by Dilly Court
His dark eyes were like brown velvet caressing her with such tenderness that she knew what course she must take, even if it broke her heart.
‘It’s your choice, Phoebe,’ Gino said, holding her hand to his cheek. ‘I will love and protect you for the rest of my life and raise the boy as my own son. Come with me now. No one will notice if we slip away.’
She glanced anxiously at Rogue, who was deep in conversation with the revenue officer. It was frustrating that she could only catch snatches of what passed between them. Ned was at his side and was supporting his brother wholeheartedly. She looked across the yard to where Ivy and Lorenzo were standing, arms entwined, lost in a world of their own. Would she ever experience that kind of happiness with Gino? Phoebe raised her eyes to his face and she knew that the fault would be hers if their relationship failed. Her decision now would affect the lives of all those who were dear to her. He was waiting for her answer.
‘Is it such a hard choice to make, cara?’
Phoebe twisted her lips into a reassuring smile. ‘Of course not, Gino. You’re right, we must get away before Ned realises what’s happening.’
He held her hand in a firm grasp. ‘But only if you’re certain of your feelings, Phoebe. I don’t want you to marry me and then regret it.’
‘How could I be sorry that I’d married a man like you?’ She reached up to brush his lips with hers. ‘I need to go upstairs and get our things.’
He shook his head. ‘No, cara. We must leave right away. There’s no time to pack and we have to travel light. I think that Paxman will come after us, providing the revenue men don’t turn the whole lot of them over to the police.’
‘Do you think they will?’
‘Do you care?’
‘I don’t want Teddy to grow up knowing that his father was hanged like a common criminal.’
Gino pulled a face. ‘But that is what he is, and the law must take its course. I will be Teddy’s father. There is no need for him to know any different.’ He squeezed her hand and then released it. ‘Wait here. I’ll go and tell Nenzo to meet us in the lane outside. We’ll have to walk to the village and hope that we can hire some kind of vehicle to take us to Dover.’
Panic seized her. She struggled to find an excuse to linger. ‘But I need clothes for Teddy and food.’
‘We’ll get what we need on the way.’ Gino hesitated, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
She could hear the chief revenue officer’s stern tone as he interrogated Rogue and Ned, with Merrydew’s whining assertions of innocence in the background. ‘Yes, Gino. I’m very sure.’
He nodded his head wordlessly and walked slowly across the yard to where Lorenzo and Ivy were standing by the open stable door.
They travelled on foot for the rest of the day, their progress hindered by the need for frequent stops. Gino’s plan to hire some sort of conveyance from the village had been discussed and dismissed. He was convinced that there was no danger of the Paxmans pursuing them as they would have been taken into custody by the local police, but Lorenzo and Phoebe were not so certain. In the end they took the cliff path, stopping at an isolated farmhouse to purchase milk, bread and cheese, and that night they slept beneath a hayrick.
It was noon on the following day when they reached Dover. Lorenzo led the way to an inn on the waterfront where he had arranged to meet the family, and to Phoebe’s intense relief they found Fabio, Maria, Julio and Gino’s mother waiting for them.
They sailed for Calais on the evening tide, and next morning they were travelling southwards by train, along with several other Italian families from Saffron Hill. Phoebe found herself the centre of attention, and was forced to regale friends and relatives with the story of her virtual imprisonment in the Paxmans’ farm whilst hiding from Collins, the brutal murderer. Gino and Lorenzo had taken the credit for her rescue, and she was embarrassed to discover that she had become a heroine in the eyes of her grandparents’ compatriots, and that Nonna was busy making plans for the wedding. The guest list was growing by the minute and Fabio complained that they would be bankrupted if his Maria had her way, but he winked at Phoebe as he spoke the words and slapped Gino on the back. ‘I couldn’t wish for a better husband for my little Phoebe.’
When Lorenzo and Ivy announced that they too wanted to be married in the little church on the island of the fishermen, Maria was ecstatic. She gathered together her female friends and they spent the rest of the journey making even more lists and planning menus for the wedding feasts. Phoebe was relieved when at last they arrived in Stresa on the banks of the magnificent Lake Maggiore. If only Ma was here, she thought, as she stood at water’s edge one evening, watching the lake absorb the fiery sunset.
It was two weeks since they arrived in Stresa and she had done her best to settle into their way of life. She had struggled to put aside her feelings for Rogue, but he haunted her dreams and was never far from her thoughts. The pain of leaving him without a word was like a knife to her heart, and she could only hope that he did not think too badly of her. She missed Rose, in whom she could have confided her innermost thoughts, but if Gino had his way she would never see any of them again. He had told her that he had no intention of returning to England, and it had come as a bitter blow. It was at times like these that she would have given anything to be able to talk honestly to her mother and ask for her advice. Annie might not have been the wisest woman when in love, but she was never judgemental. Phoebe knew that she could have unburdened her heavy heart to Ma and she would have understood. But then a small voice of reason in her head prompted her to remember that it was her mother’s folly that had put her in this situation in the first place. Annie’s legacy to her daughter was a lifetime of deception and a half-brother to raise as her own child.
