Seduced by Innocence

by Lucy Gordon

  “Observant?”

  “You noticed that I’d lost my other pen. Elena gave it to me and I’d had it for years. But now I have yours, which I will treasure.”

  In fact she hadn’t noticed that his pen had disappeared. She’d picked the present at random. “Perhaps I should have chosen something else,” she said. “I’m sure Elena will wish to replace her gift to you herself.”

  He gave his quiet laugh. “She hasn’t even noticed that it’s gone. How different from you, Teresa, who notices everything about me.”

  “Please, you’re reading too much into it.”

  “Am I? I hope not. Haven’t you noticed how well we understand each other?”

  “No,” she said, determined to put an end to this conversation. “I can’t say I have. Will you excuse me now, please?”

  She hurried away without looking back, so she never saw the satisfied smile with which he looked after her or the way he nodded his head.

  She chose Elena’s present with great care, her first gift to her true mother. It seemed to her that Elena had every material luxury that money could buy, but nobody with whom to share her interests. One evening recently, the talk had somehow strayed to archaeology and Elena had revealed an avid interest in the subject. Terri had been only slightly surprised. Elena was knowledgeable about art, and from art to archaeology was a short step. So Terri purchased a lavishly illustrated set of reference works and was rewarded by seeing Elena’s face light up. “I’d been thinking of buying these for myself,” she cried ecstatically. “How did you know?”

  “I remembered what we were discussing a few weeks ago,” Terri reminded her, laughing. “You talked about digs and old bones and your eyes were shining.”

  “And you remembered that?” Elena’s face softened. “How kind you are. This is the best gift of all.”

  “Better than your diamonds?” Terri couldn’t resist asking, for Francisco’s gift to his wife had been a diamond set of such magnificence that all Venice was talking about them.

  Elena shrugged. “They’ll go into the bank vault and I’ll never see them. He gives me jewels every year. They’re a good investment.” Her eyes grew suddenly faraway. “It’s strange. I used to think it would be wonderful to be showered with diamonds. But in those days, I never knew…so many things…” She checked herself, and after a pause continued. “I never knew how much better it was to have a present like this, that someone had really thought about.”

  There were tears in her eyes and the next moment Terri was enveloped in a scented embrace that went on for a long time. She hugged Elena, feeling the tears prick her eyelids, too.

  There was one other present that she told nobody about. She scoured the shops of Venice until she found a silk tie with a really outrageous pattern. Only a very young man could have worn such a tie and held up his head. Having bought it, she laid it quietly away in her drawer, promising herself that she would one day give it to Leo.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Early this morning, the body of a young man was taken from the Grand Canal. His identity is unknown and he is being kept at the public mortuary in the hope that…”

  Terri was helping to arrange flowers for the New Year’s Eve ball at the palazzo that evening when the voice on the radio made her stiffen with shock. Cold tremors went through her and her hand tightened convulsively on a vase. When she could move again, she rushed into the hall and put on her coat.

  Elena appeared as she was ready to go. “Cara, whatever is the matter?” she said as soon as she saw Terri’s face.

  “They’ve taken a dead man from the water,” Terri said. “I’m going to the mortuary now.”

  Elena’s hands flew to her pale face. “Oh, no,” she said piteously. “It mustn’t be Leo. It can’t be.”

  Francisco looked out into the hall. “Elena,” he called peremptorily. “There’s still much to do.”

  “One moment,” she called back. “Oh, Teresa, if only I could come with you—”

  “No, it would look strange. I’ll call you as soon as I know.” Impulsively, Terri kissed Elena’s cheek before hurrying away.

  A chill hush hung over Venice. The dark water lay sullen and undisturbed. As Terri walked through the thick snow in the twilight, she tried not to think of what lay on that mortuary slab. It need not be Leo. It could be anybody. But her heart was breaking as though it knew that all hope would soon be dead.

