Lucy Gordon - Wife By Arrangement

‘Your favorite wine, signore,’ Jocasta said, pouring for him.

‘Good. And I’ve had a pressing invitation to lunch,’ he said shamelessly.

‘Then I’ll tell Gino to prepare some meatballs in tomato soup,’ Jocasta said.

‘Not for lunch, because they’ll take time to prepare and we’d like to eat quickly before we go out,’ Renato said. ‘But I’ll have them for supper tonight.’

‘I never invited you for lunch or supper,’ Heather pointed out when they were alone.

‘But you were just about to. I could tell.’

To think she’d actually been glad to see him! He seemed to ruffle her feathers for the devilment of it. Why couldn’t it have been him in the car this afternoon, as it should have been? But no, he had to arrive at the wrong moment, teasing and tormenting her, putting her on the defensive, ruining what might have been a delightful visit. And doing all this while looking so vividly alive that something sang inside her and she wondered how she had endured so long without the sight of him. She could gladly have wrung his neck.

‘And as for telling her when to serve lunch-’

‘We’re going out straight after and there’s no time to waste.’

As they sat down to lunch they had each managed to slide the polite masks into place, and Renato had done more. He managed to look as though the whole scene hadn’t taken place. Heather only hoped her own efforts were as successful.

‘Tell me, how have you been while I’ve been away?’ he asked.

‘I’ve enjoyed your absence considerably. Can I hope to have it repeated again soon?’

‘Not for a while, I’m afraid. This estate has always been one of our most productive, and it has to stay that way. That means you must know what to do. Luigi will take responsibility, of course, but if you don’t know what he’s doing he won’t respect you.’

‘But-’ Heather meant to explain yet again that she was going to return the estate to its rightful owner, but gave up. Nobody had listened to her so far, and plainly Renato wasn’t listening now.

In fact he seemed to regard her chiefly as an audience. He talked at her rather than to her, and once remarked that she wasn’t listening properly. He was totally businesslike and the electricity that had flashed between them earlier might never have been.

‘The rains are due,’ he told her. ‘But with any luck we’ll have a few days first. That’s why I’m here now. Let’s go.’

A small crowd had gathered to watch them get into his open-topped car at the front of the villa. ‘Your tenants,’ Renato told her.

‘You mean some of them live in houses that belong to the estate?’

‘All of them live in Ellona, which is yours.’

‘But I thought-just one or two houses-’

‘Every house in the village. That’s why they’re watching you. What you do affects them.’

That was only the start. As they drove out that afternoon he showed her vineyards, orchards and olive groves that were all hers. Everything was well kept and flourishing, the tenants celebrating bumper harvests, eager to talk about loans for next year’s fertiliser. This was Renato’s territory, and Heather had expected him to use his expert knowledge to reduce her to silence. But she had to admit that he behaved beautifully, bringing her into every conversation, treating her with respect, explaining what she needed to know without talking down to her.

At one sheep farm she became fascinated, asking a series of intelligent questions that had the tenant family nodding approval. In a combination of English, Italian and Sicilian she explained that her uncle had been a shepherd.

‘We used to spend holidays with him and he’d let me help with the lambing. I loved that.’

‘What kind of sheep?’ they wanted to know.

‘Blackface, some angora-’ And she was away, talking eagerly.

They took her to see their best ram and watched as she ran knowledgeable hands over it. They discussed vets’ bills. Scandalous. And milking. Did they milk their sheep? They did but they hadn’t expected her to know it was possible.

At last the talk died. She looked around and found them staring at her with interest. Renato was smiling as though he’d won something. Heather felt a prickle on her spine as a suspicion came to her.

As they drove back through Ellona Heather’s suspicions increased. Every window and door in the main street was open, and they were being studied by curious eyes. The plump little priest stepped out to hail them, and they stopped at his house for a drink. When they emerged they were watched even more intently. It was obvious that this scrutiny had a reason, and she was beginning to fear that she knew what it was.

As they reached the villa Renato said, ‘Tomorrow we’ll go on horseback.’

‘You’re coming back tomorrow?’

‘I’m staying overnight. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not at all,’ she said politely. ‘I’ll tell Jocasta.’

‘No need. I should think she’s put my things in my room by now.’

He was right. Clearly he was a favourite with Jocasta, who had not only unpacked his case but ordered the evening meal to suit him. Heather didn’t know how to protest about the way he’d taken over. After all, she kept saying that Bella Rosaria wasn’t really hers, so it was hard to complain when he took her at her word.

They enjoyed the last of the light wandering in the garden. ‘I loved playing here better than anywhere else,’ he remembered. ‘This was a wonderful place for gangs of bandits. I used to get the boys from the village in and we created mayhem.’

She smiled. ‘I wonder how Baptista felt about that in her flower garden.’

‘She didn’t mind. She said what mattered was that there should be happiness here.’ They had reached the rose arbour and sat on the wooden seat. ‘I used to come out in the evening and find her sitting in this spot, with her eyes closed.’

‘Did you ever find out why?’ she asked cautiously.

‘You mean did I know about Federico? Yes, the head gardener told me. He’d worked here for years and knew all about it. Apparently there were a lot of rumours when the young man vanished so suddenly.’

‘That was the hardest for Baptista to bear,’ Heather said. ‘Not knowing. You surely don’t think-?’

