The Dressmaker’s Secret

by Charlotte Betts

To defraying the funeral costs of Rose Langdon.

  I sank down on the desk chair and read it again while my pulse raced. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘My mother drowned herself… Didn’t she?’

  ‘Frederick found her clothes by the river but her body was never found,’ whispered Aunt Maude.

  ‘But if she didn’t drown herself…’ I crumpled the paper in my fist, suddenly breathless with rage. ‘Father had her put away! He shut her up for eighteen years because she threatened to expose him as a thief. And he let me think she abandoned me because she didn’t love me enough. If Father weren’t already dead, I’d kill him with my bare hands.’ Searing hatred for him ripped through me. He had lied to me, told me Mother was a thief and an adulteress, but far worse than that, he had deprived me of her love.

  Alessandro pushed open the study door. ‘I’m going to the post office…’ His voice trailed off when he saw me hunched over Father’s desk. ‘What is it, Emilia?’

  I couldn’t speak and Aunt Maude quickly explained what we had discovered.

  Alessandro enfolded me in his arms with a muttered curse and I buried my face in his neck. He held me tightly and rubbed my back as I wept for the loss of my mother, knowing now for certain that she had always loved me.

  Chapter 40

  September 1821

  Italy

  Alessandro and I waited in the salone of the Villa Vittoria. Late-September sunshine cast lozenges of light across the floor and I smiled, remembering my first visit here when I’d found Princess Caroline laughing uproariously while she played a boisterous game with Victorine. Even though she’d often been unhappy, the Princess always grasped life with both hands, taking small pleasures where she could find them.

  Footsteps, light and quick, sounded in the hall and then the door burst open.

  ‘Signor Fiorelli!’ Victorine let go of Countess Oldi’s hand and launched herself into Alessandro’s arms, shrieking with delight as he whirled her around.

  ‘I hope we find you well, Countess?’ I enquired.

  She shrugged. ‘Life is very quiet at Villa Vittoria these days.’

  Alessandro put Victorine down and bowed to the Countess.

  ‘The Baron returned from hunting a moment ago,’ she said, ‘and wishes to speak to you, Signor Fiorelli.’

  Victorine tugged at Alessandro’s hand to gain his attention again.

  ‘Look at you!’ he said. ‘You’ve grown up into a fine young lady since I saw you last.’

  The child giggled. ‘Why have you been away so long?’

  ‘I went all the way to England to fetch Signorina Barton.’

  ‘Mamma died in England,’ said Victorine, her happy smile fading.

  ‘We met her there,’ I said, ‘and she told me how much she missed you.’

  ‘I miss her, too.’ The corners of her mouth turned down.

  Alessandro stroked her hair. ‘But I have some happy news for you. Signorina Barton and I are to be married next week and we’ve brought you an invitation to our wedding.’

  ‘We’d be delighted if you and the Baron would honour us with your presence also,’ I said to Countess Oldi.

  ‘I should like that. And will you be living in Pesaro?’

  ‘I’ve been offered a position teaching at the University of Bologna but haven’t yet decided to accept it,’ Alessandro told her.

  ‘Bologna is so far from your family!’ the Countess exclaimed.

  ‘I know,’ he said unhappily.

  The whole Fiorelli family had welcomed Aunt Maude and me with such warmth that it felt as if we were being wrapped in a soft blanket. I didn’t want us to make our home too far away from them, either.

  Footsteps rang out across the hall and the Baron strode in, carrying the pungent odour of hot horseflesh with him.

  I’d forgotten how tall and handsome he was, with his glossy black hair and curled moustache, but he looked older and I fancied there were worry lines around his eyes.

  ‘Papà!’ cried Victorine. ‘Signor Fiorelli and Signorina Barton are to be married and I’m invited to the wedding!’

  ‘Then you shall have a new dress,’ said the Baron. ‘But now I wish to talk business to Signor Fiorelli. Go to the kitchen, my sweet. Faustina has baked almond cakes.’