  At the mortuary she was given a form to fill out, then a white-coated attendant led her into a quiet room. The body was laid out, covered by a sheet, and it took all her courage to approach it. After an anxious glance at her, the attendant revealed the face. She gasped with shock and clutched the slab to stop herself falling.

  It wasn’t Leo.

  She felt a pair of strong arms steadying her, helping her to walk from the room. The attendant said, “This often happens. We have a room where people can recover. This way.”

  She clung to her rescuer until she was sitting in a leather chair. A familiar voice said, “Steady now. Close your eyes for a moment.”

  “Maurizio.”

  He sat quickly beside her. “I heard it on the radio,” he said. “Like you I rushed here, fearing the worst, but thank God! Thank God.”

  He, too, was shaking. Moved by blind instinct, Terri put out her arms and they clung together. For a moment, enmity was forgotten in their mutual, desperate need for comfort. “I was so afraid,” she said in a choked voice. “I was sure it would be Leo—I couldn’t bear to see him—but I had to—”

  “Do you think I don’t know how you feel? In the time it took to walk here, I was in hell.” They held each other more tightly, bonded by their shared experience. “Teresa,” he murmured, “Teresa, it wasn’t him. Leo is still alive somewhere.”

  “But where?”

  “I don’t know but he’s still alive. We must both hold on to that.”

  At last she drew back and brushed a hand over her face. “I’ve got to call Elena,” she said. “I promised to let her know at once.”

  “There’s a phone just outside in the hall.”

  He went with her. Terri thought she was in command of herself, but as soon as she reached out for the receiver, her hand began to shake uncontrollably. Maurizio didn’t speak but he quietly dialed the number of the palazzo and waited, listening to the ringing. When it was answered, he handed Terri the receiver and moved away.

  “Elena,” Terri said huskily, “it wasn’t Leo. Truly, there’s no mistake. It was nothing like him.” Maurizio didn’t look around but his stillness was eloquent as Terri fell silent to listen. “Don’t cry,” she said at last. “I’ll be home soon. It’s all right.”

  She hung up and leaned against the wall, drained of energy. Maurizio took her arm and led her outside. Darkness had fallen and a thick mist turned the city to shadows. Without saying a word, he guided her into a café and toward a seat. He returned from the bar with two brandies. “How was she?”

  “Relieved. She couldn’t stop crying.”

  “Over Leo?” he asked in a neutral voice. “A young man she barely knows?” Terri glanced at him but didn’t say anything. “How much of the truth does she guess, do you think?”

  She sighed. “I’ve no idea. Sometimes I think she knows in her heart that we’re her children but she’s too nervous to say anything. If it gets out—” She shrugged.

  “It could be a disaster for her,” he said. To her relief, he spoke without his usual cutting irony. He saw Terri looking at him and said quickly, “I’m not planning to tell Francisco. After everything that’s happened, revenge doesn’t seem so important now.”

  Terri gave a wan smile. “How sad that you waited this long to learn that.”

  “Yes,” he said heavily.

  It was strange to Terri to be sitting here with Maurizio with no buzz between them. At one time the air had sung, first with love, then with hate. Now there was only calm and weariness, as though they’d fought each other to a standstill. There was even a strang
e comfort in his presence. He was the only person in the world who understood what she’d been through in the last hour, because he’d been through it, too. She’d seen him passionate, tender, ironic and bitter. But now he was kind, and that was the most painful thing of all, because it tormented her with a vision of what might have been.

  “You look worn-out,” he said.

  “I was up half the night helping with preparations for the party.”

  “How do you keep going, with this on your mind?”

  She gave a brief, mirthless laugh. “The same way that you do, I suppose. It’s always there, every moment, night and day.”

  “Like a fiend laying in wait when you awaken and haunting you when you try to sleep,” Maurizio agreed.

