The Devil's Advocate

by Vanessa James

  'Through here.'

  Taking her arm lightly, he led her suddenly into light. A footman bowed; her eyes dazzled. They were in a huge room, pulsing with people, lit from high above by dozens of Venetian glass chandeliers. Champagne was brought to her, and she paused, staring around her in delight. The walls of the room were hung with great tapestries; every table was banked with flowers. Before her, people clustered, broke, re-grouped. The dresses of the women shone like jewels, emerald, ruby, sapphire, diamond. The scent of the women and the scent of the flowers mingled; pale shoulders brushed against the dark jackets of the men; the air was filled with the chatter of tongues. To one side Italian; on the other American, German, French. Luisa hesitated instinctively, timid in the face of such elegance, and Julius smiled down at her encouragingly. He was wearing an evening suit; its formality, the quiet elegance of its cut, emphasised his height, the effortless command of his features. He looked around him with composure, and she saw him again for a moment like an outsider, was aware of his containment, his hauteur.

  'Giulio!' A man pushed through the throng towards them. He was small and dark, about fifty, Italian almost certainly, but when he spoke his English was faultless, hardly accented. 'My congratulations. It's so good to see you again—too long. The Principessa has been looking for you. So many old friends you must meet. Vittoria is here, but you must know that…'

  He was clasping Julius's hands, seemed not to have noticed Luisa at all, and she shrank back, suddenly tense. Who was Vittoria?

  'Lorenzo,' Julius interrupted him, drawing Luisa forward, 'you must meet my wife. Luisa, this is Lorenzo Cardinale, a lawyer, and an old friend…'

  Luisa hardly heard the words of the introduction, she' saw only the man's reaction. He was a sophisticated man, and it was momentary, tiny, scarcely perceptible, but it was there. A stopping, the briefest of hesitations before the slightly too effusive smile, the over-quick taking of the hands.

  'But I had not known this. How charming! What a delightful surprise, Giulio. Signora…'

  He bent over her hand. There was the briefest of silences, and Luisa saw the corners of Julius's mouth lift slightly in a wry smile.

  'You know Venice well, signora?'

  His eyes were benign, but appraising. They took in the Fortuny dress at a glance.

  'No, I don't.' Luisa forced herself to smile at him. 'This is my first visit…'

  'But this is wonderful! Come, there arc so many people you must meet. We must find the Principessa. Out on the terrace perhaps…'

  He was leading them through the throng of people; those nearby had overheard the conversation, and as they passed, Luisa saw heads turn curiously in their direction, heard a buzz of speculation spring up behind them.

  Julius was propelled slightly ahead of them by the crush; Luisa found the lawyer taking her arm.

  'Such a pleasure,' he was saying. 'In Venice Julius is a famous man now. But you must know this. He is formidable, your husband, is he not? Formidable? I should not like him to be my prosecutor, but my defence, should the time come… ah yes, that would be splendid.' He laughed, a little nervously, watching for Luisa's reaction. 'And this is such fine news. I had no idea. You have known each other long?'

  The black eyes met hers speculatively.

  'Quite long,' Luisa said with a smile, and if the answer did not satisfy him he was too accomplished to show it.

  'Through here, signora…'

  They passed out of tall glass doors and into a huge square courtyard hung with lights. On one side a band was playing; couples danced in the centre on a wide wooden floor laid over the flagstones. On the other were long tables, white-clothed, roped with flower garlands, weighted with the most sumptuous food.

  'Giulio!'

  A deep rasping voice, heavily inflected, cut through the noise of the music, the conversation. Luisa saw Julius stop; the lawyer gave her a brief bow.

  'The Principessa,' he said simply. 'I shall leave you now, signora. We will meet again, I hope. Later perhaps…'

  He drifted away, swallowed up by the crowd of people, as quickly as he had come. Luisa felt Julius take her arm, draw her forward. She stared at the woman before her, and found her stare returned with interest.

