A Face To Die For (30 page)

'Not like our delicious bean soup, then?

'Certainly not. Anyway, eventually, after some weeks, a ransom was demanded from my family for my release. Of course they paid it and I was set free. They took me in the car, still blindfolded, and left me at the back entrance to our house in Milano, where I was found by the gardener.'

'I suppose they asked for an enormous sum of money?'

'
Si
, many
lire
…I think it was er… equivalent to …er …about one million English pounds or so. But by this time I had become ill, so they could not have kept me much longer or I might have died. I had become very weak from so little proper food.' Her face looked drawn and tense again and I realised she'd been re-living every bit of the story.

'It must have been a dreadful experience. Did they catch the kidnappers?'

She shrugged. 'It was thought they were a professional gang at least, but no, they were never caught. The family suspected they probably came from the Calabria region. They spoke in unfamiliar southern accents. Luigi organised many investigations but nothing resulted from them. Since that time we simply take obvious precautions and pray it never happens again to anyone else in our family. I specially worry about my two daughters. So they are well protected.'

Now I understood the need for bodyguards and security everywhere. Poor Maria, she looked exhausted, but I sensed she was relieved to have talked about it.

To break away from the subject I suggested we drive into Florence to do a little shopping, accompanied by a bodyguard of course.

*

As we strolled about, enjoying the atmosphere of the beautiful Renaissance capital with its magnificent architecture and fascinating shops filled with fashion jewellery and leather craft, she soon brightened up again.

On the way home, Maria suggested we called in to see an old family friend, Leonardo Selini and his wife Sofia.

Their house, snuggled on the hillside above Prato, was surrounded by olive groves. As we sat there with them enjoying
proseco
,
a light fizzy white wine, in their delightful rambling garden, filled with oleanders and cypresses, I realised this was the perfect recipe for shedding all the cares of the world. The panoramic view was breathtaking, hazy rolling hills intermingled with uniform, sloping vineyards and golden fields of sunflowers. It was easy to understand Luigi's need to return to Italy so often and I felt I could willingly swop this anytime for London's busy hubbub.

Leonardo, a delightful, rustic old man in his seventies, had been a distinguished sculptor and restorer of fresco paintings all his life and his wife was of equal renown as an artist. I was fascinated to hear all about his work preserving the famous ancient paintings. He spoke passionately, with a strong lilting accent, about restoring the frescos. However now, as an old man who had clearly suffered some ill health, he occupied his time sculpting in terracotta, which he fired himself.

Before we left, I purchased an attractive terracotta wall sculpture of a young girl's head and one of Sofia's delicate floral paintings.

Later that evening, when Luigi arrived home from his trip, I eagerly showed him my day's purchases, a soft tan leather handbag from Florence and the painting and sculpture from the Selinis.

He admired them with enthusiasm.

'I am pleased you called to see my old friend, Leonardo. A fine sculptor ... and one of the best craftsmen around here ... Sofia also. You have chosen well. What else have you girls been up to? I hope you have not been overdoing it,
cara mia
?’

I shook my head. 'Good heavens no… I've loved every minute of it.'

Despite his concern for me he was clearly delighted how well Maria and I got on. I talked about our day in Florence and how impressed I was with its fine Renaissance architecture, particularly the domed Brunelleschi cathedral. Then, as we dressed for dinner, I asked him to tell me more about Maria's kidnapping. Since our talk, it had continued to trouble me on and off all day.

At the mention of it he looked momentarily anxious before relaxing. 'Yes, it was a shocking experience. She was badly traumatised and unable to speak about it after she was released. That is why she had a mental breakdown and spent many weeks recovering in a nursing home. It was months before she could talk of it, and then only very little. I am surprised she spoke so openly to you now. But perhaps it is a good thing. Rightly or wrongly, we have always tried to keep off the subject since.'

'But
she
brought the subject up and wanted to tell me about it, Luigi.' I said, hoping to exonerate myself from any blame in persuading her. 'I think she needed to talk, after so long keeping silent. I didn't encourage her.'

