The Echoes of Love

by Hannah Fielding

  But she could not delude herself about her feelings for Paolo that were blossoming fiercely in her with the overnight glory of a tropical flower. Those flashes, intuitive, swift, and primitive, that were transmitted between them disturbed her oddly; it was almost as if, in spite of the tangible world that divided them, her mind could speak directly to his and receive an answer. There was a palpable harmony between them; it was exquisitely sweet and she was sure that Paolo had been aware of it too, since the first time they met.

  Still, a grey cloud marred the euphoria she would have felt if Allegra hadn’t appeared, and if Paolo hadn’t lied to her… but had he lied to her? Venetia tried to argue in his favour. He had only shielded the truth from her at that moment. Did she really expect him to admit there and then that Allegra was his mistress, even though the Italian girl was probably history after their passionate interlude at dawn? That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him, and Paolo, she had the deep conviction, was a gentleman. How foolish she was to be feeling this way.

  When Venetia went back into the living room to have her breakfast, she was surprised to see Ernestina still there. She noticed that the servant was holding on to the discarded bathrobe that Paolo had slipped off her shoulders before carrying her into the bedroom, and which she had not picked up from the floor.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to set up your breakfast on the terrazza as usual or if you would prefer to have it indoors. It’s going to be a hot day and the sun is already very strong.’ The servant’s eyes darted quickly from Venetia’s lush mane of chestnut hair left loose this morning around her shoulders to her long shapely legs under the summery floral dress.

  An unwitting flush of pink rose to Venetia’s cheekbones when she realised what Ernestina must be thinking, confirming the housekeeper’s surmise of a night spent in the arms of her employer.

  ‘Grazie. I will just have some hot coffee on the terrazza.’

  ‘Ve lo porto subito, I’ll bring it to you in just a minute.’

  There wasn’t a ripple on the pale blue sea and not a cloud in the sky. It was a warm morning, no air stirring, and the heat had the heavy dampness of windless days upon a sea coast. Ernestina was right: the temperature was climbing, the golden orb beating down on the countryside. The horizon was faintly hazy, and the line of hills rising far away behind the estate, almost veiled and dazzling white in the hot sunlight, looked as if they had been cut out of cardboard; the flowers in the garden below stood bravely lifting their cups to the sun. Nature looked as if it was holding its breath.

  Ernestina also looked as though she was holding her breath when she came onto the terrace with the cup of coffee. Her dark eyes met Venetia’s, containing all sorts of insinuated questions, and finally she decided to speak.

  ‘If the signorina will permit, I would like to say something.’

  Venetia lifted her eyebrows, feigning a surprise she did not really feel.

  ‘The signorina must be careful.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Bisogna stare attenti a quella piccola strega, you have to be careful of that little witch.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what you’re telling me, Ernestina. What witch?’

  ‘Antonio’s niece, Allegra, the young woman riding a horse this morning who passed by you when you were…’ the servant gave an embarrassed little cough, ‘umm… with the signore.’

  Venetia felt her cheeks burn. ‘I don’t see what this has to do with the young lady in question, or with you for that matter,’ she replied calmly.

  ‘Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to intrude, signorina. God forbid that I should meddle in either yours or Signor Barone’s business, but this girl is dangerous. She has the Malocchio, the evil eye.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to worry about me, Ernestina. But you see, I don’t give credence to all these superstitions, if some kind of hocus-pocus black magic is what you’re meaning to suggest. Anyhow, things like the evil eye don’t affect people who don’t believe in them.’

  ‘Signorina, with all due respect, you may think that I’m an ignorant, superstitious Italian peasant, but Antonio and his niece come from Elba, like me, and we are from the same small village of San Stefano di Camastra. I knew the family, and Allegra was born bad to bad parents. She was treated cruelly, it is true, but it was like pouring petrol on a fire already out of control. Whether it was bad genes or the evil that surrounded her, chi lo sa, who knows, but from a young age, she was cattiva, manipulative. Already as a child, she started dabbling in witchcraft. She fell in with un cerchio del male, an evil circle, which was poisoning her mind even more with their wicked rites of sorcery and black magic. That’s why in the end Antonio had to move to the North when Allegra was seven. He spent some time in Porto Ercole and when a few years later Signor Barone was looking for builders to help with the restoration of Miraggio, he found buon lavoro, steady work here for him and his niece.’

