The Silk Vendetta (18 page)

“Has the doctor been sent for?” asked Charles.

“Jim has gone off to fetch him,” Cassie told him.

“You are so kind …” said the Italian girl.

“Everything will be all right.” Charles spoke soothingly, caressingly.

Lady Sallonger, left in the dining room, was querulously asking what was going on. She called to me and I went in and told her.

“What is going to happen then?” she asked.

“I don’t know. They have sent for the doctor. She’s hurt her ankle and Charles thought it ought to be seen to.”

The doctor was soon with us. He examined the ankle and said he was certain no bones were broken. He thought it might be a strain. He must bind it up and he thought that a few days’ rest might put it to rights.

Charles said she must stay at The Silk House until she was fit to walk. Meanwhile Philip was discovering where the little party had come from and what their destination was. They were Italians—that we already knew—and they were visiting relations in England. The young lady, Madalenna de’ Pucci, had come from friends and was returning to her brother who was staying in London. They were going to return to Italy shortly.

A plan of action was decided on.

Charles insisted that she stay with us until her ankle was well. She protested weakly but Charles was adamant. She and Maria, the maid, should stay at the house. The carriage needed very little repairs and the men could do them immediately. The driver would take the carriage to London and explain to the brother what had happened, and in a few days Signorina Madalenna and her maid could return to London.

This plan was finally agreed on and a room was prepared for Madalenna and an adjoining one for her maid. She was effusively grateful to us and kept talking of our kindness.

The excitement pleased the servants, who did all they could to make the newcomers welcome—so did the rest of us, especially Charles who was clearly taken with the Signorina’s charms.

Only Lady Sallonger felt aggrieved to have a rival invalid in the house, but it was only for a few days and even she was reconciled and during the next few days she became quite pleased to have them there. She liked to talk to Madalenna about her ailments which, she assured the young lady, were far worse than anything she could imagine; and Madalenna, who did not understand half of what she said, was too polite to show anything but absorbed interest and deep sympathy.

I think we all enjoyed her stay. It was soon clear that her ankle was not seriously damaged; she was able to hobble to the table and to and from her room; and when we were in the drawing room she would have her ankle supported on a stool or sometimes she would lie on a settee. She was very graceful, elegant and obviously well educated.

Maria, the maid, was not so fortunate. She was quietly aloof.

I supposed that was inevitable. The servants were suspicious of her. She was a foreigner who did not understand English—and that was enough to arouse their dislike. Moreover, she appeared morose; and even when kindly gestures were made they were met with something almost like hostility. She seemed to like the forest and used to go for long walks alone in it. She moved about the house silently; one would suddenly look up and see her though one had not heard her approach. Madalenna told us that it was the first time she had left Italy and she was bewildered; and that this accident should have happened had completely upset her.

Mrs. Dillon said she gave her “the creeps.”

Our recent visit to Italy made us especially interested in Madalenna. She was eager to hear what we thought of Florence and her eyes shone with pleasure when we extolled its beauty and told her how fascinating we found it all. Once I was on the point of telling her about Lorenzo but I did not do so. The memory always made me feel sad. Moreover, I thought she might fancy it was a criticism of her country as a place where law-abiding citizens could go out into the streets and be stabbed to death.

She seemed drawn to me more than to either Cassie or Julia. I thought it was because I had recently been in her country. She wanted to meet Grand’mere and I took her up to the workroom. She was most interested in the machine and the loom and the dummies and bales of materials. Grand’mere talked to her about the work she did. She fingered the material tentatively.

“What beautiful silk,” she said.

“That’s Sallon Silk,” I told her.

“Sallon Silk? What is this Sallon Silk?” she asked.

”It’s the newest kind of weaving. Can you see the beautiful sheen? We’re very proud of it. We were the first to put it on the market. It’s a great invention really. My husband says it has revolutionized the silk industry. He is very proud of it.”

“He must be,” said Madalenna. “It is interessante … to find all this … in a house.”

