As she sat down, she felt almost faint from the tension she had been going through.
Because it was hard to breathe, she pulled the linen handkerchief from her nose and she was aware, as she did so, how dirty it was.
Because she had bent her head, soot that had covered her scarf poured on the floor.
It was then she heard someone enter the Confessional box from the other side of the grille.
With a sudden leap of her heart, she moved forward to kneel beside it.
She could hear someone moving and after a moment she stammered,
“Are – you there – Father?”
She was terrified as she spoke just in case the Big Man or one of his men answered her.
Instead a deep voice replied,
“I am here, my child, and ready to hear your confession.”
Paola drew in her breath.
Then, with difficulty, because she was so relieved, she began,
“Father I am in – terrible trouble. Some evil men have taken – the Marchese di Lucca down into – a cellar beyond the crypt and – locked him in.”
She paused for breath and then the Priest on the other side of the grille asked,
“What are you saying, my child? I don’t understand.”
“This is the truth, Father, and it is very important. You must send some strong men to save the Marchese.”
“Are you telling me the truth?” the Priest enquired.
“I swear on the Holy Bible itself that what I am telling you is the truth and the Marchese di Lucca is in desperate danger.”
“But why and from whom?” the Priest persisted.
“Some wicked men are – blackmailing him to give them – something which he – possesses of great value,” Paola replied. “He must be rescued – at once. But the four men who have put him there – are dangerous. Very dangerous!”
“How do you know all this?” the Priest asked.
“I was seized with the Marchese, when we were both praying in – the chapel of St. Francis and we were – taken down into the crypt by – force.”
She paused again for breath and then went on,
“Two of the men are – armed with – revolvers and the others may have – knives. You must take – strong and armed men with – you to rescue the Marchese.”
There was silence.
And Paola knew that the old Priest was wondering if he could really believe this fantastic story.
“I swear – to you, Father,” she continued, “and I am a Catholic – that what I am – telling you is the truth and the – Marchese must be saved.”
The Priest obviously made up his mind.
“Very well, my child,” he said, “I will do as you suggest and find people I can trust to go with me. You say that the Marchese is in the cellar beyond the crypt.”
“He is locked in – but I think the keys, which are very large, will have been – left in the doors. If not – you will have to – break them down.”
“And if you were with him, how did you escape?” the Priest wanted to know.
He spoke as if he was still finding it hard to believe this extraordinary tale.
“I climbed up a chimney – hoping I would be – able to get out through the – opening for the smoke. But instead I broke through a wall into – another cellar and from there – I came back up a staircase into the Cathedral. Then I saw the – Confessional boxes in front – of me.”
She thought if she could see the Priest he would be nodding his head as if he knew the route that she had taken.
Then he said,
“I will go now and find men to accompany me to where you say the Marchese is imprisoned. Will you stay here?”
“I will stay – here until you – come for me, Father,” Paola replied. “As I am covered with soot – anyone would think I – looked very strange, and besides I am – terrified that I might – meet the men who took us prisoner.”
“I understand,” the Priest said.
She heard him rise from the chair he was sitting in.
Then he left the Confessional box, pulling the curtain over it, so that anyone who approached would know that it was engaged.
As Paola heard his footsteps going away, she gave a deep sigh of relief.
She had been so afraid that he would not believe her because it was such a fantastic story and she could understand that anything like robbery and abduction in the case of someone so well known as the Marchese would seem incredible.
Now that she was alone, she undid the scarf that the Marchese had tied so neatly round her neck and it was thick with soot.
But the inside was clean and she rubbed her face.
She felt the soot on her skin and it was not only ugly but also unpleasant.
She wished that she could wash her hands and face, but she knew that she dared not leave the Confessional box.
She must wait for the Priest’s return and hope that he would bring the Marchese with him.
Meanwhile she said a grateful prayer of thankfulness to St. Francis.
She felt that it was he who had saved them and guided them to a way of escape.
She did not want to think how ghastly it would have been if she had to spend all day and all night, as the Big Man had said, without food or water.
She was quite certain that the lantern would soon have burnt down and they would have been in complete darkness.
“Thank you, God! Thank you – St. Francis! Thank you! Thank you!” Paola said over and over again in her heart.
It seemed to her hours before there was any sign of the Priest’s return.
Actually it was less than an hour before there was a sound of heavy footsteps and she was aware that men were approaching the Confessional boxes.
For one moment she was afraid that it was not the rescuers and the Marchese but the Big Man and his Indians. They might in some secret way of their own have discovered what had happened.
Then the curtain over the Confessional box was drawn aside.
The Priest she had spoken to then asked in a deep voice,
“Are you there, my child?”
“I am here, Father,” Paola replied and saw the Marchese behind him.