  ‘Where are Allegra’s parents?’

  ‘They died when the child was only five. The father, Antonio’s brother, was a drunkard. Her mother was a well known matta, madwoman, and the town strumpet to boot. She and the father completely neglected the small child. Antonio and his wife, Angelina, were kindly folk and they took in the little girl. When Angelina suddenly fell ill and died, Antonio continued caring for Allegra, but she was still wild. Then the father ended up dead in a ditch not long after – no one knows how, but no doubt to do with his drinking. Ah, madre di dio!’ Ernestina lifted her arms to the sky. ‘That’s when things became even worse. The child’s interest in the dark arts grew, and Antonio took her away to the North. By the time they came to Miraggio, Allegra was eleven. She was as fully developed as a girl of sixteen, and she knew all there was to know of good and evil – mainly evil. She had been taught by a preacher to read and write and add up sums, but the girl had no affection for anyone. She was moody, headstrong, and beautiful come un angelo, but she brooded in that cottage the signore provided for her and her uncle, and roamed the hills. Occasionally, she came out with furies and rages that frightened anyone who happened to witness them. It was me who spoke to Signor Barone about her in the end. She was causing trouble among the workers and I wanted him to dismiss Antonio because of the girl.

  ‘Anyway, that got the signore’s curiosity going, and he asked to meet with the child. I brought her to him. Madre di dio, I will never forget how she looked up at him with her black, lovely eyes and stretched out her arms to him with a cry: “Portami via, Portami via, take me away.” The rest followed quickly.’ Ernestina sighed. ‘The signore è buono come il pane, he’s as good as bread, è molto sensibile, very sensitive, and he took her under his wing. This exquisite child could not be left to rot, he said. He would save her.’

  Yes, Venetia thought, it would be so like Paolo to want to save another thing, a person this time, from destruction.

  ‘So he put her in a convent, where she rebelled at first, but her cleverness and ambition soon won over her wildness. She was shamed by her own ignorance and set herself to study to become a lady. The girl quickly realised that sullenness and furies got her nowhere… era più saggio accattivarsi le persone, it was wiser to win people, make them worship her. And she succeeded, but she herself never knew affection for anyone. Cambiano i suonatori ma la musica é sempre quella, the singer changes but the song stays the same. She will never be a good girl.’ Ernestina shook her head. ‘All this is to tell you, signorina, that Allegra is very possessive of Signor Barone. I know for sure, she does not only regard him as her protector, but both she and Antonio are hoping that he will marry her one day… Come Dio mi é testimone, as God is my witness, I have heard them plotting this with my own ears that will be eaten by the worms one day.’

  ‘And what does Signor Barone think of that great plan?’ Even though Venetia thought the old woman’s words were somewhat melodramatic, she couldn’t resist asking the questi
on, quietly eager for a clue to Paolo’s feelings for this dangerously alluring girl.

  ‘The signore is a lonely man, signorina, and the girl is a scaltra tentatrice, beautiful and wily temptress. When she speaks to him she knows how to make her voice soft and caressing… una puttana in incognito.’

  ‘I really don’t see what it has to do with me, and why you’re telling me all this.’

  ‘Signorina, may the sky fall upon me if I speak out of turn, but… the signore is blinded by his affection and pity for this young woman, who he has seen grow up. And, as far as I can see, he has invested un sacco di soldi, a stack of money, into the bargain. He is a very melancholy man, the signore. He still grieves for his dead wife who he has never forgotten. Allegra brings colour to his life sicuramente and if I thought that she would make him happy, I would not have talked to you in this way, signorina. But she has a biting tongue, and a cruel heart – hurting people is her way, and most of all she doesn’t love him. Lei è come una sanguisuga, she’s like a leech, always asking for this and that.’

