Vintage Love (90 page)

Aunt Isobel was anxious. “Where can the Prince be? I understood he was to meet us.”

“He’ll likely be in the station,” Della told her.

They reached the station, which was an ornate building with fine scenic murals on the walls. Its vast main area was filled with people, some standing in groups, others making their way in every direction. Trains were constantly arriving and leaving and the hurly-burly of incoming and outgoing passengers never ended.

She stood with Henry and her aunt waiting for some sign of the Prince or her twin sister. She asked Henry, “Did Sir Roger send Prince Sanzio the day and hour we would be arriving?”

“Yes. It was all sent long ago,” he said.

Aunt Isobel looked around her with wary eyes. “How can we expect anyone to find us in this huge place?”

“I’m sure he’ll come or send someone,” Henry said.

Della was all at once aware of a child watching her from a distance. She could not help feeling it odd that the youngster should have singled her out. And it was puzzling that he should be wearing long trousers and a tiny bowler hat. The boy was dressed like a miniature man. And as she took all this in she was further astonished to see him come slowly toward them.

She tugged Henry’s arm, saying, “That boy seems to be coming toward us.”

Henry said, “He may be merely coming this way.”

“I’m sure he’s been staring at me,” she said.

Aunt Isobel gave her a troubled glance. “I think you are imagining things, Della. And no wonder, with us in this busy, awful place.”

Della was in for another shock. As the boy drew nearer there came a strange transformation: he was no longer a boy! Coming gravely toward her in the black suit and black bowler hat was a man less than four feet in height with a sallow, wrinkled face and deepset eyes.

He came up to her and, removing his hat to show gray hair, bowed and in a thin voice said, “I am Guido, factotum for Prince Sanzio. I presume you are Miss Standish and these are your fellow travelers?”

Recovering from her surprise, Della told the staid, little man, “You are correct, Guido. I am Della Standish and this is my Aunt Isobel Moore and Mr. Henry Clarkson, my good friend and lawyer.”

Guido acknowledged the introductions and bowed in his stiff fashion. “I have a carriage waiting to take you to the palace. I shall get porters and see about your luggage.”

Della asked, “Are you sure we will not be imposing on the Prince? We could go to a hotel.”

The midget lifted a small hand in protest. “He would not hear of it. And may I say you look very much like the Princess Irma. No one could dispute that you are sisters!”

“I’m very excited about meeting her,” Della said.

“All in good time,” the little man said. “You will excuse me while I see about your baggage.” And he hurried away.

“What sort of a household can it be?” Aunt Isobel exclaimed. “Why would the Prince hire a midget to manage it?”

Henry gave the older woman an amused look. “No doubt because he is competent. Good servants are hard to find.”

“He seems to know what he is doing,” Della agreed.

This was borne out by his return with two sturdy porters who whisked away their hand baggage and then looked after their trunks, mounting all onto the back of a large open carriage. When the things were securely tied on the luggage rack, they took their places in the carriage, and Guido seated himself in front with the driver. They were on their way to the palace at last.

The sun was warm and the skies friendly after the gray mists of London which they had left behind. Della was impressed by the ornate beauty of the ancient buildings they passed as well as the patches of green, even in the middle of the great city, and the dark green and brownish trees which rose high in some streets.

There were just as many people and vehicles in the streets as back in London. This seemed to be a busy time. The Roman squares and fountains were charming and gave the hot city a feeling of coolness.

The carriage rolled on and they came to a more elegant area with four beautiful fountains ornamented with giant figures.

Guido turned to call down to them in his piping voice, “We are at the Piazza Quirinale. Here you will see the statues of the horse tamers, executed in the first century!”

They were all impressed by the magnificent square and the statues. They continued on to the Piazza di Spagna which was one glorious bed of flowers. Artists had easels set up there and models dressed in shimmering, regional costumes posed for them. Next they came to the Via Condotti with its art shops and the nearby Café Greco with its many tables and chairs for outside dining.

