The Secret That Changed Everything

by Lucy Gordon

  That was how it should be, Charlotte thought. Not like this.

  ‘No prizes for guessing what she told him,’ Lucio observed wryly.

  ‘I suppose not.’

  He seemed to become suddenly decisive. ‘All right, let’s see if we can agree on something.’

  Here it was, she thought. He was going to offer her a financial settlement, and she was going to hate him for it.

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since this afternoon,’ he said. ‘And one thing’s clear to me. You mustn’t be alone. I want you to come and stay with me.’

  She frowned. ‘You mean—?’

  ‘At my home. I think you’ll like it there.’

  Seeing in her face that she was astonished he added, ‘You don’t have to decide now. Stay for a while, decide how you feel, then we’ll talk and you’ll make your decision.’

  Dumbfounded, she stared at him. Whatever she’d expected it wasn’t this.

  ‘Please, Charlotte. You can’t just go off into the distance and vanish. I want you where I can look after you and our child.’

  She drew a shaky breath. Of all he’d said, three words stood out.

  I want you.

  To be wanted, looked after. When had that last happened to her?

  ‘You surely understand that?’ Lucio said.

  ‘Yes, I—I guess I’m like you. I need time to get my head round it.’

  ‘But what’s difficult? We’re having a child together. That makes us a family. At the very least we should give it a try, see if it can be made to work.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so....’

  ‘Good. Then we’re agreed. Nice to get it settled. Shall we go?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, taking the hand he held out to her, and letting him draw her to her feet.

  The die was cast. She had no intention of leaving him now.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked as they stepped out into the street.

  ‘Yes—yes, everything’s all right.’

  He led her to where he’d parked the car and ushered her into the front passenger seat. In a few moments they were heading out of Florence and on the road that led the twenty miles to the estate.

  There was a full moon, casting its glow over the hills of Tuscany, and holding her spellbound by the beauty. Lucio didn’t speak and she was glad because she needed time to understand what had happened.

  I want you.

  Three simple words that had made it impossible for her to leave, at least for the moment. Later, things might be different, but for now she had nowhere else to go, and nobody else who wanted her.

  With a few miles to go Lucio pulled in at the side of the road and made a call on his cell phone.

  ‘Mamma? We’ll be there in a few minutes.... Fine....Thank you!’

  As he started up the engine and drove on he said, ‘Fiorella isn’t actually my mother. She and her husband, Roberto, were the owners of the estate when I arrived here twelve years ago. I worked for them, we grew close, and I nearly married their daughter, Maria. But she died, and Roberto followed her soon after, leaving the estate to me.’

  ‘But shouldn’t he have left it to his wife?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t steal her inheritance. He left her a fortune in money. She could go anywhere, do anything, but she chooses to live here because it’s where she was happy. She’s been like a mother to me, and I’m glad to have her.’

  Her head was in a whirl at these revelations. Lucio had been engaged to Fiorella’s daughter. How would she feel at the arrival of a woman carrying Lucio’s child, a child that in another life would have been her own grandchild? At the very least she would regard Charlotte as an interloper.

  ‘You should have told me this before,’ she said.

  ‘Why? She wants to meet you.’

  ‘But it’s an impossible situation. Her daughter—you—however can this be happening?’

  ‘Charlotte, please, I know it’s difficult, but don’t blame me. You’ve known about this pregnancy for weeks, but you sprang it on me without warning. I had to make decisions very quickly, and if I was clumsy I’m sorry. Don’t look daggers at me.’

  Since his eyes were fixed on the road he couldn’t see the daggers, but he’d known by instinct. She ground her teeth.

  What did Fiorella know about her? What had Lucio said? What had Elizabetta, the housekeeper, said after she’d arrived, asking for Lucio, earlier that day?

  In the distance she could see a palatial house, standing high on a hill and well lit so that she could recognise it as the one she’d visited. As they neared she could see two women standing just outside the front door. One of them was Elizabetta and the other must be Fiorella.

  The two women were totally still as the car drew up. Only when Lucio opened Charlotte’s door and handed her out did they come forward.

  ‘This is Charlotte,’ he said. ‘She’s come to stay with us.’

  Clearly neither of them needed to ask what he meant. Lucio had prepared the ground well. Elizabetta smiled and nodded, but Fiorella astonished Charlotte by opening her arms

  ‘You are welcome in this house,’ she said.

  Charlotte’s head spun. She’d been prepared for courtesy, but not this show of warmth from a woman whose daughter Lucio had once planned to marry. It was Maria who should have borne his children, which surely made her an interloper.

  She managed to thank Fiorella calmly, and the two women ushered her into the house while Lucio returned to the car for her bags.

  ‘A room has been prepared for you,’ Fiorella said. ‘And some food will be brought to you. Tomorrow we will all eat together, but tonight I think you are tired and need to sleep soon.’

  She was right, and Charlotte thanked her for her consideration. Secretly she guessed that there was another reason. Now that she’d set eyes on her, Fiorella wanted to take Lucio aside and demand more answers. And she herself would be glad to talk to him privately.

