Taken Over

by Penny Jordan

  ‘If you were wishing to be a fashion model I would agree with you,’ Madame told her, ‘but for a woman a pretty bosom is always an asset.’

  Her use of the old-fashioned word made Cassie smile a little, and her teacher made good use of her relaxation to get her to walk up and down the room.

  ‘When you walk you look at the floor, do not. Walk as though you are proud of yourself. Carry your body proudly, always, always remember that.’

  Two hours later feeling absolutely exhausted Cassie bid her teacher goodbye. She had just emerged from her bathroom when Miranda knocked and then walked excitedly into her bedroom.

  ‘Nina is very pleased with you,’ she told a surprised Cassie. ‘She says you have the elegance for which Englishwomen are known.’

  ‘She said I have good bones,’ Cassie told her, still half amazed herself by this announcement.

  ‘So you have,’ Miranda agreed. ‘ I have spoken to Carlo and this afternoon we are to go and see him. Then afterwards we shall visit my beauty salon.’ When she saw Cassie’s expression she smiled at her. ‘Beauty, like any other asset has to be polished my love, but it will all be worth-while, you will see.’

  And see she did, Cassie reflected nearly a week later, as she surveyed her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She had just spent an arduous two hours with Madame, exercising, and her skin glowed a softly pretty peach, her hair, cut and layered into a flattering style that encouraged it to wave softly round her face, shining softly where the sunlight touched it.

  Yesterday she had had her first make-up lesson and had been astounded by the difference properly applied cosmetics made to her face. Bemused she had stared at her own reflection in the beauty salon mirror, wondering if this elegant creature with the high cheekbones and huge, hazel-green eyes really was Cassie Howard.

  And to prevent her from hiding her newly sculptured beauty behind a barrier of plastic and glass, Miranda discovered and exploited Cassie’s long-suppressed desire to be rid of her glasses. After hours of tests in a Florentine opticians, she had emerged with rapidly blinking, unbespectacled eyes—rejoicing in her new soft contact lenses—to see the city and herself with greater clarity.

  Highlights subtly applied to her newly cut hair gave it a rich chestnut glow that the Italian sunshine would enhance, Carlo had assured her. The hair she had considered so thin and poor seemed suddenly under Carlo’s clever fingers to have changed into a glorious thick mane of tawny richness, its shape emphasising the subtle contours of her face.

  Daily exercise had brought a glow to her skin and a new assurance to her movements; she was blossoming, Cassie recognised, perhaps rather a late bloomer, but blooming in a way she had never envisaged possible for her, and it was all thanks to Miranda.

  Whenever she had despaired or felt awkward Joel’s mother had been there to encourage and commiserate. When Madame called her clumsy and gauche, as she goaded her on, Miranda always seemed to sense her despair and have a few words of praise to restore her self-confidence.

  ‘Excellent,’ Madame had pronounced during this morning’s lesson, as Cassie walked the length of the room for her. ‘Excellent—now at last you are saying to the world, “I am a woman of great worth and charm—look at me and perceive that for yourself”—and believe me that is exactly what the world will do cara—it will value as highly or as unworthily as you value yourself. Tell it you are well pleased with yourself and it will support your judgment—tell it you are not; that you find yourself unworthy and unworthwhile and it too will judge you thus.’

  ‘Cassie?’

  ‘Coming,’ Cassie called out, recognising Miranda’s voice outside her door. This afternoon they were going out window shopping. As yet Cassie was to buy nothing Miranda had told her. For the present they would simply study style and colour.

  ‘A woman who is truly secure in herself knows instinctively what suits her and wears it regardless of fashion’s dictates.’

  Thanks to her visits to Miranda’s beauty therapist Cassie’s skin no longer looked muddy and dull, but gleamed with health and care, her manner vital and outward looking where it had been withdrawn and dull. She found she was actually looking forward to going out; that she no longer dreaded being the object of people’s curiosity.

  Pulling a brush through her hair, she gave her reflection a final glance.

  ‘Very good,’ Miranda approved, scrutinising her make-up when she opened the door. ‘You are a quick study cara, and you look very lovely.’

