Seduced by Innocence (15 page)

“Yes. There’s a lot of pleasure in paying you back in your own coin. You used to call me Teresa because you were speaking to my Italian side—”

“I told you that one day you would come to know that side of yourself.”

“And you were right. I
am
Teresa, and I love being Teresa because she’s everything I wasn’t, strong and confident, not a deluded little fool who’ll believe every lie a man tells her. You won’t like her. She’s learned the lessons
you
had to teach, about cruelty and deception, how to be cold and hard to people who love you—”

“No,”
he said with soft vehemence. “I was never cold and hard to you. It may have begun that way—before I knew you—it’s true that then you were just part of my revenge. But from the first moment we met, you entered my heart, although it took me too long to realize that everything had changed.”

“How convenient!” she scoffed. “So you admit you set out to make use of me.”

“Only in the beginning—”

“Do you think it’s all right to use people as pawns as long as you don’t know them? But anything can be done in the sacred name of vendetta, can’t it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and began to walk away. He moved quickly to keep up with her. “Teresa, please believe I’m not proud of myself. I’ve had time for bitter regrets about what I’ve done to you. If anything has happened to Leo, I shall never forgive myself.”

“It’s
my
lack of forgiveness that should worry you, Maurizio,” she snapped.

“It does. Your hatred weighs on my heart day and night. That and my conscience are burdens almost too great to bear.”

“Bear them,” she raged. “They’re nothing to the burdens you’ll bear if my brother’s body is fished out of the water.”

She moved quickly to get away from him. But his voice stopped her. “Leo isn’t dead.”

She whirled and stared at him, but her limbs seemed to be frozen. Maurizio came closer. “I don’t believe that Leo can be dead,” he told her. “If he were, you would know before I did. Your heart would tell you.”

“If only I could be sure.”

They’d reached a street lamp. Now she had a good look at Maurizio and the sight shocked her. For the first time, she realized that he really suffered. His face was ravaged. He was thinner and there were dark circles under haunted eyes. He looked like a man who seldom slept, and what sleep he did have was tormented by nightmares. But when she thought of her own nightmares, she could feel no pity for him.

“I hope you’re right about Leo,” she said. “But as time goes on with no sign of him, I get more and more afraid that I’ll never see him again. And if that happens, may God forgive you, because I never will.”

Abruptly she turned and ran away. A pain had started in her heart and it threatened to overwhelm her. Her love was dead, yet she knew she had to get away from the sight of Maurizio’s tormented face while she had the strength.

In a few minutes, she reached the Palazzo Calvani and let herself in quietly. But if she thought to pass unnoticed, she’d reckoned without Elena’s watchful eyes. As she reached the upper floor, Elena was already there, in her dressing gown, looking at her watch. “You’re so late,” she said. “I was getting worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“I never go to sleep until you come in.”

Terri stared. “I didn’t know that.”

“I listen for the front door, then your footsteps coming up the stairs. They always sound heavy and I know you haven’t found Leo. One night I hope to hear them light and happy.” She took Terri’s hand between hers. “You’re like ice. Come and get warm. We don’t want you catching cold again.”

She drew Terri into her own room, and made her sit down on the huge, luxurious double bed. “Francisco won’t disturb us,” she said with a shrug. She began to rub Terri’s hands. “Obviously you didn’t find Leo tonight.”

Terri shook her head, too tired and wretched to speak. Elena looked at her suddenly. “But something’s happened,” she said. Her hand flew to her mouth. “You’ve had bad news of Leo? Oh, my God! Tell me quickly.”

“It’s not Leo. It’s Maurizio. I met him in the street.”

“What did he have to say for himself?”

“What
can
he say? He’s searching, too—trying to ease his conscience, if he has such a thing.”

“But it upset you to see him, didn’t it?” Elena said sympathetically. “Do you still love him so much?”

“I don’t love him,” Terri said in a hard voice. “And he doesn’t love me. He never did. It was nothing but an illusion.” Then her grief came welling up, making her cry out, “But it was a lovely illusion. The world is so cold without it.
I want my illusion back.
” Tears streamed down her face and she crossed her arms over herself, rocking back and forth.

“I know how cold the world can be,” Elena whispered. “It’s only when love is over that you understand what it meant to you.” She took Terri’s sobbing form in her arms and stroked her hair. “
Cara
Teresa,” she said softly, “I’m here. Hold on to me.”