  The Principessa was tiny. She was also very old, how old it was impossible to tell. Perhaps seventy, Luisa thought, but her face was such a patchwork of lines and wrinkles, and so heavily encrusted with make-up, she could have been much older. Once, obviously, she had been a beauty. It showed in the high cheekbones, the arrogant, almost masculine nose, the vitality of the dark eyes. Her hair was white; her face deeply powdered. The eyebrows were drawn in with two firm arched lines, the wide humorous mouth was a brilliant scarlet. She was wearing more jewellery than Luisa had ever seen on one woman; diamonds glistened in her hair, at her ears, round her throat. The thin wrinkled hand she held out now, imperiously, palm downward, was encrusted with rings the size of birds' eggs.

  'Ma Luisa. E cosi bella!'

  She took Luisa's hand in a firm dry grip, and then—to her surprise—drew her close and kissed her cheeks. Then she held her at arms' length, the keen dark eyes searching her face.

  'You approve?' Julius was standing back, arms folded, watching this little scene with amusement. At his words the Principessa gave a deep, throaty, almost peasant laugh.

  'Approve? Of course I approve! She is a child still. But you'll make her a woman, Giulio…'

  She turned back to Luisa with a wide smile.

  'So,' she said. 'You take my Giulio from me. Now here is a thing.' She reached for his hand proprietorially, drawing him to them. 'I love this man, Luisa. He is an Englishman, of course, but still… After I am a widow, I think to myself, maybe now Giulio will notice me… I am not hard to notice, you know? But no. He has found you, it seems. I must resign myself to a lonely old age.' She gestured around her at the throng of people. 'You see how lonely I am.'

  Luisa smiled, suddenly liking her, and the old woman's eyes warmed.

  'You go away now, Giulio…' She gave Julius a firm push. 'I want to talk to this wife of yours. Oh, don't worry, I shall tell her what a paragon you are, how much we owe you. Now, go away. Leave us!'

  Julius gave Luisa a helpless look, but it was clear that Principessa meant to be obeyed. Reluctantly he turned away, and was almost instantly drawn into a group nearby. The Principessa took Luisa's hand.

  'But I know you already, my dear,' she ran on. 'I knew your mother, of course. Did Giulio tell you? Such a woman! But not like you at all. And I know you. I feel I know you from long back…' She paused, the dark eyes looking at Luisa's intently.

  'From long back?' Luisa stared at her in confusion. 'I don't think that…'

  'You misunderstand me. From Giulio. We are friends, you see, Giulio and I. For a long time—eight years, ten years maybe. Maybe more. I am his confidante. Oh, I know all about you, Luisa—Giulio told me. And so I am very happy for you now. L'amore primero… how do you say that? First love? The strongest and the best, and people say it never lasts, do they not? Pouf! Here today, gone tomorrow.' She laughed throatily. 'What do people know? Nothing! Sometimes it is like that, and sometimes…' She broke off, her face softening. 'I met my husband when I was twelve; our marriage was arranged by our families. I fell in love with him—some time. Who knows when exactly these things happen? Who can catch the moment when the heart changes? After this, I do not look at another man, never. Not once.' She smiled up at Luisa impishly. 'Not even at your Giulio… not really.'

  Luisa was staring at the Principessa in silence. The drift of her words was clear, yet they made no sense. Unless… Suddenly she felt a wild hope lift her heart. The Principessa had taken her hand, was pressing it painfully against the heavy rings, her old cracked, vital voice running on in a torrent of words.

  'So I am happy for you, little Luisa. And for Giulio also. I am a stupid old woman, you see? A romantic. I like the happy ending. It makes me weep.'

  Impulsively, Luisa half turned, searching the
crowded courtyard for Julius's tall dark figure. The Principessa followed her gaze and laughed.

  'You look for Giulio? It is only natural. Leave me now, my dear. We shall talk again. Over there perhaps…' she gestured across the terrace, 'you will find him.'

  'Thank you.' Quickly Luisa turned, and pressed the old woman's hand. Their eyes met in a glance of total understanding, and Luisa felt courage, sureness suddenly charge her heart. She would find Julius now. She would tell him what she felt—now. No more hiding.

