Property of a Noblewoman

by Danielle Steel

  “I think I like you better as my aunt,” she teased Winnie. “It makes me feel young.” And she looked it. Winnie really did seem old enough to be her mother, although they were only four years apart.

  “Don’t say that. I’m still upset that we’re not sisters anymore.” There were tears in her eyes as she said it.

  “You’ll love me as your niece,” Valerie said, leaned over to kiss her cheek, and put an arm around her shoulders. It was easier to make light of the serious situation that had surfaced. Winnie’s anger and accusations were forgotten. The two women had made peace, mostly due to Valerie’s forgiving nature and happy disposition. And things had turned out well. “Why don’t you meet me in Europe? It would do you good.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. I hate the way you travel. You dash around all over the place, you change plans every five minutes, you check in and out of hotels. It would put me over the edge. I want to go somewhere and sit and not move. And I don’t want to be packing every five minutes either.”

  “Why don’t you rent a house in the Hamptons?” Valerie suggested.

  “It’s too expensive,” Winnie said sourly. “I can’t afford it.” Valerie gave her a pointed look that said she knew better. Winnie always cried poor.

  “Yes, you can and you know it. You’re just too cheap to spend the money,” she accused her, and Winnie laughed sheepishly.

  “That’s true,” she confessed. “Penny’s renting a house in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer. She said I could come up for a weekend if I don’t nag the kids.”

  “Could you do that?” Valerie wasn’t sure she could, and neither was Winnie. Her grandchildren drove her crazy, and her daughter, whom she criticized constantly.

  “Probably not,” Winnie said honestly. “They’re just so rude and badly behaved, and so noisy, and Penny lets them.”

  “They’re just kids, and they’re actually pretty good. They don’t do anything bad in my studio when they visit,” Valerie said easily. She liked Penny’s kids more than Winnie did.

  “You’re better with them than I am. I have fun playing cards with them, but other than that, they make me nervous. They move around all the time. I’m always afraid they’re going to spill something or break something, and most of the time they do.” Valerie had seen her in action with her grandchildren, and she agreed with Penny – it was nerve-wracking for all involved.

  “If they make a mess, you clean it up. You could stay at a hotel at the Vineyard,” she suggested, but Winnie didn’t want solutions. She was always married to the problems.

  “Why spend the money?”

  “Well, you can’t sit in your apartment in New York all summer,” Valerie said firmly, but she could see that Winnie wasn’t convinced.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s depressing. You have to think of somewhere to go, or something to do.”

  “I’m not like you. I’m happy at home by myself.” Their mother had been that way too. It seemed grim and mournful to Valerie. She wanted to be out and around, meeting new people. She could hardly wait to leave for Europe the next day. “I’m going to miss you,” Winnie said softly. “Call me.”

  “Of course. I’m starting in Rome, to see where my mother lived before she moved back here. And then I’m going to Naples to see the château. Phillip says it’s beautiful, and it’s been restored by the current owner. He didn’t know my mother, but Phillip sent him some photographs of her and the count, at the owner’s request. He has a soft spot for them.” Phillip had given her Saverio Salvatore’s address and phone numbers, and told her to look him up, so she could see the château, and she spoke enough Italian to get by on the phone, more so than Phillip, who had struggled with the language when he met him, although they had managed with the gallery owner’s fractured English. Phillip had noticed that Italians spoke more French than English, and his French wasn’t all that great either. His mother’s was better.

  “Well, don’t forget to call me while you’re running all over Europe,” Winnie reminded her.

  “I won’t.” Penny had just finished settling the estate for her, and Valerie had paid the inheritance taxes from the proceeds of the sale. She felt free as a bird. “And I want to hear that you’re doing more than just sitting home and playing bridge.”

  “I have a tournament this summer.” Winnie brightened at the prospect.