“Yes, it is, is it not?” I agreed. “My grandmother has been with the family for years. I have been here all my life.”

“And now you are Mrs. Sallonger.”

“Yes, Philip and I were married about six weeks ago.”

“It is very … romantico.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

”I hope,” she said to Grand’mere, “that you will let me come again.”

Grand’mere said she would be delighted.

Charles hovered round her. He liked to sit beside her when we were all in the drawing room; he would talk to her in his execrable Italian interspersed with English, which made her laugh; but clearly she liked his attentions.

When we were alone at night I asked Philip if he thought Charles was falling in love with Madalenna.

“Charles’s emotions are ephemeral,” he said, “but there is no doubt that he finds Madalenna very attractive.”

“It is so romantic,” I said. “She had her accident right outside the door. She might have had it five miles away and then he would never have seen her. It seems as though it was meant.”

Philip laughed at that.

“Accidents can happen anywhere. There was a weakness in the harness.”

“I like to think it was fate.”

I should like to think of Charles’s marrying for he still made me feel uneasy, and I often wondered if he still remembered that occasion when Drake Aldringham had thrown him into the lake.

Madalenna had been in the house four days when one evening the manager of the Spitalfields works came to The Silk House in some agitation. It appeared that there was a crisis at the works and the presence of both Charles and Philip was urgently needed.

Charles was annoyed. Usually he was ready to leave The Silk House after a short stay, but now that Madalenna was there he felt differently. He wanted to stay but it seemed his presence was necessary and he was finally persuaded that he had no alternative but to go.

I heard him explaining to Madalenna. “I am sure they could manage very well without me. But it will only be a day. I shall be back either late tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“I shall look forward to that with pleasure,” Madalenna told him; and Charles seemed reconciled, and with Philip and the manager, he left early the next morning.

Soon afterwards I happened to be sitting in my window when I saw Maria. She was walking towards the forest with quick, short, determined steps as though she were in a great hurry.

I watched her until she disappeared among the trees. I was rather sorry for Maria. She must find communication with the servants difficult and they were decidedly not friendly towards her. Her stay in the house was very different from that of Madalenna who had been made so much of—particularly by Charles.

It was mid morning when the carriage arrived. Cassie and I had been riding in the forest and had just come in when we saw it. I recognized it at once, as I did the coachman.

He descended from the driver’s seat and bowed to me. He then implied that he must see the Signorina at once.

“Come along in,” I said. “She is much better.”

He murmured something about God and the saints and I imagined he was offering a prayer of thanksgiving to them.

Madalenna was in the drawing room resting her leg on a stool. Lady Sallonger was there drinking her glass of sherry she took at this time. Lady Sallonger was in the middle of one of her monologues which compared her present suffering with past glories.

As I entered with the coachman, Madalenna gave a cry and got to her feet quickly. Then suddenly she winced and sat down again. She spoke in rapid Italian, to which the man replied. Then she turned to us.

“I have to leave at once. It is a message from my brother. I must meet him in London. We leave for Italy tomorrow. It is necessary. My uncle is dying and calling for me. I hope to be there in time. We are so sorry to go like this … but…”

“My dear,” said Lady Sallonger, “we understand. We shall be very sorry. You must come again … when your ankle is quite well. Then we can show you everything, can’t we, Lenore?”

“Indeed, yes,” I agreed. “Can I help you … packing or anything like that? Do you want to go immediately?”

“It is nearly time for luncheon,” said Lady Sallonger. “Yes … you must stay for luncheon.”

“I do not think …” said Madalenna. “My brother says we have to leave early tomorrow. We have to be soon in Italy. It may be that we shall go this night. No, there must be no delay. Lady Sallonger, how can I thank you? You … your family … for your goodness to me. There is no way of saying how grateful …”

Lady Sallonger said: “Oh, but we have enjoyed having you, my dear. It has been no trouble at all.”

“I’ll go and tell Maria,” I said. “I saw her return from her walk a little while ago.”

