The Temptation of Gracie

by Santa Montefiore

  ‘She thinks Rutger has run off to Holland.’

  ‘Yes, in fact, he’s just gone to spend Christmas there. She leaves in a hurry and never says goodbye, only explaining her reasons for doing so in a letter later.’

  ‘What might she have written in the letter to make him angry?’ Anastasia asked, rubbing her bottom lip thoughtfully.

  ‘Assuming she wrote something that made him furious, can he still be furious after so long?’

  ‘He’s a widower, so his wife has died. There’s no reason for him to avoid her? She’s not going to expose him or anything. She’s an old girlfriend. What’s the big deal?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we’ve got one night to find out.’

  ‘I’m going to talk to Ilaria.’

  Carina shook her head at her daughter’s determination and grinned. ‘Good luck to you then.’

  Gracie dressed for dinner. She put on trousers and a blouse and the necklace Anastasia had given her. She ran her fingers over the beads and felt the warm swell of tenderness permeate every corner of her chest. If she never got to talk to Tancredi she would not regret having come. Besides discovering the truth about her uncle’s death and finding Rutger, she had gained something far more important: the affection of her daughter and granddaughter. She did not look too closely into the magic, but something special had occurred which had brought the three of them together. The two of them were worth a thousand Tancredis, she decided. Still, as she looked at her reflection in the mirror she knew that for her, at least, love had never died. She would leave tomorrow without having spoken to him, that was now certain. Of course she’d be disappointed, but she would tell herself how lucky she was to have loved so deeply. How many go through their lives and never experience that kind of devotion?

  She went downstairs to where the others had congregated in the usual place for crostini and wine As she approached she noticed how tanned they all were, how radiant and how relaxed. Italy had been good for everyone. The sun had burned away all their cares and Mamma Bernadetta’s food had bonded them, as only her recipes could. The castle looked radiant too. The lights glowed in the windows, throwing gold slices across the paving stones, and the walls seemed to reach out to her in a friendly embrace. She savoured the smells too, as the dew settled upon the grass and shrubs, and brought out the sweet scents of rosemary and pine. Crickets chirruped, the first stars twinkled in the cobalt sky and the faraway lights of distant dwellings twinkled with them as darkness fell.

  She’d be sorry to leave tomorrow, Gracie thought to herself as she walked across the stones. The idea of returning to her old life was like a sharp stone in the midst of this perfect softness; a cold, lonely stone that almost succeeded in smothering her joy.

  Rex was quick to dispel her downheartedness. He handed her a glass of wine and smiled at her with such enthusiasm it was impossible not to be rescued from her reflections. ‘How was your afternoon?’ he asked, but she couldn’t have begun to explain what had happened at La Colomba, so she told him that it had been very agreeable and then asked him about himself. ‘I finally met the elusive count,’ he said. He didn’t notice Gracie’s smile freeze and continued, eager to share his experience. ‘He was sitting on that bench up there, watching the sunset. I think he sits there often, with that big dog of his. That animal follows him everywhere. Anyway, I was walking up the path and called out in my usual jovial way, and he waved. We had a very pleasant conversation. He’s a charming man. I asked him whether he was going to come and join us tonight on our last night and he laughed and said he preferred his guests to enjoy themselves without him. He said he hoped I had been treating the castle as my home. We had a little joke, you know. I told him I was growing fat on Mamma Bernadetta’s food and he patted his stomach and said that it was a daily battle for him too. But as he’s so slim I imagine he must take a lot of exercise. That dog needs a great deal of walking, I imagine.’ Gracie listened, astonished. She wished she had been with him so that Tancredi might have had another opportunity to recognise her. She knew she should approach him herself and confront him, but she was too scared now. Too scared of being rejected. Not seeing him was better than seeing him and being snubbed. She didn’t want to return to England with that as her final memory. She’d rather remain with the memories she already had.

  Anastasia made sure she was sitting next to Ilaria by taking the chair before Ilaria could put someone else in it. Alex made sure he was sitting next to Anastasia, and for the first half of dinner he monopolised her while Ilaria talked to Wendy about dogs, for Wendy had an eccentric French bulldog who didn’t like going out in the rain and snored louder than her husband. ‘And that’s saying something!’ she laughed. ‘Do you have a dog, Anastasia?’ Wendy asked across the table.

