by Lucy Gordon
‘I wanted to study languages. They just seem to come easily to me.’
He regarded her wryly.
‘Buon per te, signorina. La maggior parte delle persone non possono far fronte con le lingue.’
He spoke in Italian. His words meant, ‘Good for you signorina. Most people can’t cope with languages.’
‘Italian is the language I manage best,’ she said. ‘I took a few classes at night school, because we were planning to take a holiday there together. My father longed to travel to Italy. He’d been there once as a young man.’
‘Did he tell you a lot about his visit?’
‘Yes, he said it was such fun.’
‘Did he never mention meeting my father?’ he asked.
‘He mentioned an Italian friend, but said nothing at all about him being a count! They met in Italy and then again in England a few weeks later. From what Daddy said I gather they got on really well and enjoyed each other’s company.’
Vittorio nodded. ‘Yes I remember Papà saying something like that—I gather they had quite a few adventures together whilst he was there.’
‘Daddy said things like that too. He had such a lovely time with his Italian friend. Only then—’ She checked herself.
‘Then?’ Vittorio said tensely. He had an uneasy feeling that he knew what was coming.
‘Then suddenly it was all over. One day they were close buddies—the next day his friend disappeared. He left a note but it didn’t say much. Just Goodbye my friend. Franco’. No address, nothing. Daddy couldn’t contact him and he never heard from him again. It left him very unhappy after what they’d been to each other.’
‘He told you that? Didn’t he tell you any more about who the man was?’
‘No, just that his name was Franco. If he’d known more he’d have told me, I’m sure. Maybe your father never let him know that he was a count?’
‘Maybe...’ he murmured.
Their eyes met, and what Jackie saw took her breath away. There was an intensity in his gaze as though nothing but herself existed in the world. It was something she’d never seen in any man’s eyes before, and she became suddenly conscious of the soft thump of her own heartbeat.
‘Jackie—’ Vittorio checked himself, unsure how to continue. This was taking more courage than he had anticipated.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine—but there’s something I must—’
She felt a sudden sense of brilliant illumination—as though the clouds had parted on a rainy day. She’d hardly dared to hope that the vibrant attraction that possessed her possessed him too, but now she let herself wonder if perhaps it did.
A memory returned to her. That astrology prediction had said, The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated, and decisions that will change your life.
It was happening. This was the great moment that fate had planned for her. Now surely he would tell her how their meeting had affected his heart, and that was something her own heart longed to know.
She clasped his hand between hers.
‘Whatever you have to say, I know I’ll like it,’ she breathed. ‘We’ve understood each other from the first moment, and—’
‘Yes...’ he murmured. ‘Yes—yes—’
He knew the next few minutes would be tense, but something in her seemed to reach out to him, drawing him into a circle of warmth such as he’d never known before. It was what he needed most in all the world, and he knew a moment of fear lest his revelation ruin things between them.
He raised her hands and brushed his lips against them. ‘I hope so much that you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you can’t imagine—’
‘I think I can. Daddy always said you had to be ready for the unexpected.’ She met his eyes, her own full of happiness and hope. ‘And I’m ready for anything. Say it, Vittorio, and you might like my answer.’
He drew a sharp breath. Now the moment had come when he must find the courage to tell her everything.
But the sight of her eyes shining up at him caused his courage to fail. Suddenly he could see how that light would fade when she knew the terrible truth behind her father’s suffering. The thought of her pain made him shudder, and he knew he could not force himself to speak.
‘I have to go,’ he said uneasily.
‘What? But—’
‘I’m expecting an important phone call. I have to get back to the hotel.’
He rose to his feet and she followed him reluctantly. Suddenly a moment filled with magic had dissolved into nothing, leaving her desolate.
As they walked back beside the river it began to drizzle.
‘Better get back quickly, before it really starts to rain,’ he said.
They hurried the rest of the way, until they reached the shop.
‘I’ll see you again soon,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk then. Take care of yourself.’
Then he fled, devoured by thoughts whose bitterness was aimed accusingly at himself. He was no better than a coward!
His own words came back to him.
You can never tell what fate has in store for you.
It was more true than he could have dreamed. His plan for this meeting had never included the desire to hold her, comfort her, protect her—do anything rather than hurt her. It had overtaken him without warning, reducing him to helplessness. And there was no turning back.
Inside the shop, Jackie hurried up the stairs and looked out of the window in time to see Vittorio vanish around the corner.
She sighed sadly. It was obvious what had happened. He’d been about to kiss her but had changed his mind at the last moment.
Did he want her or not? He had seemed to be trying to tell her something without words. Had she misunderstood him? But he had seemed on the verge of telling her something.
What could it possibly be?
