Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  “As you say,” the bald man said in friendly fashion. “What would you care to drink?”

  “A gin and tonic perhaps.”

  Barsini clapped his hands and a servant appeared from behind a door at the rear of the room. He gave orders for drinks and then came out on the balcony to join her. He wore a white linen suit of finest cut, silk shirt with hard collar and a crimson tie with a pattern of tiny yellow dragons on it.

  He said, “I could easily pretend I was standing here with Irma.”

  “We look alike,” she said. “But we are quite different.”

  “Your British upbringing,” he suggested. “The British are a cold lot.”

  “You think so?” They were standing by the balcony railing above the river. She gave him a challenging smile.

  “It has been my experience,” he said. “But you have more courage than Italian women.”

  “I wouldn’t want to claim that,” she said.

  The servant brought their drinks. The Count handed her the gin and tonic and took his own from the tray. Sipping his drink, he studied her and said, “So you wished to know me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you can help me.”

  Barsini stroked his short beard. “Why should I?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that yet.”

  “Well, we won’t worry about it,” he said. “Go on.”

  She looked at him straight in those bright, nervous eyes. “What do you know about the theft of the jeweled Madonna?”

  He frowned. “Jeweled Madonna?”

  She said, “You needn’t pretend surprise for my benefit.”

  Barsini smiled slowly. “As I said, you Englishwomen are not afraid of anything.”

  “I’m afraid of being attacked,” she said. “And I have been several times bacause some people wrongly think I have that stolen Madonna.”

  The bald man smiled on. “Suppose I tell you I know nothing of what you are saying?”

  “I’ll know you’re a liar.”

  He winced. “So unladylike!”

  “My English showing again,” she said.

  “But the English have great ladies,” he told her. “No. I think it must be a family thing. Irma also has a great deal of spirit.”

  “What about the theft?”

  Barsini sipped his drink and stared out across the river. He said, “Have you noticed that Rome is built along this ancient Tiber.”

  “Please let us keep to the subject!” Della insisted.

  He gave her an amused look which was close to being contemptuous. He said, “You wish to play a game?”

  “If finding out the truth about that theft is a game.”

  He glanced away again, sipping his drink. He said, “Did you ever hear of a man called Brizzi?”

  “No.”

  “He is a master thief! Notorious, not only in Italy, but in all the world.”

  “What about him?” she asked.

  Still not looking at her, but staring out at the river, he continued, “I have heard, and this is hearsay, that not too long ago Brizzi masterminded the theft of all his long career. With the aid of a renegade priest formerly employed by the Vatican, he managed to steal one of the great treaures of the Church, the Madonna of St. Cecilia.”

  “The jeweled Madonna?”

  “Yes. There was some confusion after the theft and, unhappily for Brizzi, the Madonna fell into other hands. He is on the lookout for it and so are his henchmen. In fact, many people want it.”

  “Including you?”

  He at last turned to her with a cold smile. “Why not?” She said, “Why do these criminals think I have it?”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  “Certainly not!”

  “Then I cannot imagine why you have been bothered. These men are clever. You might call them supercriminals.

  They make few mistakes. They must have some reason for thinking you know where the Madonna is.”

  “I know nothing about it,” she said angrily. “And I wish you would let them know.”

  He shrugged. “I can deliver your message but I cannot promise to make them believe it.”

  “They must!”

  “They are not all that agreeable,” Barsini said. “And you are very young to die!”

  She put aside any attempt at discretion and, facing him, accused, “I think you masterminded that theft! That there is no Brizzi! And that you gave the stolen Madonna to Irma to send to me in England. But your messenger was intercepted and I never received it. Now no one will believe me!”

  “You accuse me of the theft?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is a very serious accusation,” the bald man said, touching his beard in his absentminded fashion. “But I will not hold it against you.”

  “How kind of you!”

  He went on, “Have you discussed this remarkable view of the theft with Irma?”

  “No. I have said nothing to her.”

  “Why not?”

  “I believe you to be the brains behind the plot. Prince Raphael says my sister has not been herself since she came under your influence.”

  The tall man laughed lightly. “The Prince is such an innocent.”

  “Do you say that because he is decent?”

  “No. I say it because he is stupid. And I warn you I have a total dislike for stupidity.”

  “You think me stupid as well?”

  Barsini said, “You have to be to come here making such mad accusations!”

  “I’m not sure they are so mad,” Della told him firmly.

  He smiled again. “Still, I like your spirit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I will help you if I can.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I hoped you might.”

  “I will make inquiries in certain quarters,” Barsini went on. “Perhaps I will find something of value for you.”

  “I will be grateful.”

  Barsini’s eyes, with their mad brightness, fixed on her again and his gaze was so eerie it sent a chill down her spine. She found herself speculating if he might be a drug addict of some sort.

  He said, “I will expect to be paid for helping you.”

  “I understood you are a very rich man.”

