Sattler, Veronica (57 page)

But
Maria had wanted them. Within hours of her first visit to the orphanage, she
was meeting with the mother superior of the convent and the local priest, a
lifelong friend, to arrange to become a foster mother for the then eleven
children who constituted "the unplaceables." These she took into her
home, turning part of the upper floor into a suite of children's bedchambers, a
playroom, a schoolroom and a nursery. She hired an additional separate staff of
eight to help her in this endeavor: two nurses—for four of the children were
then infants—a tutor, two governesses, a pair of chambermaids, and the
children's own private footman—although this last, a wizened old man named
Giovanni who adored children and had sadly outlived his own grandchildren
through the devastation of war, was really far more than a servant; he was a surrogate
grandfather who regaled his young charges with jokes and funny stories and
spent hours carrying the little ones about on his shoulders or carving toys for
them out of discarded pieces of wood and the like.

Maria
herself spent the bulk of her time with the youngsters, taking an active part
in such things as instructing them in French and English, introducing them to
good music and art, escorting them on outings and teaching them to ride on the
half-dozen gentle ponies she had added to her stables. In the five years since
she'd begun doing this, the initial group of eleven had grown until it numbered
twenty, which was just last year. But this year she was down to nineteen, she
told them proudly, because of her first "graduate." A boy named
Alonzo who had lost a leg to a cannonball, and who had been almost fourteen
when he and the others in that first group arrived, had succeeded in gaining
entry into the University of Bologna and was, with Maria's financial support,
successfully studying law there.

As
Maria talked of her life with these children, Ashleigh watched her face light
up with an inner joy that spoke volumes beyond her words. Deeply moved, she saw
how this beautiful, kind woman who had lost so much when she was torn from the
child she loved, had filled the void in her life by enriching the lives of these
little ones with hope and joy; she had taken the brutal blow fate had dealt her
and turned it into an opportunity to perform an act of love, and Ashleigh found
herself humbled in her presence.

Moreover,
she found herself basking in the calm air of serenity that marked the older
woman's every movement, longing for a taste of it herself, as a thirsting man
longs for water. It was instructive. If Brett's mother could attain such a
profound state of inner peace after all she'd been through, why, then, couldn't
she? It was something to think about, and Ashleigh resolved to do so, gathering
her thoughts for a time when she could be alone. But she already half knew what
she wanted; it just depended on the right moment to put it into action.

And
so it was that the following morning, when Ashleigh arose early and came
downstairs to learn Maria was breakfasting alone, she eagerly sought her out
and accepted the
contessa's
invitation to join her.

"So,
cara,"
said Maria, "what is it that has you up and about so
early, and in your condition, too? I thought I was the only one who kept such
outrageous hours." She nodded a dismissal to the hovering footman and
poured Ashleigh's tea herself.

"Well,
m'lady, I've always been an early riser, and now that the morning sickness
appears to have left me, I really do not feel comfortable lying about in bed.
What's more, I—"

"Please,
my dear, call me Maria," said the
contessa
as she handed Ashleigh
her tea with a smile. "Now, what was it you wished to say?"

Returning
the smile, Ashleigh hesitated, wanting to be sure she phrased properly the idea
that had been running about her brain ever since dinner last night. She
prolonged the moment by taking a sip of the expertly brewed tea, then
continued. "Well, Maria, it—it's about the children. It seems I could
hardly sleep for thinking about them." Her mouth curved in a soft, radiant
smile as she recalled the moments in the drawing room when all nineteen
youngsters had been presented, even the littlest ones, a pair of infants in
their nurses' arms. "And I was just thinking, wondering, actually, if—that
is—"

"You
were thinking how you might like to share some time with them, were you
not?" questioned Maria with a soft smile.

"How
did you know?"

The
smile broadened as Maria reached out to pat her hand. "Ah, my dear, I was
not in your presence more than a few minutes before I sensed a certain...
kinship between us. Call it something that comes of loving the same man—my son,
your husband—or call it just a natural affinity certain people occasionally
have for each other, but this closeness exists. I have felt it."