  Anastasia cut off her conversation with Alex. ‘Sadly not,’ she replied. ‘Mum works too hard and Dad doesn’t want the responsibility. I’d like a pig,’ she added perkily.

  ‘You’re welcome to have one of ours,’ said Ilaria.

  ‘Or get a dog like mine and call him Piglet!’ Wendy suggested, taking a large gulp of wine.

  ‘The count’s dog is massive,’ said Anastasia, thrilled at her own mastery in swinging the discussion round to the count. ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Eight,’ Ilaria replied. ‘Which is very old for a big dog like him.’

  ‘Does the count take him for walks?’

  Ilaria’s face assumed the quality of a mask. Her smile set and her eyes lost their animation. Anastasia sensed she did not want to talk about the count at all. ‘He prefers to be with the count and goes looking for him after I take him for walks every morning,’ she replied. ‘I get up at dawn. The three or four hours I get before everyone else awakes are my most productive.’

  ‘Do you look after all the animals yourself?’ Wendy asked and Anastasia was frustrated that the conversation had moved on from the count. Ilaria seemed happy that it had. Her smile regained its liveliness and her eyes brightened. She was only too delighted to talk about the animals. Anastasia wondered why such reticence. Was Ilaria protecting them from the count’s terrible temper? Was he unfit to be seen? Or was she aware that he was hiding from Gracie? Was that possible?

  At the end of dinner Ilaria called Mamma Bernadetta onto the terrace and everyone clapped. ‘My mother wants you to know that you have been her favourite guests,’ she said, and they all laughed because that joke was probably made at the end of every week. ‘It is very important for us to know that you will go home to your various corners of the world and continue to cook Mamma Bernadetta’s recipes with love, because that is the secret ingredient she puts into all her cooking. Most important, we hope that the castle has given you a good rest from the stresses of your lives. Whenever you are tired or unhappy think of the gardens here, the lovely lavender and beautiful roses, and imagine that you are back here in the serenity of Castello Montefosco. Carry it inside you and let it warm you like a hot potato in your sweater, yes?’ More clapping and then Rex stood up to reply, in his capacity as the only senior man. He raised his glass to Mamma Bernadetta, whose lips curled into a shy smile, and the guests stood up and raised theirs in a toast.

  ‘How we would all benefit from having a Mamma Bernadetta of our very own,’ he said. ‘But we will have to make do with the memory. I will never forget this week. Thank you for the gift of delicious food, but more importantly the gift of friendship, because I have met some delightful folk here this week. It’s been very special.’ He looked at Gracie then. ‘To the gift of friendship,’ he said and they all repeated it and raised their glasses another time.

  When they moved from the table to the terrace for coffee and tea, Anastasia managed to get her mother on her own. ‘I haven’t had any luck with Ilaria,’ she said in a low voice. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Darling, there’s nothing we can do. You’ve done the best you can.’

  ‘It’s not good enough,’ said Anastasia in frustration. ‘Granny is not going back to England tomorrow without
having talked to him.’

  ‘Sweetheart, this is not your responsibility. She’s probably afraid of talking to him. Have you thought of that? I mean, she could find him herself if she really wanted to.’

  ‘I know she wants to,’ Anastasia insisted. ‘She ran away instead of saying goodbye to Rutger and Tancredi and Gaia – she’s not good at confrontation. Rutger called her a coward and perhaps she is. There’s nothing wrong with being frightened. She just needs us to help her, that’s all.’

  Carina smiled and patted her back. ‘You’re very sweet, darling. Granny is lucky to have a champion in you.’

  ‘Not if I fail!’ Anastasia retorted, suddenly feeling quite desperate. ‘But I’m not going to. I’m going to find him tomorrow, if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘Just be careful,’ Carina warned. ‘You’re delving into people’s hearts. It’s not a game.’

  ‘I’ll be careful, I promise.’

  None of them slept well that night. Carina was worrying about Gracie. Gracie was worrying about returning to her lonely life in Badley Compton, and Anastasia was worrying about how she was going to find the count before having to take the taxi to the airport. They were due to leave at ten. That didn’t give her much time.