  “Good. Do something else too. It’s good for your health.” Winnie nodded, and was genuinely bereft as they hugged when she left. She felt as though she were losing her best friend now, after losing a sister in learning the truth about Marguerite. She had been mourning her illusions now for months. Everything seemed different. Valerie and Penny had discussed it, and Winnie’s daughter had insisted she’d adjust. Valerie wasn’t as sure. Winnie had fought hard all her life to defend their parents, and never criticized them or questioned what they did. She had trusted them completely. Having the blinders torn off her eyes to face reality had been hard on her, and Valerie thought she was depressed. Winnie just wasn’t a happy person, and now less so than ever. But at least they had made peace after their raging battles over Winnie’s parents. Winnie was still inclined to make excuses for them, to her daughter, but she didn’t dare say a word in their defense to Valerie anymore. She had been proven right in her feelings about them for years.

  Valerie hoped Winnie would be all right over the summer, and went back to packing after she left. She could hardly wait to leave the next day.

  Chapter 22

  PHILLIP PICKED VALERIE up at her apartment at four o’clock on Tuesday, having left work early to do so. She had two good-size suitcases, and a tote bag to take with her on the plane, full of books, magazines, and her iPad. She had to be at the airport at five, for a seven P.M. flight to Rome. And she looked like an excited kid when he got to her house and put her bags in the trunk. She chatted animatedly all the way to the airport about her plans, to visit museums she’d never been to before in Rome, gallery exhibits in Florence, and the Uffizi, where she’d been countless times and always loved, and the château in Naples. And she would see after that. Maybe a driving tour in Tuscany, or a stop in Paris on the way home. She planned to be in Italy for most or all of the trip.

  “Wait a minute. How long are you going to be gone? Two years?” Phillip teased her.

  “Maybe.” She laughed. She felt carefree and excited about the trip.

  “It sounds like it. Don’t forget to come back. I’ll miss you,” he said sincerely. He was happy to see her so lighthearted since her discoveries about her real mother. Knowing that she had missed an entire lifetime with her had been agonizing, but learning more about her, the life she had led, and the fact that she had hungered for news of her daughter and had been prevented from coming back to her, had helped Valerie bond with her, even after her death. Learning how much her mother had loved her made up for her loveless childhood. It had healed an old wound that Valerie never acknowledged but was always there. She had finally freed herself of the disturbing echoes of parents who had never approved of her, and had been unkind to her all her life. Now she was ready for new adventures, even at seventy-four.

  When they got to the airport, he helped her check in her bags, and get her boarding pass for the flight, and she lingered on the sidewalk with him for a little while, before going into the terminal. “Have a good time with Jane while I’m gone,” she told him, looking motherly for a moment, while still trying to respect his freedom of choice as a man. “It was nice meeting her parents. They seem like good people. I enjoyed them.” Phillip did too, to a point.

  “They get a little intense sometimes,” he said quietly. Jane never pressured him, but he sensed that her parents might, especially her mother. She made it clear she would like to see Jane married, a goal Jane didn’t care about for now.

  “I hope you don’t say things like that about me,” Valerie said, and he smiled.

  “Hardly. You’re too busy doing your own thing.” He knew all she wanted was for him to be happy, what
ever that meant to him. She left how he achieved that, and with whom, up to him.

  “I like seeing you with a good woman, and I wouldn’t want you to wind up alone. But you can figure out all that for yourself,” she said simply, and then added, “Jane is a nice girl.” He smiled as she said it.

  “Yes, she is, and she’s a good sailor too. And she’ll be a good lawyer. She’s interviewing with Penny’s firm. It would be pretty funny if she winds up working there.” Penny and Jane got along well too. They’d had dinner together several times, and he and Jane were going to spend the weekend with Penny and her family at Martha’s Vineyard over the Fourth of July.

  He liked the fact that his mother never pushed him about his personal life. She was too busy with her own, and the way she lived, enjoying her life to the fullest, served as an example to him. It was one of the things he had admired about his parents’ marriage – they loved and respected each other and gave each other space to be who they were. They had never been confining, stifling, or possessive, or tried to change anything about each other. They were tolerant of each other’s quirks. It had been a partnership that truly worked. He had seen few other relationships that did, and none of his own. Until now, with Jane. And it meant a lot to him that Jane and his mother liked each other, and got along.