The carriage made a sharp right turn into what seemed like an alley but was actually a small side street lined with brick houses with shuttered windows. At the very end of this dead-end street a single building faced them. Its stone was of a light brown shade and the green marble columns at its entrance and the ornamental carved dragons which faced each other above the door made Della at once decide this was the palace of Prince Sanzio.

She was almost at once proven right when the carriage came to a halt before the door. The midget Guido gave the driver some curt instructions then scrambled down to see them to the sidewalk and escort them into the house.

The little man explained, “The Prince is a semi-invalid so he will greet you later in the living room rather than meet you at the door. You may get settled in your rooms first. Your baggage will be sent up to you.”

He led them into the palace and Della’s first impression was of dark and dampness. Yet she saw that it had a shabby sort of elegance. There were fine tapestries and paintings on the walls, though the carpets which they traversed were worn and thin. They mounted a curving marble stairway to the second floor where their rooms were located.

Her room was far down the corridor at the rear of the palace. It had once had a rich crimson and gold decor but now the crimson was faded and the gold had lost its luster. The golden fringe of the canopied bed was forlorn-looking, as were the crimson drapes at the tall windows. The floor was of ceramic with rugs at suitable places. The furniture was carved, heavy mahogany.

The views from her windows were lovely. Nearby there was a canal with a stone bridge across it and beyond that a section of small houses. In the background houses on hills extended into the distance. The sun touched the dome of some cathedral, giving it the shining glory of pure gold.

She moved about the room and studied the small portrait of a long-ago beauty hanging in an oval frame on the wall near her bed. Inside the palace it seemed as if the present had ceased to exist. And she wondered what it had been like for her sister to have grown up in this place.

She had not heard anything from Guido about her sister, aside from his comment that there was a strong family resemblance between them. She found herself growing progressively more excited about their first meeting. She had even allowed the unpleasantness of the stolen Madonna to slip from her mind for a while. This was the moment for which she had made the long, strenuous journey. She hoped that the girl would be truly her sister and that they might become friends.

A burly manservant in livery had brought up her luggage. She was gradually unpacking without the assistance of a maid when there was a knock on her door. She went to it and found the diminutive Guido standing there.

“The Prince will greet you and your friends now,” the little man said importantly.

“Very well,” she said. “Have you notified the others?”

“I will knock at their doors,” he promised.

“What about my sister?” she asked. “Will she be down below with the Prince to greet us?”

“No,” the small majordomo replied. “Princess Irma has not returned.”

She was disappointed. “But she will be here later, won’t she?”

“I would hope so, miss,” Guido said. “She was supposed to be here for this gathering.”

He left her and she hurried to prepare herself for her reception with the old Prince. She had no idea what he might be like but she badly wanted to make a good impression on him. She had chosen a smart yellow gown which she felt showed her to advantage.

In the corridor she met Henry and Aunt Isobel. From their comments their rooms were much the same as hers. The house had once been outstanding, but years of neglect had taken their toll. The house had taken on an old and melancholy air.

They made their way down the curving marble stairway to the living room. Seated there in a wheelchair was a frail, white-haired man wearing a black velvet coat and velvet string tie. His face was lined and sallow and showed a look of resigned sadness.

Della went straight to him and curtsied. “I am Della Standish, and you are Prince Sanzio!”

The old man smiled and took her hand in his. “I would have known you even if you hadn’t told me. You bear a striking likeness to my Irma.”

“I should,” she said with a smile. “She is my twin.”

“Without question,” the old man said in his cultured, even tone. “I first doubted the woman’s letter when it came to me. But I gradually began to believe it was true. Seeing you has satisfied my last doubts.”

Della turned to the others, saying, “You must meet my Aunt Isobel and my lawyer, Henry Clarkson.”

“Delighted,” Prince Sanzio said, greeting them with his gracious smile. “Sir Roger Drexel wrote me about both of you.”

“I have come to take care of the legal details, Prince Sanzio,” the young man said.

“That is good.” The old man spoke excellent English though he occasionally hesitated to dredge the right word from his mind. “My lawyers will be at your service.”