  Gracie awoke early. She saw her bag packed and waiting by the door and her stomach lurched with dread. She did not want to leave. She did not want to return to Flappy Scott-Booth and the Badley Compton Ladies’ Book Club. Before, she had been content with her life, lonely as it was, for it had been familiar. But now she wanted more. The small cove represented her flight, her concealment and her cowardice. She didn’t belong there any more. The only things to look forward to were her dogs, who she knew would be happy to see her. Besides them, there was no one. She climbed out of bed and spent the dawn at the window, watching the light expanding into the sky, dispelling the night, and yet today it was a melancholy sight. It filled her heart with an unbearable sorrow. Today she would leave her past behind. All of it. Uncle Hans, Rutger, Tancredi, La Colomba, Colladoro . . . Today she would leave it, most likely for ever.

  Anastasia had awoken early too, not because of the birdsong but her own anxiety which had rendered her sleep shallow and fretful. Carina awoke too and stared at the little specks of light she had come to love. She felt a tightness in her belly at the thought of returning to work. She didn’t want life to go back to the way it was. She wanted to bring Rufus out here so that he could enjoy the magic too. So that he could witness what the magic had done to her. If she returned home would she leave her contentment here at Castello Montefosco and become that brisk, stressed, selfish woman again? She turned to see Anastasia lying on her back, staring at the dust as well, and decided that she would make sure she carried the Castello inside her sweater like Ilaria’s hot potato.

  They went down to breakfast and sat on the terrace for the final time, gazing out onto the hills and valleys and beyond, to the sea, committing it all to memory. Anastasia sensed her grandmother’s unhappiness. She sensed it so strongly that she felt as if her heart was breaking for her.

  They cheered up briefly when everyone gathered round to exchange details so they could keep in touch. Rex took Gracie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘You promise you’ll come and visit?’ he said, fixing her with his china-blue eyes. ‘I won’t let you forget.’ Gracie didn’t commit, but gave him her telephone number because she didn’t have an email address. ‘I suggest you get one,’ Rex added. ‘Then we can more easily keep in touch.’

  Alex and Anastasia, who both lived in London, arranged to meet up before school started in May, and Lauren and Carina set a date for lunch at an Italian restaurant on the Fulham Road so they could extend the experience for as long as possible. Madeleine, who lived in Brussels, said that she would come to London especially, just so that she could have lunch with them. Wendy, Tiff and Brigitte hugged everyone tearfully and declared that they should all return the same time the following year for a reunion. ‘If I’m still alive, I’m on,’ said Rex, grinning at Gracie.

  ‘Who knows where we’ll be this time next year,’ said Lauren. ‘But I’d happily do it all over again just to find out.’

  The mood was dampened suddenly when Ilaria appeared on the terrace to announce that the taxis had arrived to take them all to the airport. Carina caught Anastasia’s eye and she gave her a desperate look that propelled her to leap up from her chair and declare that she had one last thing to do. Before Carina could stop her she had run off into the garden.

  Gracie said goodbye to Ilaria and Mamma Bernadetta. The old lady felt her sadness, and instead of extending her hand, embraced her like an old friend. Carina said her goodbyes, too, and supervised the cases. She didn’t want them going in the wrong taxi.

  Anastasia stood on the lawn feeling fraught. She had to find the count, but she didn’t know where to start looking. He could be anywhere. The grounds were large. He might even have gone out. She was close to tears. There was no way she was going to leave without finding him. She couldn’t let that happen. There had to be some sort of resolution for her grandmother.

  By some stroke of luck, just as she was beginning to despair, Anastasia chanced upon the count’s big shaggy dog, sniffing in the bushes. She didn’t know where to start looking for the count, but she thought there was a very strong chance that his dog would know where to find him. Hadn’t Ilaria said he always went in search of his master? She put out her hand and gave him a pat. He wagged his tail, then continued sniffing in the bushes. Her anxiety was now so intense it was as if something were wrapping its tendrils around her chest and squeezing it. Her heart was a drumstick beating against her ribcage. She couldn’t allow her grandmother to leave without at least saying hello to her old love.