‘I doubt it, but I have to admit that my grandfather was a man who wouldn’t tolerate opposition.’

They had supper in the library, close to the open French windows. Renato’s mood had mellowed and he went on reminiscing about the villa as he’d known it in his childhood.

‘I always knew it had a special place in my mother’s heart. Perhaps that’s why it became enchanted to me too. The Residenza was just a building, but Bella Rosaria was special.’

‘Then take it back.’

He gave her an ironic look. ‘There’s only one way I can do that.’

‘No marriage,’ she said at once. ‘We both agreed.’

He shrugged. ‘My mother is a very persuasive woman, and I’m a man with a strong sense of duty.’

She rested her elbows on the table and met his eyes. ‘Rubbish!’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you can forget it. No marriage. Not now. Not ever. You can take that as final.’

He grinned. ‘Suppose I don’t choose to?’

‘Oh, stop this! I know you’re only fooling but it’s not fair to give the village ideas. Do you think I don’t know why they were out in force, watching us? And the priest, practically giving us his blessing. You ought to stop them thinking things. It’s not fair.’

‘To whom?’

‘To them. They obviously like the idea.’

‘Yes, you’ve made yourself popular. And the fact that you know about sheep will be all over the district tonight. Everyone around here sees the propriety of our marriage as clearly as Mamma does.’

She laughed. ‘They’d think differently if they could have heard what you said about swimming the Straits of Messina in lead weights.’

He winced. ‘I deny it. I never said any such thing. Anyway, a man can grow wiser.’

She refused to rise to the bait. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said.

‘You’re right. We’ll make an early start in the morning. Don’t be late. I dislike women who keep me waiting.’

This was so clearly meant to be provocative that she said, ‘I really will kick your shins in a minute,’ in a teasing voice.

‘Exactly what Mamma advised, night and morning. You see, we’re acting like an old married couple already.’

She began to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She ought to at least try to stay cross with him, but the excellent wine and the company of a man who, for all his infuriating behaviour, was still more mysteriously attractive than anyone she’d ever known, was a potent combination. Tonight he’d been pleasant company, making her like him better than at any time before.

‘That’s better than the last time I heard you laugh,’ he said approvingly.

The night in the garden, when she’d laughed on the edge of sobs, and he’d kissed her with a tenderness that had haunted her dreams since. She met his eyes and looked quickly away, confused. She no longer knew what she wanted.

They climbed the stairs together. Outside her door he took her hand, said gently, ‘Goodnight, Heather,’ and went across the corridor to his own room without waiting for her answer.

When she’d closed her door she stood for a long time, listening to the sound of her own heart beating. He would come to her tonight. She knew that beyond any doubt. Suddenly decided, she turned the key in her lock.

She undressed slowly, torn this way and that, until she crept to the door and unlocked it. Then she got into bed and lay listening to the creaks of the old house, as the night grew quiet around them, staring into the darkness.

Renato wanted to marry her. Or rather, he’d decided in favour of the marriage. That was more accurate. The family needed an heir, and Lorenzo had proved too unreliable, so Renato had reluctantly bowed his neck to the yoke. Marrying her would please his mother and satisfy his sense of duty.

Nothing else?

Yes. She’d challenged him, laughed at him, snubbed him. His pride was at stake. And he wanted to sleep with her. He’d made no bones about it. But she already knew how little physical relationships counted with him. When he’d soothed his pride and gained what he wanted-what then?

Hell is love without desire, and desire without love-desire without love-

At last she fell asleep.

WHEN they met at breakfast her mood was cool. Naturally she was glad of Renato’s restraint the night before. If he’d tried to come to her bed it would have clouded the issue and she would have been angry at his calculation.

But the apparently easy way he’d resisted her was also a kind of calculation, and of the two it was the more insulting. She blushed to recall that she’d left her door unlocked, and he hadn’t even tried it. One small victory to him. If she weakened he would control the situation, and that she mustn’t allow.

He didn’t seem to notice her reserve. His own mood was edgy. Over breakfast he spoke tersely, smiled very little and looked haggard.

The horses were brought round. Soon after they set out she realised that Renato had been right when he’d said the story of the sheep would be all over the district. Wherever they went she found none of the suspicion or hostility that she would have expected, considering that she was a stranger and a foreigner. By some mysterious bush telegraph they knew Renato had chosen her for his wife, they regarded the match as settled, and they approved.

Before long the beauty of the day had its effect on both of them, softening her mood and making him less tense. They stopped at a farm and sat in the sun, drinking rough home-made wine and eating goat’s-milk cheese. Heather had been enchanted by Sicily from the first moment. Now she found new things to delight her wherever she looked.

‘I love that,’ she said, pointing to the ruins of a Greek temple in the distance, with sheep and goats munching contentedly nearby. ‘A great, ancient civilisation, side by side with everyday reality. The sheep aren’t awed by the temple, and the temple isn’t less splendid because of the sheep.’

He nodded agreement. ‘It was built in honour of Ceres, the goddess of fertility and abundance. The more sheep the better.’

‘And seeing them in harmony like that sums up so much about this country.’

‘Do you know how like a Sicilian you sound?’ he said. ‘Talking as though this was a separate country, instead of part of Italy. We all do that.’

‘Yes, I’d noticed. And it’s more than a separate country. It’s a separate world. There’s nothing like it anywhere else.’

‘And will you leave it? Turn your back on the welcome it’s given you?’