  After Victorine had pulled the Countess away with her, the Baron said, ‘Congratulations on your engagement, Fiorelli.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Alessandro, smiling at me.

  ‘It’s very strange to be here without the Princess,’ I said.

  A shadow passed over the Baron’s face. ‘At least her unhappiness is at an end,’ he said. ‘I heard you were back in Pesaro, Fiorelli, and I was going to ask you to come and see me.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Alessandro.

  ‘I’m happy to tell you that Victorine’s future is secure as she has inherited the Villa Vittoria.’

  ‘The Princess loved her,’ I said.

  The Baron nodded. ‘She always showed great compassion for children. Did you know that some years ago she adopted a number of orphans in London and had them trained in useful trades?’

  ‘She spoke of that to me many times,’ said Alessandro. ‘She wanted to help the poor children of Pesaro, too.’

  The Baron nodded. ‘Although she made no provision in her will, I want her wishes to be honoured.’

  I held my breath, hoping I’d correctly anticipated the drift of his conversation.

  ‘As the Princess’s steward,’ the Baron continued, ‘I managed her household finances. Her spending was sometimes impulsive. As a result of this I kept aside a sum for contingencies. I believe you, Signor Fiorelli, may be the right person to implement the Princess’s wishes.’

  ‘A school?’ asked Alessandro breathlessly.

  ‘Exactly!’ said the Baron.

  ‘She intended to give poor children a good education,’ said Alessandro, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm, ‘to help them make their way successfully in the world.’

  ‘The sum available is enough to buy a house to convert into a school,’ said the Baron, ‘and to provide a home for the headmaster. The remaining funds, carefully invested, will allow salaries for two or three teachers. Is this project something you would be prepared to undertake?’

  ‘Yes! Yes, it is!’ Alessandro’s eyes glowed. ‘At least,’ he glanced apologetically at me, ‘I should like this very much if my fiancée is agreeable.’

  I reached out to grasp his hand. ‘It’s a marvellous idea,’ I said. ‘But I have one proviso. The school must honour Princess Caroline’s name.’

  The Baron smiled. ‘She would have liked that,’ he said.

  A week later afternoon sunshine bathed the wedding party in liquid gold. Mamma Fiorelli and her daughters had been cooking all week to prepare the sumptuous feast laid before us on tables decorated with wild flowers. There were vast platters of frutti di mare, chicken with lemon and garlic, bowls of glistening olives and salads, pyramids of crusty bread, and purple figs stuffed with mascarpone and drizzled with flower-scented honey.

  We sat in the Fiorellis’ garden listening to the happy chatter of the guests and I kept glancing at Alessandro, hardly able to believe my good fortune that he was now my husband. He squeezed my hand and light danced in his eyes as he gave me one of his infectious smiles.

  Dear Aunt Maude sat beside me, her pinched, careworn expression replaced by a contented smile. All the people I loved were close by and I couldn’t remember ever having felt so at peace.

  Papà Fiorelli raised his wine glass for yet another toast. ‘Per cent’anni!’ For a hundred years! The guests echoed him. ‘If my son’s marriage is only half as happy as mine,’ he said, ‘then he will be a very happy man indeed!’

  I glimpsed Alessandro’s mother, who was blushing like a bride herself.

  Salvatore, one of my new brothers-in-law, called out, ‘A kiss for the bride!’

  My veil, lent by my mother-in-law, fluttered in the breeze and Alessandro laughed as it tickled his face. He kissed me a
nd a roar of approval and clapping burst out around us.

  ‘Hurrah for the newlyweds!’

  Alessandro whispered in my ear, ‘You’re so beautiful you take my breath away.’

  I touched Mother’s pearls at my throat. I wore them with the lovely dress embroidered with roses that I’d worn for my first ball. How long ago it seemed!

  ‘Let there be music!’

  The musicians struck up on a mandolin and a violin.

  ‘We must lead the dancing, Signora Fiorelli,’ said Alessandro with a mischievous smile. He offered me his arm.