She busied herself opening up the shop. Saturdays were always busy. But somehow she couldn’t get stop thinking about him. He was there in her mind, his eyes glowing with a look that made her heart beat faster.
* * *
Next day was Sunday, which meant the shop was closed. Fearful of missing her, Vittorio hurried there early. He’d lost his nerve the day before, but he couldn’t risk losing it again.
A window opened above him and a voice said coolly, ‘Good morning, Vittorio.’
Jackie was looking down at him.
‘Morning!’ he cried, smiling brightly. ‘Can you come down?’
‘I’m not sure—’
‘Please, Jackie, it’s important. We really have to talk.’
‘We could have talked yesterday.’
‘Please.’
‘All right. I’ll just be a moment.’
She hurried down, full of hope that her tense wait would be over. He seemed to have come close and then retreated, and now she couldn’t bear any more. It must be the dream she’d longed for. They had known each other such a little time, but what did time matter when their hearts reached out to each other?
Perhaps his feelings were stronger than he’d known before, which was why he feared expressing them. But she would open her arms and her heart to him and they would both know happiness.
As soon as she appeared downstairs he put his arm about her shoulders.
‘Let’s have some breakfast in the café. It’s nice and comfortable in there.’
‘And we can talk,’ she said eagerly.
When they were settled she waited for him to speak, but again he felt silent, as though attacked by doubt at the last moment. Her heart sank. Her hopes had risen so high. She couldn’t bear to lose them again.
‘Vittorio, please tell me,’ she said. ‘Whatever is on y
our mind I can tell it’s important.’
‘Yes, it is...’ he said hesitantly.
‘Then please be brave and say it. Are you afraid of what I’ll say?’
‘I might be,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you can imagine—’
She touched his face. ‘Tell me, Vittorio. Let’s get it out between us and then tell each other how we feel.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘You’re right. Do you remember—?’
‘Remember?’
‘How we talked about our fathers yesterday.’
‘Yes, I remember, but—’
‘I should have told you then. It’s a terrible story, Jackie, but I have to tell you. Your father once placed a bet that won a million pounds.’
‘But that can’t be true! He’d have told me—we’d never have been in the situation we found ourselves in if that had been the case.’
‘He didn’t know. My father and yours were out together one night. Your father got tipsy, and he was dozing when the results were announced. When he awoke my papà had taken the winnings and kept them.’
Jackie had a terrible feeling of having crash-landed. The words reeled in her head. Only one thing was clear.
This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.
‘What on earth are you saying?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t mean that he didn’t tell Daddy he’d won? That would be dishonest, and surely—’
‘It was the only dishonest thing he ever did, and it tormented him. He told me about it just before he died.’
‘Is this—this what you’ve been trying to say?’ she stammered.
‘Yes, it took me this long to pluck up the courage to tell you that my family has damaged yours. I’m sure you’ll find it hard to forgive. Right at this minute you probably hate me.’
That was closer to the truth than he could possibly know. As her dreams collapsed, leaving her in the middle of a desert, she felt a terrifying rage begin to take her over.
‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ Vittorio said. ‘I’m not sure how it will make you feel.’
‘Try me,’ she whispered, with a faint flicker of renewed hope.
‘Papà made me promise to find your father and sort things out.’
‘Sort things out? What do you mean by that?’
‘I planned to give him the money Papà took from him. A million pounds. I hoped it would make everything all right.’
She stared at him, barely able to believe what she was hearing.
‘You hoped what?’ she said furiously. ‘You really hoped things could be made “all right” after so many years? After Daddy suffered so much from poverty and it made his wife abandon him? After the way he died in despair? You can’t give him your money now.’
‘But I can give it to you.’
‘You think that will make his suffering all right?’
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Vittorio said tensely.
‘Oh, yes, you did. You think money can solve everything—but when a man’s dead it can’t solve anything at all. You don’t understand that, do you? Hand over a cheque and everything’s settled! Maybe that’s true in business, but not in real life. But you don’t know anything about real life.’
‘Jackie, please—let me explain. I only want to—’
‘You only want to make yourself feel good.’
‘I don’t think money solves everything, but I’d like to pay the debt my family owes.
‘This is a con. Do you really expect me to believe that you can hand over a million pounds, just like that?’
‘You think I don’t have that much? You’re wrong. My father didn’t waste the million he gained.’
‘You mean the million he stole,’ she raged.
‘Very well—he stole it. But he wanted to pay it back. He invested it successfully, so that it made several more millions. I can give you back every penny—plus a few thousand for interest.’
‘Oh, you think it’s so easy, don’t you? I wouldn’t take money from you if I was starving. This conversation is at an end.’ She stood up. ‘And don’t you dare follow me.’