“Where is my sister?” Della said.

The thin face of the old man saddened. “You must forgive her. It seems that she has been detained.”

“I have so waited for this moment,” Della told him.

“I understand,” he said. “And she is most desirous of meeting you. I cannot guess why she is not here!”

“At any rate she will be returning home soon,” Della said.

“For dinner, surely,” the old man said. “We take a siesta from noon to four in this city, and dinner does not usually begin until eight or nine in the evening. In that way we rest during the warmest part of the day.”

Aunt Isobel spoke up, “It sounds very practical, Prince Sanzio.”

He smiled again in his sad fashion. “Rome is a most practical city as well as being a saintly one.” And to the small Guido, he said, “Would you take Mr. Clarkson and Miss Moore on a tour of the house. Let them see my art collection in the other rooms. I have something of a personal nature to say to Miss Standish.”

“Yes, your Highness,” the little man replied at once as he bowed to the old man in the wheelchair. And to Henry and Aunt Isobel, he said curtly, “You will follow me.”

Della was amused at the expressions on the faces of the other two as they were so peremptorily dismissed by the Prince. When they were alone he gave her a troubled look.

“Did this cause them any unpleasantness?” he asked.

“Sending them away?”

“Yes.”

“I think they were surprised but I’m sure they will understand,” she said.

“I hope so,” Prince Sanzio said. “I’m a frail old man and I sometimes behave without grace.”

“Do not concern yourself,” she said. “I’m sure they will enjoy seeing your paintings and sculpture.”

“There are enough of them,” the Prince said wearily, his pale hands clutching the chair arms. “I can barely walk with the aid of crutches, so severe is my rheumatism. So I prefer to use this chair to get about. And for convenience I now live on this lower floor.”

“That seems wise.”

He studied her with his ancient gray eyes. “You are even lovelier than my Irma,” he said. “I have words only for your ears.”

“Do tell me,” she said, drawing up a plain chair to sit near him in the shadowed old room.

“I was once a wealthy man and this house was a show-place,” the old man said sadly. “But imprudence at the gambling tables and other financial reverses have brought me to near poverty. I have only my title and barely enough money to run this house left.”

“That is too bad,” she said. “But at least you still have the palace.”

“I have clung to it. We are without the proper number of servants, that is why I have no maid for you,” he explained.

“I can manage without one.”

“When the Englishwoman died and I received the letter from her lawyer it seemed like a blessing from Heaven. I have long been worried bout Princess Irma.”

“Please tell me,” she asked him.

He sighed. “She grew up an ideal girl and blossomed into a lovely young woman. In spite of our poverty the noble name of Sanzio brought her many suitors. And in due time she became engaged to one, Prince Raphael. They were to have been married last month.”

“But the marriage was postponed? Because you knew I was coming?”

“Irma used that as an excuse,” the old man said. “But I do not think it was the whole reason. For a long while she has been behaving strangely.”

“Strangely?”

Prince Sanzio nodded. “Do you believe in evil spirits?”

“In what way?”

“This house is said to be inhabited by evil spirits of some of my ancestors,” he explained. “I sometimes wonder if they have put a curse on me and my adopted daughter.”

“What is this Prince Raphael like?” she asked.

“A fine young man without much money,” the old man in the wheelchair said. It was clear that money occupied his thoughts a good deal. “But he was excellent family alliances and with some luck can look forward to a career in the service of our government. First as a minor official, later as a full-fledged diplomatic emissary.”

“That sounds exciting!”

“So I have told Irma! But she is impatient for wealth and I think that is why she has changed her mind about him.”

“Has her manner toward her husband-to-be changed suddenly?”

“In the last year,” the old Prince said. “Since she has come under the influence of that foul Barsini!” He spoke with rising anger.

“Barsini? Who is he?”

“A wastrel! Inherited a fortune from his father and gives his time to spending it in wanton fashion. He is twice Irma’s age with the reputation of being a roué, and yet she has all at once fallen under his spell!”