  He could tell that Valerie was anxious to go inside then, and he hugged her and kissed her good-bye, feeling an instant of panic, like a parent sending a child off to camp.

  “Take care of yourself, Mom . . . be careful . . . don’t do anything stupid . . .. Naples is full of pickpockets – watch out when you’re there . . ..” He suddenly had a thousand instructions he wanted to give her, and she laughed.

  “I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself. You can reach me on my cell, or send me an email.” She hugged him again, waved as she left, and disappeared into the terminal, and he felt happy for his mother, after he left her and drove back to the city. He went to Jane’s apartment, where she was studying for the bar, as she did constantly now.

  “Did your mom get off okay?” Jane asked when she took a break, and he handed her a glass of white wine.

  He grinned in answer to her question. “She was so happy to leave, it was embarrassing. She loves to travel, and she practically ran into the airport. She can’t wait to get to Naples and Rome. It’ll be good for her.” So much had happened to her recently, and the trip was going to be fun.

  And at that moment, Valerie was chatting to the person sitting next to her on the plane, selecting a movie, and she had just ordered a meal and a glass of champagne. She was traveling Alitalia, and she had treated herself to business class, so she could sleep comfortably on the plane. When she’d mentioned it to Winnie, her now-aunt had chided her for the expense. And Valerie had responded that at their age they could indulge in some luxuries. There was no point saving it till they were a hundred. She was willing to spoil herself a little now, particularly after the jewelry sale. She had no intention of squandering it, but knew the trip would be easier and less arduous in business than coach, which seemed reasonable to her, though not to Winnie, who preferred to stay home and save the money entirely, and go nowhere.

  She watched the movie and enjoyed her dinner of osso buco and pasta, with a glass of good Italian red wine, and then she settled down to sleep for what was left of the seven-hour flight. They were arriving at eight A.M. Roman time, and she hoped to be at the Hassler by ten, which would give her a full day in Rome. She had her mother’s address on a slip of paper in her purse. She wanted to go there before doing anything else. It was why she had come to Rome. She was planning to visit museums and churches for two days, enjoy the city, and walk around. And then she was going to Naples to see the château, which was going to be a high point for her, knowing that Marguerite had lived there for more than thirty years. She had lived in the apartment in Rome for twenty. Italy had really become her home, although Valerie knew from her letters that her mother had been happier in Naples with Umberto, than alone in Rome after he died. Valerie could only guess that her best years had been at the Castello di San Pignelli while he was alive. Her life must have been very lonely after that, with no relatives in the world.

  Valerie slept lightly on the plane, had a cup of strong coffee before they landed on time, and was among the first off the plane. She took a cab to the Hotel Hassler, and was given a small room similar to Phillip’s when he was there in March, and she took a cab to her mother’s old Roman address, as soon as she had showered and changed into a long black cotton skirt, a T-shirt, sandals, and a Panama hat. She looked very casual and stylish with her long straight white hair streaming down her back, and she was wearing silver bangle bracelets on her arm. There was an arty, casual feeling to what she wore.

  She stood outside her mother’s apartment building, wondering which apartment she’d lived in. It was so long ago that she was sure no one who was there would remember or even know. She just liked being there, knowing that this had been her mother’s neighborhood. It was a fashionable residential neighborhood called I Parioli, and people walked by her, or rode by on bicycles, as scooters wove through the cars in the heavy Roman traffic and horns sounded everywhere. She stayed there for a long time and then walked away, wandered into a little church nearby, and lit a candle for her mother, grateful that their paths had somehow crossed again. She touched the locket on her neck as she thought about it, and sat peacefully in the little church, thinking about her, as old ladies came and went to say rosaries or chat quietly with friends. Several nuns were cleaning the church, and it had a welcoming atmosphere. She wondered if her mother had ever gone there, and if she had still believed in any deity after the misfortunes that had happened to her. Valerie would have understood if she didn’t, and wouldn’t have blamed her if not.

