Rinaldo’s Inherited Bride

CHAPTER SEVEN

FRUSTRATED, she went out into the yard. A movement from the barn drew her steps there, and she found Rinaldo.

‘Have you come to tell me what a heartless monster I am, too?’ he asked ironically. ‘Because if so, don’t.’

‘No, I won’t say that. After last night, I know better.’

He shot her a sharp glance. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I saw you bury Brutus.’

For a moment he was quite still. Then he said curtly, ‘Nonsense.’

‘It isn’t. I noticed something moving in the trees and went down. I was there while you dug the grave and put him in it. I saw-everything.’

‘You have a vivid imagination, I’ll say that for you. You and Gino make a good pair.’

Anger at his rebuff made her snap, ‘You think Gino would be interested in what I saw? Let’s try.’

She turned to go but he was beside her in a flash, seizing her arms in a fierce grip.

‘Don’t dare to tell him anything,’ he growled. ‘What concern is it of yours what I do?’

‘But it’s true, isn’t it? Losing him broke your heart. Why deny it?’

‘Because it’s nobody else’s business!’

‘But he’s your brother. Don’t you think he’d feel for you?’

‘I don’t ask him to feel for me. Nor do I ask you.’

‘Who do you ask?’ she said quietly. ‘Now Brutus is dead, who do you share your feelings with?’

‘There’s a lot to be said for a dog,’ he snapped. ‘They keep quiet and they don’t fret about things that are none of their business. Why did you have to come Belluna and interfere?’

‘You more or less forced me to come.’

‘And it was the worst day’s work I ever did.’

‘You said I needed to learn about this place and the things that went on in it. That’s just what I’m doing. I’m learning that nothing is ever quite what it seems.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You, for instance. You work hard at being one thing and seeming another. I wonder why.’

‘It keeps me safe from snoopers.’

‘Does that include Gino? Because you hide from him too. You don’t let anyone in, do you? Except Brutus.’

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, giving her a tiny shake.

‘Will you stop?’ he asked fiercely. ‘Will you stop?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said gently after a moment. ‘I know it isn’t really my business. But now I can’t help getting involved. Where do I draw the line?’

‘Right here,’ he said, still holding her. ‘You’ve reached the boundary. Stay on your side of it, and we’ll manage.’

Suddenly she realised that he was shaking. Through the contact of his fingers on her bare arms she could sense his whole body vibrating.

In her turn she reached up to take hold of his arms.

‘Rinaldo,’ she said. ‘Don’t shut me out. Let me help.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

But she refused to be snubbed. ‘After last night it’s too late,’ she said quietly. ‘I know what I know.’

She knew she was treading on dangerous ground and for a moment she thought he would lose his temper. But instead he sighed and the anger went out of his face.

‘How can you possibly help?’ he asked heavily.

‘You mean I’m the last person who ever could. Because I caused all the trouble, didn’t I?’

Hearing his own accusation put so bluntly seemed to do something to Rinaldo. She saw his eyes full of shock as he realised that he was still holding her. He dropped his hands from her arms.

There was an ache inside her that had something to do with his misery. She wanted to assuage it and ease the hurt for them both.

He sat down on a bale of hay, leaning back against a post of the barn, his hands hanging loose as though he’d lost the will to fight.

‘No, it’s not your fault,’ he said tiredly. ‘I know I said that at first, but in truth I know better. It wasn’t you who created the situation.’

He took a long breath. His face was livid.

‘It was my father,’ he said at last. ‘A man I trusted, and who let me live in a fool’s paradise. He never warned me, that’s what-’ He made a confused gesture.

‘That’s what hurts, isn’t it?’ she whispered, sitting beside him.

His eyes were full of resignation, almost despair.

‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘We used to sit up late at night, discussing problems. I thought we were a team, and all the time he was keeping me at a distance, not trusting me with the truth.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said at once. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘How can you possibly know?’

‘Because in an odd way I feel as if I do know him. Everyone talks about how lovely he was, laughing, singing, always looking on the bright side. I think that probably made him a wonderful person and a loveable father, but maybe not a very practical farmer.’

He nodded. ‘That’s true.’

‘But you are practical. I expect you hauled him back from the brink a few times.’

‘That’s true as well. He was always going after madcap schemes and having to be rescued. You’d think he’d learn.’