She was about to protest but I went on ahead of her. I ran up to the room, knocked on the door and walked in. Maria was startled when I entered. She had the travelling bag on the bed and she was putting things into it.

“Ah … I had come to tell you that the carriage is here … your driver is downstairs. Signorina de’ Pucci wishes to leave at once.”

She stared at me and of course she did not understand what I was saying. I could see she was taken aback. She had expected her mistress to come in—not me.

The odd thing about it was that she was packing—as though she knew they were about to depart. I thought there was something uncanny about her. Why was she packing? How did she know about the message?

But there was something strange about Maria.

Madalenna came in.

“Maria!” she cried and spoke in rapid Italian. Maria threw up her hands to the ceiling. I left them together, still puzzled.

Within an hour they were ready to go. Cassie, Julia and I with the Countess went down to wave them farewell. Madalenna again expressed her gratitude. She said: “I will write.”

Then they were gone.

When Charles and Philip returned that night and Charles heard what had happened he went white with anger.

He glared at Philip. ”There was no need for me to have gone to London,” he said. “You could have done everything without me.”

“My dear fellow, your presence was necessary. Don’t forget we are partners. We had to have your signature on the documents.”

“Where have they gone?” demanded Charles.

Julia said: “Her uncle is ill. They’ve gone back to Italy.”

“I could have driven them to London.”

“They went in their own carriage. The driver came down with it. Her brother had sent him.”

“Where did they go?”

“To London, of course … for a night … perhaps not that,” I told him. “She did say that they might leave for Italy tonight. They were in a great hurry.”

Charles turned on his heels and left us.

I said to Philip that night: ”I think he really did care for her.”

Philip was inclined to be sceptical. He said: “He is just annoyed that the chase is over before the capture.”

“Are you a little cynical about your brother?” I asked.

“Shall I say I know him well. In a few weeks he will find it difficult to remember what she looked like. He is not a faithful-to-one-woman-type like his brother.”

“I am glad you are that type, Philip,” I said fervently. “You were not in the least overwhelmed by the charms of the siren.”

”There is only one for me today … tomorrow and for ever.”

In my happiness, I could feel sorry for Charles.

Three days after their departure two letters came—one was for Charles, the other for Lady Sallonger.

Lady Sallonger could not find her spectacles so I was called upon to read hers to her. It was a conventional little note saying how Madalenna would never forget the kindness of being taken in and looked after so wonderfully. She could never express her gratitude.

The address was a hotel in London.

Charles’s must have been the same. He went up to Town the next day and called at the hotel, but of course by that time she had left.

“That little episode is over,” said Philip.

* * *

When Philip went to London, I was with him. I think Grand’mere was a little sad to see me go, but her joy in my marriage overshadowed everything else and it was a constant delight for her to see how it was between us.

The London house seemed different now. Before it had been rather alien—very grand, the Sallonger Town House. Well, now I was a Sallonger. The house belonged—at least partly—to my husband; and therefore it was in a way my home too.

The elegant Georgian architecture appeared less forbidding; the all but nude nymphs, who supported the urns on either side of the door, seemed to smile a welcome at me. Greetings, Mrs. Sallonger. I thought I should never get used to being Mrs. Sallonger.

The butler looked almost benign. Did I really detect a certain respect in the crackle of Mrs. Camden’s bombazine?

“Good evening, Madam.” How different from my last visit when I was plain Miss—not exactly a servant—but not of the quality either—a kind of misfit.

That had changed. The proud gold ring on my finger proclaimed me a Sallonger.

“Good evening, Evans. Good evening, Mrs. Camden,” said Philip. “We’ll get up to our room first I think. Please have hot water sent up. We must wash away the stains of the journey.” He took my arm. “Come along, darling. If you’re anything like me you’re famished.”

I was conscious on every side of my newly acquired status. I would tell Grand’mere about it when I saw her. We would laugh together and I would give an imitation of Mrs. Camden’s very gracious but slightly hesitant condescension.