The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘That’s very strange. Rutger spoke to Bagwis . . . He said . . .’ Then, with a jolt of clarity, Gracie realised that Rutger had sent her here on purpose because Tancredi was here. Somehow he had known. She wanted to laugh at the Dutchman’s guile. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, sweeping away explanations with her hand. ‘You can tell the countess for me.’

  ‘Then we must celebrate. Come. It’s not too chilly to sit outside?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to impose.’

  ‘I want you to,’ he said firmly. ‘I haven’t spoken to a soul in days.’

  ‘Very well, then I’d love to,’ she said, putting on her cardigan.

  Gracie helped him bring the glasses and wine outside from the castle’s kitchen and arrange cushions on a large wicker sofa placed on the semicircular terrace that looked out over the hills. The very terrace where Gracie had first met him. The sun was now little more than a dying glow on the horizon, the first star twinkling in the indigo sky. Gracie enjoyed the taste of the wine. It was cool and fresh and made her pleasantly light-headed. The joy of watching the sunset with the man she really loved injected her with a sense of urgency, for this might be the last time she would see him in months, possibly years. ‘Why is that self-portrait so sad, Tancredi?’ she asked, aware that her question was forward, but not caring.

  He leaned back against the cushions, put one hand behind his head and fixed his gaze on the distant hills. ‘It is a long story,’ he replied with a sigh. ‘But if you are not hurrying back to your studio I will share it with you.’

  ‘I’m afraid you have aroused my curiosity so now you have to tell me.’

  He chuckled. ‘Very well.’ He sipped his wine then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. ‘Do you remember the painting I told you about?’

  ‘The one your uncle stole?’

  ‘You have a good memory, Gracie.’

  ‘For things that interest me,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, as I told you, that painting meant the world to me. Not just because it is an enchanting painting, but because it represented a time in my life when I was happy. You see, my father died when I was fifteen. Up until that point, I had no experience of loss. I was cherished, spoiled and fortunate enough to consider happiness my due. But then I lost my father and like you said, I crossed a bridge.’ Gracie was touched that he remembered something she had said. She watched him drop his gaze into his wine glass and her heart went out to him. ‘I could never go back to that carefree place,’ he continued. ‘I was young. I didn’t realise that grief is something you have to learn to accommodate, not something you get through and come out the other side. You never come out the other side. You just live on, carrying it inside you like a stone in your heart. But I didn’t know that. I thought I could outrun it. So, I got mixed up with a fast crowd of people. I did badly at school. I partied hard. I spent money like water. I dated unsuitable girls, took drugs and smoked, and pretty much drank myself into oblivion – and the whole of Rome knew of it. My grandfather, whom I loved, despaired of me. He tried to guide me, but I wouldn’t listen. I was so full of resentment. I blamed God for taking my father away. I blamed my father for going, even though it was not his choice, and I blamed myself for my weakness, and yet I couldn’t stop myself. I suppose I was crying out for help, but no one knew how to give it. I certainly didn’t know how to accept it. Then, one day, my grandfather stood beside me in front of that beautiful painting and said, “Do you remember the little boy who used to linger here and gaze into this picture?”

  ‘ “Yes,” I replied.

  ‘ “He is still inside you, Tancredi,” he said. “His life might have changed and he might have suffered a terrible loss, but he is still inside you with all his wonder and innocence and joy. You only have to look for him.” And I realised then that it was my choice how I lived my life and that I was throwing it away for nothing. Behaving like that wasn’t going to bring my father back. The man I had become was not the person my father would have recognised, nor the man my grandfather could be proud of. So, I decided to turn my life around. I searched for the boy I had been.’

  ‘Did you find him?’ Gracie asked softly.

  Tancredi glanced at her solemnly. ‘I don’t know. Let’s just say that it’s a work in progress, Gracie.’ He shifted on the cushions and turned to face her. ‘When my grandfather died I expected to receive the painting he had promised me. I don’t know whether he forgot to put it in his will, or whether he thought the family would remember his wish and honour it. After all, everyone knew that he was going to leave it to me. My uncle chose to believe that he didn’t want me to have it. I suspect the truth is that my uncle wanted to punish me for bringing the family name into disrepute. You see, his reputation is more important to him than anything else, including his family and children.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘How I would love to sully it, but sadly I cannot sully his reputation without sullying my own!’

