Saddle the Wind (64 page)

‘Betta – I’m taking Adriana and I’m leaving the signore. I can’t stay here any longer. Will you – will you help me?’

‘Of course, signora.’ Betta nodded firmly. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Blanche held out the letter. ‘Take this to the Via Gabriele, number twenty-seven. You must give it into the hands of signor or signora Harrow – to no one else, you understand?’

‘Yes, signora.’ Betta took the envelope.

‘Give it to no one else. Everyone’s sure to be asleep when you get there, but you must wake them up.’

Betta nodded.

‘Oh, Betta,’ Blanche said, ‘I know it’s a long way and in the dark, but – but you’ll be as quick as you can, will you?’

Betta nodded again. ‘Of course, signora. I’ll run all the way.’

Blanche put her arms around the girl, quickly hugged her. As they broke apart Betta said:

‘Signora – will you take me with you?’

‘– Do you want to come with us?’

‘Oh, yes, signora.
Please
.’

Blanche saw tears in the girl’s eyes. She gave a nod. ‘Of course.’ She put her hands to her mouth for a moment in frantic thought, then added: ‘In that case, don’t try to return here on your own, but wait for me with the signora Harrow at the Via Gabriele – you understand?’

‘Yes, signora.’

‘– But Betta – if you come with us – I’m afraid there’s no time for you to pack anything. The rest of the servants will soon be awake. We’ve got to get away.’

Betta gave a shrug. ‘That’s all right, signora – I have nothing to pack.’ Another little shrug. ‘I have nothing.’

Blanche said: ‘Leave the house by the rear door and go by the courtyard. It will be quieter than using the front door.’

‘Yes, signora.’ Betta was already turning, moving away.

As soon as Betta had gone Blanche got dressed as quickly and quietly as she could – though she could not move about too hurriedly for fear of disturbing the servants on the floor above. When she had finished putting on her dress she took a key from a vase, went to the chest beneath the window and opened it. She had not saved very much money, but the little she had she would need.

At once, however, as she bent over the open chest, she could see that something was wrong. The contents of the chest had been disturbed. Pushing her hand down the side, she located there the purse where she had kept the money she had been accumulating. She brought it out. The clasp was undone. The purse gaped open, empty.

Alfredo, anticipating what might go through her mind, had forestalled her. It must have happened last night; while she had lain unconscious on the floor downstairs he had come up here and gone through her things. She felt that she could weep. It had taken her so long to amass that small sum, and now it was gone. In a passionate flurry of movement she began to snatch at the other items in the chest until they lay scattered about her knees on the floor. At the bottom of the chest she found a few odd coins – a couple of franc pieces,
some centimes and the sovereign. The rest of the money – all the notes – had gone. Almost sobbing with frustration, she scooped up the few coins and dropped them into her pocket.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she rose from her knees and opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers in which she kept a small jewel box containing trinkets and the few pieces of jewellery she owned – her mother’s wedding ring and a few other small pieces she had acquired over the years, some from Alfredo. If necessary she could sell some of it; it might bring enough to help her and Adriana once they were back in England. The box, however, was no longer in the drawer. Alfredo had thought of everything.

Taking a small travelling bag from the wardrobe Blanche began to pack it with a few clothes and other essentials. She worked feverishly, aware of the minutes swiftly ticking by. When she had packed what she needed she put on her coat and hat, picked up the half-full bag and went across the landing to the nursery. After silently closing the door behind her she shook Adriana awake and, urging her not to make a sound, pulled her up in the bed. Still half-asleep, Adriana was like a rag doll, and it took all Blanche’s patience to handle her calmly.

With Adriana’s movements infuriatingly slow and languid, Blanche took off the child’s nightgown and began to get her dressed. ‘Come on, dear – wake up.’

‘What’s happening, Mama?’ Adriana’s words were a slurred, sleepy whisper.

‘We’re going away.’ And Adriana was already sagging against her again. ‘Please,’ Blanche pleaded, ‘Adriana, wake up. Help me.’

Adriana opened her eyes, making an effort. ‘Where are we going?’

‘On a long, exciting journey. Just you, me and Betta.’

Adriana looked over at Betta’s empty bed and yawned. ‘Where’s Betta now?’