  “I will not expect payment in money,” he said quietly. “But I shall expect your gratitude.”

  She said, “You will have it as long as the form it takes is not too personal.”

  “I have a gathering tonight,” the bald man said. “Your sister will play an important role in it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” he said, staring at Della. “I would like you to be here. You might discover an entire new meaning to your life.”

  “I’ve never been interested in Satanism!”

  “My version is rather different from most,” he assured her. “I have found great beauty in the worship of Satan. And what better spot to indulge in his worship than here in Rome, the seat of the cult founded by his archenemy.”

  She turned her back on him. “It does not interest me.”

  “I have my price,” he said. “If I’m to look into the Madonna theft.”

  “Do something for me,” she begged him.

  “My condition stands.”

  “That I must be at you gathering?”

  “Yes. It will do you good to see another side of this Holy City.”

  “I’m sure it is another side.”

  “Also, you ought to be especially interested. Your sister is playing a big role in tonight’s proceedings.”

  “Oh?”

  “Another reason for you to join us,” he urged her.

  She turned to give him a searching look. “I will in no way have to take part?”

  “In no way,” he assured her. “You will be merely an onlooker.”

  “And you will try to get some word about the Madonna?”

  “I have said I would,” he assured her.

  “Very well,” she agreed, fee
ling at the same moment that she was making a major mistake. “I will come.”

  The bald man looked pleased. “Excellent! It will be the experience of your life! We shall discuss it afterward.”

  Della was about to make a reply when her twin sister came out onto the balcony to join them. There was a smile on her pale face. She said, “Well, you two look as if you’d managed to get along splendidly.”

  Barsini chuckled and stroked his beard. “I had to keep telling myself I was not with you.”

  Irma said, “I wondered what you’d think about us.”

  “I’m delighted,” the bald man said. “To think there are two beauties such as you!”

  Della told her sister, “The Count has persuaded me to come to the gathering tonight.”

  A passing shadow of concern crossed her sister’s face. She gave the Count a glance. “Do you think she will enjoy it?”

  He towered above them as he said, “I’m sure she will find it educational.”

  “I see,” Irma said, at once more subdued.

  She remained in that mood for much of the remaining conversation on the balcony. Then it was time for them to leave and the Count escorted them all the way down to their carriage.

  He helped them into the vehicle and for a moment at Della’s side. He said, “I did not tell you. The theme of our gathering tonight is a variation on the sacrifice of the Vestal Virgins.”

  Then with another of his enigmatic smiles he stood back for them to drive away. He waved as they were driven up the hilly, cobblestoned street leading from the villa. Della was startled by this final statement on his part.

  She turned to her sister. “What does he mean?”

  Irma grimaced. “It is his idea of a joke.”

  “There was some meaning behind it,” she insisted. “Why not tell me?”

  Irma said, “He has devised a ritual. You will see it. I will be part of it and you may not approve. It will be like seeing yourself involved.”

  “I am attending only as an onlooker.”

  Irma smiled at her grimly. “That was my role at first.”

  “Tell me about the ceremony.”

  “I cannot,” she said. “We are bound to secrecy. But I will tell you about the original Vestal Virgins. The sect was suppressed in A.D. 394 after having flourished for eleven centuries. The temple virgins were chosen from among the women of the best families, and they were allowed to return to ordinary life after thirty years if they wished. If in the time they were dedicated to the temple they had intercourse with a man, it was termed incest. The punishment for it was being buried alive.”

  “Not a pretty fable,” Della said.

  “The woman was taken to the place of execution in a cart. Then she was dragged down stairs leading to a crypt but no further. It was not to be said that a Vestal Virgin died by force or starvation. Food to last for days was placed in the tomb. The condemned woman walked down the stairs, then they were quickly pulled up after her. Then the masons quickly wall up the door.”

  “Horrible!” Della said. “I hope Barsini treats his Vestal Virgins in a different manner.”

  “You may be sure of that,” Irma said with a bitter smile. “But in the end I wonder if what happens doesn’t amount to almost the same thing.”

  Della said, “And you are going to be part of this?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t!”

  Irma shook her head. “Too late now! I have made my vows. I’m one of the sisterhood! I cannot disobey!”

  Della stared at the other girl with concern. “What are you saying?”

  Irma’s mood seemed to change quickly. She said, “You must not pay attention to my morbidity. I’ve been trying to frighten you.”

  “You managed very well.”

  “Forgive me,” her sister said. “I have these spells of depression. You will grow to expect them from me. And if you do not wish to come tonight there is no need for you to be there.”

  “On the contrary,” she said. “I must be there.”

  “Then you will be responsible for whatever you see that may upset you.”

  The carriage had reached the door of the Palazzo Sanzio. Della had no time left to question her sister further. But these last solemn words from her, together with the eerie account of the Vestal Virgins left her with an eerie feeling about the night ahead.

