by Lucy Gordon
It was the black cocktail dress that had tempted her before she forced herself to be sensible. And beneath it was the dark crimson dress-‘the second part of your order’ as a paper proclaimed.
She hadn’t asked for them, she thought wildly. Then how…?
Then she remembered Matteo walking behind her at the crucial moment. He had seen everything and added them to the order later.
Just then he came in and glanced at what she was doing.
‘I’m glad they’ve arrived,’ he said.
‘You shouldn’t have ordered these without telling me,’ she reproved him, but not very seriously.
‘You’re free to send them back.’
‘Well-I may do that,’ she said, knowing that she didn’t sound very convinced.
‘I’m giving a dinner party tomorrow evening. My friends are fond of Liza, so I’d like you to bring her down. I’ll send a message when I’m ready.’
At that moment Liza put her head around the door.
‘There you are,’ she said. ‘I’ve got the book. You promised to read it to me.’ To her father she explained, ‘It’s in English. Holly reads it to me in English, but she stops when it gets exciting, so I have to read some myself to find out what happens next.’
To Holly’s surprise a wintry look suddenly crossed his face.
‘Yes, that’s an excellent way to learn a language,’ he murmured. ‘I must be going. Don’t forget what I said about tomorrow.’
‘We’re going downstairs to meet your Poppa’s guests,’ Holly explained in response to Liza’s curious look.
Liza made a sound of delight and tried to seize her father’s arm, but he removed himself at once.
‘I must get to work,’ he said at once.
‘Oh, please, Poppa, just a few minutes.’
‘I’m busy, piccina,’ he said gruffly. ‘No, let me go.’
Holly moved the child gently away, smiling to distract her from her father’s evident eagerness to escape. He took endless trouble for her, yet again and again Holly sensed him seeking to put a distance between them.
‘Is it the procession today, Poppa?’ Liza asked.
‘No, tomorrow. That’s why some of them will be joining me for dinner, as they do every year. And you will meet them, piccina, so you must be on your best behaviour.’
‘Yes, Poppa.’
Liza spoke docilely, but it was as though a cloud had fallen over her. Holly was angry with him. All his child wanted was a little of his attention, and the best he could manage was a command to be on her best behaviour.
At that moment she could gladly have throttled him.
What hurt even more was that when she looked at Liza the child had assumed a bright smile, heartbreaking in its refusal to admit defeat.
‘What’s this procession?’ Holly asked.
Liza’s brow furrowed as she tried to explain.
‘It’s all about lawyers-and courts-and-and the judges walk in a procession from the town hall to-well, anyway, they have a procession. We can watch it on television.’
That was all she knew, and Holly had to curb her impatience until next morning. It was her first sight of Matteo in his official black robes, with the long gold tassels on the shoulder.
‘It’s only judges who have gold tassels,’ Liza said. ‘Ordinary lawyers have silver.’
The way she said ‘ordinary lawyers’ told volumes about her feelings for her father. She might only be a child, but her eyes shone with pride and admiration as she watched him walk with the other judges, putting them all to shame with his height and good looks.
‘That’s Judge Lionello,’ Liza said, pointing to the plump, smiling man beside her father. He looked about sixty, with sharp eyes and gleaming silver hair.
‘He’s ever so nice,’ she continued. ‘Poppa calls him his mentor, but I don’t know what that is.’
‘A mentor is someone who tells you how to do things.’
‘Nobody tells Poppa how to do things,’ Liza said wisely. ‘He won’t allow it.’
‘I can imagine.’
The procession came to a brief halt, and the camera lingered on Matteo. Holly realised that he was younger than the other judges, and somehow more sharply defined, as though nature had designed him to stand out from any crowd. In the set of his head there was a pride that would always have given him authority, no matter where or when.
His only flaw, she decided, was his looks. He was far too handsome to be a judge. It was a positive incitement to disrespect the law.
As she watched, he turned to Judge Lionello at his side, and gave him a smile that made Holly catch her breath. It was a smile such as she had never seen from him before-warm, affectionate, generous. For a moment all the barriers he normally kept tightly in place were abandoned, revealing the attractive man underneath.
That’s what he’s really like, she thought. But he keeps it a secret because he doesn’t trust anyone, except another judge.
However, along with her reluctant admiration came a sense of antagonism that she couldn’t understand. She owed him everything, starting with her safety and reaching as far as the soft garments that touched her body intimately. And yet-and yet the hostility was there, puzzling, confusing, but undeniable.
Matteo’s smile faded as the procession moved off again. But she had seen something that she would not forget.
That evening she and Liza watched together from an upper window as the long black limousines arrived for the dinner. There was a small sprinkling of women but this was a largely male gathering.
Tonight Liza was allowed out of the wheelchair, and was full of excitement, dressed in a pretty blue dress that came down to her feet to hide her damaged leg.
For her own garments Holly had resisted the cocktail dresses and chosen a pair of smart dark blue trousers and a white silk top. Her hair had been washed and brushed until it shone, and when Matteo sent for them to join the party she hoped she looked a suitable combination of elegance and restraint.