  I touched Aunt Maude’s cheek. ‘Is it too noisy for you?’

  Smiling, she shook her head. ‘Music makes me feel alive again. Go and dance with your husband.’

  Alessandro and I opened the dance and every touch of his hand on mine sent shivers up my spine.

  ‘You must dance with every man who asks you,’ he said, his gaze fixed on my mouth, ‘and be aware they’ll all kiss you to make me jealous.’

  ‘I’ll never give you cause to be jealous of another man,’ I promised.

  He smiled and kissed me slowly and thoroughly while the guests whistled.

  Other couples joined us in the dance and the pace of the music quickened. Alessandro’s father came to claim me and whirled me around as fast as a man half his age would have done.

  The Baron took his place and was light on his feet as he moved expertly through the steps. ‘How the Princess loved to dance!’ he exclaimed.

  I fancied there was a wistful tone to his voice. I glanced over his shoulder and missed a beat when I saw Aunt Maude dancing sedately with Papà Fiorelli. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Breathless, I danced with all Alessandro’s brothers, even little Alfio, and then, one by one, the rest of the male guests.

  Then Alessandro came to claim me again and we laughed as Victorine and Alfio spun in circles around us, showering us with rose petals.

  The sun was slipping down behind the hills when, at last, we returned to the table, where Cosima sat with Aunt Maude, teaching her to speak Italian.

  As it grew dark, Salvatore and Jacopo went around the garden with burning tapers and lit the myriad candles hanging from the trees in glass jars. The flickering flames reminded me of the fireflies that had enchanted us in the avenue of cypresses at Villa Vittoria so long ago.

  Alessandro and I exchanged a few words with every guest, receiving their good wishes.

  Later, as the garden became illuminated by moonlight, Mamma Fiorelli came to see us with her little grandson Enzo asleep on her shoulder. ‘It’s time for you to go,’ she said. ‘And don’t worry, Emilia, I will look after your aunt. Tonight is for your husband.’

  I hugged her. ‘We’ll come and take Aunt Maude home with us tomorrow.’

  Mamma Fiorelli kissed Alessandro and he hugged her tightly.

  The young men in the party began to whoop with exuberant high spirits.

  Alessandro and I kissed Aunt Maude and said our goodbyes to the older guests.

  A violinist, playing a lively jig, led the noisy procession out of the Fiorelli house and down the lane. Alessandro’s friends sang at the tops of their voices, banging wooden spoons upon saucepans and setting off firecrackers as we danced along until we reached our temporary home on the cliff overlooking the sea.

  Alessandro lifted me in his arms and carried me over the threshold to the accompaniment of loud cheers and whistles. Laughing, he pushed a group of revellers out of the door when they tried to follow us inside.

  ‘Goodnight, my friends,’ he said. ‘Go back to the party and finish the wine.’

  One by one they went off unsteadily down the lane, still singing. As the merry racket faded away, Alessandro closed the front door.

  All at once it was quiet.

  ‘Alone at last!’ he said. Gently, he took me in his arms and rested his forehead against mine. ‘Did I tell you how beautiful you are today?’

  ‘Only about a hundred times.’ I smiled into the dark.

  ‘Not enough then,’ he said, nuzzling my neck.

  Shivers of desire and apprehension ran down my back.

  He lifted off my wedding veil and pulled the pins from my hair, allowing my curls to tumble around my shoulders. ‘My Botticelli angel.’ His breath stirred against my cheek. Sliding his hands under my hair, he kissed me and when we drew apart, my heart was singing.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he whispered.

  We stopped to kiss again on the top stair, a long slow kiss that made me melt inside.

  In the bedroom the shutters were open and the bed was bathed in a shaft of silvery moonlight. I hung back, excited but also a little afraid.

