“I – prayed and – prayed!” Paola sighed, “But – I was still frightened that – you would – not understand.”
“I understood,” the Marchese said, “because you not only told me where you were in your letter, but I could hear you in my heart.”
She looked up at him questioningly and he added,
“This is something that has never happened to me before. I could hear and understand what you were thinking just as I know now that I can read your thoughts.”
Paola made a little murmur of surprise and he said,
“I think you know it already, but I will say it, to make quite certain that there is no mistake. I love you.”
Paola’s eyes seemed suddenly to be filled with sunshine.
Then, as she looked up at him, she turned her face and hid it against his shoulder.
“I want you to tell me,” the Marchese said quietly, “what you feel for me.”
He felt a little tremor run through her body and he thought that it was the most thrilling thing he had ever known.
His arm tightened as he said,
“Tell me, my darling, in words, what your eyes have told me already.”
“I love – you,” Paola whispered. “I cannot – help it, but I – love – you.”
“That is all I want to know,” the Marchese said.
They drove on in silence as if their minds were speaking to each other without words.
It was not long before they reached the Villa Lucca and, as they turned into the gates, the Marchese suggested,
“I want you to go to bed and sleep as long as you can. We will talk about ourselves later today.”
Without knowing really what she was saying, Paola answered,
“I don’t want to – leave you.”
“I have to go back,” the Marchese said. “There are reports to be made and I want, if possible, to keep your name out of this. When it is finished, I too shall sleep. Then we have a great deal to talk about and to plan.”
The carriage came to a standstill outside the front door.
Paola felt his lips on her forehead for a moment.
Then he was lifting her out of the carriage and was carrying her upstairs to her bedroom.
It was still very early, but some servants were about obviously waiting for their return.
Without asking questions, Paola was certain that the Contessa had not been disturbed.
The Marchese laid her down on her bed and, as the maids came hurrying to attend to her, he said quietly,
“Sleep well. There is no longer anything to make you afraid.”
And then he was gone.
Paola washed her hands and face, climbed into bed and closed her eyes.
The Marchese had kissed her and said that he loved her.
It was difficult to believe that she was not dreaming and that the nightmare of horror and fear was over.
He had saved her at the last moment when she feared that he had forgotten her.
‘I love – him. I love – him!’ she repeated to herself over and over again before she fell asleep.
*
When Paola awoke, it was to find that it was luncheon time and the maids were bringing her a meal on a tray.
“I have slept for a long time,” she muttered.
“You must’ve been ever so tired, signorina,” one of the maids said. “And the Master told us not to waken you till now!”
“And where is the Contessa?” Paola asked a little nervously.
She wondered what her hostess had been told and thought that she would be very perturbed by the horror of it.
She learnt, however, that the Contessa had gone back to her own villa and would be returning later in the afternoon.
Paola gave a little sigh and started to eat what was waiting beside her.
When finally the maid brought her a cup of coffee, she said,
“The Master’s downstairs, signorina, and he asks you, if you feel well enough, to join him.”
Paola felt her heart leap.
The one thing she wanted was to see the Marchese alone.
The Contessa had gone home and was not expected back until later and this was an opportunity that might not come again.
She jumped out of bed and the maids helped her to dress very quickly.
She put on one of her prettiest gowns and looked anxiously in the mirror when they arranged her hair.
Fortunately the place where the Big Man had cut some away would not show.
‘It will grow again,’ she told herself, but she really wanted to look her best for the Marchese.
When she was ready, she ran down the stairs.
A servant in the hall told her that the Marchese was not in the drawing room but in his private sitting room, which was a little way along the corridor.
As Paola hurried there, she thought that it was somewhere where they would not be interrupted.
The footman opened the door for her.
She went in and heard it close behind her.
The Marchese was standing in front of the fireplace, which, because it was summer, was filled with flowers and their fragrance was scenting the room.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then the Marchese held out his arms.
Paola ran to him like a bird flying to shelter.
Then his lips were on hers and he was kissing her demandingly and possessively.
At the same time, as if she was infinitely precious.
Only when they were both breathless did the Marchese raise his head and say in a voice that was unsteady,
“How can you make me feel like this?”
“Like – what?” Paola questioned.
“I know now,” he said, “that I have never been in love before. This is love, my darling, love for an angel and what I feel is not human but Divine.”
Then he was kissing her again until Paola felt her body melt completely into his and she was part of him.
They were no longer two people but one.
It was only with an effort that a little later the Marchese said,
“Now I have to talk to you, my precious!”
As he spoke, he drew her towards the sofa that was on one side of the fireplace.