‘Hush – not so many questions. We’re going to meet her in a little while.’

At the Harrows’ villa on the Via Gabriele the butler, Carlo, had answered the door to Betta’s persistent ringing and at once had fetched his master who, also awakened by the bell, was already out of bed. Putting on his dressing gown, Gentry went downstairs to Betta where, breathless after her run through the streets, she stood in the hall. On reading Blanche’s note he gave orders for the groom to be awakened and the carriage to be prepared immediately. That done he hurried back upstairs to get dressed. By the time he came down again some minutes later the groom was bringing the carriage around to the front of the house.

In the meantime Marianne, also awake and having learned from Gentry of the impending arrival of Blanche and Adriana, rang for her young maid, Lisa. When the girl appeared she asked her to make some tea.

Downstairs Betta, who had told Gentry that she had been instructed to wait for her mistress, had given up her coat and been shown into a small sitting room off the hall where Carlo lit the gaslight and put a match to the fire.

As Betta sat nervously waiting and warming her cold hands before the flames Marianne came to her, clad in her dressing gown, and introduced herself. She was soon followed by Lisa carrying a tray of tea. As Marianne and Betta drank the tea Betta nervously spoke a little of her mistress’s stated determination to leave signor Pastore. And she herself, she told Marianne, with some little pleasure, would also be leaving with her mistress for England.

*

When Adriana was at last ready and wearing her coat and hat Blanche took some of the child’s clothes and put them into the bag along with her own. Then she closed the bag, took it up and silently opened the bedroom door. Seconds later she and Adriana were out on the landing.

Outside the door to her own room Blanche came to a halt, trying to remember if there was anything she had forgotten. She could think of nothing. Tightening her grip on the travelling bag and giving Adriana’s hand a little squeeze she turned and led the child silently down the stairs.

Reaching the hall below she turned towards the rear of the house, and as she did so Alfredo appeared before her.

They came to a stop, facing one another.

Alfredo, having just entered the house, stood before her wearing his coat and hat and carrying a travelling bag. As Blanche looked at him she said to herself:
We’re too late. Just a few more seconds, another minute, and we would have been safely away, but we’ve left it too late
.

There was silence. Then Alfredo said softly:

‘It looks as if I returned just in time.’

Blanche, not speaking, merely held on to Adriana with one hand and gripped the bag in the other.

‘May I ask where you think you were going?’ Alfredo said. In the dim light of the gas lamp Blanche could see that his face was pale with shock and growing anger.

Her heart thudding furiously she briefly closed her eyes while she tried to collect herself. Summoning her courage, she said, ‘Alfredo – please – I must talk to you.’

He gave a nod. ‘Well, obviously some explanation is necessary. I can’t imagine you were taking Adriana out for her health. It’s dark and cold outside. Hardly the
right time, I would have thought, for a pleasant stroll around the town.’ He paused, waiting. ‘Well? What have you to say?’

Frowning, she glanced down at Adriana who stood looking from one to the other. Clearly the child could sense the great tension in the situation and her lower lip quivered as she fought back her tears.

‘Please –’ Blanche said, ‘– not before the child.’ She turned, gesturing to the door on her left that led to the dining room. ‘– Can’t we sit down and talk about this?’

Without waiting for a reply she put down her bag then opened the dining room door and led Adriana inside. Taking a match from a little jar she struck one, turned on the gas lamp and put the flame to the mantle. ‘There –’ she gestured to a chair, ‘– will you sit down while Daddy and I have a little talk? – Will you?’

Unconsoled, Adriana burst into tears. Blanche bent to her, wrapping her arms about her. ‘There’s nothing to cry about, my darling – nothing, I promise you.’ Taking her handkerchief she gently dabbed at Adriana’s wet cheeks while the child clung to her. When Adriana was calmer, Blanche touched a gentle finger to the tip of her nose. ‘Trust me. You just sit there for a moment like a good little girl, all right?’

‘Yes, Mama.’

Blanche straightened. ‘There’s a good girl.’

With an encouraging smile, Blanche backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. Alfredo was still standing there, arms folded, waiting. After a moment’s hesitation she moved towards him, came to a stop before him. She drew a breath to speak but he broke in, saying:

‘Before you tell me anything …’

She waited. ‘– Yes?’