  “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

  He was shocked at her pallor and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She’d lost weight. He could see it in her face, and he’d felt it when he’d held her in the mortuary. The thought of her body made him ache, but not with desire; rather, it was a kind of anguished pity at her suffering. He remembered how she’d looked as she lay naked in his arms, how softly rounded her limbs had been, how he’d rejoiced at her beauty. It was harder to see physical beauty in this thin, tormented woman, yet her hold on his heart had grown stronger. If only he had her in his bed now, how tenderly he would embrace her, soothing her with caresses until she fell asleep safely in his arms. If only she would let him, he would spend his life trying to drive the sadness from her face, and ask nothing in return but to know that she was his.

  Suddenly, she met his eyes, and for a searing moment all barriers were down between them. They looked into each other’s defenselessness, and it was unbearable. “Teresa,” he whispered.

  “No—no.” She began to cry in a quiet, despairing way that tore him apart.

  He seized her hands across the table. “Please, don’t cry,” he said urgently.

  “I’m so tired,” she said softly.

  He didn’t have to ask what she meant. Waiting and hoping had left him almost at the end of his strength, as well. But what little he had left was at her service. “I’ll do anything,” he said.

  “But there’s nothing you can do, nothing either of us can do but wait, maybe forever.”

  “No,” he said desperately. “This can’t go on forever.”

  “But it can. I’m beginning to think we’ll never discover the truth, and if we don’t—”

  He laid a hand across her mouth. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded. “There are some truths too terrible to face.”

  “But we’ve both faced this one already, haven’t we?”

  “Until I restore Leo to you, there can never be love between us,” he said heavily. “Suppose I can never restore him to you?”

  She looked him in the eyes. “Did you forgive Elena for your brother’s death?” she asked. He winced and closed his eyes, shaking his head. She was silent. There was nothing left to say. “I’d better go now,” she said. “There’s still a lot to do for tonight. For you, too, I expect.”

  “Oh, yes,” he agreed without enthusiasm. “We’re all going to have a wonderful time at the Midas. I’ll walk you back.”

  “There’s no need. I know my way like a Venetian now.”

  “Let me stay with you as long as I can.”

  He walked beside her until they’d almost reached the palazzo. At the last corner, he stopped and held her so that her head rested on his shoulder. “It could have been so different,” he said huskily.

  She put her arms about his body. “Yes,” she said. “It could have been different. If only we’d met some other way.”

  “Can’t we—?”

  “Not until Leo is safe. Perhaps never. That’s the truth and I can’t change it, however much I wa—” She stopped.

  “However much we want to. I didn’t know until this moment what we might have had.”

  “Nor I. But we have to forget it.”

  “We can never forget it,” he said somberly. “It may torment us all our lives but neither of us will ever know the peace of forgetting what we’ve learned today. There’s no peace in love. Why should there be?”

  He tilted her chin and laid his lips gently against hers. It was a kiss without passion, a kiss of love and comfort, tender and self-forgetful, and it broke her heart. “We’ll never forget,” he murmured.

  “We’ll never forget,” she agreed. “But when I pass out of your sight around that corner, I’m your enemy again, Maurizio.”

  He didn’t try to protest. He knew it had to be. Gently he released her and watched as she walked to the corner. There she looked back. “I never asked,” she said. “How did your brother die?”

  “He drowned himself. I reclaimed his body from the mortuary.”

  “Then today was doubly terrible for you. I’m so sorry. Goodbye, Maurizio. Goodbye.”

  He strained his eyes to see where she’d been standing. Then the mist cleared for a moment and he saw that she was gone. All he could hear was the water lapping softly against the stones, and her final “Goodbye” floating back to him like a whisper from the shadows.

  *

  The mist lifted during the evening and the Grand Canal was brilliant as midnight approached on the last night of the year. From every palace, light flooded out, and music and merrymaking could be heard along the water. At the Midas and the Palazzo Calvani, fresh bottles of champagne were broken open as the hands of the clock approached twelve.

  Bruno, capering by with a young woman, studied Maurizio with disapproval. “You’re sober, nephew.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” The clock struck one and he forced a smile to his face, raising his voice. “It’s nearly midnight. Make your wishes for the new year.” The clock struck two and he seized a champagne bottle to refill the glasses of those around him.

