Beloved (44 page)

That was enough to get him out of bed. As he dressed for the evening, his thoughts turned to Christina and Guy. Her child would be born soon.
His
child. Perhaps even a son. And he began to think he might want to see the baby before he left the country. Things might have changed and they might even be happy to see him. That made him smile as he left the room.

Stefano did well at cards that night at an inn near the waterfront, a large and prosperous place, one that catered more to travelers and ships’ officers than to sailors and dockworkers. The clientele suited him. He knew they were just the sort of men who were apt to be rather free with their money, especially if they’d been at sea awhile and had taken an extra drink or two. He also felt safe there and wouldn’t have to worry about being robbed. One experience of that sort had been quite enough. As he played, he was careful to win often enough to make others want to challenge him, but not so often as to make anyone think he might be cheating. Buoyed by his success, he was still playing long after midnight.

Just across the room, hidden in the shadow of the stairway, Richard sat watching the man who appeared to be his beardless twin. The resemblance was quite remarkable. He asked the landlord the identity of the young man who seemed to be doing so well at cards, but the landlord didn’t know him. And so, fascinated, he continued to sit and watch.

Richard had arrived in Marseilles too late that evening to start for Arles. Since he’d chosen to travel overland, he intended to ride at night for the best cover. But the ship had been delayed and delivered him to Marseilles several hours later than anticipated, and now he would have to wait through to the next evening before leaving. The delay annoyed him, but there was little he could do about it, so he contented himself with observing the stranger.

The next afternoon Richard bought himself a good horse and made preparations to leave. When it was finally full dark, he gathered his things and settled his bill with the innkeeper. Just as he opened the door to step out into the street, he came face to face with his mysterious twin. The incredible resemblance proved even more startling at close range. For an instant their eyes met.

Richard quickly looked away. He hoped his beard would prevent the stranger from noticing what, to him, was all too obvious.

“
Pardon,
Monsieur
,
” Stefano said, as he stepped aside for the bearded man. But when their eyes met, Stefano, too, was startled. Surely this man must be his twin. He looked exactly as Stefano had when he’d worn a beard one winter.

“Signore
,
” Richard said, nodding.

“That explains everything,” Stefano said brightly in Italian, at the same time stepping back in front of Richard, blocking his way.

“Signore
?
” Richard said, still not looking directly at Stefano.

“I am also Italian, so perhaps we are long lost brothers, after all.”

Richard smiled, in spite of himself. “I think not, Signore, for I have only sisters.”

Stefano laughed. “Perhaps you are mistaken. At any rate, I think it’s time we met. I’m Stefano Ferro,” he said, with a slight bow.

“Ricardo Bonelli,” Richard said, automatically, appropriating Arabella’s name, as he had on the set of false papers he carried.

“Please, Signore, let me buy you a drink,” Stefano offered.

“I’m sorry. My ship is leaving.”

“No. I insist. This doesn’t happen every day. Just a few minutes, please?”

Richard would have preferred to refuse, but they were blocking the entrance to the inn and other patrons were trying to pass. He had no wish to do anything that might draw attention to himself and so he acquiesced.

“Very well, but only a few minutes.”

“
Bravo
!” Stefano exclaimed, slapping Richard on the back as they returned to the dining room. “So tell me, where are you from?”

“Venice,” Richard answered, thinking it safest to name the city he was most familiar with. Stefano’s accent, subtly colored by the argot of the canals, struck Richard as a bit odd and he never would have guessed him to be Venetian.

“You see, I was right. I, too, am from Venice, Signore. It may be that we are related in some way.”

Fascinated as he was by the man sitting across the table from him, and who looked far more like him than his own brothers did, Richard knew he was on dangerous ground. He must leave. The resemblance was too strong not to be noticed. It would take only one person to tell Stefano that he looked remarkably like the Baron’s son and Stefano would realize who he was. If that happened, the police would eventually know he’d returned. There were far too many men anxious to make an extra coin or two from the sale of such information.

“Tell me about yourself,” Richard suggested, hoping to keep Stefano from asking more questions.