He introduced her as a family connection of his wife, which produced a stream of cordial acknowledgements. Everyone greeted Liza with delight, and it was clear that she was a general favourite, at home in this company. After the first few minutes of keeping a wary eye on her Holly was able to relax.
‘Please, allow me to get you a glass of wine,’ said one very good-looking young man. ‘And then we will talk in English, because I am most anxious to improve my foreign languages, as a good lawyer must.’
Since his English was already perfect this was obviously the advance of a practised flirt. But as he was genuinely charming she laughed and accepted a glass of wine.
‘My name is Tomaso Bandini,’ he said with a little bow. ‘And I think we are going to be great friends.’
‘Not if you get me into trouble with my employer,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m here to look after Liza.’
‘But Liza is enjoying having a fuss made of her by Signor and Signora Lionello. So you are free to enjoy me making a fuss of you.’
He didn’t get the chance. Several of the other men were regarding Holly with admiration. It took all her tact to escape politely, and she might not have managed it if Matteo had not come to her rescue, easing her away from the crowd.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I don’t quite know what happened there-’
‘I think I can make a moderately successful guess at what happened,’ he said drily. ‘I think Liza should go to bed now.’
The goodnights took some time, since everyone wanted another word with Liza, and several of the men insisted on a final goodbye with Holly.
‘Behave yourself, Tomaso,’ Matteo ordered with grim good humour.
‘I was only-’
‘I know what you were only. Now, let go of Holly’s hand. She may have some other use for it.’
‘She has indeed,’ Judge Lionello announced, seizing her hand in his turn and kissing it with such respect that she could not object.
‘You should be ashamed at your age,’ Mat
teo told him.
‘I am. Deeply ashamed. Signorina Holly, you must visit the court and let me show you around. Shall we say-?’
‘Shall we say that it’s time for my daughter to go to bed?’ Matteo asked.
Judge Lionello sighed and relinquished his prize. But he winked at her first. She backed off quickly, conscious of his wife’s eyes on her, and feeling sorry for the older woman.
Upstairs Berta had just arrived back after a day spent choosing her trousseau, and helped Holly undress the child. As she snuggled down, Liza was trying to stay awake, but her eyes were closing despite herself.
‘It was a lovely party,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, wasn’t it?’
‘Did you have a good time, Holly?’
‘I had a wonderful time. Go to sleep now.’
She dropped a kiss on Liza’s forehead, then watched with pleasure as the child snuggled down, asleep. Then she went to the window and looked down, smiling as she remembered Tomaso and his silly jokes. She was in no danger of falling for him, but he was diverting company.
‘Bella Holly.’
The voice floated up to her from below. Looking down she saw Tomaso standing there, raising his glass to her.
‘La mia piu bella Holly,’ he sighed.
‘I am not your Holly,’ she told him, smiling.
‘No, you are no man’s. You stay up there, remote, out of reach like the sun and the moon, while below your slave yearns for you.’
‘Behave yourself,’ she chuckled.
‘Ah, you cut me to the heart. My passion is rejected.’
‘Your passion comes out of that wine glass.’
His response to this was to smite his forehead and wail in abandon. The sound brought other guests out to discover what was going on. When they saw Holly the men also saluted her with their glasses.
‘You abandoned us,’ one of them called out.
‘We are desolate,’ cried another.
Matteo appeared from the house, glancing up, eye-brows raised.
‘Has Berta returned yet?’ he called.
‘Yes, she’s here with Holly.’
‘Then come down and join us.’ When she hesitated he added, ‘A good host always fulfils his guests’ wishes. Please come down now.’
‘Go on,’ Berta urged. ‘I’ll stay here with Liza.’
Laughing, she went downstairs. Matteo met her at the door to the garden and she said reassuringly, ‘I’ll only stay for a moment.’
‘You’ll stay as long as we all want you,’ he said, grinning.
‘But aren’t you going to discuss serious legal business?’
‘Not after the second bottle, I promise you. I will only say, beware of Tomaso, who is young and enthusiastic about too many things at once.’
‘That’s rather what I thought.’
‘And beware my old friend Andrea Lionello, who ought to have learned better long ago. But most of all, beware Signora Lionello, who has murder in her heart.’
‘Well, she has all my sympathy, being married to that old rip.’
‘Don’t let her suspect your pity, whatever you do. That really would make her take out her stiletto.’
‘Thank you for the warning.’
Holly was the hit of the party. By accepting only one glass of wine, and sticking to that, she managed to stay clear-headed enough to see the curious glances at Matteo from people who wondered what he was really up to. But after a while she forgot him in the heady pleasure of being a social success for the first time in her life.
There was no more to it than that, since she didn’t take any of this seriously. It was merely an extension of the new woman she was becoming. The provocative underwear, her decisive encounter with Bruno, the heady discovery that she was strong enough to dismiss him…all these were steps along the path that led to this moment. For the first time men sighed over her and kissed her hands while their eyes swore eternal, if untruthful, vows. It had never happened before and she was going to enjoy making up for lost time.
