by Angela Arney
Nicholas recounted the conversation to Charlie that night as they drank their way through two bottles of Marsala. Liana had returned to the castello alone after kissing a fond, but this time, Nicholas thought, a distinctly firm farewell.
‘Well, why don’t you marry her?’ said Charlie looking at the morose face before him. ‘What is wrong with her? Ask yourself, have you ever been as smitten by any other woman before?’
Nicholas shook his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve never felt like this before. All the girls I’ve ever known were debs I got lumbered with at parties before the war. Most of them had teeth to rival the horses they were all so fond of and were about as sexy as a bale of hay.’
Charlie laughed at the description. ‘I’ve seen pictures of those sorts of girls in Tatler.’ Nicholas raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, a man has to read something in the dentist’s waiting room!’ Then he added earnestly. ‘So, why don’t you seriously consider marriage to Liana? I know she’s poor, but she has the advantage of blue blood, even if it is Italian!’
Nicholas jerked his head up and stared at Charlie. ‘I ought to marry into money,’ he said slowly. ‘My family is as poor as the proverbial church mouse.’
‘Bloody stupid idea,’ said Charlie, not bothering to mince his words. ‘Money won’t make you happy. Thank God I’m not an earl. I married my missus because I loved her and I still do. I can’t wait to get back to her. She’s no beauty, not like Liana, but I love her, and she’ll keep me happy for the rest of my life. We don’t need much money, just enough to keep the wolf from the door.’
‘I suppose it is bloody stupid,’ mused Nicholas. ‘Why be unhappy with some horse-faced, sexless heiress when I could be ecstatic with an exquisite Italian marchesa?’
‘Exactly,’ said Charlie.
‘I’ll ask her,’ said Nicholas. He stood up, his face flushed from excitement and the Marsala. ‘I’ll ask her tomorrow.’
‘Well, perhaps you should take a day or two to think about it.’ Charlie felt honour-bound to utter some words of caution, but it was too late. The seed of the idea had germinated, taken root and flowered in those few minutes.
‘I’ll get a ring tonight, and ask her tomorrow. I know a decrepit old prince who is desperate for money. He’ll sell me a ring.’ Without waiting for Charlie’s reply, Nicholas left the café and walked away into the night. Not for one moment did he stop to weigh the balance of love and desire. For him it was one and the same thing. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Of course, it was the perfect answer. He loved Liana, and it was natural to want her. And, of course, she loved him, and wanted him, too. She had told him so many times. Suddenly everything seemed very clear cut and easy. Their future together stretched away before his mind’s eye, blissfully serene, just like Liana’s smile.
Left on his own, Charlie sat and worried. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it nervously. Why did he have to open his big mouth? He should have let Nicholas work things out for himself. Now he felt responsible.
*
Nicholas paced up and down the office impatiently. He should have been out on the visits he had been scheduled to make by his commanding officer. The black-market trade in penicillin was getting out of hand, and his orders were to track down the source of the pharmicists’ supplies. It was an urgent order, one he should have attended to right away. The army hospital itself was running low on the drug, but Nicholas could not concentrate on army orders, not even urgent ones. Everything would have to wait until he had seen Liana, and today of all days, she was late. Meanwhile he was besieged by last-minute doubts followed by wild bursts of elation – doubts when he remembered the wintry remoteness he sometimes glimpsed in her eyes, and then elation at the thought of her voluptuous body and her sensual smile.
‘Scoot,’ he said to Charlie the moment the tapping of her sandals could be heard coming down the long marble corridor leading up to the office.
Charlie scooted, glad to get out of the way. More than ever he regretted his careless words of the night before. The man was bewitched by the girl! In which case, common sense told Charlie, you had absolutely nothing to do with it. It would have happened sooner or later. You didn’t make up his mind for him, he made it up himself. But common sense did not help; he still felt responsible. He crossed his fingers, and gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile to Nicholas. ‘Good luck, sir,’ he said.
‘Hello, Charlie.’ Liana passed him in the doorway.