As Stefano talked, Richard began to believe that his very presence might prove to be a blessing in disguise. If someone swore he’d seen the Baron’s son in Marseilles, was it not more likely that he had seen Stefano? Richard noted the hôtel where Stefano said he was staying.

“So, you said your ship is about to sail. Where are you bound?”

“Spain.”

“A pity. I know a rather interesting woman who might fancy meeting you,” Stefano said, thinking the two of them might prove a novel diversion for Sabine, indeed one he might be able to convince her was worth a reasonable sum.

“I’m sorry. I’ll have to forgo that pleasure. I really must be leaving.”

“Surely we’ll meet again? How may I contact you, Signore
?
”

“You can leave a message for me here. I stop at the inn whenever I’m in port.” It was a lie, of course. But any of the sailors on his ships could pick up a message for Ricardo Bonelli and get it to him with no one the wiser. He couldn’t help but be curious about Stefano, but there was no time to pursue it.

“
Addio,
then. I hope we will meet again—soon.”

Stefano watched his twin head for the door. He was a little taller, a bit broader through the shoulders but perhaps that was only the effect of the long, black cape he wore. There was something about him that made it hard for Stefano to believe that he was a sailor, though he couldn’t say what. Was the fabric of his clothing a bit too fine, his manners too polished?

Well, perhaps they
would
meet again. There was no telling how long Sabine was going to keep him in Marseilles and if his good fortune at cards continued, he would be quite content to stay. He might even be there when the man returned. As Bonelli opened the door to leave, the firelight caught the silver gleam of a spur on the heel of his boot, and Stefano was left to wonder why a sailor needed spurs.

The brilliant full moon that shimmered across the inky waters of the Rhône earlier that evening was now completely hidden behind the dark billowing clouds sweeping across the valley below Lex Baux. Rolling thunder followed the intermittent flashes of lightning and illuminated the slight rise of ground topped by the formidable tower of the Abbey of Montmajour. Undaunted by the turn in the weather, Richard pushed his mount relentlessly through the blowing rain and up the narrow road to the abbey.

He cautiously slowed his horse to a walk as he neared the wall, though the mud adequately muffled the sound of his approach. It was just after eleven and he knew the abbey would be asleep. He’d sent word to Robert that he’d be arriving that night and the weather had only cost him about an hour. Before he could dismount, the gate to the rear courtyard opened slowly, revealing a hooded figure holding a lantern. Once inside, Richard swung down, deftly removing the heavy saddlebags as he passed the reins to a waiting hand.

When the young monk recognized the bearded horseman, a smile of surprise brightened his face. He was rewarded with a companionable slap on the shoulder as Richard turned and hurried up the stone steps, throwing the leather bags over his shoulder as he reached the massive wooden door. He pressed the latch and it swung inward, admitting him to a dimly lit hallway where Robert waited.

Richard pushed back his hood and smiled at his brother. They embraced.

“Thank God you’ve come,” Robert whispered. He took another look at his bearded brother, then motioned him to pull his hood up and follow quietly.

They made their way silently through the scriptorium and the dim hallways of the chapterhouse. It would be three more hours before the abbey would wake for Matins, and so they encountered no one as they climbed the narrow stone stairs to the uppermost floor. They passed one door and stopped at the second where Robert reached out and slid the bolt.

“I think it best if you stay here tonight,” Robert said, “I’ll make other arrangements tomorrow.”

Richard glanced around the room, which was obviously intended for a well-to-do pilgrim. There was a fire in the fireplace and he went to it, warming himself as he pulled off his heavy gloves. He noticed the portraits of Christina’s family and realized the room must be hers. He removed his soaking cape and turned to face his brother.

“There’s a change of clothes,” the older man said, indicating the brown monk’s robe that lay over the back of the chair. “Not the style you’re used to, but it’s best that you remain as inconspicuous as possible.” Robert looked away, obviously uncomfortable. “We can discuss a way of explaining your presence tomorrow. I have an idea.”