Phoebe retraced her steps to the cottage owned by her grandparents. Gino and his mother were staying with relatives on Isola Pescatori. Gino’s uncle, Marco, owned a fishing boat, and, having no children of his own, had offered him a half share as a wedding present, providing Gino took over the thriving business and allowed Uncle Marco to enjoy a well-earned retirement. Gino had accepted gladly. It was, he told Phoebe, an answer to all his prayers. His life-long ambition had been to earn his living as a fisherman and now, by the grace of God and thanks to his uncle, he could support a wife. ‘We will bring up our children here, where we belong,’ Gino had said, and although she had attempted to reason with him, Phoebe could tell by the look in his eyes that he had made up his mind, and nothing she said would make any difference.
His words echoed in her head as she trudged homewards along the dusty road. The night air was warm and heavy with the scents of marjoram, wild thyme and garlic. Someone in a cottage nearby was singing in a clear soprano, her voice equal to any that Phoebe had heard in the music halls in London. A dog barked in the distance and birds coming home to roost swooped above her head in the darkening sky. It was all beautiful and sensuous, but although Gino might think of this lovely place as home, she felt out of place and desperately lonely. Used as she was to roaming the narrow streets of Clerkenwell, she felt exposed and vulnerable in the countryside, and the fact that her family was even more well known here than in Saffron Hill was unnerving and confusing. There were aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins all eager to congratulate the happy couple. It seemed to Phoebe that half the population of the small town were in some way related to the Giamattis or the Argentos.
She glanced up at the mountains, and the serrated peaks were jagged against the blue velvet sky. A wind sprang from nowhere, bringing the taste of snow from the mountain tops and flecking the surface of the lake with tiny white horses. She shivered with apprehension as the old forebodings threatened to engulf her. Then, just as suddenly as they had come, the clouds split apart and the mountains were bathed in moonlight. The silver lake was as placid as a millpond. She quickened her pace. She had thought she had left the sudden flashes of intuition behind her in London, and it was unsettl
ing to learn that they had followed her here.
She reached the cottage, pausing to calm herself before she went inside. Her grandparents’ dwelling was modest. The scene that met her eyes was homely and comforting. Nonna was stirring a large pan over the fire and Nonno was polishing his precious fowling piece. Ivy was seated at the small round table in the middle of the room with Teddy on her knee. She looked up as Phoebe entered and smiled. ‘Not long now, love.’
Phoebe smiled and nodded. ‘Has Teddy been a good boy?’
‘He’s an angel,’ Ivy said cheerfully. ‘Are you getting nervous?’
Maria looked up, red-faced from the heat. ‘Of course she’s nervous. Every bride feels the same the night before her wedding.’
Fabio rose from his chair. ‘I can see this is going to be women’s talk. I’m going out to join the boys for a glass of wine.’ He left the house before Maria had time to voice an objection.
‘Men!’ she said as the door closed on him. ‘Always absent when there is work to be done. But thanks to Cousin Violetta we are all organised for the celebrations tomorrow.’ She gave Phoebe a searching look. ‘You should go to bed early, cara. Gino doesn’t want to see his bride with dark shadows beneath her eyes. That’s the trouble with having a fair complexion.’ She resumed stirring the savoury-smelling game stew. ‘Have something to eat first. You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow night.’
‘Mamma Giamatti,’ Ivy said, giggling. ‘That’s not like you.’
Maria shrugged her ample shoulders. ‘I was young once. I remember my wedding night, but at least I waited until I was married to lie with my Fabio.’
Phoebe and Ivy exchanged amused glances.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mamma,’ Ivy said, spooning broth into Teddy’s eager mouth.
‘I am not deaf, child. I hear the sounds in the night, but I suppose that is the way with you modern girls, and your nuptials are next week, so if there is a little one already conceived it won’t look too obvious. Although my family will be counting the months and the days, and the whole town will know if it’s a seven-month baby.’
Ivy collapsed in a fit of helpless laughter and Teddy joined in. Phoebe smiled, but she felt suddenly quite sick and extremely tired. ‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she murmured. ‘Would you see to Teddy for me, Ivy?’
‘Of course, love.’ Ivy jiggled him up and down on her knee, making him laugh even louder. ‘I’d best get in practice since Mamma has decided that I’m already in the family way. You’ll be next though, Phoebe.’
‘Everyone thinks she’s a mother already,’ Maria said, shaking her head. ‘The wedding is long overdue, but once the ring is on your finger people will forget that Teddy was born out of wedlock. Now off to bed with you, girl. Gino won’t leave the island tonight.’
Phoebe hardly slept, and when she did doze off in the early hours of the morning she dreamed of Rogue. She awakened in a cold sweat with tears coursing down her cheeks, but she stifled her sobs so that she did not disturb Ivy or Teddy who shared the small room beneath the eaves. She sat up in bed, staring at the cream muslin gown that was laid over a chair, and the straw bonnet with a lace veil that hung from a peg on the wall. The time had come to put her old self aside and begin a new life in Italy with the man who adored her and put her first, ahead of everyone and everything. Gino had quite literally worked his hands to the bone, enduring deep blisters caused by rowing the boat when there was no wind to fill the sails. He had promised to earn enough to rent a cottage of their own before the year was out, but for the present they would have to live with Uncle Marco and Aunt Cosima in the small terraced house with white stucco walls and a red-tiled roof that was situated on the waterfront and overlooked Stresa on the opposite bank.