‘Listen –’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve been in Palermo.

I had some business to do there. But I came back because …’ He let his words trail off, then he added, avoiding her eyes:

‘I’m sorry. For what I did. I’m very sorry.’

Keeping her voice low she said:

‘It’s too late, Alfredo.’

Now he raised his eyes to hers. She added:

‘You – you’ve got to let me go.’

He said nothing. She went on:

‘We’re both unhappy, you and I, you know that. It was a mistake, our marriage. You must see it.’

Still he said nothing. She continued:

‘We should never have married, Alfredo. I’m not the right kind of wife for you. I don’t fit in with your life. I never have; I never will.’

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’m listening.’

‘– Alfredo, you know that what I’m saying is true. We can’t even talk to each other any more. The only thing is for us to separate. We must go away – Adriana and I.’

He shook his head. ‘
Never
.’

She gave a groan. ‘Oh, why do you want to keep me here? – when it only brings such unhappiness to us both?’

‘Look,’ he said, ‘– I told you: I’m sorry.’

‘It’s too late for all that. It doesn’t make any difference any more. I’m leaving you.’

‘You’re all the same,’ he said, and now his voice was bitter. ‘That first whore I married went off, and now you tell me you’re going to do the same.’

‘I don’t want to leave you for anyone else,’ she protested. ‘I want to leave because I can’t see any other way out – for either of us.’

‘And if I hadn’t come back when I did you would have left by now. You would have taken my child and
gone. Just – stolen her away. I would never see her again. I was afraid of this happening.’

‘You think this is a good atmosphere in which to rear a child? With mistrust and – and hatred between her parents?’

‘I love her. And she is my daughter – just as you are my wife.’

‘I’m your wife, yes – but that doesn’t make me your property. I don’t belong to you. I belong to
myself
. And Adriana, too. She doesn’t belong to you, or to me – or to anyone. Parents don’t own their children. They have the responsibility for their care – but they can’t own them.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you say – I’m not letting you take our child away.’

They stood there facing one another. In the silence Blanche became aware of the ticking of the hall clock. She turned, looked at its face. Almost five-twenty. Betta would have reached the Via Gabriele ages ago, and surely Gentry would be well on his way to meet her by now.

Turning back to Alfredo she said quietly:

‘Let me go, Alfredo. Please.’

His eyes were piercing in his pale face. He glared at her for long moments and then lurched forward, stooped and picked up her travelling bag. Turning, he swung his arm and pitched the bag violently along the hall; it landed near the front door.

‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Get out. It you want to go, then go.’

‘Alfredo –’

‘But you’re not taking Adriana with you.’

The nightmare was growing worse. ‘I
am
taking her,’ she said. ‘And no one’s going to stop me.’ She turned to move towards the door of the dining room, but Alfredo was quicker, and he stepped before her, barring her way.

‘
I’m
stopping you,’ he hissed. ‘And if you try to take my daughter I tell you I shan’t be content with beating you; I shall kill you. I told you – go if you want to, but if you go you go alone.’ He leaned forward, punctuating his words. ‘Adriana is my daughter and she’s staying with me.’

He straightened. There was a little moment of silence, then Blanche said:

‘She’s not your daughter.’

‘– What?’ He frowned, curling his lip.

‘It’s the truth, Alfredo.’ Blanche took a breath, braced herself. ‘Adriana is not your child.’

He glared at her for a moment then gave a short, hollow laugh. ‘You can’t tell me that. I know differently.’

‘Then you don’t know the truth.’ She kept her voice very even. ‘You don’t know anything.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you make up such things,’ he said warningly. ‘I know what is the truth.’ But there was less conviction in his voice. She knew that the seeds of doubt had taken root, and her fear grew along with his doubt. She could not go back now, though. After a moment she said:

‘I never wanted you to know it. I never intended that you should. But when –’

Abruptly her words broke off. The floor beneath her feet had begun to shake, moving with an increasing violence. The windows rattled, a picture fell from the wall and fell onto the tiles of the hall with a loud crash of breaking glass. Blanche gave a little cry while in almost the same moment there came a scream from beyond the dining room door.