It was particularly warm for the middle of April, and she was wearing a pale, lemon-coloured summer dress, one of Eleanora’s. No matter that it was shabby and had been mended many times. The delicate colour gave her skin the look of sculpted ivory and her hair had never looked so black and luxurious.
There was not the slightest shadow of doubt now in Nicholas’s mind. Pushing the door shut behind her, he took the heavy tresses of her hair in his hands. Wonderingly he let it fall through his fingers. It was like raw silk. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.
She looked up quickly, a question in her dark eyes. Had she really heard correctly? He nodded, and her eyes began to sparkle with pure unadulterated joy. How could I have ever thought you remote, he wondered as she flung herself into his arms.
‘Oh, Nicholas, yes, yes, yes.’ He felt the softness of her body melt against him as if she was boneless and dissolving into him. ‘When? Oh, please, let’s make it soon.’
A thrill of wild triumph surged through Liana as she spoke. She had succeeded. Marriage to Nicholas and escape to England was within her grasp. Suddenly the narrow confines of her horizon broke asunder; the future was limitless.
Nicholas was kissing her. ‘Oh, yes, darling. Soon, I promise. It will be soon. As soon as I can arrange it.’
His breathing quickened and his hands rose from her waist, sliding upwards until they cupped her breasts, his thumbs spiralling faster and faster around her nipples.
Not yet, not yet. Suddenly she wanted to scream as apprehension spewed sickeningly through her. He wanted her now, but it was too soon for that. She had not had her hymen repaired yet. She began to tremble. Please let me hold him off until then, she prayed silently. I must get to a doctor as soon as possible. I’ve got to be as pure as driven snow for him. Nothing less than the appearance of perfect virginity will do. Please make him stop.
Nicholas felt the shudder pass through her frame and mistook it for desire as great as his own. His fervour increased, and his mouth sought out hers again. Reason slipped away. All he knew was that he could not get enough of her. His tongue prised her lips apart, filling her mouth as he wanted to fill her body.
Liana let herself go limp, and with grim determination isolated her mind from her body until she was able to think with calm detachment. I’ll push him off in a moment. I mustn’t appear too unfriendly. Nicholas must think I want to really but . . . Suddenly the memory of the way she had responded to Raul flooded through her mind and the calm detachment disappeared. Oh God, the bitter, bitter anguish. This man holding her, touching her, devouring her almost; this was all so wrong. It should be Raul. If it were Raul she would have surrendered willingly. There would have been no need to think, only to love. But it can’t be Raul, not ever again. Raul is dead, dead, dead. With a choking, retching sob she pushed Nicholas away.
‘I’m sorry, so sorry. But . . . but I can’t.’
Nicholas looked at her chalk white face and trembling hands. It’s my fault, he thought, guilt washing over him. I’ve rushed her. I know she wants me, but she’s inexperienced and frightened. And when he saw the tears trickling slowly down her cheeks, it confirmed his views. A girl like Liana, brought up all her life to save herself for the sanctity of marriage, would never want to compromise, not even when engaged. He felt ashamed at his lack of control.
‘Forgive me, darling,’ he said softly, wiping the tears away with his handkerchief. ‘I’ll wait until our wedding night, an
d then I’ll be gentle, I promise. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
Liana managed a shaky smile. Unwittingly Nicholas was handing her the excuse she needed on a platter, and she grasped it gratefully with both hands.
‘Thank you for being so understanding,’ she said softly.
When the wedding night comes, she silently promised Nicholas, I will be prepared, mentally and physically. Then I will make it up to you.
She let him kiss her hands, and slip the engagement ring on her finger. It was a fire opal, set in gold.
‘I’m not superstitious, are you?’ Nicholas asked as she looked at the ring gleaming on her finger.
‘No, of course not.’ But an uneasy shiver ran through her just the same. She remembered having heard that having an opal in the house was said to be like having a spy. It was a charmed eye, which could see into the secrets of one’s heart. She held up her hand so that Nicholas could see the ring and the opal caught the light, shooting flashes of milky flame. It would never know her secrets. Anyway, only stupid people believed in such nonsense, and she wasn’t such a person. ‘No, I’m not at all superstitious,’ she said. ‘Not superstitious at all. It’s a beautiful ring.’