Slowly,
Ashleigh nodded, her eyes fixed on Maria's. "I have too."

"Then
how can you wonder that I have read what is in your heart, darling
Ashleigh?"

Again
a nod.

"And
you are right to look to the children as a means of finding your own path. Oh,
I'm not for a minute suggesting this is something for everyone who may be
feeling he or she has... lost her way." The hazel eyes were intense as
they held Ashleigh's gaze. "But for you... yes, I think it might be just
the thing."

"Oh!"
exclaimed Ashleigh with a grateful look in her eyes. "Thank you, Maria!
You cannot know how—" She paused and thought better of what she'd been
about to say. "But of course you can," she added quietly.

"But
you must promise me you won't tax yourself,
carissima.
Children can be
ever so, ah, energetic, and I shan't have you endangering your health at a time
when you should be taking extra pains to maintain it." Maria rose from her
place at the table and came around to where Ashleigh sat. "Plenty of rest,
good food—my chef, Roberto, and I shall see to that!—and a moderate amount of
exercise," she added, wagging her finger in the good-natured way Ashleigh
had seen her use with the children.

"Oh,
yes, I promise!" cried Ashleigh, her face alight with enthusiasm.
"When can we begin?" She began to rise from her chair.

Gentle
hands settled on her shoulders, urging her back into her seat. "Just as
soon as you've eaten a healthy breakfast," Maria laughed. "I'm off to
the church, for I must see Father Umberto about posting the banns for Megan and
your brother's wedding."

Ashleigh
grinned, recalling the moment last night when Megan and Patrick had whispered
briefly together and then surprised them both by announcing their desire to be
wed in Livorno.

"Of
course," Maria was saying, "dear old Father Umberto is a bit
long-winded, bless his heart. He'll want to chat about the latest news from the
villa, asking about each and every child, and then he'll want to arrange to
meet the prospective bride and groom... and you, too, of course, and then we'll
have a spot of tea, and..." She gave Ashleigh an apologetic smile. "I
think before I leave I'd better ask Giovanni to meet with you. I could be gone
for hours!"

"Perhaps
days!" Ashleigh grinned.

"Aha!
See how quickly you attune yourself to life in Livorno? Well, I'm off, my dear.
Enjoy your breakfast, and I'll have Giovanni join you in about an hour. I think
he's planning some kind of picnic on the beach before this last spell of warm
weather we're enjoying disappears... I shall see you later." With a
whisper of silken skirts, Maria left the room.

* * * * *

In
the days that followed, Ashleigh spent as much time with the children as Maria
would allow, for her mother-in-law had summoned her own personal physician to
examine the mother-to-be, and the two of them had devised a set schedule of
rest periods Ashleigh had to promise to adhere to; and she did, though often
reluctantly, for she quickly found her time with the youngsters a thing of joy.
From picnics on the beach to romps in the garden with Finn and Lady
Dimples—each of whom immediately exhibited a love of children equal to that of
their mistress—she plunged headlong into activities she could share with the
youngsters, activities that quickly became the mainstay of her life in Livorno.
While dinner was always a formal affair for the adults, in the
contessa's
dining
room, Ashleigh almost always shared other mealtimes with the children,
frequently joining them in their upstairs dining room for an easy, relaxed meal
accompanied by much laughter as the youngsters attempted to teach her bits and
pieces of Italian. And not a night passed wherein Ashleigh couldn't be found in
the playroom, sitting on the floor in a circle of little ones, reading them a
bedtime story in slow, carefully articulated English.

Sometimes
they were joined by Megan and Patrick, as in their excursions to the stables,
where the children laughed to see the tall lady and her even taller gentleman
towering over the stout little ponies they helped saddle and lead about, and
Patrick quickly became a favorite, especially with the older boys, to whom he
told stories of America and its Indians, or tales of the sea.

