The Devil's Advocate

by Vanessa James

  'You would like a little rest now, mia cara? Or a walk, perhaps?' The Principessa smiled at her. 'Vittoria wants to see my garden, and we have promised the children that they may play outside for a while.'

  Luisa nodded gratefully. 'Yes,' she said quickly, 'perhaps a walk…' Impulsively she crossed to Vittoria, and kissed her. 'I am so happy, so glad. For you and the children.'

  Vittoria laughed.

  'We shall meet again soon, Luisa. With Giulio. When he returns…' she hesitated only fractionally, 'you shall come to dinner with us. We shall celebrate—do you promise?'

  The children, sensing that the moment of release from the drawing-room had come, were crowding round her, pulling at her skirts, and it was easy enough for Luisa to avoid a direct answer, to escape.

  As she left the room she saw the Principessa's dark eyes follow her watchfully, but she said nothing, and made no attempt to stay her. When the door closed behind her, muffling the cries and chatter of the children, Luisa leaned against it, in the silence of the cool shadowed hall, fighting back the tears which burned behind her eyes. All that time, and Julius had never once mentioned anything. When he had been under such stress, and she had thought only of herself; when she had seen him with Vittoria, and had imagined… Her cheeks burned with shame at the memory. He had been right, she thought miserably. However violently he had misjudged her, he had had some cause. What had she had? Nothing but jealousy, and a cheap imagination.

  Slowly she walked out of the house, and into the soft warm light of late afternoon. Absently, not caring where she walked, she took the footpath that ran under the tall walls of the Principessa's garden, and came out at the little landing stage. There, on the edge of the canal, she could look back across the Giudecca, past the Salute church to the cathedral of St Mark, and, further along to the Riva della Schiavoni, to the Danieli. She stood there for a moment, staring silently across the water, oblivious to her surroundings, to the children playing hopscotch at the end of the quay, to the sound of the breeze rustling the trees, newly green, above her.

  'Signora Morrell?'

  She started and turned. It was the Principessa's gondolier, the man who had ferried Julius and herself to the Principessa's party. She knew him quite well now; he was often to be found in the kitchens, gossiping with the cook. Out of his uniform, in his work clothes, he was much less intimidating than he had appeared that first night. Now he had just finished repairing the seats on one of the gondolas. He was looking up at her with that creasing around the eyes which was the nearest he ever came to a smile.

  'You would like to take a little trip, signora?' He gestured across the canal. 'It's a beautiful evening. To the Danieli, perhaps?'

  For a moment Luisa hesitated. Then, on an impulse, she nodded.

  'Si, to the Danieli. Grazie.'

  He helped her down into the gondola, apparently pleased, and cast off. Then slowly he eased out of the side canal into the wide open stretch of water. They skimmed its surface, bathed golden by the low sun, crossing in silence.

  At the piazzetta he handed her out.

  'Do you want me to wait?'

  Luisa looked up at the tall shuttered windows of the hotel, then shook her head. She would come back the long way, on the vaporetto, there was no need to wait. He shrugged, and set off back across the lagoon as silently as he had come.

  For a moment Luisa stood, just looking up at the blank shuttered facade. Which of them was telling the truth about her marriage, she thought, Kit or Vittoria? And when should she have believed Julius himself; when he spoke with such apparent hatred, or when he touched her, so tenderly, in the long hours of the night?

  Suddenly she was possessed by an aching desire to see again the room in the Danieli, as if it might answer her questions. She stepped forward. That was the only truth of which she felt certain, she realised. What had happened in that room, what she had felt… The desire to see it again, to touch like talismans the things Julius had given her, sharpened, became imperative. Quickly she crossed the piazzetta and slipped into the foyer.

  It was empty; quiet. Motes of dust danced in the slanting light through the windows. From the manager's office came the sound of voices, a typewriter; the reception desk was deserted.

  Quickly, not wanting to be seen, Luisa crossed to the staircase and mounted quickly to the first floor. The room would be locked, of course, unless perhaps one of the maids… She put her hand on the door handle, paused, and then turned it. The door opened. She went in, and then stopped, in confusion.

