Lucy Gordon - Wife By Arrangement

‘Please-’ she started to say, ‘I can’t-’

‘Promise her!’ Renato said violently.

Baptista was growing dangerously agitated. Heather spoke quickly. ‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there when you come home. But I’ll go now so that you can be alone with your family.’

‘You will be there,’ Baptista repeated. ‘You have given your word.’

‘And I’m a woman of my word. Don’t worry.’ She slipped out.

‘What is it?’ Angie asked quickly, seeing her pale face.

‘I can’t believe what I’ve done.’ Briefly she told Angie what had happened.

‘You didn’t have any choice.’

‘No, I didn’t. But how do I live in the same house with Renato without telling him how much I hate him?’

THE Residenza was eerily quiet. The vast hordes of guests had swarmed all over it, devouring the feast, hungrier and thirstier for the excitement of having something horrifying to talk about. Now they were all gone, save for one or two who lived too far away to depart that night. In the morning they too would vanish.

The wedding cake remained uneaten, because everyone had been too superstitious to touch it. It stood tall and beautiful in its white, shimmering glory, celebrating a lovers’ union that would never be.

Heather stood in the semi-darkness of the great hall, looking at the cake, with its tiny bride and groom on the topmost tier. She was trapped in limbo, unable to go forward or back. The way back involved too many painful thoughts. The way forward was blocked by her promise.

She felt slightly giddy, and recalled that she’d eaten nothing since the night before. This morning she’d refused breakfast. Too excited. She would eat later, at the reception, she’d thought. And when they cut the cake she’d planned to take the two little figures from the top and treasure them always. Well, they were still there, if she wanted them.

Suddenly she broke. All day she’d used Baptista’s illness to fend off the truth, but now there was nothing to protect her from it. Lorenzo didn’t love her, had deserted her in front of the whole cathedral. The dream of love that she’d believed in had turned out to be a monstrous, sickening farce.

At this moment she forgot the doubts that had plagued her only the night before. They belonged in the realm of reason and common sense and it was too soon to heed them.

What tortured her now were memories of the time when Lorenzo had been the young man who charmed her and made life sweet with his kindness, his cheerful good nature, and his adoration. Her feelings for him might have turned out to be no more than infatuation, but they had been real enough in their way, and now they were bitterly painful. She covered her eyes with her hand and leaned forward, swaying against the table, while anguish shook her. Tears threatened but she fought them back.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

At least, not now. Not until she could be alone, away from this house, away from this island, away from Renato Martelli.

A footstep made her whirl around. Renato stood there, watching her. Furious at his intrusion, she pulled herself together and spoke as calmly as she could. ‘How is your mother?’

‘Asleep when I left her. The doctors think it was just a giddy spell.’

‘And she’s in no danger?’

‘She has a bad heart. But this wasn’t a heart attack.’

‘Fine. Then I can go soon?’

‘If you want to hurt her. She has welcomed you as her daughter-’

‘But I’m not her daughter,’ Heather said harshly, ‘nor will I ever be-’

‘You don’t understand. I’m not talking about legalities. I’m saying that she loves you. From the moment you arrived she opened her arms to you. Didn’t you feel that?’

‘Yes, I did, and it meant the world to me, but now-’

‘Now you’ll turn your back on her? Is that how you repay her kindness?’

‘I’ve said I’ll stay until she returns home. I can’t promise further than that.’

The sound of her own voice startled her. It sounded hard with the effort of suppressing all emotion, not like herself at all. Or perhaps this stern, dry-eyed, controlled woman was who she was now.

One of the family maids was hovering uneasily. She asked Renato something in Sicilian. ‘She wants to know what she should do with the cake,’ he said.

Heather stared at him, aghast. She was starving, devastated, with every nerve at breaking point, and her exhausted mind on the edge of hallucinating. The prosaic question caught her off guard and almost sent her into hysterics. ‘How would I know?’ she asked wildly. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before. Oddly enough, the books of wedding etiquette don’t cover it. You suggest something. You’re the man who has an answer for every problem, even if some of your answers fall apart at awkward moments.’

He flinched but stayed calm. ‘I’ll tell her to send it to the children’s home.’

‘Good idea. But not the top tier. Ask her to take that down now and give it to me.’