  A woman planted a kiss on Maurizio’s mouth. “We all wish for love, of course,” she cried. “What else is there to wish for?”

  “What else?” Maurizio echoed mechanically.

  Three. Four.

  “Tell us who you’re thinking of,” she sang out.

  Five. Six.

  “I keep my heart safe so that I can give a little piece of it to every woman,” he told her charmingly.

  Seven. Eight.

  “Maurizio, darling, you always have just the right answer.”

  Nine. Ten.

  “More champagne!”

  Eleven.

  “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Happy New Year, everyone!”

  “Happy New—”

  “This year’s going to be wonderful.”

  Twelve.

  The room erupted in cheering and singing. Multicolored streamers poured down. Corks popped.

  “Happy New Year, nephew.”

  “Happy New Year, Uncle.”

  Maurizio turned away to the window, wondering how much more jollity he could endure. The Grand Canal was alive with revelers. He looked past them to where the curve hid the Palazzo Calvani. She was there and she was thinking of him. He knew that without a doubt.

  How can I ask forgiveness, when I have none to give? he thought bitterly. There’s no forgiveness for me in heaven or on earth. But yet—forgive me, Teresa, for the wrong I’ve done!

  *

  The snow lasted three weeks, then vanished overnight as the weather turned warmer. Suddenly, everyone was talking about the carnival that would take place at the end of February. Elena explained that the name came from the Latin words carne meaning the flesh, and vale meaning farewell.

  “It’s the last thing that happens before Lent when we must all renounce the pleasures of the flesh and be very, very good,” she pouted. “So, before Lent begins, we have several days to enjoy the worldly things. Oh, cara you should see the streets of Venice during Carnival, full of people in fancy costumes. And there are lots of lovely parties when we eat and drink as much as we like, and—other pleasures.” She finished on a chuckle.

  The young man in the morg
ue had been identified and there were no further scares. But as the weeks went by, neither was there any news of Leo, and Terri’s heart hardened again toward Maurizio. Their brief moment of tenderness and understanding remained only as a memory that tormented her, not as a hope for the future.

  Elena plunged into an orgy of planning entertainments and buying clothes. She had two Columbine costumes made for herself and Terri, each with a tight satin bodice and a huge frothy white skirt made of tulle, decorated with glitter. The two costumes were identical in every respect except that the glitter was gold on one and silver on the other.

  When they tried them on and surveyed themselves side by side in the mirror, Terri drew in her breath. They were the same height and size, the same coloring, and with their masks on, they might have been twins. Surely Elena would see…?

  “Perfetto,” the contessa declared.

  “Elena—”

  “Oh, please don’t say again that I give you too much,” Elena begged. “I love to give you things. I used to think—perhaps I might have a daughter one day. How I would love to take her shopping, and talk to her about things I can’t tell anyone else.” She hesitated before saying with a little sigh, “I hope she would have been like you. Please let me spoil you, cara. I do so long for someone to spoil.”

  She put her head to one side with a mixture of pleading and coaxing, and Terri’s heart turned over. If only they could have known each other before. “I must admit, I rather enjoy being spoiled,” she said.

  Elena didn’t look directly as Terri as she asked, “What about your mother? Didn’t she ever spoil you?”

  Terri answered equally casually, “I never knew my real mother. Madge, my adoptive mother—well, we just never managed to love each other. She did her duty by me.”

  “Poor Terri. How dreary to be done duty by.” She hesitated before asking casually, “Did you ever want to go and find your real mother?”

  Terri took a deep breath. Perhaps this was the chance to tell Elena the truth. Yet even now, some cautious instinct warned her not to blurt everything out at once. Elena’s words had invited her on, but only a little way. “I’ve thought about it,” she said, choosing her words with care. “But she’s got her own life without me. She might be married—and perhaps—perhaps her husband isn’t a very nice man. I’d like to know her—but I don’t want to do her any harm.”