Chapter Seven
April 1944
Nicholas was true to his word, he wasted not a single minute. For someone normally irritated by mountains of paperwork, and who always procrastinated whenever possible, he showed a surprising aptitude now he put his mind to the task in hand. He launched himself with gusto into the bureaucratic machinery necessitated by the proposed wedding. Marriages between Allied army personnel and local girls were normally frowned upon by the military, but Nicholas was in a good position to pull a few strings, and had no compunction about pulling them. He used all the influence at his disposal, helped by the fact that in civilian life he was an English earl and Liana an Italian marchesa. That fact alone proved more than useful in the initial oiling of the wheels. His commanding officer, an inveterate snob, gave his permission without hesitation.
‘Probably the wedding of the year as far as he’s concerned,’ observed Charlie sourly.
‘It will be,’ said Nicholas with glee, closing his mind to the fact that all other applications had been refused. That was not his problem.
To Liana’s relief the lack of proof of her identity was accepted by the authorities without question. The fact that her home had been looted, bombed and burned was good enough. Obtaining all the necessary replica documentation was easily achieved with a little bribery as was the civil-marriage certificate. Dealing with the Neapolitan authorities was even easier than dealing with the British army. A pocketful of cash could buy anything.
‘Christ!’ exploded Charlie who went with Nicholas to sort out the necessary paperwork. ‘Is there anybody in Naples who is honest?’
‘Probably not,’ said Nicholas, ‘but who cares?’
‘I do. It seems so wrong.’
Nicholas laughed. ‘That’s your English puritan streak speaking. These people are used to it. They don’t expect honesty, so they are never disappointed.’
Charlie kept silent. There was nothing he could do, but he wondered whether Liana felt the same way. Did she, too, accept cheating as a way of life? It was not something he could ask Nicholas.
The tiny, run-down church of San Niccolo was specially chosen by Nicholas for the wedding because it was out of the way and had a mere handful of impoverished parishioners. The ancient priest was starving like everyone else, and more than willing to be bribed. Once a handful of money was securely tucked away under his soutane, he assured Nicholas that he would officiate at the ceremony, even though Nicholas was an Anglican.
‘All the same in the sight of God,’ he mumbled toothlessly, his pious expression turning to avaricious glee as he counted the money.
Nicholas did have a momentary qualm about that. He wondered whether or not his mother had received his letter telling her that he was to be married. He had teased Charlie about his English puritanical streak, but at the same time uncomfortably remembered that his mother had very firm views on the subject of morality and religion. She would have a fit if she knew he was to be married with, what she considered to be, Catholic mumbo jumbo, incense and ringing of bells! Then he grinned as he thought of it. Why worry? She was in England, which, all things considered, was probably just as well. By the time she finally met Liana, she would be his wife, the new Countess of Wessex, and nothing would be able to change that. The wedding service would be history. And as for any other objections, Liana’s Italian pedigree was impeccable enough to silence the most class-conscious Englishman or woman, even his mother!
At last everything was arranged. The date of the wedding was set for May. The time, the church, and Liana’s wedding dress were all organized. Charlie had arranged the reception and the invitations had been sent out. Nicholas finally relaxed.
‘Now,’ remarked Charlie on a note of irony, ‘perhaps we can both concentrate on what we ought to have been doing, and maybe catch up with some of the army’s work.’ He passed a sheaf of letters across to Nicholas who grinned unrepentantly.
Nicholas began flicking uninterestedly through the papers, then uttered an expletive. ‘Bloody hell! I could do without this.’ He flung a typewritten sheet across to Charlie. ‘Why couldn’t they have given this assignment to somebody else?’
Charlie scanned the piece of paper. ‘Down to Bari for a week,’ he said pulling a thoughtful face. ‘Well, at least you’ll be back on April the twenty-eighth, which gives you two days before the wedding. It could be worse.’
