Anne Mather - Masquerade

“My name is Arturo Cioni,” went on the man, “and this is my brother Giovanni.” He smiled. “We are your father’s solicitors.” He hesitated. “Do you speak Italian, Miss Kingsley?”

Samantha smiled and nodded. “Yes. Do speak in your own language if it is easier for you.”

“Good.” The man continued in Italian. “We have had a communication from your grandmother in England. I understand you have had the same. Yes?”

“That’s right,” Samantha nodded. “It arrived this morning. I must confess I knew nothing at all about having any other relations. My father did not tell me.”

“Yes, I know. But now your grandmother has instructed us to arrange for your flight to England. Was this explained in your letter?”

“Yes. I haven’t got over the initial shock yet.”

“Very understandable,” said the younger man, speaking for the first time. “I always advised your father that you should be made aware of the facts in case such an unfortunate contingency occurred. I think he found it hard to tell you. You had lived so long without this knowledge. I also think he was a little afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Yes. You were his only reason for living. Had you known that you had a mother in England, you might have insisted that you return there directly and see her. He might also have feared you would prefer her life to his.”

“Oh, how could he have thought that? He knew I adored living here. I would never have left him.” Samantha felt quite distraught.

“Please. Do not distress yourself unduly. Your father died a happy man. He never told you and your life was his to mould as he wished. I think that was all he ever asked.”

“Yes.” Samantha was unsure.

“Now. Let us get down to details,” said Arturo Cioni, in a more businesslike manner. “Your grandmother wants you to fly from Milan to London as soon as possible. Naturally your affairs here will be tied up quite easily. Anything further you need to know can be explained to you. The villa is too big for you to rent alone. Surely by now you must have made some plans for your future.”

“Not really,” murmured Samantha weakly, sinking down on to a chair, her face pale. Suddenly she felt the enormity of what was expected of her sweeping over her, and she felt quite faint.

Benito, familiar with the whereabouts of everything in this room, crossed to a small cabinet and drew out a bottle of brandy which her father had always kept there for medicinal purposes. He poured a little into a glass and returned to Samantha, handing her the glass tenderly.

“Drink,” he murmured softly. “It will make you feel better.”

Samantha obediently sipped the fiery liquid and felt it burn its way down into her stomach, warming her chilled body.

“Forgive me!” exclaimed Arturo, looking anxiously at her. “This must all have been a great shock to you. I am a clumsy oaf. I have tried to rush you. It is simply that your grandmother put such a sense of urgency into her communication that we lost no time in putting her plans into operation.”

Samantha stiffened. She wondered how great the gulf between her parents must have been. Knowing how sensitive John had always been, her mother must have hurt him immensely for him to pack up and leave the country like that.

“Yes,” she said at last, sipping at the brandy, “I understand. And … and he thought I should go to England when he died for all he never went back.”

“Time changes many things,” put in Giovanni. “Circumstances change even more. He knew that whatever you shared could not go on for ever. One day you would have to know the truth and then decide for yourself. What else can you do? Have you a job in mind?”

“We are betrothed,” said Benito, looking fierce. “Is this not job enough? Is her future not secure in my hands? Why should some stranger provide for her what I can provide and more besides?”

“Benito!” said Samantha, sighing. “Please! We are not betrothed. Not yet. I must have time.”

Arturo shrugged. “Should you decide to stay in this country, signorina , I will inform your grandmother to that effect. You need not write or communicate with her in any way if you do not wish to do so. It is in your hands. You are of an age now to please yourself, one way or the other.”

Samantha ran a tongue over her lips. “Naturally, I am curious,” she said. “Do you know why my mother and father separated?”

“They divorced,” said Giovanni. “That is all we can tell you. Your father confided in us, but we do not know the whole story. You must find that out for yourself.”

“I see.” Samantha finished the brandy and stood the glass down. She looked thoughtfully at Benito. He looked solemn and very angry. She could tell this from the way his eyes flashed when he looked at her.

Samantha bent her head for a moment, twisting her fingers together, and then said:

“It is nearly lunch time. Will you stay to lunch?”

“That is very kind, signorina ,” said Giovanni, smiling. “We would be most grateful.”

“And after lunch, I will give you your answer,” said Samantha firmly.

Matilde was in the kitchen when Samantha went in search of her, leaving Benito to entertain her guests. She perched on the board at which Matilde was working and slowly began to explain all that had happened. Matilde did not interrupt. She was a very comforting presence and Samantha knew she would miss her terribly if she did decide to go away.

As they washed and prepared a salad, Matilde looked questioningly at the girl.

“And you will go to England?” It was a statement more than a question, and Samantha looked surprised.

“Do you think I should?”

Matilde shrugged. “I do not know, Samantha. I only know that if you do not you will spend the rest of your life wondering whether you should. What is there for you here? Marriage with young Benito. Five years marriage and who knows? You may find your life is not as full as you had thought. There would be no escape. Our faith does not recognize divorce. Once married you stay married for many long years. Be sure before you commit yourself to such a sentence.”

“Oh, Matilde. You make it sound so dreary.”

“And isn’t it? When you are young, and have the world before you, is not anything humdrum dreary? Will you really be contented with half a dozen bambini to look after? Benito is a good man. You could do no better in this village. But Benito is Italian. You are not. Never forget that. Whatever you have done in the past. However much you speak the language and become one of us, you are still English. I am sorry to sound disparaging, Samantha, but I think you know I am right. Your mind is not really undecided. Only your heart is fickle. You want the best of both worlds. You would like to be married, for a time, but this is not what marriage is for. Marriage is giving yourself into another’s keeping for ever. For as long as you live. Always remember this. No matter where you go, or who you marry.”

Samantha looked pensively at the older woman. “As usual, Matilde, you are right. But what about you? What will you do?”

Matilde smiled. “I am getting old. Too old to mind giving up my work. My sister is a widow. She lives alone in Ravenna. She will be glad of my company. She is not a poor woman, we will not starve. Do not worry about me, Samantha. Worry for yourself. Go and get what you want and hold on to it. Never be content with ‘second-best’. Just tell yourself, you are as good as anyone else, and you cannot go far wrong.”

Samantha smiled. “All right, I’ll tell the Cionis. And thank you for your understanding. I’m going to miss you.”

“If you come back, come to my sister’s in Ravenna. We will make something out. Don’t worry. Be strong, and honest, and you will survive. In life, strength of mind and purpose, solve most things. Don’t be a child. You are a young woman. Act like one and be independent.”