  Chapter Ten

  Shortly before dinner the weather changed. The sky became so dark that the midget Guido went hurriedly about the old palace lighting candles. Thunder rumbled in the distance and there were several great showers of rain. To Della, dressing in her room, it seemed that the abrupt change in the weather might be a premonition of the dark journey she was planning that night.

  She was haunted by the vision of the bald Count Barsini with his short, black beard and cruel smile. And she worried that she might have made a mistake in agreeing to go to the Satanist gathering at his villa. But it was too late to back out now. She hoped that by going along with Barsini, he might reveal the truth about the missing Madonna. It was her belief that he was the central figure in the theft despite his reference to a superthief known as Brizzi.

  Irma also worried her. Her newly found sister seemed in a tense, troubled state. And tonight, by her own admission, she was taking part in the Black Magic ritual. Della was sickened by this decadence but she felt she must be part of it if she were to rescue Irma from Barsini—and put an end to the situation that made Della herself the target of the thugs seeking the missing Madonna.

  She had chosen a black gown for this evening, thinking it might be appropriate. It was low-cut and revealed her shoulders and the fullness of her breasts. She considered it her most daring dress.

  There was a knock on her door and she rose from her dressing table to open it. Henry Clarkson, already in white tie and tails for dinner, came in and gave her an admiring look.

  He said, “You must really be trying to turn Prince Raphael’s head tonight!”

  She felt her cheeks crimson. “You are all wrong.”

  He was smiling. “That is a most enticing gown.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve promised to visit Count Barsini’s villa tonight with Irma. He is entertaining a few friends and he has invited us. I want to look my most sophisticated.”

  Henry’s pleasant face creased. “You’re going to Barsini’s?”

  “Yes. Shortly after dinner. Prince Sanzio is going to be playing chess With Prince Raphael. You can watch the game.”

  The young lawyer looked shocked. “You mean Prince Raphael and I are not invited to Barsini’s?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then you musn’t go,” he said.

  Della showed surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “You know Barsini’s reputation! He’s infamous!”

  “I’m going with Irma. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Henry began to pace back and forth. “I hardly think so. He already has her under his influence. I don’t want you to be next.”

  “Never fear,” she said. “I met Count Barsini this afternoon and I put my cards on the table. I told him I was almost sure he was behind the Madonna theft and I wanted him to call off the thugs who’ve been hounding me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He promised to make inquiries. He pretended to know little about it and blamed a thief known as Brizzi, along with some renegade priest.”

  Henry looked thoughtful. “That sort of fits in with what Father Anthony told you. He said that whoever committed the crime had help from the inside.”

  “Yes. That is why I’m hopeful. So I agreed to attend Barsini’s gathering tonight and he, in turn, said he’d try to have some information for me.”

  “I don’t like any of it!” Henry said.

  Della went to him and patted him on the lapel of his evening coat. Smiling up at him, she said, “You mustn’t try to interfere with this. It is our best chance to clear up this mystery.”

  He sighe
d. “I shall worry about you until you are safely back. And I give you permission to go on the condition you promise to leave Rome as soon as possible.”

  “Leave Rome?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Everything is settled as far as Irma is concerned. It is time for us to go back to London. She can come with us if she wishes; if she doesn’t want to leave, let her remain here with the old Prince.”

  “We can talk about it tomorrow,” she promised.

  Her promise placated him enough to agree to her going to Barsini’s. Though had he guessed there was to be a Satanist meeting, she was sure he would have refused to allow it. Irma was quiet and nervous in manner. She was wearing a chic gown in dark green. Prince Raphael had arrived and did most of the talking at the dinner table.

  Later the young Prince took her aside and asked, “Is it true you are going to Barsini’s tonight with Irma?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? You know he is notorious.”

  She said, “I’m starting a campaign to get Irma away from him.”

  The handsome dark man said, “Barsini is clever. Be sure it doesn’t wind up with you joining Irma as his slave.”

  “No chance.”

  Raphael said, “Henry is very upset about your plan. And I also am worried.”

  “Please don’t say anything more about it,” she said. “Get Prince Sanzio busy with the chess match so he doesn’t note our leaving.”

  “After last night I dislike seeing you leave here after darkness,” Raphael said. “And especially on a dark, wet night such as this. A good night for criminals.”

  “We shall take the carriage straight to Barsini’s villa,” she promised.

  They waited until the chess match began and then quietly went out to the waiting carriage. The old coachman had brought out the closed vehicle because of the rain. Guido was there to open the carriage door and let them in.

  As the carriage moved through the rainy blackness of the streets Irma gave her a worried glance. She said, “I feel responsible for your getting into this. You can still return to the palace if you like.”

  “No!”

  “Do you realize what you are getting into?”

  “I’m not afraid,” Della told her.

  “You may feel differently later,” was Irma’s comment. “If you do, don’t be afraid to run. Not even at the last moment.”