  As always Miranda’s praise warmed her. Cassie had not heard a single word from Joel since she had left home. Had he forgotten completely that he had a wife she wondered achingly. Would he come and get her as Miranda had decreed? Somehow she thought not.

  * * *

  SEVEN DAYS turned into ten and then fourteen, and Cassie no longer found it strange to catch a glimpse of herself in a mirror or shop window and wonder at the identity of the slender smiling girl with the cloud of rich dark hair and pale creamy skin who she saw there.

  With Miranda’s gentle guidance she had restocked her wardrobe with rich blues and soft yellows in supple silk, and pastel cottons. Not one item of the new clothes she had bought was beige, or anything approaching that colour. Each day added a little to her growing confidence, and Cassie found that the boost to her self confidence of knowing she looked good made her much warmer and more open in her approach to other people. Shop assistants whom she would once have shrunk away from now smiled welcomingly at her, and she had gained enough confidence to make a few shopping forays on her own, practising her growing skill with Italian.

  She had been in Florence nearly three weeks when Miranda mentioned Joel for the first time.

  ‘Have you heard anything from him?’ she enquired as they shared their breakfast table.

  Cassie shook her head. Joel’s angry silence was something she had come to live with. Along with her increased self confidence had come the realisation that even transformed as she was Joel was hardly likely to fall at her feet. And did she really want him to? She loved him she knew that, but what she wanted in return was his love of her as a person, not an image.

  ‘Don’t worry, you will,’ Miranda reassured her, adding perceptively, ‘If you still want to?’

  ‘I still love him,’ Cassie admitted, ‘But…’

  ‘I know.’ Miranda touched her fingers lightly. ‘Cassie I’ve enjoyed having you here so much and I hope that whatever happens between you and Joel, you will always consider me at least as a friend…’

  ‘As my fairy godmother,’ Cassie assured her. It was true. No matter what the future might hold there would always be a special place in her heart for Miranda, and for Nico, who had lavished generous mounts of male appreciation and encouragement on her first stumbling efforts to transform herself, and who now Cassie saw in the light of a particularly well-loved uncle.

  ‘You have blossomed even beyond my imaginings,’ Miranda told her, ‘and I think to celebrate both your transformation and Nico’s birthday we shall have a party.’

  Where once she had dreaded such gatherings Cassie now found herself plunging enthusiastically into all the arrangements acting as Miranda’s unofficial secretary, and learning as she did how efficient the older woman was.

  ‘We shall both need new dresses,’ Miranda proclaimed when they had finished checking the guest list together. ‘I have arranged for the gardens to be flood-lit, and I think this is an occasion when we can both give in to the temptation to glow as brightly as any fireflies. Bernardo will be home in time for the party. I rang him in Brussels yesterday to check.’

  ‘You get on well with him?’ Cassie queried, wondering if Nico’s son had objected to their marriage as strongly as Joel.

  ‘Extremely well.’ Miranda’s eyes twinkled, ‘Bernardo is a very charming and flirtatious young man I must warn you, Cassie. He is also an extremely susceptible one…’

  ‘But not one to be taken seriously,’ Cassie guessed laughing.

  ‘You will like him,’ M
iranda assured her, ‘and he will make good target practice, if you wish to perfect your flirting.’ She laughed at Cassie’s startled expression. ‘My dear, every woman must know how to flirt, it is part of the art of being charming, and Bernardo will take no harm from it. In fact it will probably teach him a thing or two.’

  They spent the afternoon browsing round the shops, visiting Miranda’s favourite boutique in their search for suitable dresses.

  Miranda with her dark hair and dark blue eyes looked stunning in Italian silks and Cassie wasn’t surprised when she opted for a dress in varying shades of her favourite blue. Both elegant and feminine, Cassie immediately applauded her choice.

  ‘Now we have to find something for you,’ Miranda commented when she re-emerged from the changing room. ‘Something very, very special.’

  ‘The party is for Nico, not me,’ Cassie protested, but Miranda’s thoughts were obviously elsewhere, a preoccupied look in her eyes.