Terri hardly heard the words but she reached out blindly, feeling something ease in her heart as she was enfolded in a mother’s loving warmth and comfort for the first time in her life. The two women sat like that for a long time.

* * *

The smile on Rufio’s face was the first thing that greeted Maurizio as he put on the light. It was the same smile as always, fixed, unchanging, serving only as a reminder that he was dead. Maurizio averted his eyes.

After a moment, Bruno came in. “Still no news?” he asked.

Maurizio shook his head. “I’ve been to every house in Venice,” he said heavily. “There’s nowhere else to look.” Bruno didn’t answer and Maurizio turned on him savagely. “He’s not dead,” he shouted. “You’re not to say that.”

“But it’s not I who says it.” Bruno pointed out. “It’s your own conscience.”

Maurizio stared at him from haunted eyes. His face was that of a man enduring the tortures of the damned. “
She
thinks he’s dead,” he whispered in horror.

“You saw her tonight? What did she say?”

“She said—” Maurizio shuddered. “She said that God must forgive me, because she never would.”

Bruno nodded like a man who knew there was nothing to add. He glanced at Rufio’s portrait. “I’ve been thinking of Rufio, who was so gentle and loving,” he said. “I don’t believe there was a vengeful bone in his body.”

“Shut up!” Maurizio ordered him.
“Shut up.”

He buried his face in his hands.

* * *

As Christmas approached, life in the Palazzo Calvani became hectic. Elena was in her element, giving lavish parties and gifts, and buying lots of new clothes. She took Terri along on shopping expeditions and always bought her some costly trinket. She deflected all protests with a dazzling smile and the observation, “It’s Christmas.” But sometimes she would take Terri’s hand between her own two little hands and say gravely, “I want to do this—please,” in such a strange tone that Terri would wonder again exactly how much Elena suspected.

Her official Christmas gift to Terri was a long velvet cloak. “For you to wear at Carnival,” she said. She chuckled like a delighted child. “Carnival is such fun. I start to prepare for it on the day after Christmas.”

Francisco’s gift was a pearl necklace, so fine and beautiful that Terri gasped. The pearls were perfectly matched, with a soft glow that spoke of luxury and cost. “I can’t accept this,” she said quickly.

“But why not?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s much too expensive.”

“It’s the best, and the best is what I wanted to give you to show my gratitude for all you do in this house.”

“I don’t do anything much...”

“On the contrary. You transform whatever you touch. My mother is happier, Elena is calmer, everything runs smoothly.” He carried her hand to his lips. “Thank you,
signorina,
for the way you’ve transformed my home.”

Once the gesture would have embarrassed her, but she’d left that gaucherie behind her, and now she was sufficiently poised to smile and let Francisco finish, without showing how much she disliked his touch.

After such generosity by her employers, she was embarrassed by the comparative modesty of her gifts to them. For Francisco she bought a silver pen, little enough amidst the luxury he took for granted, but it blew a hole in her budget. She was careful to give it to him in Elena’s presence and he smiled and thanked her formally. But later he found her alone and said, “I must thank you again for your gift. It was charming of you to be so observant.”

“Observant?”

“You noticed that I’d lost my other pen. Elena gave it to me and I’d had it for years. But now I have yours, which I will treasure.”

In fact she hadn’t noticed that his pen had disappeared. She’d picked the present at random. “Perhaps I should have chosen something else,” she said. “I’m sure Elena will wish to replace her gift to you herself.”

He gave his quiet laugh. “She hasn’t even noticed that it’s gone. How different from you, Teresa, who notices everything about me.”

“Please, you’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I? I hope not. Haven’t you noticed how well we understand each other?”

“No,” she said, determined to put an end to this conversation. “I can’t say I have. Will you excuse me now, please?”

She hurried away without looking back, so she never saw the satisfied smile with which he looked after her or the way he nodded his head.

She chose Elena’s present with great care, her first gift to her true mother. It seemed to her that Elena had every material luxury that money could buy, but nobody with whom to share her interests. One evening recently, the talk had somehow strayed to archaeology and Elena had revealed an avid interest in the subject. Terri had been only slightly surprised. Elena was knowledgeable about art, and from art to archaeology was a short step. So Terri purchased a lavishly illustrated set of reference works and was rewarded by seeing Elena’s face light up. “I’d been thinking of buying these for myself,” she cried ecstatically. “How did you know?”