Alex shook her head.

‘People like that never do learn,’ she said gently. ‘They’re always sure they’re going to get it right next time. I think he relied on you completely, and was just a little bit in awe of you.’

‘Nonsense, how could my father-?’ But Rinaldo checked himself, and a strange, distant look came over his face, as though he were hearing distant echoes.

‘Perhaps,’ he said after a while.

‘You’ve said that the money helped this place.’

‘A lot. Poppa ploughed it into Belluna-he was a good enough farmer for that. The investment has enabled us to prosper as never before.’

‘Then don’t you see how he must have cherished his secret, the feeling that he’d done something to make things right, instead of leaving it all to you? He probably looked forward to surprising you with it one day, rather like a child springing a surprise on an adult and saying, “There, aren’t I clever? What do you think of that?”’

Rinaldo stared at her, as if thunderstruck.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘That’s exactly how he was. I can hear how he would have said it.’

‘It isn’t his fault that it all went wrong,’ she pleaded. ‘He couldn’t have known what would happen. Maybe it hurt his pride to have to depend on you so much. He wanted you to admire him.’

‘You make it sound so convincing,’ he said in a low voice. ‘If only I could remember-’

‘Remember what?’

‘Something-anything-just a moment that would tell me what was in his mind. I keep having this feeling that it’s there, just on the edge. Like when you see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn it vanishes. I dream about it, but it isn’t there when I awaken. Maybe it doesn’t really exist at all.’

‘If it does, it will come back to you,’ she said. ‘Not now, because your head’s all scrambled, but when you feel easier inside.’

His mouth quirked wryly.

‘I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel easy inside.’

She looked at his hands, lying loosely clasped. He was a big man and his hands were large in proportion. She could still feel their power where he’d gripped her. Yet now they looked helpless.

‘You carry all the burdens for everyone, don’t you?’ she said.

He didn’t answer, and she wondered if she’d taken a risk too far. But his eyes held only a searching look, as though he were trying to fathom her.

From outside came Gino’s voice.

‘Hey! Anybody there?’

He was coming toward the barn. Rinaldo put his finger to his lips, shaking his head slightly, and hurried out before Gino could enter.

She heard his voice carrying back.

‘I was just coming. We have a lot to do today.’

Their voices faded. After a while she slipped out of the barn to find everywhere quiet.

She went indoors and put through a call to David, but there was only his answerphone. They had spoken several times since she came to Belluna. She had apologised for being so long, and he’d encouraged her to stay as long as necessary.

She always finished these calls feeling a little guilty that he was being so nice and understanding. She felt she was taking advantage of his patience to indulge herself.

One thing she was sure of. There was no way she was leaving before the Feast of St Romauld, which took place on June 19th.

‘There’s a parade of floats through the streets,’ Gino told her, ‘and we all wander around eating and drinking, and then we dance. I shall dance only with you, amor mio. And you must dance only with me.’

‘She can’t do that,’ Rinaldo said at once. ‘Montelli and the others will want some of her attention, and you must do what’s necessary to keep them dangling, eh, Alex?’ He spoke pleasantly, as though this were an accepted joke between them.

‘Of course,’ she said, playing up to him.

Gino assumed an air of theatrical comedy.

‘But why should you need the others when you have us?’ he demanded, clasping her waist and leaning over her dramatically.

‘Let’s say I like some variety,’ she chuckled, clinging to him to avoid falling. ‘Now, get off me, you great clown.’

When the day arrived, every worker on the farm went to the festival. Families piled into cars, converging on the road to the city so that they ended up in what Gino told her was the Belluna procession.

Alex spent more time choosing what to wear for the festival than she had meant to. Her first choice had been a white dress. But somehow, at the last minute, it seemed wrong.

After trying on one dress after another she came to one of brilliant scarlet that seemed just right. It had a steep V-neck and looked splendid against her light tan.

That was something new. In London she strove to look elegant, businesslike. But not splendid. Suddenly only splendid would do.

One of the hands, who had no family, drove Teresa, Celia and Franca in Rinaldo’s old vehicle, while the brothers and Alex went in her shiny hired car.

As they were leaving the house Alex handed her keys to Rinaldo. ‘I’m sure you’d rather have these.’