  ‘I know the very place,’ she announced at length, ‘Come on.’

  She took Cassie not to a shop but to a small salon up a steep flight of stairs in the old part of the town. The small dark haired woman who came to greet them, let loose a burst of fluid Italian too rapid for Cassie to follow.

  ‘Signora Tonli makes the gowns for all our prettiest brides, Cassie,’ Miranda explained. ‘Come here and let her have a look at you.’

  ‘But I’m not a bride,’ Cassie protested, a little unnerved by the small woman’s scrutiny.

  ‘In Italy a girl is a bride throughout her first year of marriage cara. Joel robbed me of the chance of seeing you dressed as a bride should be on your wedding day, but…’

  ‘I don’t think I could wear white,’ Cassie murmured, not wanting to hurt Miranda’s feelings, but uncertain exactly what she had in mind.

  Miranda laughed. ‘No, I don’t intend to go that far but…’ She spoke rapidly to Signora Tonli who quickly produced a pencil and pad, rapidly sketching something on it, in between brief, but assessing glances at Cassie.

  ‘Signora Tonli and I both agree that pale green would be a particularly effective colour for you. It will bring out the sheen of your skin and the green tints of your eyes. Also it is a colour few Italian girls wear because of their darker skin. This is what she has in mind.’ Miranda showed Cassie the sketch.

  The dress depicted was a Victorian fantasy of puffed sleeves, tiny waist and full, flounced skirt, caught up with tiny bunches of artificial flowers.

  ‘I could never wear anything like that,’ Cassie began to demur, but something about the sheer femininity of the sketch held her. It was a romantic daydream of a dress, a once in a lifetime real live ballgown such as she had never ever imagined herself wearing. At one time she would have genuinely believed that for someone to suggest she wore such a dress would have been sheer malicious cruelty. Indecision clouded her eyes.

  ‘Trust me,’ Miranda whispered softly, and remembering all her kindnesses and compassion Cassie gave way.

  ‘If you think it will be all right,’ she agreed uncertainly.

  ‘All right?’ Miranda raised her eyebrows, ‘My dear, you will be sensational…a fairy princess… the belle of the ball, I promise you…’

  * * *

  MIRANDA HAD arranged to hold the party the Saturday after Nico’s birthday, by which time Cassie would have been with them over a month. Not once during that time had she heard from Joel, her only communications from London being the reports and other necessary papers relating to her business that she received from his secretary.

  She had worked in a desultory fashion on her new game during her stay in Florence, but there had been so many other things to do, so much to see that she was beginning to feel almost guilty about her laziness.

  During the week before the ball Miranda seemed unusually edgy but Cassie put this down to her concern that all should go well. Cassie had had three fittings for her gown, and Carlo, Miranda’s hairdresser had also been given specific instructions by Miranda as to what was required.

  ‘I hope I’m not going to look over-dressed,’ Cassie murmured uneasily listening to them. As a hangover from the days when all she had wanted to do was to fade out of sight, she still felt a little worried about attracting undue attention, although the manners of the average Italian male had largely banished that. Cassie had grown used to the smiles and admiring comments she received whenever she went out. She had lost count of the number of attractive young men who had approached her in the street, even when she was out with Miranda. Italy definitely went to a girl’s head, she reflected one afternoon from a successful expedition to find Nico a birthday present.

  Cassie knew the city quite well by now, and knowing Nico’s love of antiques she had searched carefully for exactly the right thing to give him, finding it in a delicately enamelled Sevres snuff box, whose price made her blink and then reflect how very pleasant it was to be able to repay Nico’s hospitality with a present that she knew would genuinely please.

  She had never spent so much money in her life as she was doing at present, she thought wryly, hurrying back to where she had left Miranda’s small car. But then she had earned it…and before there had been nothing and no one to spend it on apart from herself. In Miranda and Nico she had found friends whose love and affection sometimes almost reduced her to silly tears. They both cared so genuinely about her; about her as herself, she acknowledged slipping into the small Fiat. Both of them were delighted by her transformation but delighted for her. Miranda as she was fond of pointing out had known from the very first that the raw material was there, and Nico frequently told her that it was a pleasure to see her pretty face across the table, to hear her laughing and to know that in her Miranda had found the daughter she had always wanted.

