As he approached it, Lord Mere found his heart beating with excitement not only because he had saved Florencia but also because he would see her.
He found it hard to believe that he had been so successful and that it was not a question of being frustrated and having to try again.
The film and the prints were in his tailcoat pocket and Vincente was dead.
He reasoned that since the Prince’s bodyguard was out of the way and the garden of the West Tower was at the opposite end of the house from the rooms occupied by his father, it might be morning before his body was discovered.
There would obviously be a great deal of consternation, but it was unlikely to be suspected immediately that he had been killed by another man.
As those who lived with him must have been well aware, he both drank and took drugs and it would therefore be assumed at first, at any rate, that he had fallen over the ramparts without there being any question of foul play.
Only the young cousin might reveal that there had been some sort of fight between him and a man whom she could not identify.
But even if that all came to light tomorrow, Lord Mere reasoned, the pride of the Gorizias would not wish to admit that the Prince had been vanquished in a fight or murdered by some unknown assailant.
It would be far more dignified to have it announced that he had died of a heart attack or perhaps following an accident that had left him unconscious in the night air with the result that he had developed pneumonia.
He was well aware that the Florentine aristocrats were so proud that it would be imperative for them to hide from the world anything that belittled one of their number in any way.
He could therefore be almost certain that Prince Vincente’s death would be reported in the most unsensational terms possible.
The carriage came to a standstill outside the arched gateway that was the entrance to the Palazzo.
When the footman rapped on the door, it was opened by a surprised servant, obviously a young man who had not often been on night duty and was not quite certain what to do about visitors who arrived at such a late hour.
Lord Mere jumped out of the carriage as soon as the door opened and said,
“I have to see Her Highness the Princess Florencia immediately! Will you kindly inform her that I am here and ask her to speak with me?”
The man looked indecisive and then said,
“Her Highness is in the Chapel, my Lord, but I’ll give her your message.”
Lord Mere thought that was what he might have guessed and he said quickly,
“No, I will go to her myself! Stay where you are!”
He spoke with a note of authority in his voice and the servant did not question it.
Lord Mere turned and walked swiftly along the passages that were darkly shadowed and lit only by an occasional gas globe or more frequently by a candle in a silver sconce.
He knew where the Chapel was, because the Prince had shown it to him on their tour of inspection for him to admire the carved reredos, which framed an exceptionally beautiful picture by Taddeo Gaddi of the Crucifixion.
As Lord Mere reached the door, he found it ajar and saw that the Chapel was lit only by a number of candles burning at the front of the statues of the Saints and by the light in the Sanctuary.
It was, however, easy to distinguish the slim figure of Florencia with her golden hair hidden by a black veil, kneeling on the Chancel steps in front of the altar.
Lord Mere knew that she was praying for him and he felt a thrill of gratitude that he had found, when he had least expected it, somebody so perfect and so completely what he wanted as his wife.
He knew that no other woman of his acquaintance, or of those who had professed their love for him, would be kneeling at this hour of the night in prayer on his behalf.
Quietly, making little sound with his feet on the thick carpet that ran the length of the centre aisle, he walked forward until he reached Florencia.
She was concentrating so deeply on the prayer she was sending up to Heaven that her head was thrown back a little, her hands were clasped palm to palm in the age-old attitude of prayer and her eyes were closed.
He thought as he looked at her that only Raphael could have depicted her as she was, looking like Mary hearing the Annunciation and pleading with her body, heart and soul as she prayed.
Then, as Lord Mere knelt down beside Florencia, she was suddenly aware of him and he felt a tremor run through her as if she came back to earth from the sky.
Slowly she turned her head to look at him.
Their eyes met and in a low voice which was deep and moved because of the sanctity of the place they were in and because she was sacred too, Lord Mere said,
“Your prayers, my darling, have been answered!”
For a moment she stared at him incredulously.
Then, as the tears came into her eyes, she whispered,
“You mean – ?”
“Your father is safe and so are you!”
She looked at him for a long moment and then turned her head as it had been before, closed her eyes and, as her lips moved silently, Lord Mere knew that she was expressing her gratitude to the Power that had helped them.
He too said a quick prayer, at the same time making a note in his mind that on his return to England he would give a thank-offering to the Church that would express what he felt far more effectively than he could do in words.
Then, as he rose to his feet, Florencia rose too.
After she had genuflected to the altar, she slipped her hand into his and they walked from the Chapel side by side.
There was a sitting room opposite the Chapel that also contained some fine pictures and, as Florencia opened the door, Lord Mere saw that it was lit only by a fire that was still burning in the huge fireplace.
He guessed that it was where the family had been sitting earlier in the evening, but for the moment all he was concerned with was Florencia.
As he put his arms around her, she melted against him, saying in a hesitating little voice,
“Is it true – is it really true – that you have – saved Papa?”