  ‘So, the painting is the despairing Tancredi who still fights for dominance. The one who lost his father, his grandfather and resents his uncle. It’s a picture of despair and helplessness.’

  ‘Very good.’ He chuckled and reached for the wine bottle which sat in a bucket of melting ice on the table beside him. He topped up her glass and then his own. ‘I’m sorry it’s such a miserable tale.’

  ‘Yet, it has probably inspired your best work.’

  ‘Do you think it’s that good?’

  ‘Yes, I really do. But I wouldn’t want it hanging in my hall!’ They both laughed.

  ‘Do you know, I feel better for having told you. I haven’t spoken about it to anyone before.’

  ‘As you said when you showed me round your garden, it’s easier unburdening one’s feelings to a stranger.’

  ‘But you’re not a stranger, Gracie,’ he said and the smile he gave her had a tenderness in it that made her stomach lurch. ‘Have you and Donato married yet?’ he asked before putting his glass to his lips.

  Gracie was surprised he remembered. ‘No,’ she replied.

  ‘When is the big day?’

  ‘Donato was a little hasty when he told you we were getting married.’ Tancredi arched an eyebrow. ‘When I bumped into you, he had just proposed. I had said I would think about it. That’s all.’

  ‘And have you?’ he asked.

  Gracie suddenly felt emotional. She turned her eyes to the hills, now silhouetted against the darkening sky. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t. ‘I am still thinking about it,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t love him,’ he stated simply and Gracie was stunned. Her glass began to tremble in her hand for he had revealed something of himself in that intimate observation which she could not ignore.

  ‘I’m fond of him,’ she answered.

  ‘That’s not good enough.’

  She drained her glass and placed it on the table. ‘No,’ she said, with a sigh. ‘It isn’t.’

  He reached across and took her hand. Gracie froze. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said in a quiet voice, stroking the skin with his thumb. ‘I’m glad you’re not marrying Donato.’ Gracie searched for something to say, but nothing came. ‘You are too good for him,’ he continued. His eyes shone in the twilight and Gracie hoped that she wasn’t being misled by the apparent affection in them. ‘I didn’t think I had a chance, so I tried not to think about you. But here you are and here I am and it is as if Fate has brought us together.’ He put a hand beneath her chin and placed his lips on hers. Gracie felt as if she were sinking a thousand leagues. She closed her eyes and wished she could sink for ever. Tancredi stroked her nose with his then pulled away and looked at her steadily. She opened her eyes and looked at him straight back. As she didn’t protest or pull away he kissed her again, this time deeply.

  Tancredi wrapped her in his arms and held her against his heart. Gracie closed her eyes again and realised that the difference between a good kiss and a bad kiss had nothing to do with technique and everything to do with love.

 
; Chapter 11

  Italy, 2010

  Gracie was awoken by someone stroking her hair. She opened her eyes to find Anastasia sitting on her bed with a worried look on her face. ‘Are you okay, Granny?’ she asked. ‘You’ve been asleep all afternoon. Rex said you had taken a turn.’

  It took a moment for Gracie to remember where she was and what had happened. Her heart sank at the memory: Tancredi on the balcony, his raised hand, his polite, impassive smile, the fact that he had not recognised her. ‘I’m all right,’ she said, looking away, not wanting her granddaughter to see the hurt in her eyes.

  Anastasia grinned. ‘Did you drink too much wine?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Gracie replied, putting a hand to her head, even though it was her heart that ached.

  ‘I’ve spent the afternoon at the pool with Alex. He’s really cool. I’m glad there’s someone my own age here.’

  ‘Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it.’ Gracie sat up stiffly.

  ‘He’s really clever. He wants to work for the Foreign Office.’

  ‘I think he’s a charming young man.’

  Anastasia laughed. ‘Why don’t you come down and have tea. You look really pale and I’m hungry.’