  She lifted her chin, moved confidently through the press of people, her eyes searching. He had been beside her just a moment ago, he couldn't have gone far… She threaded her way through the crowd, circling the terrace, impervious to the curious glances that followed her. The band struck up a waltz, and then suddenly she saw him. She froze, stopped dead in her tracks, the blood suddenly cold in her veins.

  He was there, at the far end of the terrace, leaning against a pillar, his face half in shadow. Beside him was a woman; she was tall; her thick dark hair was swept up in a heavy coil at the base of her long beautiful neck. She was wearing a white dress of thin chiffon that clung to every line of her perfect body. Their heads, both dark, were bent closely together, and as Luisa watched the woman suddenly laughed, reached up and touched Julius's hair, with a gesture utterly casual, yet curiously intimate. It might have been the woman she had once seen leaving his house. It might have been another. She couldn't be certain. All she knew was that a sense of bitter outrage, of betrayal, a bitterness so violent and cold gripped her heart that she was incapable of movement.

  She stood still, telling herself she was being foolish, ridiculous. Then just behind her, she heard a man's voice; American. It sounded slightly drunk.

  'Who's that guy with Vittoria?'

  There was a pause, then a woman answered him.

  'It's that lawyer, isn't it? The one who's so thick with the Principessa? What's his name? Morrell…'

  'That's Morrell?' The man sounded as if he viewed Julius with sudden interest. 'I heard about him—he's all over the papers. But I thought Cardinale said he just got himself married.'

  The woman laughed. She said something Luisa could not hear, and the man drew in his breath sharply.

  'You don't say? That was him? You mean he and Vittoria…'

  Quickly Luisa moved away, her cheeks burning. She slipped through the crowd, finding an empty space, a quiet refuge on the edge of the crowd. Looking back, she saw Vittoria say something to Julius. She gestured to the dance floor. Julius seemed to hesitate, looking round, then he laughed. Together they walked forward; his arms came around her.

  As Luisa watched they began to dance, slowly at first, Vittoria's white dress spinning out around their feet, as they spun, glided over the floor. They looked beautiful; they danced perfectly, their two dark heads close together. One of Vittoria's arms, pale in the light, rested across Julius's dark shoulders. Luisa watched them, dry-eyed, as they circled, circled, to the beat of the waltz. The pain was so intense she felt as if her heart split in two as she watched them. Everything else was blotted out: the other dancers, the crowd on the terrace, the palazzo itself, the night sky, still heavy and leaden with the threat of storm. She saw only that tall dark figure, and the woman in white, moving together in perfect unison on an empty dance floor.

  It was Julius's bargain, she thought. Exactly what he had said, exactly what he had predicted. And yet it was not, for the last two days, last night… this afternoon, in his bed, he had said… But what had he said? Dully her mind looked back: that he wanted her, never that he loved her. It was as simple as that. Le diable au corps.

  And then suddenly she could bear it no longer. She turned on her heel and rushed blindly through the crowd, searching for a doorway for some escape, a way out, knowing only that she could not bear to be there any longer, to hear the sniggers, the innuendoes, the mockery.

  At the side of the terrace she saw suddenly a dark passage. There was no one there, it was hardly lit. She turned down it.

  Almost immediately the passageway turned a sharp corner, and branched off. Not thinking where it might lead, where she was going, Luisa rushed blindly on. It was leading her away from the dance floor, from the terrace, and the sounds of the music were growing fainter. The walls on either side of her were stone; the stone-flagged floor and the arched low roof made the sound of her feet ring and echo behind her. It was cold; the air was suddenly chill, and as her bare arm brushed against the walls she felt them clammy with damp. Then, suddenly, she heard water, and realised where she was. The narrow passageway opened out, and she came to an abrupt halt, leaning back against the cold wet walls, her breath coming sharply, painfully in her chest. She was in a boathouse; a few feet in front of her water slapped against stone; it was black, glistening like an oil slick in the thin light that filtered through the iron gates out to the canal. Tethered to rusty iron rings were two black gondolas; they rose and fell, silent on the slap of the water, their tall prows hooked and vicious. Their seat cushions had been lifted out; they were stacked neatly to one side of her, on a tarpaulin to protect them from the damp. Luisa shivered, suddenly, unaccountably afraid. She could still hear the music, just. But the wide dark space echoed more loudly to the dry gasps of her breath; her own heart thudded in her ears.