“I have saved you both!”
Then his lips were on hers and he kissed her passionately and demandingly, until he felt as though they were both in a cloudless sky and there were no more problems anywhere to frighten them.
Only when he raised his head did Florencia whisper,
“I-I cannot believe it! Are you – sure that – Vincente will make no more – demands upon us?”
Lord Mere drew in his breath.
Then knowing that there was still a great deal more to do before they were completely out of the woods, he said,
“I must speak to your father, my darling, and as there is very little time for everything that has to be done, I think you must take me to him now, even though I want to stay here kissing you for the rest of tonight!”
He felt a little tremor run through her at his words and pulled her against him saying,
“I love you! God, how I love you! But there are still things to be done and however difficult it may be I must not kiss you again until you know what my plans are.”
She knew that he was speaking seriously and he loved the way she accepted what he had said without argument.
Instead she put out her hand to draw him from the room saying as she did so,
“Papa has gone to bed. But because he is so worried, I suspect that he will be sitting up in front of the fire as he does every evening because he finds it impossible to sleep.”
Lord Mere did not reply.
He merely let Florencia lead him down the shadowy passages and up a staircase that led, he knew, to the private apartments of the family.
They stopped in front of an impressive door on which Florencia knocked gently and when there was no reply she opened it.
She walked into a large room with a huge four-poster bed at the far end of it, which Lord Mere saw at a quick glance was unoccupied.
Sitting
in a high-backed armchair in front of the dying fire was the Prince and, although there was a newspaper on his knees, he was in fact asleep.
Florencia moved towards him and, even before she reached him and spoke, the Prince’s head came up with a jerk and he said,
“I was just dozing. What do you want, my dearest?”
“Lord Mere is here, Papa, and he has something to tell you.”
The Prince sat upright and Lord Mere followed Florencia across the room.
He saw that the Prince was wearing a heavy velvet robe over his silk nightshirt and, even dressed as he was, he looked very distinguished.
There were, however, dark lines of anxiety and hopelessness round his eyes and the hand he held out to Lord Mere trembled.
“Forgive me if I don’t stand up to greet you, my Lord,” he said courteously.
“I must apologise for calling at such a late hour,” Lord Mere replied, “but I have something to give you which I think you have been wanting for some time.”
As he spoke, he drew from the pocket of his tailcoat the prints and the film that he had taken from the safe in Vincente’s bedroom.
He handed them to the Prince, who stared at them incredulously and Florencia, giving a little cry, went down on her knees beside her father’s chair.
Then she looked up at Lord Mere and he saw the tears that were running down her cheeks.
“How can you have done anything so incredible – so wonderful as to bring these to us?” she cried.
The Prince was still staring down in a dazed manner at what he held in his hands and Lord Mere said,
“May I suggest, Your Highness, that you throw them immediately into the fire then we can all of us forget that they ever existed.”
The Prince did not speak and he went on,
“I think some of the prints do not concern you, as I brought from the safe everything that was there. But they too and the films should be destroyed so that, when Prince Vincente’s victims learn of his death, they will know that they are free.”
“Vincente is dead?”
The Prince spoke for the first time since Lord Mere had given him the prints and the words seemed to ring out almost like a pistol shot.
“He is dead!” Lord Mere repeated. “I think there is every likelihood that his death will not be discovered until far later in the night or perhaps not until tomorrow morning.”
He paused before he added,
“I want Your Highness to understand that in the circumstances it would be far the best from Florencia’s point of view if when the news is broken you have already left Florence.”
The Prince drew in his breath, but his voice was quite calm and steady as he asked,
“Where do you wish us to go?”
“I want you to rouse the household and inform them that you have received news that a close relative, or perhaps a very dear friend of the family, is critically ill in Paris,” Lord Mere replied. “Then you, Florencia and, if you wish it, Prince Antonio will leave on the first train for France.”
“And when we reach Paris?”
Lord Mere smiled.
“When you do so, I do not wish you to stay there, but to go immediately to England, where I would like you to be my guests in my house in Oxfordshire.”
He looked at Florencia as he said,
“It is there that Florencia and I can be married very quietly and later, when all the excitement and chatter there will be over Prince Vincente’s death has died down, our marriage can be announced to the world.”
With a look of surprise on his face the Prince listened to what Lord Mere had to say.
Then he turned towards Florencia to ask,
“Is this what you want, my dear?”
“Oh, yes, Papa! I love him and now that Vincente is dead there is no reason for me not to say so.”
The Prince did not reply. He merely rose to his feet and, taking the prints and the films from Lord Mere, he threw them into the fire.
The moment they touched the dying embers the celluloid burst into flames and the light from it illuminated the whole room.
Lord Mere’s eyes were on Florencia and, as he lifted her to her feet, she turned and hid her face against his shoulder.