  ‘Our only regret is that in reality you are not our child,’ he had told Cassie simply only the previous evening when she had declined when they invited her to go out to dinner with them, protesting that they must be growing tired of her constant presence in their home.

  In fact all that marred her happiness was Joel’s continued silence. Would he come for her? Cassie doubted it. Perhaps he was even hoping that she would remain in Italy for the entire remainder of the six months he had stipulated their marriage must last, thus saving himself the chore of having to continue the pretence.

  When she said as much to Miranda on the evening of Nico’s birthday she frowned and said slowly, ‘And if he does not come for you would you stay here cara, or would you go back?’

  ‘I think I should stay here,’ Cassie responded, half surprising herself with the admission.

  ‘Good,’ Miranda praised her softly. ‘My son doesn’t know what he is missing—in more ways than one. You have all the virtues any mother could want in a daughter-in-law Cassie. Loyalty, intelligence, compassion, pride. Joel is a fool.’

  * * *

  BERNARDO WAS EXPECTED back in time for the celebration evening meal Miranda had organised that night for Nico’s birthday, and consequently Cassie wasn’t entirely surprised to come downstairs after lunch and find an unfamiliar young man entering the hall. Both of them paused, studying one another. Bernardo was a younger version of his father, very Italian and very attractive, and a little to her own amusement Cassie felt her skin colouring faintly at the frankly male way his appreciative glance caressed her. Caressed was definitely the word, she mused as she continued downstairs. Bernardo’s appreciation made her feel feminine and enticing and she could feel herself responding to the charm of it.

  ‘You must be the Cassie I have heard so much about,’ he told her coming to greet her. Cassie held out her hand and smiled, but Bernardo laughed. ‘Ah no cara, you would not deny me the privilege of greeting a new member of my family in the traditional way?’

  Cassie suspected that the way he held her was far from fraternal, as indeed was the way he lingered over kissing her cheek and fingertips. Although not as tall or as broad as Joel and probably a couple of years younger, Bernardo was a very attractive man,
and what’s more unlike Joel he obviously found her attractive too.

  Both Miranda and Nico were out and so Cassie found herself agreeing to spend the afternoon with Bernardo and bring him up to date on the arrangements for Saturday’s party.

  He suggested that they discuss them while walking through the villa gardens. ‘Our gardens are one of the things I missed most in Brussels,’ he told her as they ambled beneath the rose covered trellises.

  ‘So you are married to Miranda’s son,’ he murmured when Cassie had finished enumerating the delights Miranda had planned for the birthday ball. ‘If I were your husband, cara, I would not allow you to stay away from me for so long.’ The look in his eyes made Cassie’s colour fluctuate delicately. It was frankly sensual yet in no way frightening, rather it was extremely intoxicating.

  ‘Joel is extremely busy at the moment,’ she responded sedately. ‘It was a good opportunity for me to get to know his mother.’

  ‘An idea which certainly did not come from him,’ Bernardo commented dryly, a certain irony entering his voice. ‘In my memory at least Joel has never made the slightest attempt to concern himself in any way with his mother. This is something that both saddens and angers my father. You know the story of how they met and fell in love while Miranda was still married to Joel’s father?’

  Cassie agreed that she did.

  ‘Miranda is an honourable woman and one I love very dearly. It is a pity her son cannot see her for the woman she really is, although he does much to redeem himself in my eyes by his choice of a bride.’

  The caressing note was back in his voice, and remembering Miranda’s teasing comments about flirting she allowed herself to bask in it, and even to respond by saying lightly, ‘And by allowing me to visit Miranda on my own…’

  ‘By that as well,’ Bernardo agreed readily, ‘although were you my bride little Cassie, you would not be allowed to venture too far from my arms alone. Indeed were you my wife,’ he continued extravagantly, ‘I believe I would have to abandon my office duties for a considerable length of time; at least until the sight of you in my bed in the morning did not raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels.’ Bernardo laughed openly at Cassie’s rich blush.