“I remembered what we were discussing a few weeks ago,” Terri reminded her, laughing. “You talked about digs and old bones and your eyes were shining.”

“And you remembered that?” Elena’s face softened. “How kind you are. This is the best gift of all.”

“Better than your diamonds?” Terri couldn’t resist asking, for Francisco’s gift to his wife had been a diamond set of such magnificence that all Venice was talking about them.

Elena shrugged. “They’ll go into the bank vault and I’ll never see them. He gives me jewels every year. They’re a good investment.” Her eyes grew suddenly faraway. “It’s strange. I used to think it would be wonderful to be showered with diamonds. But in those days, I never knew...so many things...” She checked herself, and after a pause continued. “I never knew how much better it was to have a present like this, that someone had really thought about.”

There were tears in her eyes and the next moment Terri was enveloped in a scented embrace that went on for a long time. She hugged Elena, feeling the tears prick her eyelids, too.

There was one other present that she told nobody about. She scoured the shops of Venice until she found a silk tie with a really outrageous pattern. Only a very young man could have worn such a tie and held up his head. Having bought it, she laid it quietly away in her drawer, promising herself that she would one day give it to Leo.

“E
arly this morning, the body of a young man was taken from the Grand Canal. His identity is unknown and he is being kept at the public mortuary in the hope that...”

Terri was helping to arrange flowers for the New Year’s Eve ball at the palazzo that evening when the voice on the radio made her stiffen with shock. Cold tremors went through her and her hand tightened convulsively on a vase. When she could move again, she rushed into the hall and put on her coat.

Elena appeared as she was ready to go. “
Cara,
whatever is the matter?” she said as soon as she saw Terri’s face.

“They’ve taken a dead man from the water,” Terri said. “I’m going to the mortuary now.”

Elena’s hands flew to her pale face. “Oh, no,” she said piteously. “It mustn’t be Leo. It
can’t
be.”

Francisco looked out into the hall. “Elena,” he called peremptorily. “There’s still much to do.”

“One moment,” she called back. “Oh, Teresa, if only I could come with you—”

“No, it would look strange. I’ll call you as soon as I know.” Impulsively, Terri kissed Elena’s cheek before hurrying away.

A chill hush hung over Venice. The dark water lay sullen and undisturbed. As Terri walked through the thick snow in the twilight, she tried not to think of what lay on that mortuary slab. It need not be Leo. It could be anybody. But her heart was breaking as though it knew that all hope would soon be dead.

At the mortuary she was given a form to fill out, then a white-coated attendant led her into a quiet room. The body was laid out, covered by a sheet, and it took all her courage to approach it. After an anxious glance at her, the attendant revealed the face. She gasped with shock and clutched the slab to stop herself falling.

It wasn’t Leo.

She felt a pair of strong arms steadying her, helping her to walk from the room. The attendant said, “This often happens. We have a room where people can recover. This way.”

She clung to her rescuer until she was sitting in a leather chair. A familiar voice said, “Steady now. Close your eyes for a moment.”

“Maurizio.”

He sat quickly beside her. “I heard it on the radio,” he said. “Like you I rushed here, fearing the worst, but thank God!
Thank God.
”

He, too, was shaking. Moved by blind instinct, Terri put out her arms and they clung together. For a moment, enmity was forgotten in their mutual, desperate need for comfort. “I was so afraid,” she said in a choked voice. “I was sure it would be Leo—I couldn’t bear to see him—but I had to—”

“Do you think I don’t know how you feel? In the time it took to walk here, I was in hell.” They held each other more tightly, bonded by their shared experience. “Teresa,” he murmured, “Teresa, it wasn’t him. Leo is still alive somewhere.”

“But
where?
”

“I don’t know but he’s
still alive.
We must both hold on to that.”

At last she drew back and brushed a hand over her face. “I’ve got to call Elena,” she said. “I promised to let her know at once.”

“There’s a phone just outside in the hall.”

He went with her. Terri thought she was in command of herself, but as soon as she reached out for the receiver, her hand began to shake uncontrollably. Maurizio didn’t speak but he quietly dialed the number of the palazzo and waited, listening to the ringing. When it was answered, he handed Terri the receiver and moved away.

“Elena,” Terri said huskily, “it wasn’t Leo. Truly, there’s no mistake. It was nothing like him.” Maurizio didn’t look around but his stillness was eloquent as Terri fell silent to listen. “Don’t cry,” she said at last. “I’ll be home soon. It’s all right.”

