round the foot of the glass she handed him and looked up at her before she sat down with her own drink. ‘I’m glad you’re alone. That’s how I hoped I might find you. Ruth—?’ he said, and stopped.

  ‘Yes?’ she prompted.

  ‘This. Don’t be offended by my asking, but Cicely was with you on your trip to Siena with Erle Nash?’

  Surprised, Ruth said, ‘Why, yes. It was to show her Siena and the Corso del Palio that Erle took us. Why?’

  Cesare looked relieved. ‘Because Agnese heard somewhere that it was you alone whom Erle took with him.’ Not believing that Agnese had heard anything of the sort, but had made it up in order to vilify her in Cesare’s eyes, Ruth remarked, ‘Why on earth should he have done that?’

  ‘Well,’ Cesare said uncomfortably, ‘one knows that Erle enjoys the company of women—’

  ‘And has plenty, without wanting mine on a business trip to Siena,’ put in Ruth.

  ‘Yes, exactly. I didn’t think it likely, and I’ll certainly warn Agnese against passing such a story on.’ Cesare paused and sighed. ‘I am worried about her. Every day now she tries to persuade me to go back to Quindereggio, refusing to see that I must wait on the chance that either the Casa is not sold, or if it is, that the new landlord will renew my lease. If not, I must get the best price I can for the goodwill of the stables, and return to Calabria with the capital.’

  ‘Even then, would it be wise to live on capital?’ queried Ruth.

  ‘I think we shouldn’t need to. With capital behind us we could expand our vineyards and our maize farm. If only Agnese would have a little patience!’ Cesare took a drink, then said, ‘Ruth—?’ and stopped again.

  This time her heartbeat quickened a little at the appeal in his use of her name. ‘Yes?’ she said at last.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ He set aside his glass and sat forward, his hands limp between his knees. ‘You should. I’m not good at hiding my feelings, my hopes. You must know what I am trying to say?’

  His look, his manner were too intense for her to pretend she didn’t understand. She said, ‘If you mean you’ve grown fond of me, too fond, I—’

  ‘Oh, Ruth, more than that! Fondness is for friends, but I love you. And if Agnese knows it of me, you must too!’

  Ruth said, ‘Of course I’ve known you like me as a friend. But no more than that. Does your sister know you’ve come to say this to me tonight?’

  ‘I didn’t tell her so. But we are very close, she and I, and she knows it has been in my mind for some time.’

  ‘Without my knowing, and ... I wish with all my heart you hadn’t said it now.’

  ‘Why not? To know yourself loved must be a little pleasing to you at least?’

  ‘It is. I’m grateful and—touched. But to be loved isn’t enough for marriage, if that’s what you are asking of me. One must love in return, and I—don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked again. ‘Because
you see the thought of a second marriage as a disloyalty to your first?’

  Though she knew it wasn’t so she clutched at the straw of that. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps—’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think a husband who had cared for you could grudge you a love like mine—after years. Or is it that you really don’t know, and I’ve rushed into telling you? Telling you before showing you—As I can, if you’ll let me.’

  He rose as he spoke and went over to her, taking her glass from her and drawing her to her feet. Then his arms went round her and he kissed her long and tenderly on her lips, her throat, her brow, evoking no pulse of response in her, no stirring of the blood.

  At last she said, ‘Don’t, please—’ and turned aside her head. He stood back from her, though not releasing her hands. His face looked suddenly old. ‘No?’ he said. ‘It’s not that I’ve rushed you or that you need time to learn to love again? You’re telling me that there’s nothing there for me at all?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not—like that. But I like you so much. Believe that, please. It’s the rest—the rest that you want from me that isn’t there.’

  He drew her to him again and she leaned against him gratefully. ‘Not your fault. You can’t help it. But I had to know,’ he said, his voice rough.

  ‘Yes. Will you tell Agnese what has happened between us?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t like to say this to you, but I think she may be—relieved.’

  Remembering her pledge to know nothing of Agnese’s hostile fears, Ruth said, ‘You think she wouldn’t want you to marry me?’