  ‘You’re always hungry,’ said Gracie, climbing off the bed. ‘Where does it all go?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it goes really fast, because no sooner have I eaten than I want to eat again.’

  ‘Well, in that case, we’d better go down.’ Gracie was grateful to Anastasia for forcing her back into the present. A cup of tea would be just the thing to restore her spirits. She slipped on her shoes and made for the door.

  ‘Granny?’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘I’m glad I came.’

  Gracie turned round. Her granddaughter was looking at her earnestly. ‘I’m glad you came too, dear,’ she replied. ‘I’d have been lonely on my own.’

  Anastasia frowned. ‘Are you lonely on your own in Devon?’

  Gracie was going to say that she wasn’t. That she had her dogs and her friends, but for some reason she didn’t want to lie to her granddaughter. ‘A little,’ she confessed.

  Anastasia was horrified. ‘That’s dreadful,’ she gasped.

  ‘It’s life, Anastasia,’ Gracie said frankly. So was disappointment, she thought. That was part of life too. If Rutger had taught her anything he had taught her acceptance. Tancredi did not recognise her. It wasn’t the end of the world. She had lived without him for forty-four years. She was in the most beautiful place with her daughter and granddaughter, she felt very blessed. She wasn’t going to ruin it by letting her disappointment crush her.

  Tea was served outside on the terrace where they had had breakfast. Gracie thought it would be more fun for Anastasia to join the larger table where Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte were now enjoying tea with Rex, Lauren and Alex, but Anastasia surprised Gracie by wanting her to herself and choosing a table at the other end of the terrace where they wouldn’t be overheard, and ordering a pot of tea for two.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said, after helping herself to sandwiches and cake. ‘When did you meet Grandpa and did you know, when you met him, that you would marry him?’

  Gracie sipped her tea and felt a little restored. It was impossible not to be uplifted by the beautiful view and Anastasia’s eager face, waiting for her to reply. The girl had obviously taken a shine to Alex, Gracie thought. ‘Do you really want to hear or are you just being polite?’ she asked.

  ‘I really want to hear,’ Anastasia replied. ‘Why do you live so far away? Shouldn’t you come and live in London so we can see more of you? If you lived near us you wouldn’t be lonely.’

  ‘Devon is home,’ Gracie replied with a shrug. ‘It’s where I settled after . . .’ How could she begin to explain what had happened here?

  ‘After what?’ Anastasia pressed.

  ‘I returned to England from Italy.’

  Anastasia’s face showed her astonishment, which gave Gracie a frisson of pleasure. ‘When did you live in Italy?’ she asked.

  ‘I came out when I was thirteen to apprentice the finest art restorer in Europe.’

  ‘Really? I never knew that.’

  Gracie’s heart spluttered back to life as one of the secrets she had held on to for over four decades came slipping out. Just like that. No premeditation, no shall I, shan’t I. She simply let it go. ‘No one knew,’ said Gracie. ‘Not even Grandpa.’

  Anastasia’s eyes widened. ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

  ‘It’s a very long story.’

  ‘I want to hear every word of it. Please.’ Gracie looked down and saw that Anastasia’s hand was on hers. ‘What happened in Italy?’ she whispered.

  ‘I fell in love,’ Gracie said and her eyes sparkled as she thought of Tancredi, not as he was now, seeing through her, but as he had been then, seeing every inch of her. ‘But not with Grandpa,’ she added.

  Anastasia was thrilled by this piece of information. ‘Tell me from the beginning. What were you doing in Italy?’

  Gracie realised now, as she began to speak, that she was ready to tell her story. That she needed to tell it. ‘I was working as a painting restorer in a beautiful house not far from here.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Here,’ said Gracie. ‘It was called La Colomba and I apprenticed a man called Rutger Janssen . . .’ Anastasia barely blinked as Gracie told her about Uncle Hans and the countess, although she was careful not to mention the castle or the countess’s name, and to change Tancredi’s to his middle name, which was the same as his grandfather’s. ‘I fell in love with Gaetano the first moment I laid eyes on him,’ she said, reliving it.