At
other times it was Maria and Ashleigh who shared with the youngsters the
pleasures of outings in town or of leading the children in little Italian
canti
—the
melodies of some of these surprising Ashleigh by their familiarity until Maria
reminded her
she
had once been a child to whom a woman then named Mary
had sung the songs.

The
"old grandfather," as he was lovingly called in Italian by the
children—Giovanni—grew especially fond of Ashleigh, often treating her as just
one more of the children he adored. He took to calling her
la duchessa
piccola,
the little duchess, and with Ashleigh's laughing consent, the
children soon followed suit.

And
so the days and weeks passed, October giving way to a chilly November, and
that, to an even colder December. Patrick and Megan were married three weeks
before Christmas, for Patrick, much to Father Umberto's delight, had decided to
take instruction in the Roman faith, and he and Megan wanted to wait until his
conversion was a fact before stating their vows at the high altar.

It
was a candlelight ceremony, with two of Maria's children officiating as altar
boys, and when the children's choir, made up of a dozen more of Maria's band,
began singing the "Ave Maria," Ashleigh found herself weeping softly
as she stood behind Megan and Patrick at the rail, her heart nearly full to
bursting.

During
these months the relationship between Maria and Ashleigh grew ever closer, and
a day rarely passed without the two of them spending some time together apart
from the others. Sometimes it was a quiet breakfast shared downstairs before a
toasty fire, before the rest of the household was awake; often it was a
peaceful walk through the gardens on afternoons when the sun was strong enough
to offset the chilly breezes from the sea; occasionally they sipped a mug of
hot, mulled wine together before the fireplace in Maria's private sitting room
after the children were in bed and Patrick and Megan were off somewhere
spending time together as lovers are wont to do.

It
was during one of these late-night talks in mid-December, when Megan and
Patrick were away on their honeymoon—at the
contessa's
villa on the isle
of Capri—that their conversation at last touched on the one topic they'd
somehow been avoiding until now. It began when Maria noticed Ashleigh staring
silently into the fire, a sad, pensive look on her face.

"You
are thinking of him, aren't you,
cara?"
the older woman said
gently.

Nodding,
Ashleigh slowly turned to look at Maria, in the chair beside her. "You
always seem to know what I'm thinking," she said.

Maria
smiled. "In this case it didn't take too much intuition to determine what
could change your expression from one of gay exuberance—when we were discussing
our Christmas presents for the children a few moments ago—to the one I saw just
now. Tell me, you think of him often, no?"

Ashleigh's
smile was tinged with sadness. "A day doesn't go by that I don't think of
him. Oh, don't take me wrongly, Maria. You and the children and my life here at
the villa have been wonderful, and there are many hours when I am totally
immersed in this—" she gestured to the walls around them
"—but..."

"But
your heart longs for him," Maria said quietly. "I know... for so it
has been with me, every day, if you can believe it, for all these long years.
Child, adolescent, or man fully grown, he has never been far from my
thoughts."

Maria
paused and reached her hand suddenly into the neckline of her dressing gown
where she withdrew a delicate gold chain with a locket attached to it. Cradling
the locket in the palm of her hand, she tilted it forward to reveal a miniature
of a small boy with chestnut curls and vivid turquoise eyes.

"Oh!"
gasped Ashleigh, recognizing at once whose portrait it was, and recalling where
she had seen its mate. "
You
placed the miniature of Brett's father
on his pillow!"

Maria
nodded. "It took some daring and not a little courage, too, I can tell
you. Giovanni helped me sneak into the garden at Ravensford Hall that night—he
was among the men Gregorio sent with me when I made my clandestine visits to
Kent—but it was I, dressed in seaman's trousers, who scaled the ivy-covered
wall beneath my son's window and placed his father's portrait where he'd find
it. I know it was crazy. I only knew I wanted him to have something... some
memento of the... happier past...."