He sat down and put his arms round her. For a moment he just looked at her before he said,
“How is it possible for you to be so beautiful and so clever and so brave? There are no words to express my admiration for your courage.”
Paola blushed.
“You are – making me feel – shy,” she whispered.
“I adore you when you are shy,” the Marchese said, “and that too makes you different from any other woman.”
He bent his head for a moment as if he would kiss her again.
Then, almost as if he pulled himself to attention, he said,
“Now, what we have to decide and this is important, is how soon will you marry me?”
Paola stared at him and then she said,
“Are you – really asking – me to – marry you? I always understood – ”
“ – that I said I would never marry again,” the Marchese added. “But you are mine, my angel, and it is impossible for me to lose you.”
Now he bent his head, but before his lips touched hers he said,
“We will be very very happy. You can be quite certain of that.”
It was difficult for Paola to speak or even to think because of the rapture his kisses gave her.
She felt as though the world had faded away and they were flying into the sky.
Only when the Marchese said in a voice that was deep and unsteady,
“You are not to tempt me until we have sorted everything out, and you have not yet told me if you will marry me.”
“I find it – hard to – believe that – you are really asking me. The Contessa told me that you would never – have anything to do with a – woman unless her blood was as ‘blue’ as yours.”
The Marchese laughed.
“T
hat is true, but I think when it comes to an angel, it is for you to criticise my blood.”
Paola smiled and then she asked,
“But suppose – when you get to – know the angel well, you find her – like so many – other women who have been in your life – rather dull?”
She was teasing him, but her anxiety was clearly genuine.
She could remember everything that the Contessa had said about the Marchese.
All of them had included again and again the warning that he went from one woman to another. And then he discarded them like flowers that had faded.
“I know exactly what you are thinking,” the Marchese said, “and it’s true, of course it’s true. They were like faded flowers because they were not you.”
“You are – reading my – thoughts,” Paola accused him.
“As I have been able to do since I first knew you,” the Marchese answered. “It has never happened to me with any other woman. That is why, my darling, you are so very different and it will take me a thousand years of loving you to tell you how different you are and how much you mean to me.”
He saw the love in Paola’s eyes and exclaimed,
“We will get married immediately. I want you! It’s just impossible for us to waste the precious hours and days when we might be close to each other.”
His words brought Paola back to reality.
“I – love you,” she said, “and although I know very little – about love, I think I – love you as you – want to be loved. But I cannot – marry you for a – long time.”
The Marchese stiffened.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I know that you truly love me because you have not asked me who I am,” Paola said. “In fact the reason I have come to Lucca is that my grandmother has died and I am in mourning for six months.”
The Marchese stared at her and she added,
“I was to be a debutante. But, of course, that was now impossible, so I came out to Italy.”
“Thank God for that,” the Marchese cried, “or I might never have met you. But if we marry here in Italy surely we need not worry about your grandmother?”
“Perhaps not, but I am afraid that my father and mother will definitely disapprove of our – marriage,” Paola said with difficulty.
“Disapprove?” the Marchese asked.
He looked at her in surprise.
She realised that it had never crossed his mind, considering his position, that any woman would refuse to be his wife. Nor that her parents would disapprove.
“I don’t understand,” he said after a moment, “what you are saying.”
Paola blushed and looked away from him.
“Please don’t take offence if I tell you this,” she said, “but when I came to – stay with the Contessa, she considered it – important that I should – not meet you. It was arranged therefore that I should pretend to be ‘Miss Nobody’ so that – you would not – realise that we were distantly related.”
“Related?” the Marchese asked in astonishment. “But how?”
“My mother’s grandmother was a member of your family,” Paola told him, “and she married an Englishman – the Duke of Ilchester.”
“Of course I am aware of that,” the Marchese said.
“Their daughter, my Grandmama,” Paola continued, “is therefore half-Italian and insisted on my learning that language when I was very small.”
“And who is your father?” the Marchese enquired.
“He is the Earl of Berisforde.”
“I know him by name,” the Marchese said, “and I think I have met him on several occasions at the Racecourse.
“Papa was going to give a ball for me in London,” Paola went on, “and one in the country, but he agreed that I should come to Italy – because it would be so disappointing to have to refuse every invitation until we were out of mourning.”
“There is one invitation I have no intention of letting you refuse,” the Marchese said, “and that is your Marriage to me.”
Paola trembled and her eyes were worried as she said,
“I am terribly afraid that Papa – will oppose it and I shall not be – allowed to – marry you.”
“I assure you of one thing,” the Marchese said. “You and I have been through deep waters together and fought against danger and evil in a way that happens to very few people. Do you really think, after that, we could allow anything to stand between us and our love?”