“It’s all over,” he said quietly, “and now I must leave you and go back to the villa. I will depart immediately on the first available train, before yours if possible, for it would be a mistake, as you will understand, for us to travel together.”
He looked down at her and then continued,
“I shall, however, be waiting for you in Paris and from there we will proceed to England where, as quickly as possible, you will become my wife.”
He felt her body tremble with what he knew was excitement.
Then, as she looked at him, the tears welled up in her eyes and, as her cheeks became wet with them, Lord Mere thought that no woman could be more lovely or more entrancing.
They just looked at each other and the Prince turned from where he had been contemplating the flames that were destroying the false evidence against him and said,
“I do not know, my Lord, how I can ever thank you.”
“I can answer that very easily,” Lord Mere said. “I want Florencia to be mine and I would also be very grateful if you will follow and will bring to England with you the Florentine necklace. It will cause my sister great distress if her husband realises that she has lost it.”
“I can only apologise – ” the Prince began humbly.
“No, please,” Lord Mere interrupted, “there is no need. I perfectly understand the circumstances, Your Highness, that made it imperative for your son to retrieve the necklace. But now I suggest that before you leave you instruct Giovanni to make an exact copy of the necklace.”
“Copy it?” the Prince asked in a puzzled voice.
“When he has done so, we will give the copy to my sister and I am certain that my brother-in-law will not have the slightest idea that it is not the original, while the one that means so much to your family can then be restored to its proper place.”
The Prince drew in his breath.
“There are no words to thank you with for your kindness.”
“I will ask Florencia to do that,” Lord Mere said with a smile, “if you will permit her to accompany me to the carriage that is waiting for me below, while you make all the arrangements necessary to leave as quickly as possible. It is unnecessary for me to emphasise that it must appear as if you had left Florence before you had any idea that Prince Vincente was dead.”
The Prince nodded.
“Yes, of course. I will do exactly as you say.”
He put out his hand as he spoke and Lord Mere shook it.
Then he drew Florencia from the room, aware as he did so that the Prince was already tugging the bell-rope to summon his valet.
Lord Mere walked with Florencia back along the passage that led to the main staircase and just before they reached it he stopped and, taking her in his arms, he kissed her until both their hearts were beating violently.
Now he knew that she belonged to him completely.
“I – love you!” Florencia whispered. “I love you and – no one could be – more clever or more – marvellous!”
She gave a little laugh that was half a sob as she said,
“I told you that not even – St. George – St. Michael – or all the angels could – save me, but you have done it and now I want to kneel at your feet in gratitude!”
“I would rather hold you in my arms,” Lord Mere said and his voice was deep with feeling. “I adore you, my little Madonna, and now there are no longer any barriers to prevent me from telling you so, and as it will take me a lifetime, the sooner we are married the better!”
“I-I hope Papa will not expect us to – wait,” Florencia said, “but our relatives might be – shocked!”
“That is why our marriage will be kept a secret,” Lord Mere said. “We will spend a long time in England and, after Prince Vincente’s death is announced, nob
ody will be particularly surprised.”
“I-I hope you are right,” Florencia said doubtfully. “I want to be married to you – I want to be with you – but I would not wish for your sake as well as ours – for there to be any scandal.”
“Leave everything to me,” Lord Mere replied. “Our faith and our prayers, my darling, have brought us already so much happiness that I could not believe that they will fail us now.”
He kissed her again.
Then, as if he could hardly bear to tear himself away, he left her at the top of the stairs and ran down to where the night-footman stood with the door open.
He stepped into his carriage and, as he drove back to the villa, he was planning exactly how he would have a private coach attached to the train from Paris to the English Channel so that he could be with Florencia and the Prince on the last lap of their journey.
What was important was that he should leave before they did and he knew that by the time he reached the villa Hicks would have had all his things packed and found out what time the first train left.
It all seemed to fit into place like a rather intricate puzzle, but which to his utter relief no longer puzzled him.
He realised that he had not only done exactly what the Earl of Roseberry had asked him to do but had also found Florencia for himself and saved her from a hell that no woman should be expected to endure.
He knew that he was the luckiest and most fortunate of men and to his own surprise he found himself saying out loud,
‘Thank You, God, thank You!’
*
As Lord Mere had anticipated, Hicks was waiting for him and he saw as he entered his bedroom in the villa that his boxes were already packed and his travelling clothes were laid out on a chair.
With a faint smile on his lips he started to take off his evening coat saying,
“What time are we leaving, Hicks!”
“I’ve ordered the carriage, my Lord, for five o’clock and I’ve told all them prepared to listen that you’ve been informed by a Queen’s Messenger that the Queen requires your presence urgently.”
“Thank you, Hicks. You did splendidly,” Lord Mere replied, “and what is important is that everybody at the Contessa’s party believed you!”
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