  ‘I think she doesn’t want me to marry at all. She is afraid of losing me to another woman.’

  ‘And I daresay you’d rather I kept away from the Casa as much as I can in future?’

  ‘Kept away? Oh no, that mustn’t happen. I can control myself, I promise you. Say you will come again as usual?’ he pleaded.

  She smiled at him. ‘Very well, I’ll come.’ (If he was generous enough to want her without strings, she wouldn’t let Agnese drive her away!) She disengaged herself gently and stood apart from him. Just in time, as it happened, to save them both embarrassment as the door opened and Cicely, followed by Erle, came in.

  ‘We met in the Trastevere. I was lost,’ Cicely explained. The two men exchanged nods and a word or two and almost at once Cesare excused himself.

  ‘You haven’t finished your drink,’ Erle pointed out.

  ‘Oh—no.’ Cesare swallowed it at a gulp and Ruth went down with him. ‘Must you tell them that you have refused me? I have my pride,’ he said at the door, and looked relieved when Ruth said she would say nothing about it.

  Cicely had gone to her room, leaving Erle alone. He refused a drink, saying he wasn’t staying. ‘By the way,’ he added, ‘when I told you I wasn’t suggesting you should send Cicely out on her own at midnight, I wasn’t implying that you were free to get rid of her at any hour up to midnight for your own convenience.’

  Ruth stared. ‘For my convenience? What do you mean? I didn’t send Cicely out anywhere.’

  ‘No? Well, I must say Fonte made as hasty an exit as if he’d been caught in a guilty assignation.’

  ‘You’re implying that I got rid of Cicely because I’d made a date here with Cesare and didn’t want her around?’

  ‘Seemed likely, I thought, when we found him here, and neither of you particularly at ease. Just standing, as if you’d sold all your chairs.’

  ‘He was on the point of leaving,’ Ruth lied.

  ‘And left—like the proverbial scalded cat. However, if you say so, I’d better believe that it wasn’t by your design that Cicely was wandering in a maze of alleys in the Trastevere as nearly as not after dark. If I hadn’t happened by in the car, she might have been there still.’

  ‘But she left here in full daylight, ages before Cesare arrived—without my expecting him.’

  ‘Just chanced to call in, h’m?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Or less—It’d be my bet that he was hoping Cicely wouldn’t be here. But why all the dudgeon? You’re an attractive woman, and with all the time you spend together, you can’t expect him not to have noticed it.’

  ‘All what time we’ve spent together?’ Ruth demanded. ‘Just while Cicely is out riding!’

  ‘I was quoting Agnese Fonte—that you and her brother frequently find the belvedere handy for its original purpose. She probably thinks you have designs on his title. Have you?’

  ‘Agnese Fonte thinks nothing of the sort!’ Ruth added, ‘And that’s about as impertinent a question as you’ve ever asked me!’

  ‘As if I expected you to answer it! Or as if you haven’t a perfect right to entertain Fonte here if you choose.’

  ‘To hear you accuse me, no one would believe you allowed me the right,’ Ruth retorted.

  ‘Ah, that was when I suspected you might be making a pawn of Cicely. I misjudged you.’ He paused, scrutinising her in the way she always found disturbing—eyes narrowed, that one brow lifted. ‘And I ask myself, who am I to grudge you that look you were wearing when we came in?’

  ‘What look do you mean?’ But she had flushed hotly, knowing.

  ‘The one that tells tales. The one I described to you once as a smug glow—that time, of Cicely after a session with her current boy-friend. Remember?’

  He didn’t wait for her answer to that. Mentally writhing, Ruth knew that it had given him the last word.

  The next time she went to the Casa, Cesare was not there, but Agnese sought her out, standing before her, an aggressive figure, to demand, ‘So you have refused my brother, he tells me?’

  Ruth looked up at her. ‘Yes. You’ll remember that I told you I should.’

  ‘Yet until he asked you, you continued to come here. And now that you have refused him, you still come! Have you no shame, signora? No heart? If you stayed away, he would soon forget you. I can promise you that.’