  The dog began to trot off up the path that led to the bench overlooking the valley. Anastasia followed it, light upon her feet, hoping that the count would be there and she’d be able to talk to him and explain. She suppressed her reservations and hurried after the dog.

  The bench came into view and there, sitting on it, half facing her and half facing the valley, was Tancredi. Anastasia couldn’t believe her good fortune. Drawing in a deep breath she quietly approached, letting the dog take the lead. Tancredi heard the dog’s footsteps and turned his eyes away from the horizon. ‘Bernardo?’ he said and put out his hand. Anastasia stood there, in full view, as the dog went and positioned himself beneath his master’s suspended hand, and Tancredi lowered it to pat him. She stopped. The air around her stilled. Only Tancredi’s hand moved as he patted his pet. Anastasia’s heart was beating so loudly now that she was sure he would hear it. But he didn’t. He began to talk to the animal as if she wasn’t there.

  And then everything became clear, as if a veil had at once been lifted to reveal a surprising truth. In a flurry of excitement she turned and ran back down the path towards the castle. Suddenly, the world looked beautiful again. More beautiful than it had before. Her heart was so full she thought it might burst before she got there. But she reached the taxi at last to find Gracie already in the front seat, her handbag on her knee, her profile set in a sorrowful frown.

  ‘Granny!’ Anastasia cried, opening her door and crouching down to meet her grandmother at eye level.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ Gracie replied, alarmed by the girl’s urgency.

  ‘Tancredi. You must go and see him. He’s sitting on that bench.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Oh, Granny!’ Anastasia’s eyes filled with tears and she took her grandmother’s hand to help her out of the car. ‘He didn’t recognise you, not because he no longer knew you, or didn’t want to know you, but because he’s blind.’

  Gracie’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. ‘He’s blind?’

  ‘Yes. It explains everything. Ilaria has only been protecting him. Please go, Granny. You must. He’s waiting for you. I just know it.’

  Carina climbed out of the car and stood beside her daughter as Gracie walked shakily across the paving stones. ‘You’ve be
en right about everything so far,’ she said to Anastasia. ‘I just hope to God you’re right about this.’

  Gracie made her way along the path towards the bench. She was so afraid that her body trembled all over and her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and yet, she somehow managed the short walk without stumbling. She saw him just like Anastasia said, sitting on the bench in a blue open-neck shirt and pale trousers, his loyal dog at his side. He didn’t notice her, or hear her coming, until she was almost upon him. Then he turned his face towards her and frowned. ‘Hello?’ he said. Gracie stopped. She was too moved to speak. Could it be possible that those beautiful eyes could no longer see? ‘Who is it?’ he asked, arbitrarily shifting his gaze as he tried to identify her. ‘Ilaria?’ Then she knew that Anastasia was right. That he hadn’t failed to recognise her; he just hadn’t seen her.

  ‘Tancredi,’ she said at last.

  He cocked his head and frowned. ‘Who are you?’ he said. But there was something in his tone that suggested he might know, but was afraid to hope.

  ‘Tancredi, it’s me. Gracie.’

  At the mention of her name his cheeks flushed. He blinked, as if he saw her and couldn’t believe his eyes. She could have sworn they lit up with happiness like an ember that glows in an unexpected wind. ‘Gracie? Is that really you?’ Then he doubted. His eyes dimmed and he shook his head. ‘No, it’s not possible.’

  Gracie’s face was now wet with tears. She approached softly and sat beside him. ‘It’s me,’ she repeated.

  ‘Gracie.’ He turned away, embarrassed. ‘I’m a blind old man.’

  Gracie’s chest overflowed with compassion. ‘I don’t care,’ she replied in a whisper. Then she found the courage Rutger thought she didn’t have. She took his hand and held it against her cheek. ‘I don’t care, Tancredi, because I love you. I always have and I always will.’ He closed his eyes, as if he was ashamed and didn’t want her to see how useless they were. He tried to speak, but the emotion overwhelmed him. Instead, he pressed his face into her hand. Tenderly she kissed it. ‘I’ve come home,’ she said.