  Someone was there. One of the windows was closed, the other open, on to the small balcony. A light breeze fluttered the curtains, and the cries from the piazzetta below drifted up into the room. The wardrobe doors were open, the bed made. On it lay a man's black leather attaché case; a black jacket was tossed carelessly over a chair. She froze; staring round the empty room. Could it have been let, was someone else staying here now? Suddenly embarrassed, she turned, fumblingly, quickly, to the door, and as she did so a gust of air from the open window slammed it shut. Instantly there was a sound from the balcony; the curtains billowed and beyond them she saw the tall dark figure of a man, turning back into the room.

  'Who is it?'

  Even as he spoke, he saw her, and stopped. Luisa let her hands fall to her sides. She could not answer; she felt her breath tighten, constrict her chest; she could not move.

  The man moved first. Bending his head slightly, pushing the curtain to one side, he stepped into the room. Then he paused, outlined against the light, his face in shadow. They stared at each other, in silence, across the width of the room. Somewhere in the distance, across the water, near yet a million miles away, a bell began to ring for vespers.

  Luisa's heart lifted. Confusedly, she thought: He knew— what I felt today, on Torcello, it reached him. She stepped forward, quickly, holding out her hand.

  'Julius…' she said.

  Still he did not move, and her steps faltered. She stopped, about three yards before him, and their eyes met. One glance at that cold level gaze chilled her. All the happiness and joy she felt welling up suddenly shut off, cold and tight in her heart. She saw him register her reaction; knew she had gone chalk white. He gave her a cold smile.

  'Yes,' he said. 'I'm sorry if that disappoints you, Luisa.'

  CHAPTER TEN

  At that, something broke inside her. She rounded on him, feeling tears of anger start to her eyes.

  'Stop it!' she cried. 'Stop it Julius! I won't let you say those things, I won't let you think them—not any more!'

  Her vehemence startled him, she could see that. She saw his mouth tighten, and she knew he was about to interrupt her, so she rushed on, willing her voice not to break.

  'No, you won't say anything. You'll listen to me! I swear I… I won't let you leave this room. Not this time. Not until…'

  His mouth lifted slightly in a wry smile. 'How do you propose to stop me!'

  'Don't mock me!' She cried the words passionately, stepping forward as she did so, so they were very close. Her eyes blazed at him. It's not fair, Julius! Whatever I've done, whatever I am, at least I should have a chance to speak in my own defence. I won't have you play judge and jury like this, as well as prosecuting counsel. You're not even judging me fairly. You're judging me by the past, by things that happened years ago. And I won't let you do it. You're not even judging me, in any case, you're judging my mother!'

  That charge reached him, she could see it. He stepped back a little, his eyes shadowed, and his face grim.

  'Is that what you think?'

  'It's more than I think. It's the truth!'

  He shrugged and turned away.

  'Well your mother is a factor, one can't deny that.'

  'Why is she a factor?' Luisa cried hotly. 'Why? It's so unfair! I hardly knew her. She's been dead ten years. Who knows why she behaved as she did?'

  'You are her daughter,' he said coldly.

  'And you're Kit's brother. That hateful man is your blood brother
! But I don't judge you by him.'

  He swung around angrily at her words, his eyes blazing dark in his pale face. He looked at her with such an expression of fury that it was all she could do not to flinch from him.

  'You mention him to me? Now?' For a moment she thought he was going to hit her, and instinctively, before she could stop herself, she raised an arm before her face. Instantly he stopped, an expression of disgust on his face.

  'Is that what you think? You think I'd hit a woman? Oh no, Luisa…' He stepped back a little, his voice cold and scathing. 'You're confusing me with my brother again. That's Kit's scene, not mine—as you obviously know by now. Oh, for God's sake,' with a violent gesture he turned away, 'get out of my sight. I can't bear to look at you!'

  'I will not!'

  Luisa cried the words defiantly, and they rang across the space of the room between them. They stopped him, but still he did not turn. She stood there, clenching her fists tight against her side to stop her trembling, the breath coming sharp and painfully in her chest.

  'Julius, please…'

  The fatal note of pleading had come into her voice, and it had an instant effect. He turned and crossed to her, his eyes black with hatred, gripping her arm painfully, and tilting her face up to him.