Robert continued to avoid Richard’s eyes. He found himself suddenly intent on the candle on the table, and then the arranging of the wine bottle and glass. As Richard removed his shirt, Robert continued to bustle about nervously. Finally, Richard reached out and grabbed him by the arm. When Robert looked directly at Richard, he was surprised by the expression on his brother’s face.

“Christina?” That was all Richard said, but his tone made it clear he’d come a long way for an explanation of the letter that called him back to Arles, upsetting his life and his plans for a future with Arabella. He released Robert and waited.

Robert looked down, still trying to avoid the inevitable. “Oh…most of these things are hers. She sent them over after Antonio died.” Robert knew his answer was not the one Richard wanted. “She’s expected tomorrow.”

Richard sensed Robert’s reluctance and, momentarily content with that piece of information, he began to remove the rest of his wet clothes. He pulled one of the chairs closer to the fire and hung his things over it to dry.

“Is she well? How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

“Actually, I haven’t seen her since May.”

“But you’re sure she’s coming?”

“Guy asked that she stay with us while he’s in Venice on business. According to his letter, he’ll be bringing her tomorrow.” He watched as Richard slipped into the coarse brown robe.

“Richard…there’s something you must know…”

Richard jerked the robe, pulling it quickly over his head, waiting.

“Christina is…she’s not the same.”

“What does that mean?”

Robert hesitated.
God in heaven, what have I done? Was it a mistake to send for Richard? And if Guy is right…if Christina is losing her mind… what then?

“Things haven’t been easy for her since you left. Her marriage has been…well, less than happy. She lost the child she was carrying earlier this year and now…I can only hope I haven’t made a mistake by sending for you, especially in light of your letter.” He searched Richard’s face for reassurance.

Richard had been blaming Robert for his decision to leave Arabella behind, but knew that was unfair. Robert had written to him before receiving the letter about his marriage plans. He realized that he’d failed to consider how difficult it must have been for Robert to write that letter.

“You haven’t told her I was coming?”

“No. I wasn’t sure that you would, and I haven’t had the opportunity to contact her since word came you were on your way.”

Richard turned back to the fire, staring into the flickering flames. “I’ve never understood why she didn’t come with me when I left.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“Forgive me, but what of Arabella?” Robert noticed the muscles in Richard’s jaw tighten the moment he mentioned her name.

“We both agreed I should come.” Richard’s tone was curt, making it obvious that he did not wish to discuss the woman he’d left behind.

Robert nodded, too weary to pursue it. He pulled Guy’s letter from his sleeve and laid it on the table between them.

“I think you should read this. I can’t say how much truth there is to it, but at least you’ll be prepared.” He turned to go, but stopped with his hand on the door. “Richard…Christina’s not the same girl you left that summer.”

Richard smiled sadly as he reached to take the letter. “I’m afraid none of us are who we were then. Please, don’t worry.”

Robert shook his head and smiled. Richard always seemed so sure of himself, always confident of his ability to deal with any situation.
Well, we’ll see how he fares this time out.

“I must go. Take your rest and I’ll come for you after Prime. We can discuss my idea of what to do with you then.”

When Robert had gone, Richard unfolded the letter.

My Lord Abbot,

It seems I will be leaving Christina with you after all.

I had so hoped that she would accompany me to Venice, but an unfortunate incident earlier this week made it plain that would be impossible. I must ask that you watch her closely.

Events have led me to believe that she may attempt to harm others or even herself.

I hate to be leaving her, but there’s no help for it. I must go.

I trust you to do all you can on her behalf. I will be bringing her to you on Monday evening.

With appreciation of the service you do us,

G. Jonvaux

Richard read it again, and then a third time. It was useless to speculate. He refolded the letter and tossed it back on the table.

Christina must be making a sizeable contribution to the abbey, he thought, as he studied the room. It was a comfortable size, rectangular except for the L-shaped alcove that held the carved bed with its heavy hangings, and beyond that a huge old armoire. The furniture looked familiar to him. Probably from her father’s house, as Robert said.