Her eyes lit up.
As she stepped out of the Confessional, the sunshine came through one of the stained-glass windows and touched her glorious golden hair.
The Marchese, who had only seen her in the light of the lantern, knew that he was right when he surmised that she looked like an angel.
An angel sent to rescue him.
He never imagined that it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful and at the same time look so young and spiritual.
He could only stare at her and the men who were with him stared too.
“You are – safe!”
The words came from Paola’s lips and were, the Marchese thought, like the song of a bird.
“I am safe, thanks to you,” the Marchese answered. “Now, with the help of these gentlemen, we must leave here as quickly as possible without anyone seeing us.”
It was then that Paola became aware of her torn soot-stained gown, of her hands blackened from her climb up the chimney and her bare toes peeping through her torn stockings.
She saw that the men surrounding the Marchese and the Priest were looking at her in astonishment.
Then the Marchese took charge.
He turned to a tall man, who, like the others, was wearing a black cassock and carried a white surplice over his arm.
“Give me your surplice,” he said.
It was an order and the man handed it to him quickly.
The Marchese took it and slipped it over Paola’s head and it covered her dirty torn dress.
Then, without saying anything, he lifted her up in his arms.
“Now, if you gentlemen will go ahead to see I am not molested,” he said, “my carriage will be waiting outside the West door.”
The men, and they were a mixed collection of young Priests, Vergers and Choirmen, obe
diently walked ahead.
It was then that Paola whispered, so that only the Marchese could hear,
“The candle!”
He nodded, smiled down at her and then said to the Priest,
“We have something, Father, to collect from the Chapel of St. Francis and I think that he too must be thanked that we have been rescued.”
The men were walking ahead and heard what he said.
They moved across from behind the High Altar towards the narrow aisle that led to the Chapel of St. Francis.
When they reached it, without saying anything the Marchese carried Paola to where the candles were burning.
She felt that a million years had passed since she was last here and it was therefore quite a surprise to see how little of her candle had burned away.
Quickly, because she was sure that the Marchese would not wish the men to know what had happened, she lifted the candle up.
She took the ring from beneath it and then replaced it.
As if he understood what she wanted, the Marchese stood for a moment looking up at the statue of St. Francis.
Then, as he saw Paola’s face raised too, he knew that she was praying.
Without speaking, he turned back to where the men were waiting and again they led the way towards the West door.
One of them, while they were in the Chapel, had gone to summon the Marchese’s carriage and now it was directly outside.
There were only a few steps to take before the Marchese had deposited Paola inside.
Then he turned back and held out his hand to the Priest.
“I am deeply grateful, Father, that you have saved me,” he said. “I will be sending a thank offering to the Archbishop and I will tell him how splendidly every man here behaved in such an unexpected emergency.”
He saw the pleasure in the men’s eyes and he shook the Priest by the hand.
They all bowed as the Marchese stepped into the carriage.
The horses moved off and as they did so Paola said,
“Please will you take me – to where I am staying?”
Even as she spoke, she wondered how she could possibly explain to the Contessa why she was being brought back by the Marchese di Lucca.
“I think it would be a mistake for you to go anywhere except to my villa,” the Marchese replied.
Paola stared at him.
“I – cannot do – that.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I am staying with – a friend who would be very upset – at my disappearance. I am – trying to think how I can – explain to her what has – happened.”
As she spoke, she remembered that she was still holding the diamond, which had caused so much trouble, in her left hand.
She held it out to the Marchese saying,
“Take it! I am sure it is unlucky and I hope never, never to see it again!”
The Marchese took it from her and said,
“I have been wondering, not how I can explain away the ring, but how I can ever thank you for your bravery and for saving me, as you have done, from the humiliation and horror that was intended for us.”
“I am sure that it was – St. Francis who – helped me,” Paola murmured.
“I told you before you went up the chimney that you were an angel,” the Marchese said, “and now I am quite certain that you are not really here and that at any moment you will fly back to the Heaven you have just come from.”
Paola gave a little laugh.
“I am very – flattered that you should – say that, but at – the moment I am not seeking – Heaven, but a bath!”
“That is waiting for you at my villa!”
“No, please!” Paola pleaded. “You must understand. I am staying with – someone who must – not know what has occurred. So please will – you take me to her villa? It is not very – far away.”
“Who are you staying with?” the Marchese asked.
For a moment Paola hesitated and then she realised that it was something he was certain to learn sooner or later.
“The Contessa Raulo,” she answered.
“Of course I know her,” the Marchese replied, “and she will understand, as you must, that it would be very dangerous for you to be anywhere where you were not guarded, as I intend to be, by the Police and my own employees.”