‘Be careful Alex,’ he said. ‘Someone will mistake you for a traditional female, asking a man to drive your car.’

‘Nobody who knows me would ever make that mistake,’ she said firmly. ‘But I can’t get used to the steering wheel being on the left when I’m used to the right.’

‘Ah, yes, the English drive on the wrong side of the road,’ he murmured.

She ignored this flagrant provocation, and said, ‘It’s probably safer if you drive.’

‘I don’t believe I heard you say that.’

‘Oh, get in and drive,’ she said in exasperation.

He grinned and did so. Gino swiftly urged Alex into the back seat, and so the three of them made their way into the city.

The two men were also dressed ‘for best’ in snowy white shirts with ruffled fronts. Gino was by nature a stylish dresser, but, except for the funerals Alex had not seen Rinaldo in anything but shabby working clothes.

Though alike in features the brothers were different in the impression they made, Gino the more conventionally attractive, Rinaldo the more virile and uncompromising.

It was as well, she thought, that she was ‘spoken for’, or these two might have seriously disturbed her equilibrium.

As it was, she was looking forward to spending time at the festival in the company of her two handsome escorts.

It was late afternoon and things were already happening. Alex found it was nothing like the pallid festivities she’d seen at home.

Figures pranced around the streets. They were all outrageously clad, some from history, some from mythology. Saints mingled with demons, sorcerers and clowns.

Several times Alex was seized around the waist and whirled into an impromptu dance, from which Gino had to rescue her.

Rinaldo left them almost as soon as they arrived, but after a while they came across him, deep on conversation with a grave-looking man.

‘Bank manager,’ Gino muttered.

‘In the middle of a festival?’ Alex demanded.

‘You’d think he could take five minutes off, wouldn’t you?’

‘Perhaps he’s arranging a mortgage on the rest of the property so that he can buy me out quickly.’

‘What?’ Gino was aghast.

‘Well, it would solve a lot of problems,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful.

‘No it wouldn’t. You’d go away. I don’t want you to go. You don’t want to go, do you?’

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

The Loggia of the Boar was filled with stalls selling all manner of foods. Gino bought cakes and wine and they wandered around, hand in hand, like children.

As the natural light faded the coloured lights became brighter. Tables were set out in the streets and a band began to play.

They strolled about until they found Rinaldo, clearly having finished with the bank manager, sitting alone at a table in the Piazza della Signoria, brooding over a solitary glass of wine.

‘Hello brother,’ Gino cried. ‘Are you having a good time? You don’t look it.’

‘We don’t all have to go crazy to enjoy ourselves,’ Rinaldo observed, unruffled, as they joined him at the table. ‘The procession should be starting about now.’

Even as he spoke trumpets sounded in the distance, and a cheer went up from the crowd as the first floats appeared. Alex watched eagerly.

Although it was a religious festival not all the floats had that theme. Some were so bawdy as to be almost obscene, some were cruel.

Alex stared as one went by depicting a huge figure with a goat’s head and flashing eyes. She knew enough symbolism to recognise that the goat represented not only the devil but also human sexuality at its most rampant and uncontrolled.

Yet in the saint’s parade he did not seem out of place. Everything here had a red-blooded gusto that thrilled her.

‘Some of those floats are amazing,’ she mused. ‘That one with the baker and the loaf of bread, is it really as rude as it looks?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Gino said with relish. ‘The ruder the better. That’s how we like it. That’s really why we celebrate St Romauld at all, because he’s a great excuse for rudeness.’

‘I’ve never heard of him,’ Alex said.

‘He’s not one of the better known saints,’ Rinaldo agreed, ‘but he has the advantage of having been thoroughly licentious before he became saintly. He lived about a thousand years ago, and to start with he did a lot of drinking and wenching. Then he reformed and became a monk, founding a monastery not far from here.’

‘But he was constantly plagued by temptation.’ Gino took up the tale. ‘Naturally he resisted it, but it means that his parade can be very colourful. For every one float depicting him as a saint there are about ten showing worldly indulgence. Which is about right,’ he added judiciously.

Looking at the floats Alex saw that this was true. The world and the devil were depicted with great imagination, again and again.

‘But isn’t it supposed to be a religious festival?’ she laughed.