  ‘Truly, the first time? Love at first sight?’ Anastasia was excited. She squeezed Gracie’s hand. ‘Did you just know, the moment you saw him?’

  Gracie smiled. ‘I did.’

  ‘Was it like a bolt of lightning?’

  ‘Well, it was, really. Yes.’

  ‘Did he fall in love with you too?’

  ‘He didn’t notice me. Not that time.’ Gracie told her about the wedding. ‘I had never seen such a handsome man in all my life.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘About your age.’

  Anastasia beamed. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I knew he would never fall in love with a girl like me. I wasn’t beautiful like you, Anastasia.’

  ‘I bet you were!’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. But I learned that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. What is beautiful to one person might not be beautiful to another. And beauty is as much about your heart as it is about your face. Gaetano saw my heart, Anastasia . . .’

  ‘When did he see your heart?’

  Gracie sighed and poured another cup of tea. ‘I have to tell you about Donato first.’

  Just then Carina appeared on the terrace looking very pink in the face. She had been out walking all afternoon and had forgotten to wear a hat or apply sun screen. She smiled when she saw her mother and daughter sitting together at the far end of the terrace. ‘I’ve had the most glorious day,’ she said with a contented sigh, plonking herself down and waving at Carlo for some fresh tea.

  Anastasia pulled a face at her grandmother to show how irritated she was that they had been interrupted and Gracie gave her a wink, at which the girl’s face relaxed into a knowing smile. Anastasia was only too happy to keep their conversation secret. ‘We’ll have plenty of time for the rest of the story,’ whispered Gracie, patting her hand.

  ‘This is the most gorgeous place in the world,’ Carina gushed. ‘The flowers are indecent! You know I walked for miles. Goodness knows where I was going, but I didn’t want to stop. There are grape vines, olive groves, farmhouses . . .’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘I’m so happy I came.’

  Gracie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘I’m so pleased you are,’ she said.

  ‘No, really. To be honest, I didn’t want to come because I was so busy, but I’m very happy I did. It’s just w
hat I need, a break like this. I’ve realised that holidays have always been dominated by work. Wherever I am in the world, I’m always working. For the first time ever I left my phone in my room. I don’t think I’ve done that before. It’s made all the difference. I feel like a new person and it’s only the first day. Imagine how I’m going to feel by Saturday!’ Carlo put a pot of tea on the table and took away the empty one. ‘So, what have you two been doing?’ She looked at her daughter.

  ‘Hanging out by the pool,’ said Anastasia, then she gave Gracie a sly grin. ‘And hanging out with Granny,’ she added.

  Carina was surprised. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘We’ve had a lovely afternoon as well,’ Anastasia said and Gracie heard the challenging tone in her voice as she tried to provoke her mother. ‘Granny has the best stories.’

  ‘About me as a little girl?’ Carina asked, rolling her eyes.

  ‘No, not about you, Mum,’ said Anastasia irritably. ‘About Gracie as—’

  ‘Oh, they’re very boring,’ Gracie interrupted, giving her granddaughter a warning look.

  ‘Not to me they’re not,’ Anastasia answered, then she turned to her mother. ‘So, what were you like as a little girl?’

  ‘Busy,’ Gracie replied and Carina couldn’t help but laugh.

  That night Anastasia waited until her mother was asleep then she crept very carefully out of bed in order not to make any noise. As she had done lots of times at school, she arranged the pillows beneath the covers so that if her mother woke up she would not notice that Anastasia wasn’t there. She had left her clothes hidden in the bathroom cupboard so she could dress quietly. Moonlight shone through the window and lit up enough of the bathroom for her to check herself in the mirror. As it was a little chilly at night she put on a sweater. Then she tiptoed out of the room and closed the door very quietly behind her.

  Anastasia was in love. It had happened just as her grandmother had described it: a bolt of lightning; an instant and undeniable knowing. It had happened down at the pool. His eyes on hers; an unspoken understanding. And everything had changed. The sky looked bluer, the grass looked greener and everything about the world seemed thrilling and new. Now Anastasia couldn’t think of anyone else but him. It was as if her heart had been filled with helium, almost lifting her off her feet.