  He led the way up a flight of stairs, so grandiose that they confirmed her impression that this was more of a palace than a farmhouse. Then it was down a wide corridor lined with pictures, until they came to a door.

  ‘This is your room,’ Lucio said, leading the way in and standing back for her to see.

  It was a splendid place, large and extravagantly furnished, with a double bed that had clearly been freshly made up, and a door that led to a private bathroom.

  ‘This is kept for our most honoured guests,’ Lucio said. ‘I think you’ll be comfortable here.’

  ‘I’m sure I will be,’ she said politely.

  Fiorella appeared, followed by Elizabetta pushing a table on wheels, laden with a choice of food, fruit juice and coffee.

  ‘Have a good night’s sleep,’ Fiorella said. ‘And we will get to know each other tomorrow. Would you like Elizabetta to unpack your bags?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Charlotte said quickly.

  She wasn’t sure why she refused. But while she was still learning about this place and the people in it some instinct warned her to stay on guard.

  ‘Right, we’ll leave you alone to get settled,’ Lucio said. ‘Go to bed soon. It’s late.’

  She would have preferred him to stay, but of course he must sort out final details with Fiorella. He would come to her later.

  She ate the supper, which had clearly been created by someone who knew her tastes, meaning that Lucio had been at work here, too. Then she unpacked, hung up her clothes in the elegant wardrobes and took a shower. It felt wonderful. When she stepped out her flesh was singing and she felt better physically than she had for some time.

  What to wear to greet Lucio when he came? Nothing seductive. That would send out too obvious a message. The nightdress she chose was silk but not seductively low-cut. Some women would have called it boring. Charlotte called it useful. They could talk again, but this time it would be different. She no longer felt the antagonism he’d provoked in her earlier. Tonight would decide the future, and sudd
enly that future looked brighter than it had for months.

  It was only a few hours since she’d arrived at the estate, a confident woman, certain that she knew who and what she was. She would explain the facts to Lucio, they would make sensible arrangements and that would be that.

  But nothing had worked out as she planned, and now here she was, in unknown territory. She knew there was much to make her grateful. Where she might have found hostility she was treated as an ‘honoured guest’. Lucio wanted their child, and was set on being a good father, which made him better than many men. But he was focused on the baby, not herself. What would happen between the two of them was something only time would tell.

  She threw herself down on the bed, staring into space. One question danced through her mind. How much had Maria meant to him? How much did her memory mean to him now? He’d spoken of her without apparent emotion, but that might have been mere courtesy towards herself. Or perhaps they had planned no more than a marriage of convenience.

  Surely that wasn’t important. How could it matter to her?

  Yet, disconcertingly, it did.

  Face it, she thought. He’s attractive. You thought so from the first moment in Rome, otherwise things wouldn’t have happened as they did. What was it someone used to say to me? ‘When you’ve made a decision, have the guts to live with the result.’ I made a decision, and this is the result. Perhaps even a happy one.

  We could even fall in love. I’m not in love with him now, but I know I could be. But isn’t that a kind of love already? Well, it’ll be interesting finding out.

  She smiled to herself.

  And I could win him. Couldn’t I?

  I’ll know when I see him tonight. He’ll be here soon.

  But hours passed and Lucio did not appear.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FROM his bedroom window Lucio could see the window of Charlotte’s room. The blinds were drawn but he could make out her shadow moving back and forth against the light, until finally the light was extinguished.

  He went to bed, thinking about her, lying alone in the darkness, just as he was himself. Was she struggling with confusion? Did they have that, too, in common?

  He wasn’t proud of himself. His reaction to her news had been fear so intense that at first it had held him frozen. After she’d left he’d spent hours walking back and forth through the alleys of vines trying to believe it, trying not to believe it, trying to decide how he felt. Failing in everything.

  But as the hours passed he’d come to a decision. Life had offered him something to hold on to, something that could have meaning. A drowning man who saw a life belt within his grasp might have felt as he did then.

  Looking back to the start of the day he marvelled at how clear and settled his life had seemed, and how quickly that illusion had vanished into nothing.

  But that was how it had always been.

  His childhood in Sicily had been contented, even sometimes happy, although he’d always sensed that his parents meant more to each other than he meant to either of them. This troubled him little at the time. It even gave him a sense of freedom. And if there was also a faint sense of loneliness he dealt with that by refusing to admit it.

  But at last he became aware that the father he adored inspired fear in others, although Lucio couldn’t understand why. Why should anyone be afraid of a lawyer, no matter how successful? But he’d come to realise that Mario Constello’s clients were at best dubious, at worst criminal. They were used to getting their own way by threats, if necessary channelled through their lawyer.

  The discovery caused something deep in Lucio to rebel in disgust. When he challenged his father, Mario was honestly bewildered. What could possibly be wrong with dishonesty and violence if it made you rich?

  After that it was only a matter of time before Lucio fled. He begged his mother to come with him but she refused. She knew the worst of her husband, but even for the sake of her son she couldn’t bear to leave him.

  ‘Mamma, he’s a monster,’ Lucio had protested.

  ‘Not to me, my son. Never to me. You’re so young, only seventeen. One day you will understand. You’ll learn that love isn’t “reasonable”. It doesn’t obey the commands of the brain, but only of the heart.’