She hung up and leaned against the wall, drained of energy. Maurizio took her arm and led her outside. Darkness had fallen and a thick mist turned the city to shadows. Without saying a word, he guided her into a café and toward a seat. He returned from the bar with two brandies. “How was she?”

“Relieved. She couldn’t stop crying.”

“Over Leo?” he asked in a neutral voice. “A young man she barely knows?” Terri glanced at him but didn’t say anything. “How much of the truth does she guess, do you think?”

She sighed. “I’ve no idea. Sometimes I think she knows in her heart that we’re her children but she’s too nervous to say anything. If it gets out—” She shrugged.

“It could be a disaster for her,” he said. To her relief, he spoke without his usual cutting irony. He saw Terri looking at him and said quickly, “I’m not planning to tell Francisco. After everything that’s happened, revenge doesn’t seem so important now.”

Terri gave a wan smile. “How sad that you waited this long to learn that.”

“Yes,” he said heavily.

It was strange to Terri to be sitting here with Maurizio with no buzz between them. At one time the air had sung, first with love, then with hate. Now there was only calm and weariness, as though they’d fought each other to a standstill. There was even a strange comfort in his presence. He was the only person in the world who understood what she’d been through in the last hour, because he’d been through it, too. She’d seen him passionate, tender, ironic and bitter. But now he was kind, and that was the most painful thing of all, because it tormented her with a vision of what might have been.

“You look worn-out,” he said.

“I was up half the night helping with preparations for the party.”

“How do you keep going, with this on your mind?”

She gave a brief, mirthless laugh. “The same way that you do, I suppose. It’s always there, every moment, night and day.”

“Like a fiend laying in wait when you awaken and haunting you when you try to sleep,” Maurizio agreed.

“Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

He was shocked at her pallor and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She’d lost weight. He could see it in her face, and he’d felt it when he’d held her in the mortuary. The thought of her body made him ache, but not with desire; rather, it was a kind of anguished pity at her suffering. He remembered how she’d looked as she lay naked in his arms, how softly rounded her limbs had been, how he’d rejoiced at her beauty. It was harder to see physical beauty in this thin, tormented woman, yet her hold on his heart had grown stronger. If only he had her in his bed now, how tenderly he would embrace her, soothing her with caresses until she fell asleep safely in his arms. If only she would let him, he would spend his life trying to drive the sadness from her face, and ask nothing in return but to know that she was his.

Suddenly, she met his eyes, and for a searing moment all barriers were down between them. They looked into each other’s defenselessness, and it was unbearable. “Teresa,” he whispered.

“No—no.” She began to cry in a quiet, despairing way that tore him apart.

He seized her hands across the table. “Please, don’t cry,” he said urgently.

“I’m so tired,” she said softly.

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. Waiting and hoping had left him almost at the end of his strength, as well. But what little he had left was at her service. “I’ll do anything,” he said.

“But there’s nothing you
can
do, nothing either of us can do but wait, maybe forever.”

“No,”
he said desperately. “This can’t go on forever.”

“But it can. I’m beginning to think we’ll never discover the truth, and if we don’t—”

He laid a hand across her mouth. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded. “There are some truths too terrible to face.”

“But we’ve both faced this one already, haven’t we?”

“Until I restore Leo to you, there can never be love between us,” he said heavily. “Suppose I can
never
restore him to you?”

She looked him in the eyes. “Did you forgive Elena for
your
brother’s death?” she asked. He winced and closed his eyes, shaking his head. She was silent. There was nothing left to say. “I’d better go now,” she said. “There’s still a lot to do for tonight. For you, too, I expect.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed without enthusiasm. “We’re all going to have a wonderful time at the Midas. I’ll walk you back.”

“There’s no need. I know my way like a Venetian now.”

“Let me stay with you as long as I can.”

He walked beside her until they’d almost reached the palazzo. At the last corner, he stopped and held her so that her head rested on his shoulder. “It could have been so different,” he said huskily.

She put her arms about his body. “Yes,” she said. “It could have been different. If only we’d met some other way.”

“Can’t we—?”

“Not until Leo is safe. Perhaps never. That’s the truth and I can’t change it, however much I wa—” She stopped.

“However much we want to. I didn’t know until this moment what we might have had.”

“Nor I. But we have to forget it.”

“We can never forget it,” he said somberly. “It may torment us all our lives but neither of us will ever know the peace of forgetting what we’ve learned today. There’s no peace in love. Why should there be?”