He’d reached out a hand to stop her, but something fierce in her manner made him draw back.
‘Please—’ he began.
‘No. Don’t you understand? No!’
She fled, fearful lest her true feelings become too plain. Instead of the loving emotion she’d hoped for he’d offered her money. If she’d stayed a moment longer she was afraid she might have done something violent.
Her departure left Vittorio in a state of total confusion and misery. Nothing had worked out as he’d intended. He’d failed to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Guilt tore at him.
He paid his bill and went out into the street, walking back in the direction of the shop. There was no sign of her.
There was nothing to do but return to the hotel and do some serious thinking about what he was going to do next.
But he found that serious thinking was very little help in a situation he didn’t understand.
* * *
The rest of Jackie’s day and night was tormented. The incredible events of the morning whirled through her brain, and at the end of the day—even though she was exhausted and wrung out when she finally got to bed—she couldn’t sleep. Instead she sat up in bed and opened the laptop she always kept with her.
She did a search on ‘Count Martelli’. She was half ready to learn that he didn’t exist, that the whole thing had been a con, and for a moment it seemed that her suspicions were correct. The picture that appeared on the screen was of a man in his sixties.
He’s lying, she thought furiously. That’s the real Count.
But then she saw the text.
Count Franco Martelli, taken just before his death four weeks ago. His heir is his son, Vittorio Martelli, latest in a line stretching back five hundred years.
She clicked the link marked ‘Count Vittorio Martelli’ and and at once saw a photograph of the man she recognised. There was no doubt.
Her temper surged once more at the memory of Vittorio trying to pay her off to assuage his family’s guilt. But had she been too hasty? Had she let her temper get the better of her once again?
Vivid in her mind was the memory of her father’s suffering. He’d tried to put on a brave face for her sake, but he hadn’t always been able to manage it. Often she had found him in tears. He’d smiled and reassured her, but over time she had come to understand the problems. Her heart had broken for him. She had become his comforter, intent on giving him some kind of happiness.
But the last year of her father’s life had been the saddest she had ever known. She still wept when she remembered his suffering.
Vittorio thought money was the answer to everything!
And yet she knew there was another reason for her rage. When she remembered how her hopes of winning Vittorio’s feelings had risen, and then been smashed to the ground, she felt capable of murder.
He had just been playing a game until he had what suited him. He hadn’t spared a thought as to what it was doing to her.
So accept the money, said a voice in her head. He offered you a million—more than a million with interest.
Because he thought it would put right what his father had done. If he wasn’t such a heartless monster he’d know that nothing could ever make it right.
What would her father have done? If he were still alive it would be so different. Then of course they would have accepted the money. It would have been his due. But now he was gone would it be right for her to accept it on his behalf?
She closed the laptop and went back to bed. At last she managed to nod off, sinking into a deep and dreamless sleep.
* * *
Vittorio’s night had also been troubled. He’d fallen asl
eep easily, but found his dreams haunted by Jackie’s contempt until they were practically nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat.
He rose out of bed. He had no desire to go back to sleep lest the alarming female return to torment him. Day was breaking and he felt the need of a fresh air. Dressing hastily, he went downstairs and out into the street.
His thoughts were full of the promise he’d made to his beloved father. Come what might he had to make this right—for everyone’s sake.
Almost at once the shop came in sight. It was time for it to be open, so he went closer and looked through the glass door, but he could see no sign of anyone. Moving quietly, he opened the door and slipped inside. At once he heard the sound of voices coming from deep within. One was Jackie’s, and the other he recognised as the weasely boss who had appeared during his first visit. His voice was raised in annoyance.
‘Jackie, you’re mad. You should have got all you could out of the Count and then invested in this place. I could do with some money to cover the debts. You could have helped me out and you just turned it down? How could you be so stupid?’
She replied in a voice filled with rage that reminded Vittorio of the way she’d spoken to him with equal fury during last night.
‘You think I should have taken his money and used it for your convenience?’ she raged at Rik. ‘I’m not that stupid.’
Vittorio stepped a little closer, careful to keep out of sight but wanting to hear everything.
‘You just can’t recognise reality when it’s under your nose,’ came Rik’s reply. ‘You had the chance of a fortune. You could have taken it. But perhaps your fantasies are fixed on something else.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s him, isn’t it? You refused his money because you’re hoping for a better offer! You think you can lure him into marriage, but you’re wasting your time. A man like that wouldn’t marry you in a million years.’
‘And I wouldn’t marry him in a million years. He’s cold—and arrogant enough to think that money can solve anything.’
Vittorio made a wry face. A wise man would have slipped away at this moment, but he didn’t feel wise. He felt as though Jackie had seized him and was holding him at her mercy in whirls of confusion.