The ceremony was to be at noon in the chapel of San Vittore on Isola Superiore dei Pescatori where Maria and Fabio had been married all those years ago. The party afterwards was expected to go on well into the night. Maria and her cousin Violetta, whose plain daughter had done well for herself and married the town clerk, had treated the catering like a military operation, conscripting every able-bodied woman of their acquaintance to cook something for the feast. Fabio and his sons had organised the wine and there was unlikely to be a sober adult left standing by the time the last bottle had been consumed.
Phoebe spent the morning in a haze. She was surrounded by female relatives clucking over her like hens as they helped her to dress and put up her hair. They talked incessantly, but that was to her advantage as no one noticed that the bride-to-be was unusually silent. At last it was time to set off for the landing stage, where a small armada of boats was waiting to take the bridal party to the island. Clutching a posy of white roses, Phoebe leaned on her grandfather’s arm as they left the cottage and followed the track to the water’s edge. The lake was so blue that it almost hurt her eyes to look at it. The sky was a paler shade but innocent of the smallest cloud and the purple mountains were a perfect frame for the view of the jewel-like islands. Phoebe thought that she had never seen anything so beautiful, but inside her heart was like a lump of snow taken from the highest peak. As she stepped into a boat garlanded with flowers, she glanced over her shoulder half hoping to see Rogue’s handsome face amongst the crowd of well-wishers from the town. Just one look would have given her the courage to go on, but it was a forlorn hope and she knew now that there was no escape. She had chosen her future and she must face it head on.
She scarcely heard the words of the ceremony. She had been raised as a Catholic, although her mother was nominally an Anglican but rarely saw the inside of a church. Phoebe had always done what her family had asked of her and today was no exception. She left the chapel a married woman.
It was dark by the time the party sailed away from the island, crossing the choppy expanse of water to the landing stage where they staggered ashore in varying stages of intoxication. Phoebe had eaten almost nothing and drunk very little. Her throat had constricted each time she tried to swallow and her face ached from being set in what she hoped was a happy smile. Gino was in a high state of excitement. She did not think that he had imbibed much wine, but he was drunk with delight and delirious with happiness. He had hardly left her side since they were proclaimed man and wife and his pride in her would have touched the hardest heart, although she was certain that hers would never thaw. It felt like a lump of lead inside her breast, but she was determined that he would never know. He handed her onto the wooden staging and led her into the lantern-lit square where a small band was playing and people were already dancing.
The night air was like warm baby’s breath, freshened by a breeze scented with wine and the bowls of roses that had been placed on the tables. The lights flickered like fireflies and the sound of laughter filled her ears. She danced with her husband until her feet were sore and eventually she excused herself, saying that she must rest a while. Reluctantly Gino left her and went to make sure that his mother was comfortable and well cared for. Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief as she moved away from the swirling dancers, intending to sit at a table beneath a tree strung with paper lanterns.
‘Phoebe.’
Out of the darkness a man came striding towards her. She would have known him anywhere by the way he walked, the timbre of his voice, and as he drew closer the familiar scent of him filled her nostrils.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘ROGUE.’ HIS NAME was like music on her lips. Her knees buckled and he slipped his arm around her waist, supporting her, holding her. His breath was warm on her neck and his lips caressed her skin, causing her pulses to race.
‘Phoebe, my Phoebe. I got here as soon as I could. I pray to God that I’m in time.’
She raised her hand to show him her wedding band. The gold gleamed palely in the moonlight. ‘Oh, Rogue. I thought I’d never see you again.’
‘This is your wedding party?’
The words ripped into her soul. She broke away from him. ‘Yes. I married Gino. It was the only way.’
‘But too late,’ she whispered as he took her mouth in a kiss that made the stars explode and caused the lump of ice in her breast to shatter into shards.
‘I love you, Phoebe,’ he murmured into her hair, which had come loose from its combs and hung freely around her shoulders. ‘I won’t let him have you.’
‘It’s too late,’ she repeated sadly. ‘It can never be.’
He kissed her again, crushing her to him so that their hearts beat to the same rhythm. For a few blissful moments she felt that they were one and the same person.
‘It can be annulled,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You haven’t consummated the union yet. Tell me that you haven’t lain with him, Phoebe?’
‘I haven’t, but that doesn’t change anything.’ She pushed him gently away. ‘Let me go, Rogue. I can’t think straight when you touch me.’
He stood facing her, his arms hanging limply at his sides. ‘You will come away with me, Phoebe. I’m not leaving you here. I love you. D’you hear what I’m saying?’
She held up her hand. ‘Don’t say these things. There’s no hope for us. Perhaps there never was.’
He reached out and grasped both her hands in his. ‘Look around you, Phoebe. Are you really a part of all this? Do you want to spend the rest of your life tied to a man you don’t love? And what about the boy?’