‘Of course,’ Gino said. ‘People go to church and say sorry afterwards. But the pleasures of the flesh must come first, and you must really exert yourself to enjoy them, because otherwise the repentance wouldn’t be real, and that would be sacrilege.’

Alex poked him in the ribs. ‘That sounds a very convenient philosophy.’

‘Poppa taught it to me. He said it was ancient tradition, but I think he invented it.’

Rinaldo nodded. ‘That wouldn’t surprise me.’

Suddenly Alex burst out laughing. ‘What on earth is that meant to be?’ she asked, pointing at a float that had just come into view.

Seated on it was a very beautiful young woman, with flower-wreathed golden hair that streamed down over her throne. Behind that throne stood a man dressed in gorgeous armour, clearly a victorious warrior.

There were two other men, crouching at the woman’s feet. One of them clutched a piglet that squealed and made constant efforts to escape.

As the float rumbled by the piglet managed to free itself, dashed to the edge of the float and took a flying leap. Alex bounded forward just in time to catch it.

‘Come on,’ she laughed. ‘The road’s hard. You don’t want to land on it.’

She handed it back to the men on the float who cheered her, crying, ‘Grazie, Circe!’

‘What did he mean?’ she asked, returning to her seat.

‘He called you Circe,’ Rinaldo told her. ‘That woman on the float is meant to be Circe the witch-goddess. She lured men into her cave and turned them into swine.’

‘Hence the piglet?’ she guessed.

‘Yes, he must have been the best they could manage.’

‘She wasn’t just a witch,’ Gino objected. ‘She was a healer too. The legend says she was an expert in herbs and potions, and a woman of wisdom. The man standing behind her was the hero Odysseus, who overcame her with love.’

‘Did he?’ Rinaldo demanded. ‘He thought he had, but she was an enchantress who could blind men to everything else. He was on an important journey, but he forgot it and stayed with her for a year. So who overcame who?’

‘You don’t like her, do you?’ Alex challenged him, laughing. ‘Fancy a woman getting him to put her first! Shocking! Rinaldo, this is festival. Lighten up for pity’s sake.’

Suddenly there was a cry of, ‘Gino, hey Gino!’ and three scantily clad young women descended on them, laughing, kissing him, then carrying him off by main force.

He looked back at the other two, giving a shrug of comical, helpless dismay.

‘My brother is very popular,’ Rinaldo observed. ‘But he is more pursued than pursuing.’

‘You don’t have to excuse him to me,’ Alex said cheerfully. ‘I’m glad of the chance to sit quietly for a bit.’

‘Let me order you some wine.’

‘Not wine, thank you.’

‘Mineral water?’

‘What I’d really love most of all at this moment,’ she said wistfully, ‘is a nice cup of tea.’

Rinaldo made an imperious gesture to a passing waiter, spoke a few words of Tuscan and handed over a note. The waiter nodded and scurried away.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Alex said admiringly. ‘You haven’t managed to summon up tea in the middle of a wine-drenched festival?’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

In a few minutes the tea arrived and she sipped it in ecstasy.

‘Nothing ever tasted as good as this,’ she sighed. ‘Thank you.’

Then her eyes widened in horror.

‘Oh, goodness, look! Over there. Montelli. He’s been following me around.’

‘Shall I leave you free to talk to him?’

Rinaldo made to rise but Alex stopped him with a hand on his arm.

‘Don’t you dare. I rely on you to get rid of him for me.’

‘Thus confirming my poor reputation. Do you know that I’m commonly held to have taken you prisoner and kept you apart from the world?’

‘Well, that was the original idea, wasn’t it?’ she teased.

‘I really can’t remember,’ he said self-consciously.

Montelli reached them, beaming in a way that didn’t hide his anxiety. He would have taken Gino’s seat but Alex dumped her bag on it too quickly for him.

‘Signorina, what a pleasure! It’s so hard to reach you these days.’

‘Yes, I’m afraid I keep my phone turned off,’ she said. ‘You must blame this lovely country which is taking all my attention.’

‘Indeed, Italy is ideal for a vacation, but perhaps a fair-skinned northerner shouldn’t live here permanently.’

‘How kind of you to be concerned for my welfare!’ Alex said, with a dazzling smile. ‘Would it really trouble you if I decided to stay?’

At this hint that she might not sell at all, Montelli paled visibly.