  Venetia raised her eyebrows. Clearly Paolo had forgotten his wife but she was not about to bring up his amnesia with Ernestina, knowing next to nothing about the housekeeper or how much she knew about her employer. She wondered what else was unreliable about Ernestina’s information.

  ‘My dear Ernestina, you seem to think that I have influence over Signor Barone. I’m here to restore mosaics in an old church, not to meddle with my client’s problems of the heart.’ Venetia inwardly winced at the irony of her own words.

  ‘Signorina, mi permetta di dire… I saw you and the signore this morning... come dire… you know… I was going to go back to the kitchen from the garden when I saw Allegra go past you, so I stood behind the tree as I knew she was up to no good, and then when I saw that Signor Barone was leaving, I came over.’

  ‘Well, since you saw us this morning, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Doesn’t that show that maybe your fear of Allegra’s power over the signore is a little unfounded?’

  ‘I also saw the hatred in her eyes. She was born under a Black Moon, which some say is a bad omen. I tell you, she has a dark power that, whether from this earth or from another world, is dangerous. She will harm you if she can, signorina, even if it means hurting the signore, and you must guard against it.’

  Venetia stood up. ‘You’re very sweet, Ernestina, to worry about me. I can’t speak for Signor Barone, of course, but really, I don’t believe in all this mumbo jumbo and so I assure you, it can’t touch me.’ She smiled and kissed the old servant on the cheek. ‘And now I must go and join my client in his study. Whatever you saw this morning, that doesn’t mean that we don’t have work to do.’

  The woman seemed touched by Venetia’s affectionate gesture. ‘I knew as soon as I saw you, signorina, that you would be good for our signore… un balsamo che se messo su una ferita la curerebbe, a balm which if put on a wound would cure it. He carries a lot of sadness in his heart and there’s a kindness that radiates from you. You’re good for him and him for you, because I can see in your eyes that you have also known unhappiness in your life. We say in Italy, “siete entrambi della stessa stella, you’re both of the same star,” which means that you two are born for each other.’

  As Venetia made her way to Miraggio she wondered again at Ernestina’s words. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Paolo’s amnesia, and probably knew nothing of it, judging by her comments about his dead wife, so probably her reference to his sadness must concern his widowhood and the tragic way it had come about.

  Again, it was not clear from Ernestina whether or not the young woman was in fact Paolo’s mistress, though the housekeeper would see Allegra and Paolo together all the time and would know if Antonio’s niece was scheming to marry him. And if that was the case, surely the young Amazon had already weaselled herself into his bed, and surely Paolo being the hot-blooded man he was, he wouldn’t have pushed away her advances? Venetia’s heart became heavier with every step, as she made her way through the big house towards Paolo’s office. Why should she expect more from him than other men? He’s human and Allegra is so beautiful, so utterly seductive. What man could hold out against her?

  * * *

  Paolo sat at his desk in the study, staring unseeingly out of the window, questions reflecting in his eyes. Why did he feel so restless… so lost… so utterly confused and in turmoil? The emotional charge he had felt in Venetia’s arms that morning was like nothing he had experienced in this new life, and yet it had not been completely alien… He had read numerous books about amnesia and it was believed that some people only remember through touch, taste or smell… and for a split second, when he had reached his shattering climax inside her, he had felt that he was going back in time. There was something there, the return of something specific, and he momentarily surfaced on the shore of familiarity; but then immediately, like each time he had seemed to put his finger on a memory, the mirage lost itself again in the tragedy of his life.

  One thing he was sure of: he was irremediably in love with Venetia. There had been no preparation for this, no leading up in soft degrees. It had been this way since that damp, misty evening he had rescued her in Venice, when looking into her eyes in the first few seconds it was as if he had pulled back a curtain. The intensity of the emotional flash memory that had come into his mind was so strong, so beautiful, he almost felt relief, but again it had vanished nearly as quickly as it had occurred, to join the dead wreckage of his past.