  It was a pretty neighborhood, and she felt safe there as she walked the fairly long distance back to the Piazza di Spagna, where the hotel was, and the shops on the Via Condotti nearby. It was touching discovering her mother’s world, and the life she had led during her half century in Italy, after she left the States. Valerie spent the rest of the day visiting small churches, and had a delicious lunch of fish and pasta at a sidewalk café. She practiced her Italian with the waiter, and he understood her despite her mistakes. And it amused her to notice that men looked at women in Rome of all ages – she saw several male heads turn as she walked by, and it made her smile. It could never have happened in New York, but it did here. Italian men made you feel female and desirable to the grave. And Valerie was still an attractive woman with her slim figure and still-beautiful face.

  She walked for hours that afternoon, and had dinner at a small restaurant near the hotel. She didn’t like going to restaurants alone, but traveling without a companion, she had no other choice and didn’t want to eat in her room, so she just did it, and enjoyed the food and a strong espresso afterward before going back to the hotel. She wrote postcards that night to Phillip, Winnie, and the Babcocks. Her family had grown. And the Babcocks were coming to New York for a visit in the fall, to meet Phillip, and had invited her to dinner and a Broadway play.

  She did more of the same the next day, exploring churches and galleries, admiring fountains and statues, soaking up the atmosphere of Rome and watching the people around her. And the day after, she flew to Naples. She had several texts from Phillip asking how she was, and assured him she was fine and enjoying Rome. She took a cab from the airport to the Hotel Excelsior, where she and Lawrence had stayed years before, and watched the sights along the way. She saw Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples, and remembered taking Phillip to Pompeii and his utter amazement and fascination with it, when she explained to him what had happened there.

  And not wanting to drive around Naples alone and risk getting lost, she hired a car and driver at the hotel, who was available that afternoon.

  She had lunch on the terrace of the hotel, and went outside to meet the driver afterward, armed with her mother’s address, just as Phillip had done. She had Saverio S
alvatore’s phone numbers with her, but hadn’t called him, and didn’t want to disturb him if possible. She just wanted to see the château, and bask in a private moment, thinking of her mother as a young girl of eighteen with the man she loved, not long after Valerie was born.

  The driver explained the sights to her as they drove past them. He spoke English very well, and pointed out churches and important buildings and homes, and told her some of the history of Naples. But the history that interested her most was her own. There was a lot of traffic in the city, and it took them a while to get to the far edge of the city where the castello was located, and when they got there, he stopped, and she got out of the car in silence, looking up with awe at what had been her mother’s home. Marguerite had been a countess by then, loved by Umberto, and respected by all who knew her, according to what Saverio Salvatore had told Phillip when he was there.

  Valerie stood at the gate for a long moment, cautiously, not wanting to intrude, but no one was there. The gates were standing wide open, and the courtyard was empty. There was a red Ferrari parked in an open garage that looked like an old stable, but the grounds were deserted. And feeling like a burglar, she walked in quietly in her sandals and jeans and the crisp white shirt she had worn on the trip with her Panama hat. It was a hot day, but the heat was dry, and her hat shielded her from the sun. No one stopped her, and she walked around for a little while, through orchards and past vineyards and gardens and then walked back toward the château. She could easily imagine her mother walking there with Umberto, enjoying the view of the bay. It was a beautiful, peaceful place, and apparently very well kept. She saw two gardeners in the distance, but they never approached. She was halfway across the courtyard on her way back to her car when a silver Lamborghini roared into the courtyard, with the top down, driven by a man with white hair. He almost looked like Umberto for a moment, and Valerie was startled and embarrassed when he looked at her and frowned. He got out of the car quickly and came toward her with a questioning look.