‘Well of course we should all be delighted-good heavens, you’re drinking tea. Is this fellow too mean to buy you a proper glass of wine?’

‘Far too mean,’ Rinaldo said in a voice that suggested he might be enjoying himself.

‘How shocking. Signorina, let me take you somewhere and buy you champagne.’

His hand clutched her arm determinedly. The next moment his yell split the air and he was frantically dabbing hot tea from his trousers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Alex exclaimed unconvincingly. ‘I can’t think how it happened.’

He gave her a look of wild accusation but was too wise to speak, and scuttled away.

‘Why didn’t you come to my rescue?’ she demanded of Rinaldo.

‘I never saw a woman less in need of rescue,’ he said, with a grin. ‘I could hardly have thrown tea over him.’

‘It was an accident.’

‘Of course. I’ve had a few such accidents myself.’

‘I’ll bet you have!’

Now the procession had finished and the streets were full of revellers. Somewhere in the distance they could see Gino, flowers in his hair, dancing with three partners at once.

‘What does he think he’s doing?’ Rinaldo demanded.

Alex chuckled. ‘I think he’s making sure that he won’t commit sacrilege the next time he goes to church.’

‘Shall I fetch him for you?’

‘What for? He’s a free agent.’

‘And you? Are you free? With a fiancé in England?’

‘Yes,’ she said hastily, struggling to remember David’s face. ‘I meant that-Gino-’

‘Gino and you spend a lot of time together.’

‘Only because you put him up to it,’ she retorted with spirit. ‘Leave him alone. Let him enjoy himself.’

A dancing couple nearly crashed into their table.

‘If you’ve finished your tea, perhaps we should move,’ Rinaldo said. ‘It isn’t very safe here.’

She followed him out of the piazza and down side streets until they reached the river, where a blessedly cool breeze was blowing. He took her arm to steer her to the water’s side, and they stood there for a moment enjoying the night air.

Looking down into the waters of the Arno, Alex wondered at the change in herself. Her light tan made her dark blue eyes seem larger. She could see that much in the ghostly figure who looked back at her from the dark water.

No, she thought. Not so much a ghost as an echo of another self that she might have been. Perhaps still might.

‘What are you thinking?’ Rinaldo asked suddenly.

‘About myself,’ she said, still looking down into the water. ‘Wondering who I am.’

‘I too have wondered that. You are not the person I thought at first.’

‘Nobody could be that woman,’ Alex said, looking at him with a faint smile. ‘She came out of a horror story.’

He nodded. ‘I never thanked you.’

‘For what?’

‘Looking after Brutus. Seeing things about him that I ought to have seen. I let him live too long. I should have done it weeks ago, but I blinded myself to the signs because I couldn’t bear to part with him.’

‘Was that why you asked him to forgive you?’

‘Yes,’ he said in a low voice.

‘He was your wife’s dog, wasn’t he?’

‘I suppose Gino told you.’ His lips curved in a tender, reminiscent smile. ‘Maria came to our wedding clutching this ridiculous puppy, and she held onto him all through the service because if she put him down he wandered off, and if she handed him to someone else he cried. She said he was the start of our family, that we would have many children and many dogs. But it didn’t happen that way.’

He did not add that now he had nothing left of his wife, but Alex sensed that he did not need to. One by one, those he cared for had been taken away from him. Only Gino was left, and despite the brothers’ affection she sensed a distance between them, born of the fact that they were opposites.

‘You must be so lonely,’ she said impulsively, reaching out to touch him.

He looked at her, then at the place where her hand lay on his arm. For a moment she thought he would put his own hand over it, but then a smile came over his face. And when she saw it she knew she had blundered.

It was as implacable as an iron door slammed in her face.

‘Not at all,’ he said cheerfully, moving his arm away from her. ‘Not at all.’

She cursed her own stupidity for going one step too far with this awkward man. At the last moment he had flinched away from her sympathy, as she should have known he would, retreating into mistrust.

Through the silence she was intensely aware of the unease that swept him as he recalled everything he had confided to her, the way he’d lowered his guard, forgetting that she still represented danger.

She thought vainly for something she could say to bring his mind and heart back to her, but it was too late. He had turned and was heading away from her, along the narrow street.

‘Let’s go and find Gino,’ he called back over his shoulder.