- 22 -
Emilio came for him a few minutes after seven and showed him the way to the dining room where the table had now been set for nine. The room had clearly been tidied up for the event but there was little to suggest a celebration was about to happen.
The moment Ben entered the room he could sense there was tension in the air. People seemed to be sitting or standing in isolation, rather than chattering in groups. There was none of the cheerful conversation and laughter which one would have expected before a joyous event such as a betrothal.
There were eight other people in the room, including a young maid who was standing by a drinks trolley in front of the fireplace. Near the head of the decorated dining table was Alfredo. He was engaged in stilted conversation with a couple who were standing about two paces away from him, as if he were infectious. During the whole evening Ben was never introduced to either of them. He presumed them to be relatives of Sylvia and Dino. But they hardly seemed to be friends of Alfredo.
In the corner a little shrine had been set up and beside it stood the person whom Ben assumed to be Father Paoli. He was a plump little man dressed in a shiny black, high-collared shirt under a grey jacket. He seemed nervous and ill at ease, seldom talking unless in response to a comment from someone else. Standing near the priest, but completely ignoring him, was a slim young man with a dark olive skin and rather flashy good looks. Ben decided that this must be Dino. The fellow’s face was set in a supercilious sneer most of the time. He only seemed to find any pleasure in the world when he was inspecting a part of himself or his apparel. Ben found himself beginning to feel sorry for Francesca.
As he entered, Sylvia moved away from Dino’s side and came to meet him. But there was no smile of welcome on her face, no indication that she had been in his room only half an hour before, already wearing that revealing green dress which matched her eyes.
Of course, then she had wanted his assistance.
“Signor Cartwright?” The question was the first sound he had heard of her entrance, lying as he was on the bed with his back to the door.
Her voice had startled him into an awkward half-sitting position. Had she really come into the room so silently, or had he dropped off to sleep as he studied the ceiling and wondered about the strange position circumstances had landed him in?
“Signor Cartwright. I wish to have a few words with you.”
She came close to the bed and he could smell her scent, a strange mixture of a heavy evening perfume and – was it incense? Her raven hair was tied on top of her head in a mass of curls and she was wearing a dark green dress with a low decollate which was tightly moulded to her figure. Her bosom was just at the level of his eyes and Ben noticed it was much fuller than it had seemed this afternoon. Her eyes almost seemed to match the colour of her dress. He wondered how an extraordinary woman like Sylvia should be married to such a dullard as Alfredo.
She paused for a moment as though choosing her words with care. “Signor Cartwright – can I call you Benjamin?”
“I’d prefer Ben.”
“All right – Ben.” She paused. “You say you wish to discuss the business in London with us.”
“Can you speak for Alfredo and his mother?”
“Truly.” Her lips were smiling but the look in her eyes was calculating. “You perhaps do not understand that in Italy the family is everything.”
“You mean that you will discuss it with Alfredo and mama for me?”
She shook her head. “I will discuss it with my father. He is Mancino Vitelli. He is the head of the Vitelli. Here we give him the title of capofamiglia.” Her smile broadened. “You might perhaps call him the godfather.”
Ben felt his spine tingle. “Is he also the godfather of the Cimbroni?”
“Truly. Now he is. With the death of his own father, Alfredo accepts that Mancino is the head of both families.”
This disclosure was starting to explain a lot of things. Ben couldn’t help feeling it was a worrying development. What were the aims of this Mancino Vitelli. Why might he want to gain control of Cartwright Cimbrone in London? Would Ben be able to negotiate with him?
Sylvia was watching him closely. “I am Mancino’s only daughter.” She tossed her head. “You might say I am his favourite. So I may be able to help you if you wish to speak with him. He does not speak English so I can probably speak to him for you. But first you will need to discuss it fully with me. You will need to tell me exactly what you want.” Her eyes were half-closed but they were watching him closely. “We may be able to – how do you say – fit our plans together.”
Looking into those hypnotic eyes Ben found himself replying, “I understand.”
“But I cannot discuss it with you tonight. You are coming here tomorrow at noon. I will be sure that there will be nobody here but me. We will discuss it fully then.”
“Very well.” He felt a crawling sensation in his stomach as thought about the next day. He didn’t know what he was letting himself in for. However he knew he had to do it if he wanted to save his company.
“Also Ben, I wish to warn you about Francesca. For some time she has been very difficult. You see - she was upset by her father’s death. Of course we all were - but Francesca more than the others. She is still a very young girl and doesn’t know her own mind.”
Ben moistened his lips. He felt like asking why a girl who apparently didn’t know her own mind was being betrothed. But he knew the old-fashioned ways of the Southern Italians. So he said nothing.
“For that reason I do not wish to tell her yet of her brother’s tragic death.”
He fancied the shadow of insincerity flickered across her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. “I will find a way to tell her about it in the future when she is ready to react properly. I ask you not to say a word of it to her tonight.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“It is not good that you are joining us this evening.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben admitted. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”
“Well, what is done is done. You will understand that I did not wish to upset her again. But I would ask you to keep very quiet and not to take any part in the ceremony, unless it is at my request. It is a very important ceremony to us. It is something which the families have been planning for years.”
“I promise only to speak when I am spoken to.”
“Please do not attempt to talk to Francesca on any matter. I understand her and the difficult period she is going through at the moment. I do not wish her to be further upset by some thoughtless comment.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Do you promise me this?”
“Very well.” Ben found himself looking into the almost mesmerising depths of those green eyes. His shoulder seemed to have an electric tingle running through it.
“It is a pity you did not come a few days later. I would have been able to make you so much more welcome. But perhaps there will be time later.” Now her eyes reminded him of a contented cat. Her hand slid off his shoulder and, with no more than the gentlest rustle, she was gone, leaving him with a pounding heart.
Ben even wondered afterwards whether he had dreamt the whole thing.
The Mafia Emblem Page 22