  ‘But I told you, if you remember, that if he asked me and I had to refuse him, I should do what he wished, and he particularly asked me to come as usual with Cicely. And as I should find it difficult to make other arrangements, I was grateful that he did,’ replied Ruth.

  ‘Tch! I am not troubled by your embarrassments,’ Agnese snapped. ‘Of course Cesare is hoping you may change your mind. That’s why he wants to continue to see you, and if you will not, you are being unfair to him.’

  Ruth said, ‘Isn’t that for him to say? Besides, it can’t be for very long. In the autumn there won’t be any problem, for I shan’t be coming after Cicely has gone back to England.’

  ‘The autumn! Let me tell you, signora, that if Cesare would listen to my good sense, we should not be here ourselves until then!’

  Ruth tried an olive-branch. ‘Then if the time is even shorter than I think, could you try not to see me as an enemy until then? After all, if I accepted your brother without loving him, I should do him a much greater wrong, should I not?’

  But Agnese was not to be placated. ‘That is an “if” which you claim has never arisen for you. You do him quite enough harm by continuing to put yourself in his way, and I warn you I shall not spare you in consequence.’

  ‘That, I wish I hadn’t to believe of you,’ said Ruth. ‘But you didn’t spare me, did you, in telling Cesare that I had gone alone with Signore Nash to Siena? Fortunately I was able to tell him myself that it wasn’t so.’

  ‘I thought the facts were as I said. After all, for Signore Erle Nash, it wouldn’t be the first time—’

  ‘But with me, at no time,’ Ruth denied crisply. ‘And I’d have hoped, signora, that you would be above such empty slander.’

  Agnese looked beyond Ruth’s shoulder. ‘It depends on what one has at stake,’ she said loftily. ‘For me, it is Cesare’s happiness.’

  It was clear that she honestly believed so. But when Ruth said quietly, ‘I care about that too,’ she spoke to the empty air. Agnese had stalked away.

 
; It was about a week later, when Cicely was out shopping with Ruth, that Cicely lingered at a street newsstand, walked on a few steps, then turned back.

  She fingered a flamboyant glossy magazine from a pile. ‘Vorrei questo. Quanto?’ she asked the newsvendor. He told her the price, she paid him, and brought the weekly to Ruth.

  Ruth said, ‘Lo Sussurro? It means The Whisper. It’s a scandal sheet—usually seven or eight articles, mostly all conjecture and all pretty scurrilous. Even Royalty doesn’t escape. What do you want with that?’

  ‘This,’ said Cicely, showing the cover, at which Ruth gasped. She was looking at a blown-up flashlight photograph in colour of herself and Erle at a restaurant table, the pupils of their eyes pinpointed by the flash, their heads close together. They were laughing.

  Cicely said, ‘I thought it would stop you in your tracks. It must have been at Siena.’

  ‘But—but—! You were there as well, two nights, and Jeremy and you the other!’

  ‘They seem to have cut me out. It was the second night. Look, you’re wearing the Roscuro dress you were so prickly about,’ Cicely pointed out.

  ‘Yes, I remember. But we were all laughing just then. This makes it look—’ Ruth read the caption—‘Who is the Attractive Redhead with Erle Nash at Siena’s Annual Palio? See inside for all that Lo Sussurro knows of the answer.’ Then she handed the paper back to Cicely. ‘All right, I can wait for nonsense like that until we get home,’ she said tersely.

  ‘They might have taken me with Erle,’ Cicely mourned.

  As soon as they reached the flat she produced the magazine again to Ruth. ‘What does it say inside?’ Ruth found a paragraph on a gossip page. Under the heading, ‘Our Cover Picture’, she read aloud, ‘The lady is the latest newcomer to Erle Nash’s circle, though not of it in the professional sphere. She is English, a widow; Lo Sussurro understands she is his childhood friend, now vividly returned to his life. She is currently playing hostess to his protégée, a very young blonde. They are both often to be seen in his company, and Lo Sussurro is curious enough to wonder which of milord’s favourites may expect to take a minor place in order to make room for one of them or both. Or can he bring his well-known flair to the problem, and keep them all happy?’