Renato did so. The maid climbed on a chair and reached up to lift down the tiny cake, adorned with the figures under a flowered arch. But her hand shook and the little bridegroom fell to the floor and broke in two. Renato gave her a nod of reassurance, and she hurried away.

‘Why do you want that?’ he asked as Heather surveyed the small top tier.

‘To eat, of course. I think the bride should have some of her own wedding cake, don’t you?’ She took up a sharp knife and cut into the ornately decorated icing. ‘Have some with me.’

‘I don’t think-’

‘Then pour me some champagne. You’re not going to deny me wedding cake and champagne on my big day, are you?’

He found two glasses and filled them. ‘When did you last eat?’

‘Yesterday. I couldn’t manage anything this morning.’

‘You’ll regret drinking champagne on an empty stomach.’

She poured two glasses and thrust one at him. ‘Drink it with me. Let’s toast the day you brought about.’

‘Heather, I know you must hate me-’

‘And try contempt and loathing. Especially contempt.’

She drained her champagne glass and refilled it. ‘I want to know how much of Lorenzo’s letter was true. When he returned from Stockholm early-that was why? To tell you that he wanted to call it all off?’

‘Look-’

‘Tell me, damn you!’

‘Yes,’ he said reluctantly. ‘He said that.’

‘And you kept it to yourself?’

‘Why should I tell you what could hurt you? I talked to Lorenzo and-’ He seemed to have trouble going on.

“‘Made him see reason,” was his charming expression. You mean you told him he had to marry me whether he liked it or not. How dare you? What do you think I am? Some helpless bird-brain with no guts or independence?’

‘No, but after what you told me-about your previous fiancé-’

‘You told him that?’ she cried, aghast. ‘Oh, you’ve done everything you can to humiliate me, haven’t you? I can just hear you-“You can’t walk out on her, Lorenzo. The poor creature’s already been deserted once. You’ve got to see it through, however much you’d rather not.”’

‘Would I have done better to let him walk away from his obligations?’

Eyes flashing, she whirled on him. ‘He did walk away. You just made sure he did it at the worst possible moment. And why obligations? I was marrying for love and I thought he was doing the same. I don’t want a husband who’s only doing his duty.

‘If we’d broken up in London I could have coped. I’d still have had my job, my friends, my life there. But you wanted our marriage, to suit yourself. You had to play God with people’s lives, to suit yourself. And now Lorenzo has vanished, I’m stranded and your mother is ill, all because Renato Martelli has to have his own way.’

He didn’t answer, but there was a drawn look about his face that checked her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said wearily. ‘I didn’t mean to throw your mother’s illness up at you.’

‘Why not? It’s true.’

‘Yes, but I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t-’ Her voice thickened, and she set her jaw. She would not weep. She would not.

‘Heather-’ He reached for her but she backed off, eyes flashing.

‘I’m warning you, Renato-if you touch me, there’ll be violence.’

He checked himself. ‘Perhaps enough has been said for tonight,’ he sighed. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer me to leave you.’

She didn’t answer. Her face was unyielding. As he left her Renato felt a flash of some emotion he could hardly identify. He was a man who feared nothing, so his own dread took him by surprise. He didn’t know this woman who looked as though a stone lay where her heart should be. He only knew that he was guilty of some terrible crime.

Next morning, when the last guest had left, Renato sought out Heather and said, ‘I thought you should know that I’ve traced Lorenzo. He’s staying with friends in Naples.’

He didn’t look directly at her as he spoke. That way he didn’t have to notice her pallor, or the signs that she hadn’t slept. But he couldn’t help knowing that she tensed at the sound of Lorenzo’s name.

‘Does he know that his mother is ill?’ Heather asked quietly.

‘No, I haven’t spoken to him.’

‘You must. He ought to return and see her.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ he said sharply. ‘It’s not serious. She’ll be home tomorrow.’

‘But it would mean a lot to her to see him.’

‘It might also strain her.’

‘I think you’re wrong,’ Heather said firmly. ‘It’s much harder for her to wonder about him.’

After a moment’s silence she looked up to see Renato regarding her strangely. ‘You’re very determined to fetch him back,’ he said quietly.

Once she’d hardly been aware of having a temper. Now a word from Renato could trigger it. ‘If you mean what I think you do, you should be ashamed. It’s all over between Lorenzo and me. I’d never marry him now.’