  Then she heard the footsteps. They were coming down the passage she had taken; they paused, hesitated, then came on more swiftly. In a sudden unreasoning spasm of terror she pressed herself back in the shadows, feeling the cold damp stone chill through her thin dress. She forced herself to keep still, held her breath. The footsteps were louder now. They broke into a half run. Then suddenly they stopped. Whoever it was had reached the entrance to the boathouse; there was silence.

  Someone was standing in the entrance; not moving, as if listening intently. Then a man spoke; his voice low.

  'Luisa? I know you're there. I saw you leave. Where are you hiding?'

  She felt her throat suddenly tighten, constrict with fear. She knew it was foolish, but she could not answer.

  'Luisa?' His voice was little more than a whisper. It echoed eerily on the water. 'You'd better come out, otherwise I shall have to come and find you…'

  She froze, desperately pressing herself to the wall. In that instant there was suddenly a low grumbling roar, as if the sky were falling in. It built, climaxed in a crash that seemed to shake the walls around her. After it, the silence was total. Then, outside, lightning arced. It lit up the boathouse, for a split second, with a brilliant blinding light; for one incandescent moment she saw. Damp walls green with slime; arches receding. And outlined against the walls, edged with light, the tall dark figure of a man, looking now directly towards her. Her own arms in the black velvet gleamed for a second, white, like a picture in negative. He had seen her, and she stepped forward as the light shut off.

  'Julius?' she said.

  She smelled the whisky on his breath, and knew, in the split second before he laughed softly, before he spoke.

  'No,' he said. 'Not Julius, Luisa. Kit.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luisa stood frozen, staring at him, not speaking. It was as if her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. Fear trickled over her skin, like sweat. Kit came quite close to her, not touching her, and stood looking down at her, his mouth smiling, his eyes in shadow. With some sixth sense, she knew he sensed her fear, as if he could smell it.

  'Well, aren't you going to say something? Aren't you surprised? A little word of welcome, perhaps?'

  Involuntarily she stepped back. The walls pressed against her.

  'What are you doing here?' Her voice came out more strongly than she would have expected, but still it sounded weak, shaky. He laughed again, and fumbled in his pockets. He must have taken out a cigarette for he lit it, and for a second as the lighter flared she saw his face clearly, lit from below, so the planes of his face appeared distorted, twisted.

  'I came to see you. Isn't that obvious? I mean, I was' loath to inter
rupt the honeymoon, especially since I'd made sure that you and Julius should have a proper chance to get together…' He paused. 'Such peculiar arrangements my brother had made. Separate rooms—not like a honeymoon at all. Not like a marriage, even. We can't have this, now can we? I thought. So I decided I would play Pandar—see what happened. And then curiosity got the better of me. Terrible, isn't it, Luisa? But then I was always curious, if you remember. And so I just had to come out and see how you both were. You—and my dear brother.'

  He stepped a little closer, and the reek of whisky on his breath almost suffocated her.

  'You're drunk!'

  He laughed again. 'Very probably. Just a little. Just enough. I often am. No need to be alarmed, Luisa. I'm extremely solicitous for your welfare—that's why I'm here.' He paused, looking down into her pale upturned face. 'I had thought I might pay you a nice formal little visit at your hotel. I did call a couple of times, but whenever I enquired there seemed to be strict instructions you shouldn't be disturbed. I wonder why, Luisa? And so, I thought, I know, I'll pay the happy couple a little social visit, tonight, at the Principessa's. Marvellous, isn't it, how easy it is to find out my dear brother's movements? But then he's a famous man, of course. All Venice seems to know his whereabouts. Do tell me, did you enjoy Torcello?'

  Luisa stared at him in silence. He laughed again, and inhaled deeply on the cigarette, the glow lighting his face again for a second. In the distance, further away, thunder growled.

  'What do you want?' She forced her voice out, trying to make it sound firm, unafraid. As she did so, she turned her head a little to one side, wondering if she could just push past him, between the wall and the water. Instantly he moved, lurching slightly, so he blocked her path.