*
‘Sorry, darling, but an order is an order. I’m lucky they didn’t arrange it when we are due to be on our honeymoon.’ Nicholas apologized profusely to Liana when next he saw her. He did not want to leave her now, and certainly not for a whole week, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to go.
Liana nearly fainted with relief. It was the chance she had been waiting for. Nicholas had been so attentive since the engagement she had begun to fear she would never escape from him for long enough to visit Dr Turzo. A whole week without Nicholas. It was more than she had ever dared hope for.
‘Don’t worry, darling, I understand,’ she said, managing to look and sound suitably disappointed and hide her satisfaction at the same time.
‘Charlie will see that you lack for nothing.’
‘I forbid you to worry about me. I shall be fine. I’ll stay up in the castello and just laze about in the spring sunshine, dreaming of our wedding day.’
Nicholas departed reluctantly for Bari, but first he made Charlie promise to keep an eye on Liana. She had already gone back to the castello after kissing Nicholas a fond farewell.
*
Lazing in the spring sunshine and dreaming. God, that was a laugh! If only they knew; but they didn’t, and never would. She tried to think of the sunshine and her future, but the pain frequently blotted out all coherent thought. There was no time for dreaming, only for pain. She had known it would hurt, but never had she imagined that the agony could be anything like this.
Liana lay on a couch, legs up and splayed wide open. Dr Turzo had tied them with tapes to metal bars on either side of the couch to prevent her from moving. Her arms, too, were tied to the sides of the couch to prevent movement, so that there was no escape from the agony of the needle as it plunged in and out. It felt red hot as it pierced the tender flesh, but Liana did not cry out. Her teeth clenched tightly on the rag rope she’d been given to bite, and perspiration poured down her face, soaking the pillow on which her head rested.
‘We will have no screaming, please,’ said Dr Turzo when he had rammed the rag into her mouth. ‘There are other patients waiting outside, and I don’t want them put off.’
Not once did a muscle move in her face, and her eyes remained closed. Only her hands betrayed her. The knuckles gleamed so white it seemed the skin would surely split to reveal the bone. How much longer would it take? How much longer could she stand it? Th
e needle kept on coming, in and out, in and out, as the delicate tissue was drawn tautly together.
‘Nearly finished. Your new husband should enjoy demolishing this.’ He laughed cruelly. Wouldn’t mind doing the job myself on this one, he thought, letting his hands wander appreciatively for a moment over the soft skin of her belly. A good-looking girl. His wandering hand reached her breast – lovely and firm. He licked his lips greedily, wishing he had taken her to bed before he’d started the stitching. She was certainly different from most of his clients.
Liana felt his wandering hands, but was past caring. How did he know she was getting married? She hadn’t told him. Or had she? She tried to think clearly, but the heaving tide of pain was too much. The suffering was too much; she could bear it no longer.
‘I can’t go through with it,’ she thought she had shouted, but no sound came from her lips. The rag fell from her mouth, and her head lolled to one side as she fainted.
Dr Turzo cursed. ‘Bloody women! Always a nuisance.’ The last thing he needed was an unconscious woman in his surgery. Hastily, he put in the last three stitches, then slapped her face. ‘Wake up. You can’t sleep here.’
The voice reverberated round and round inside her head and Liana opened her eyes. It was Dr Turzo. She could see his black-rimmed spectacles swimming in and out of focus. Cold water was splashed on her face and the room stopped revolving. ‘Is it finished?’ She struggled to sit up.
‘Yes.’ He untied her arms and then her legs after stuffing a pad in her crutch. ‘Put your knickers on. There will be a little bleeding, but not much. Here are some penicillin tablets to prevent infection. Take three a day for five days. If you are ill, don’t come back to me. And don’t tell anyone I stitched you.’
Liana slid off the operating couch on to a chair at the side. ‘When is it safe?’ She felt sick and giddy.
Dr Turzo laughed. ‘For intercourse? Can’t wait, can you?’ he sneered. ‘A week to ten days should be sufficient. Now, give me the money and get out of here. I’m a busy man.’