He tilted her chin and laid his lips gently against hers. It was a kiss without passion, a kiss of love and comfort, tender and self-forgetful, and it broke her heart. “We’ll never forget,” he murmured.

“We’ll never forget,” she agreed. “But when I pass out of your sight around that corner, I’m your enemy again, Maurizio.”

He didn’t try to protest. He knew it had to be. Gently he released her and watched as she walked to the corner. There she looked back. “I never asked,” she said. “How did your brother die?”

“He drowned himself. I reclaimed his body from the mortuary.”

“Then today was doubly terrible for you. I’m so sorry. Goodbye, Maurizio. Goodbye.”

He strained his eyes to see where she’d been standing. Then the mist cleared for a moment and he saw that she was gone. All he could hear was the water lapping softly against the stones, and her final “Goodbye” floating back to him like a whisper from the shadows.

* * *

The mist lifted during the evening and the Grand Canal was brilliant as midnight approached on the last night of the year. From every palace, light flooded out, and music and merrymaking could be heard along the water. At the Midas and the Palazzo Calvani, fresh bottles of champagne were broken open as the hands of the clock approached twelve.

Bruno, capering by with a young woman, studied Maurizio with disapproval. “You’re sober, nephew.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The clock struck one and he forced a smile to his face, raising his voice. “It’s nearly midnight. Make your wishes for the new year.” The clock struck two and he seized a champagne bottle to refill the glasses of those around him.

A woman planted a kiss on Maurizio’s mouth. “We all wish for love, of course,” she cried. “What else is there to wish for?”

“What else?” Maurizio echoed mechanically.

Three. Four.

“Tell us who you’re thinking of,” she sang out.

Five. Six.

“I keep my heart safe so that I can give a little piece of it to every woman,” he told her charmingly.

Seven. Eight.

“Maurizio, darling, you always have just the right answer.”

Nine. Ten.

“More champagne!”

Eleven.

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“Happy New Year, everyone!”

“Happy New—”

“This year’s going to be
wonderful.
”

Twelve.

The room erupted in cheering and singing. Multicolored streamers poured down. Corks popped.

“Happy New Year, nephew.”

“Happy New Year, Uncle.”

Maurizio turned away to the window, wondering how much more jollity he could endure. The Grand Canal was alive with revelers. He looked past them to where the curve hid the Palazzo Calvani. She was there and she was thinking of him. He knew that without a doubt.

How can I ask forgiveness, when I have none to give?
he thought bitterly.
There’s no forgiveness for me in heaven or on earth. But yet—forgive me, Teresa, for the wrong I’ve done!

* * *

The snow lasted three weeks, then vanished overnight as the weather turned warmer. Suddenly, everyone was talking about the carnival that would take place at the end of February. Elena explained that the name came from the Latin words
carne
meaning the flesh, and
vale
meaning farewell.

“It’s the last thing that happens before Lent when we must all renounce the pleasures of the flesh and be very, very good,” she pouted. “So, before Lent begins, we have several days to enjoy the worldly things. Oh,
cara
you should see the streets of Venice during Carnival, full of people in fancy costumes. And there are lots of lovely parties when we eat and drink as much as we like, and—other pleasures.” She finished on a chuckle.

The young man in the morgue had been identified and there were no further scares. But as the weeks went by, neither was there any news of Leo, and Terri’s heart hardened again toward Maurizio. Their brief moment of tenderness and understanding remained only as a memory that tormented her, not as a hope for the future.

Elena plunged into an orgy of planning entertainments and buying clothes. She had two Columbine costumes made for herself and Terri, each with a tight satin bodice and a huge frothy white skirt made of tulle, decorated with glitter. The two costumes were identical in every respect except that the glitter was gold on one and silver on the other.

When they tried them on and surveyed themselves side by side in the mirror, Terri drew in her breath. They were the same height and size, the same coloring, and with their masks on, they might have been twins. Surely Elena would see...?

“Perfetto,”
the
contessa
declared.

“Elena—”

“Oh, please don’t say again that I give you too much,” Elena begged. “I love to give you things. I used to think—perhaps I might have a daughter one day. How I would love to take her shopping, and talk to her about things I can’t tell anyone else.” She hesitated before saying with a little sigh, “I hope she would have been like you. Please let me spoil you,
cara.
I do so long for someone to spoil.”