  ‘But if your heart tells you to do something that could injure you?’ the boy had demanded fiercely. ‘Isn’t that time to heed the brain and tell the heart to be silent?’

  Her answering smile had contained a world of mysterious knowledge.

  ‘If you can do that,’ she said softly, ‘then you do not really love. But you will, my darling. I know you will. You are warm-hearted and generous and one day you’ll know what it is to love someone beyond reason. It will hit you like a lightning bolt and nothing will be the same again. And you should be glad, for without it your life would be empty.’

  To the last moment Lucio hoped that she would choose him over his father, but she had not. On the night he slipped away she’d watched him go. His last memory of his old home was her standing motionless at the window until he was out of sight.

  He’d headed for the port of Messina and took a boat across the straits to the Italian mainland. From there he’d travelled north, taking jobs where he could, not earning much but living in reasonable comfort on the money his mother had given him. In Naples and Rome he spent some time simply enjoying himself, and when he reached Tuscany the last of his money had gone. Someone advised him to seek work in one of the local vineyards, and he slipped away to take a sneaky look at the Vigneto Constanza, to see what kind of work it was.

  There he’d collapsed from hunger and exhaustion, and by good fortune had been discovered by Roberto Constanza, who’d taken him home.

  He’d spent a week being nursed back to health by Signor Constanza’s wife, Fiorella, and sixteen-year-old daughter, Maria. His abiding memory was of opening his eyes to see Maria’s anxious face looking down at him.

  When he’d recovered he’d gone to work in the vineyard and loved it from the first moment. Unlike the other employees he’d lived in the house, and it had become an open secret that he was regarded as the son the Constanzas had never had.

  He stayed in touch with his mother, but his father cut him off. Lucio’s departure, with its implied criticism, had offended him, and the only message from him said, ‘You are no longer my son.’ Lucio’s response was, ‘That suits me perfectly.’

  His connection with his parents had been finally severed three years after he left them. Someone with a grudge against Mario had broken into his home and shot him. His mother, too, had died because, according to a witness, she had thrown herself between her husband and his killer.

  ‘She could have escaped,’ the witness had wept. ‘Why didn’t she do that?’

  Because she didn’t want to live without him, Lucio thought sadly. Not even for my sake. In the end he was the one she chose.

  There was no inheritance. Despite his life of luxury Mario had been deeply in debt, and when everything was repaid there was nothing for his son.

  ‘Perhaps that’s really why your mother chose to die with him,’ Roberto suggested gently. ‘She faced a life of poverty.’

  ‘She could have come to me,’ Lucio suggested. ‘I wouldn’t have let my mother starve.’

  ‘But she loved you too well to be a burden on you,’ Roberto said.

  But the truth, as Lucio knew in some place deep inside himself, was that she had not loved him enough. Life without her adored husband would never be worth living, even if she was cared for by a loving, generous son. For a second time she had rejected Lucio.

  After that it was easier to accept Roberto and Fiorella as his parents. Looking back he sensed that that was the moment when his life here had truly begun.

  The years that followed were happier than he had dared to hope. Everything about being a vintner appealed to him. He was a willing pupil, eager for whatever Roberto had to teach. From almost the beginning he had ‘the eye’, the mysterious instinct that told him which
vines were outstanding, and which merely good. He sensed every stage of ripening, knew to the hour when the harvest should begin. Roberto, a vintner of long experience, began to listen to him.

  Sweetest of all was the presence of Maria, her parents’ pride and joy. A daughter so adored might have become spoiled and petulant. She was saved from that fate by the wicked, cheeky humour that infused her life, and which drew him to her.

  From the first moment he’d thought her pretty and charming, but at sixteen she seemed little more than a child. For a while they were like brother and sister, scrapping, challenging each other. She was popular with the local young men and never seemed short of an escort.

  Lucio, who was also popular with the opposite sex, studied her boyfriends cynically and warned her which ones to be wary of. But there was no emotion in their camaraderie.

  He still relived the night when everything changed. Maria was getting ready for an evening out with a young man. He was handsome, exciting, known locally as a catch, and she was triumphant at having secured his attention.

  Lucio had come home late after a hard day. He was tired, his clothes were grubby and he was looking forward to collapsing when he walked into the main room downstairs and found Maria preening herself at the mirror. Hearing him approach, she’d swung round.

  ‘What do you think?’ she demanded. ‘Will I knock him sideways?’

  For a moment he couldn’t speak. The vision of beauty before him seemed to empty his brain. Gone was the jeans-clad kid sister with whom he shared laughter. Laughter died and enchantment took its place. It was the moment his mother had foreseen, the bolt of lightning, and everything in him rejoiced.

  But she was unchanged, he was dismayed to notice. She teased and challenged him just like before, went on dates with other men and generally convinced Lucio that he’d be a fool to speak of his feelings.

  And why should she want him? he asked himself bitterly. She was a rich girl and he was just one of her father’s labourers, despite the privilege with which he was treated. Her escorts were similarly wealthy, arriving in expensive clothes and sweeping her off to luxurious restaurants.