Paola stared at him and then she stuttered,
“You don’t imagine – that they – ”
“ – might try to kidnap you again,” the Marchese said. “Why not? They are well aware that we have the diamond, which they have come all the way from the East to obtain. I am quite certain that they will not give up the chase easily.”
Paola clasped her hands together.
“What – you are saying is – frightening!”
“Of course it is,” the Marchese replied, “and that is why I am taking you to my villa and why I am sending for the Contessa and I will explain to her what has occurred.”
Paola drew in her breath.
“Oh, please, you must not tell her that I – brought the ring over from England. I did it to help Hugo Forde, but he made me swear – I would not tell anyone else what I was doing. So the Contessa would be very shocked – to think I have been in any way deceitful.”
The Marchese thought for a moment and then he suggested,
“What we will say is quite easy! You were praying in the Chapel of St. Francis and, when the men who were pursuing me took me prisoner, they took you too, so that you could not report it and give evidence against them.”
“Thank you,” Paola sighed, “but I still think – the Contessa would think it very strange if I don’t go back to her villa.”
“Leave that to me,” the Marchese said. “When I tell her how brave you have been in saving us both from a dangerous situation, I think it unlikely that she will ask many awkward questions.”
Paola felt that he was being optimistic.
Yet he obviously had no intention of taking her to the Contessa’s villa and there was therefore nothing she could do.
They arrived at the beautiful Villa Lucca, which she had only seen through the gates and it was even lovelier than she had thought it to be.
Because the Marchese thought it was embarrassing for her to have to walk with her bare toes protruding through her stockings, he carried her from the carriage into the villa and straight up the stairs.
A servant ran ahead to open a bedroom door and Paola found herself in one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever imagined.
It was not only exquisitely furnished, but the carved and gilded bed might have stepped out of a Fairytale.
But she was aware also of the pictures on the walls. They were what she might have expected to find in the galleries in Florence and the porcelain on the mantelpiece was priceless.
The Marchese set her down by the fireplace.
“I suggest,” he said, “as I value my carpets, that you keep still until they can put a large towel on the floor so that the soot can fall onto it while you undress.”
There was a twinkle in his eyes as he added,
“I will ask the Contessa to bring your clothes with her and I am sending for her immediately.”
Before Paola could think of anything to say, he had gone.
Two maids came hurrying in.
They helped her to undress, as the Marchese had suggested, on a towel, which kept the soot off his precious carpet.
Then the maids then brought in a bath and the water was scented with rose petals, which washed away the last remnants and smell of soot.
Paola was sitting, draped in a towelling dressing gown that was far too big for her, when the door opened and the Contessa came in.
“My dear child!” she exclaimed as she walked towards Paola, “I have been worried sick not knowing what had happened to you or why you were no longer in the villa.”
“I am so sorry,” Paola answered, “but I thought that I would have plenty of time to go to the Cathedral to say a prayer and then all this h
appened.”
The Contessa looked round to make sure that the maids had left the room.
“The Marchese has told me the whole story!” she exclaimed. “I am afraid that your father and mother would be horrified, as I am, at your staying here as his guest, but he tells me that it would be very dangerous for you to be with me unguarded.”
Paola did not speak because she could not think of anything to say.
The Contessa went on,
“The Marchese has been most kind in asking me to stay here too, to chaperone you, and there is really nothing else we can do. At the same time you must remember that your father and mother did not want you to meet him.”
The Contessa had lowered her voice as she spoke.
Now she glanced over her shoulder before she continued,
“To make quite certain that you are in no danger from the Marchese, I have told him that I have brought you from England to help me with the many things I have to do.”
Paola looked at her questioningly.
The Contessa carried on as if she was feeling for words,
“I think you are aware that the Marchese has a very bad reputation with women, but he has always boasted that he has never made love to a woman who was not as blue-blooded as himself and therefore – ”
The Contessa paused a moment before she said in an even lower voice,
“As I implied you that were a sort of secretary to me, I think, my dear, that will prevent us from having any anxiety about anything else.”
For a moment Paola did not understand what she was saying.
And then she blushed.
“I am sure that the Marchese has not thought of me in any way like that,” she said quickly. “After all, we were fighting to save our lives!”
“Of course, of course,” the Contessa agreed, “but you are very pretty, Paola, and his reputation is so bad. But now I am quite certain that you are safe.”
There was nothing Paola could say.
She only thought that the whole situation was very strange.
When they were fighting to save their lives, she had not thought of the Marchese as an attractive man.
He had merely been someone who with her was in danger from evil and unscrupulous men.
She was quite certain that he had thought of her in no other way.
“There is no need to worry Mama or Papa by saying where I am,” she said aloud. “I expect, as the Marchese is sending for the Police, these terrible men will soon be behind bars.”
In Love In Lucca Page 7