  'Well, go on,' he said, his voice tight. 'What are you going to say, Luisa? What excuses have you worked out these past days? That it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't help yourself? That no sooner had you lain with me in that bed then you were itching to get back to my goddamned brother? That you didn't care how and when it happened? That you'd go with him, anywhere—on the floor like some animal—at the first opportunity? You bitch! I could kill you, do you know that? Is that what you were thinking, all the time we were together, Luisa? When you lay in my arms, when you closed your eyes, when you spoke my name? Were you imagining I was Kit—was that it, Luisa?'

  He shook her violently, then wrenched her round in his arms so that she faced the mirrored doors of the wardrobe, so that she had to confront her own reflection, held tight in his arms.

  'Look at yourself. Go on, take a really good look! It doesn't show, does it, not on your face, not yet. You nearly took me in, with that face…' His voice broke, and he pulled her round to him once more. 'That sweet face,' he said softly, looking into her eyes, and his mouth twisted with pain. 'I shall see that face in my dreams until the day I die. So sweet, so apparently good, so pure, so true…'

  'Julius…'

  For a second he held her against him, so she heard the thudding of his heart. With a low groan he buried his face in her hair. When he spoke, it was softly, almost tenderly, his lips against her throat.

  'A virgin's face, Luisa. And the instincts of a whore.'

  The word, so gently spoken, cut her like a blow. With a cry she pushed him violently away from her.

  'That's not true!' she cried. 'Stop punishing yourself, Julius, stop punishing me. It's not true!'

  He made an odd, swift reaching gesture towards her, and she hit his hands sharply aside.

  'No,' she cried, 'don't touch me! I can't bear you to touch me when you think those things, when you believe those lies. How could you have done as you did, lain in my arms in that bed…' she gestured wildly across the room, her voice shaking, 'and believed all those things about me? It was wrong, Julius! Never once, not once did you ask me what happened. You never gave me even a chance to speak, not even the night when we came back here when you left, when any man who wasn't blind would have known what had happened. Even then. No! You preferred to believe your brother. You just accepted everything he said, all his filth, all his lies. I hate him! I've always hated him. But you—you, Julius, you believed him because you wanted to believe him. Because it tied up the whole equation so neatly, didn't it? Because then you could believe what you really wanted to believe all the time—that I was just like my mother!' She stared at him, shaking, her eyes bright with tears. 'Why did you want to believe that, Julius? So you'd feel justified in hating me—was that it?'

  'That's not true…' He moved quickly towards her. 'And I did ask you. In Scotland—when you just ran out the room and never said a word. I asked you in London. I tried to make you talk about it—here, in Torcello. God damn it, you knew perfectly well what I thought. When we were in that bed—when I realised it was the first time, that Kit hadn't…' He broke off. 'Damn you, Luisa. How many times did I have to ask you and get fobbed off with one of your evasions?'

  'I couldn't remember!'

  'How convenient!'

  'It's true.' She cried the word into the silence of the room, and he made no answer. With a gesture of despair she spread her hands. 'Julius, I can only tell you, I have no proof. I can't bring witnesses in my own defence. There's nothing. And if you don't believe me…' She broke off, and the silence beat in on her; for a second the future yawned before her, a great vacancy. 'Then there's nothing—no truth, between us.'

  Still he was silent, not moving, just looking at her, and she drew in her breath painfully, trying to steady herself.

  'Julius, what happened in Scotland—with Kit—it was him. He forced me. He came up to my room. He… he wouldn't go away. He talked. He said such horrible things— about my mother, about your parents, about you. He hates you, Julius, really hates you. It's like a sickness with him. He'd been spying on us, when we were together that afternoon… he told me.' She paused, forcing herself to confront the memory. 'It wasn't really me he wanted—at least I don't think so. I was just a means for him, the best way he had of hurting you, of… of breaking something he thought you wanted… like a toy. He touched me, and I tried to push him away. It was like a dream, so slow, I couldn't believe it was happening. And then he put his hand over my mouth…' She broke off, and an involuntary shudder shook her body. 'Julius—if you hadn't come in then…'

  With a low muttered exclamation he moved to her side, and stood close to her, his eyes dark and angry.