She gracefully declined to flirt with Lionello. He was charming but she didn’t rate charm as highly as she once had, and she suspected that his wife had much to put up with. Signora Lionello ostentatiously ignored her.
‘No, I won’t drink any more,’ she said at last, laughing but firm. ‘I don’t trust a word from any of you.’
This produced cheers. Behind her somebody asked, ‘I wonder who you distrust the most.’
With no idea who had spoken, she flirtatiously retorted, ‘Why, you, of course,’ turning with a teasing smile, which faded when she saw who it was.
‘I’ve always known that you didn’t trust me,’ Matteo observed, amused.
‘Well, as long as it’s mutual,’ she said lightly, recovering herself.
‘I promise you it is,’ he returned in the same tone. ‘Although I recall that we did once form a brief alliance-’
‘Of course.’ She laughed into his face. ‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend. But when my enemy is off the scene-’
‘Then all things must be reconsidered,’ he agreed. ‘I would only warn you against being too sure that your enemy really is off the scene. Some of them have an infernal habit of reappearing.’
‘You think-?’
‘I think only that a little caution is called for. And if the moment should come,’ he shrugged, ‘I shall still be here for you to make use of me.’
He inclined his head in a brief bow and moved away, leaving her to reflect on his strange choice of words.
Holly lingered a while longer, but was clever enough to leave soon, to a chorus of disappointment.
‘There is no need for you to go,’ Matteo said quietly. ‘You are welcome to remain if you wish.’
‘Thank you, but I choose to leave. I really don’t belong here.’
‘Surely that is for me to say?’
‘You don’t need to say it. We both know it’s true. Goodnight, signore.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
FROM her window above Holly listened to the murmurs as the party drew to its close. She heard the cars as they departed, then the silence.
She should undress and go to bed, but until she did so the most exciting night of her life hadn’t officially ended. She was still restless and the moonlit grounds were very tempting. Going quietly downstairs, she slipped out of the back door, down one of the paths, into the shadows.
So many unanswered questions, so much confusion. Her life was like the paths briefly lit by the moon before winding into the darkness to an uncertain destination. Tonight that uncertainty had taken on a new and brighter aspect. The admiration that had flowed over her was such a pleasant experience that even confusion was of the cheerful kind.
She couldn’t help smiling at some of the things that had been said to her, and the many significant glances she’d been given. And not only from the guests. If she was honest, it was Matteo who had chiefly caught her attention. His looks, his voice, the admiration in his eyes. She’d seen it all, and now she had time to brood about it.
Looking back at the house, she saw that most of the windows had darkened, and realised how late it was. Time to go in. She took the quickest route that lay past the judge’s office. One of the French doors was slightly ajar, and she turned aside, meaning to pass it quickly. But she was stopped by the sound of a voice filled with malice and dislike.
‘You saw how she acted tonight, flaunting herself before the men.’
‘She was there because I invited her,’ Matteo replied.
The woman’s answer was a snort of contempt, and now Holly recognised her voice as belonging to Signora Lionello. Having concealed her feelings for most of the evening, she was giving them full expression now.
‘And didn’t she make the most of it! I don’t know what wiles she used to worm her way in here, but a creature like that-’
‘Like what? You don’t know her.’
‘I know her kind, a common little baggage who’ll use her position here to get a rich boyfriend, o
r even husband. Then she’ll walk out and leave Liza weeping. You should get rid of her before any damage is done.’
Holly knew she should walk away. Eavesdropping was disgraceful behaviour. But no power on earth could have made her leave without hearing what Matteo would say about her. She would just have to resign herself to being disgraceful.
Matteo sounded as though he was maintaining his good temper with an effort.
‘I know that Andrea isn’t the most perfect of husbands, but he’s had a roving eye for years, not just tonight. It’s unjust to blame Signorina Holly for what was not her fault.’
‘She’ll be setting her cap at you next.’
‘I doubt it. In any case, my heart is armoured and nothing will change that. She’s here for Liza’s sake, and for no other reason. Believe me, I know what the problems are, and I know how to take care of them.’
From where she stood Holly could clearly see him. She saw, too, the moment when he raised his head and nodded as if he’d come to a decision.
‘And just how are you going to take care of them?’ she murmured.
She moved softly away, curious but not alarmed. These days she was beginning to feel that nothing could scare her any more.
To her relief she heard nothing from Lionello, but two days later Tomaso Bandini called and invited her out.
‘Don’t even think of it,’ Matteo said when she told him. ‘He’s too “unfinished” for you.’
‘I disagree. It sounds fun. I haven’t been to Rome yet and it’s time I went.’
‘Of course. You’re entitled to some enjoyment. I shall arrange it.’
‘Oh, really!’ she exclaimed, torn between antagonism and something that was suspiciously like delight. ‘You’re so organised! You plan this, you plan that-’
‘And I shall plan a pleasant evening out for you. As you so rightly remark, I’m good at arranging things.’
There was something in his manner that might almost have been humour. It was hard to be sure.
Holly decided to accept Tomaso’s invitation anyway, and wrote him a note saying so. He wrote back saying that he was devastated to be unable to make good his promise, but a sudden increase of work had made it necessary etc. etc.