  Alessandro sensed my nervousness. He drew me past the bed to the window and opened the casements. A fresh, salty breeze stirred my hair as we stood, hand in hand, listening to the soothing ebb and flow of the sea on the sand below.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for Princess Caroline, we might never have met,’ said Alessandro quietly. ‘And a year ago I thought I’d lost you. I’ve never been so miserable.’ He pulled me closer to his side. ‘But, tonight, here we are at the beginning of the rest of our lives together and I’m filled with such joy and thankfulness I think my heart might burst.’

  I watched him wipe away a tear and loved him all the more for his display of emotion. ‘I loved you from the beginning,’ I said. ‘But it frightened me. I thought I’d been abandoned by those I loved and that perhaps I wasn’t worthy of lasting love.’

  ‘I promise to love you forever,’ he said, cupping my face. ‘Even when we argue, as married couples do, I’ll never abandon you. Never, never!’

  As I looked deep into his eyes something shifted inside me, as if a key had unlocked my heart. All tension drained away and I was filled with exultation. This was how it felt to trust and love another so absolutely. This was how it felt to be whole.

  ‘Emilia?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I kissed him, gently at first, but then with rising passion. I slid my hands inside his shirt and shivered as I touched his firm, warm skin.

  His lips were hot and urgent as he fumbled with my buttons and ribbons and finally freed me from my dress, shift and stockings. He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed.

  Afterwards, Alessandro caressed my hair as we lay entwined together in the moonlight. ‘My wife,’ he murmured sleepily. ‘Forever.’

  ‘Forever,’ I whispered.

  He curled himself protectively around my back. And then he was asleep.

  I nestled into the curve of his body, revelling in the silken touch of our naked skin. My husband’s sleeping breaths echoed the peaceful murmur of the sea outside and very soon my own breathing rose and fell in the same rhythm.

  Historical Note

  Caroline of Brunswick 1768–1821

  Whilst researching The Dressmaker’s Secret, I went to Pesaro and walked up Monte San Bartolo to look for Villa Vittoria, visited the harbour, dipped my fingers in the fountain in the Piazza del Popolo and swam in the Baia Flaminia. All the while I had the feeling Caroline was looking over my shoulder and smiling at the places she had loved.

  In 1794 Princess Caroline of Brunswick was twenty-six years old and longing for marriage and children. In London, George, the Prince of Wales, enjoyed an extravagant lifestyle that had plunged him into severe debt amounting to £630,000 (equivalent to fifty-nine million pounds today). His father, George III, urged the Prince to marry, since Parliament would then increase his annual allowance to £65,000. Reluctantly, he agreed. The King approved of the match to Caroline since she was not only his sister’s daughter but also a Protestant.

  The cousins had never met and Lord Malmesbury was sent to Brunswick as the Prince’s envoy to arrange the marriage treaty. He reported that blonde and blue-eyed Caroline had ‘a pretty face and tolerable teeth’. Her short figure was ‘not graceful’ though she had a ‘good bust’. Lord Malmesbury was, however, perturbed by her free and easy manner and over the following months made at
tempts to prepare her for the cool formality of the English court. It was a challenging task. The Princess was impulsive, lively and indiscreet, careless about her toilette, laughed too loudly and enjoyed, perhaps too much, the company of men.

  The Prince of Wales appointed his current favourite mistress, Lady Jersey, as Caroline’s lady-in-waiting. Lady Jersey was to meet her on her arrival in Greenwich but, in the first of many such snubs to the Princess, kept her waiting most of the day.

  The Prince and Princess met for the first time on 5 April 1795, three days before their wedding. Caroline wore an unflattering dress that Lady Jersey provided for her, after persuading her that it was more suitable for the presentation than her own had been. Caroline kneeled to the Prince, who then formally embraced her. He immediately recoiled and called for his equerry to bring him a glass of brandy. Without another word, he left the room. Caroline, affronted by the Prince’s behaviour, commented that he was very fat and not as handsome as his picture. Later, it transpired that Lord Malmesbury’s attempts to teach the Princess to be particular about her personal hygiene had failed.