The way he spoke was very moving and Paola said,
“I love – you! I do love – you! But I feel sure that Papa and Mama will at the – very least say that we have to wait – perhaps a year – in case you – change your mind. They will also do everything to try to find some other man for me to love as much as I love you.”
The Marchese pulled her towards him.
“I swear to you, on everything I believe Holy, that I will not allow that to happen,” he said furiously. “You are mine, Paola! Not only because you look like an angel but because St. Francis brought us together. I believe, as I believe in Heaven itself, that he helped us to save ourselves in situations that would have destroyed any other people.”
“I am – sure that – is true,” Paola agreed.
“Then what you have to do is to be very brave and do what I ask you.”
“What is – that?” Paola murmured.
She had a feeling that it was going to be frightening.
“You will have to trust me,” the Marchese said, “when I tell you that my love for you is the love that comes from God. It has nothing to do with any emotions I have enjoyed with other women.”
He looked at her and added,
“My darling, you are so innocent and so unspoiled. You cannot expect me, having found the most precious pearl that has ever existed, to allow anyone else to handle it and to try to steal it from me.”
Paola knew what he was saying, but she could only reply helplessly,
“What – can we – do?”
“I will tell you exactly what we are going to do. It may make your father and mother angry. But, when they see how happy we are and how we are made for each other by God, they will understand.”
“What – will they – understand? “ Paola asked him.
“We are going to be married secretly,” the Marchese replied. “And because it means so much to both of us, we will be married very early in the morning, before the Cathedral is open to the public, in the Chapel of St. Francis.”
Paola gave a little gasp, but he went on,
“The Archbishop will perform the Ceremony and I will ask him to keep it a complete and absolute secret, so that your father will not be ashamed of his daughter marrying when she is in mourning.”
He hesitated as if he was thinking it out carefully before he continued,
“Our Wedding will not be announced for at least six months. Then the English newspapers will be told that it took place in Lucca on whatever date we decide is most suitable.”
He smiled as he added,
“A Ceremony will take place again in the Chapel, but it will be one of Thanksgiving because we are both so happy and because we are thanking God for our having been man and wife for six months.”
“How – can we – do that?” Paola stammered.
“Very easily,” the Marchese said. “We will meanwhile tour the world. I want to show you Greece, the Pyramids, the pearl fishers in the Gulf and perhaps the Himalayas. We will not travel under my real name. I will use one of my minor titles, just to be sure that we are comfortably looked after and no one will be particularly excited by who we are.”
“H-how – can you – plan all this?” Paola asked.
“I feel that the Saints and the angels are helping me,” the Marchese answered. “You know exactly what I want. It is to be together and be sure of our love without really hurting the people who care for you.”
“You are quite – sure that no one here will know what has – happened until we – come back?” Paola said.<
br />
It was difficult to grasp what he had said to her and she was trying to understand.
But somehow it was difficult to think of anything but that he was close to her and that she loved him.
She wanted him to kiss her again, giving her feelings that she never knew existed, but were, as he said, Divine.
“Now that is all decided,” the Marchese said, “and, my darling angel, you can just leave everything to me including the Contessa. All you have to do is to write letters to your father and mother.”
He kissed her gently before he went on,
“Explain to them how much we love each other and how under the circumstances it is impossible for us to wait to be joined together by God as man and wife. And I, of course, will write to them too.”
“You are quite, quite – certain that what we are doing is – right?” Paola asked.
“I know it is right,” the Marchese replied, “because what would be wrong would be to allow doubts to spoil our rapture. The gossips and the cynics of this world would inevitably destroy the perfect love we have found by a miracle and which we must never lose.”
He pulled her closer to him as he said,
“Just leave it to me. I will arrange everything. My darling precious little angel, all I want is that you should be mine and that we should bring up our children in security and aware, as we have been, that we are specially protected by the Saints who look after us.”
“That has – certainly happened – to us,” Paola smiled.
“And it will go on happening,” the Marchese promised. “Not just for a year, not even for our lifetime, but for all Eternity.”
Then he was kissing her again.
*
The Contessa came back just before teatime and it was obvious that she was very upset.
She was not only horrified at what had occurred but Paola was aware that she was blaming the Marchese for what had happened.
In a somewhat cold voice she said,
“I went home so that I could see the Chief of Police, who promised that he would guard my villa carefully from now on.”
No one spoke and she continued,
“I understand that the men who took Paola away last night are now dead.”
“That is true,” the Marchese informed her, “so we shall have no more trouble from them. But I am sure you are right in taking no chances and, if you are frightened, have your villa well-guarded.”
In Love In Lucca Page 10