  And now Paolo knew he could not live without Venetia. Was that because, somehow, she was jogging his amnesic memory? The psychologist who had followed his progress for two years, until he was quite sure Paolo could stand on his own two feet, had told him that the return of memory could not be prompted by somebody else, it had to come back from within.

  Still, when he was with Venetia, Paolo felt secure; even without regaining his forgotten identity, she represented the promise of a life where he could find happiness. Together they would make their own past, live in the present and plan for the future. Venetia had also been aware of that connection; he could feel it.

  Paolo allowed his mind turn to their lovemaking that morning, playing back the moment when Venetia let the robe slide from her shoulders to the floor. A new fantasy took over, where he was kneeling in front of her and drawing her towards him, gently probing the delicate, secret corolla of her most intimate part with his lips and his tongue to taste the soft ripe fruit that trembled inside her, sending a series of erotic images dancing across his mind’s eye. He could almost hear the helpless little moans in the back of her throat, see the mixture of yearning and rapture in her eyes, which turned flame-coloured when she was aroused, making the insistent, throbbing ache in his groin intensify to an unbearable pitch.

  It would soon be Easter; he would take her away to Capri, or perhaps to one of the islands for a few days, and after that ask her to marry him. There was no time to waste; he had lost enough years. Was he being unrealistic, building castles in the clouds, pretending that nothing more divided them now? Was he living for this singular moment in a golden haze, outside time? Would she want to take on a man of whom she knew almost nothing? And even if he told her what had been related to him about himself and his past, would she believe him? It was all so extraordinary.

  Paolo knew a moment of panic. When Giovanna Lombardi had rung him to say that Venetia would be taking on his assignment after all, he had amassed a whole store of words to say to her when she arrived – the truth about himself, everything he’d wanted to tell her right from the start. Now that store was distressingly empty. He didn’t want to frighten her off. There was an anxious side to Venetia, and until he’d found out the hurt that was eating away at her, he believed it best to tread with muffled steps.

  She had rebuffed him so many times, even though everything in her eyes and the expression of her face spelt out that she was drawn to him as passiona
tely as he was to her. He always sensed a resistance in her when they talked, a kind of pent-up belligerence, and only in his arms did she become tender, docile, submissive and infinitely generous. She had given herself to him that morning without restraint; her body had revealed itself to him like the petals of a flower opening up to expose itself to the sunshine; she had taken him with avidity, but she had loved him back with equal fervour.

  A sudden thought crossed his mind: Allegra. Venetia might have wondered why she looked so angry on seeing them together that morning. She had been at that new restaurant in Piazza San Marco where he had taken Antonio’s niece some time ago. Paolo frowned as he wondered what conclusions Venetia had reached regarding his relationship with the girl. He had so many regrets when it came to Allegra, and he had been too weak.

  That Allegra was infatuated with him and wanted to marry him was indeed unfortunate. He also realised that she had developed more dissipated inclinations and he was well aware of her escapades into Porto Santo Stefano whenever his back was turned. He had never confronted her with the rumours, too fond of her to hurt her feelings; however, his protective instinct, and his guilt, had led him to speak to Antonio. The caretaker had assured him that it was all malevolent gossip, but Paolo was not duped.

  Of late, even though he had stopped asking Allegra over to the big house for an occasional meal, she had become clingier, and the scene that had occurred the other night in his bedroom left him uneasy. Ernestina had always warned him against Allegra, insinuating the girl was evil. Now, he wouldn’t go that far, but he sensed that she had some rather unsavoury instincts and a scheming nature from which he should guard himself perhaps, and certainly protect Venetia.

  Paolo glanced at his watch. Venetia would soon be there. He lit a cigarette and started to make a series of phone calls to agents in various parts of Italy to secure a hotel over Easter. He would give Venetia the choice of place, and take her wherever she wanted to go.