  'Luisa. Luisa.' He put his arms out to her. 'But you said nothing. You just…'

  'I couldn't!' She lifted her face to him passionately. 'I couldn't, don't you see? He lied so well, so quickly. I could see the doubt in your eyes. You were starting to believe him, even then, when we… when I loved you so much!'

  'Luisa…'

  'And then, that night. You brought the letters, don't you remember? And there was the news about my mother. When Aunt Con told me that… Oh, Julius, I felt so guilty.'

  'Guilty?' He stared at her. 'Why should you feel guilty?'

  'I don't know, it was all so mixed up. I couldn't think clearly.' She felt the tears start to her eyes even now, at the memory. 'It was as if that horrible illness were a punishment, for what she had been. And I was afraid I was like her—Kit said I was, he kept saying it, over and over again. I cared more about that than her dying. I couldn't weep for her, you see. I tried, and all I could think was, please, God, don't let me be like her…'

  Her voice broke, and with a quick gesture Julius caught her to him, holding her tight against his heart. She heard herself give a low tight sob, and she lifted her face to his.

  'I never saw her again, I never saw you again, except at the funeral. And I was ill. When I got better, it was all wiped out. I made myself forget—Julius, can you believe that? It was as if it had never happened. Sometimes, just sometimes, glimpses would come back. When I came to your office, and I thought you were Kit, and you… And then after our wedding, when I saw him again for the first time. He put his hand on my arm. I felt ill, I couldn't breathe…' She paused, fighting to keep her voice calm. 'But I didn't remember, Julius. You must believe me. Not until I was in that boathouse, that horrible place, and he wouldn't let me go. He… he kept twisting my arm, laughing at me. And then he put his hand over my mouth, so I couldn't scream. And I remembered. I saw…'

  'Oh God!' His arms tightened around her, and she felt his fists clench. 'I'll kill him. So help me God, I'll kill him for this!'

  'Julius, no!' She reached for his hands, and held them tigh
t. 'You mustn't think that, you mustn't feel it. Don't you see, that's all he wants—to hurt us, to hurt you?' She turned her face up to him. 'But he can't, Julius, not if you believe me. Not even if you don't. Because nothing Kit does will ever change how I feel.' Gently she reached up, and touched the harsh lines of his face, trying to erase the pain and the anger that etched it. 'I love you, Julius, with all my heart. I always have. No one else, ever—there can't be.'

  He drew in his breath sharply, and his lips parted to speak, but she gently placed her fingers on his mouth, stopping his words. All fear had left her now, and she knew the conviction that flooded through her body shone in her eyes.

  'Julius, I wanted to tell you before. I tried to tell you, in other ways. Without words. I would have told you, that night at the Principessa's, if I hadn't seen you, hadn't thought… well, you know what I thought. That was why I ran away, why I went to that horrible place…' She broke off. 'No, listen, I want to tell you. Today, I went to Torcello. And when I was there, it was so strong, the love I felt for you. I felt as if you were close to me, by my side. And so I came back, and I wrote to you.' She smiled. 'I sent the letter. And then I met Vittoria, and she told me everything, what you'd done. And I was so proud of you, and so ashamed of myself. I hated myself. That was why I came here. I didn't know you were here—I just wanted to be in this room. To see the things you gave me. To be close to you. To remember. Oh, Julius, I love you so much. It hurts me. Here, and here…'

  She touched herself, showing him, and with a muffled cry, his face against her hair, he held her tight to him.

  'My darling,' he said brokenly, 'my darling…'

  'Oh, God!' She pressed her face against his chest. 'Please say you believe me, Julius. Nothing else matters.'

  'You know I believe you.' He held her fiercely, tilting her face up to his. 'I've always believed you, believed that, in my heart. How could I do anything else? It was my only truth, the one last hope I held on to in the mess I'd made of my life, the one light in the darkness all around me. But I couldn't believe it here,' he struck his forehead. 'Oh, Luisa, it's been like living in hell these last years, being torn in two. There wasn't a day I didn't think of you, a night I didn't dream of you. You haunted me, Luisa, your face. And then, always, I would remember the other you. It was as if I was damned to walk into that room again for eternity, and see you, and my brother. The woman I loved so much that I would willingly have died for her sake. The woman I still loved, who was in my thoughts, in my heart, night and day for ten years…'