'I am sure that is so. Anyway, she seemed happy enough when I saw her half an hour ago. Maybe confiding in you, my darling, has done her good. Perhaps now it has explained more vividly to you why there is the need for us to be constantly cautious. Believe me it
is
necessary, especially here in Italy.' He paused, smiling. 'C
ara
, you must not let any of this spoil your enjoyment here. Italy has so much to offer. Now I am back we will enjoy even more of its delights together. Tomorrow, we go to a small resort near Rimini for two or three days where we have a small villa. They are preparing it for us now. You will love it, and there we will be quite alone together.'

'Wonderful. I was hoping we could to go to the coast sometime. I shall be able to cook for you too, to show you all I've learnt since I've been here. Maria has taught me to make some delicious Tuscan dishes. Your favourites too.'

'But my darling, I do not expect you to cook for me!'

'Luigi, I'll enjoy doing it!' I insisted, kissing him. ‘You'll see; I won't disappoint you.'

'You can never do that,
cara
!' he replied, taking me in his arms. Dinner wasn't for another half an hour and with his loving gentleness and understanding I had now regained my sexual desire. It had been such a relief to find that indulging in a little careful sex could be just as good as it had been before my operation.

Luigi was thrilled to see how well I was recovering and delighted at the pleasure I was experiencing getting to know his country. I’d never have believed anywhere could be quite so beautiful, and the agony of knowing that it must end soon stabbed at me. Nevertheless, after six happy weeks, I was much fitter and I knew I had to return soon to my business commitments.

*

After our short trip to Rimini I decided I needed to get back home to my responsibilities, while Luigi insisted staying on in London for a while to see that I didn't overdo things. Lynda had quietly married in my absence, which didn't come as too much of a shock. What did, however, was the news that she was four months pregnant!
Now
it all registered why she had been so preoccupied earlier on, and why getting married had been so important. She'd never shared my dislike about the concept of having babies, however, and seemed thrilled about the pregnancy.

Although I never expressed it openly, I dreaded the thought of coping without her. Therefore, the next three months were occupied getting Daniel up to speed, in order to take over Lynda's role as my right hand. I prayed he could eventually match her ability.

A pallid, lean young man, with a shock of dark harvest-blond hair, Daniel certainly possessed a refreshing and flamboyant designing talent. Unfortunately though, once Lynda left, I soon realised that despite his designing genius, temperamentally we clashed. His fluctuating moods and frequent non-communicative ways were particularly difficult to cope with. As we worked so closely together, I needed an assistant whose wavelength was more akin to my own. Clearly, it was not working out.

Because the weather was still so warm, Luigi had chosen to stay on longer in London with me. One balmy evening, as he and I were dressing to go to the opera, I found myself confiding in him about the problem I was having with Daniel.

'It can't continue,' I said, slipping into my jade, wild silk, strapless gown. Preening myself in the looking glass I was thankful that I'd lost the few pounds gained in Italy. 'He's a hugely talented designer and a good worker but we can't seem to plan or work on anything properly together. He prefers to do his own thing while I do mine. There's no true collaboration as there was with Lynda. She and I always functioned so similarly and had such a wonderful rapport. He's like a temperamental
prima donna.
Honestly, it's even worse than coping with Edward Hamilton!'

I had often talked to Luigi about my early days at the House of Courtney under Edward's command.

'Well, my darling, you are the boss,' Luigi whispered from behind, as he finished zipping up my dress. 'If he does not suit you do something about it. Tell him!' He gently kissed my shoulder. As always on such occasions, he was looking immaculate in black tie and white tuxedo.

'His work is good though. I've no complaints there. I just can't stand the guy's capricious moods. How can I enjoy my work when the atmosphere in the place is all wrong? I swear, some of the customers are even noticing the friction between us.'

‘
In that case, cara,I think you will have to lose him.'

'That's easier said than done,' I said, pulling a face at myself in the mirror.

'I am sure you can manipulate the situation somehow. Oh, and do not pull that silly face, my darling, because you look so beautiful, as always,' said Luigi, patting my bottom. 'Come, we will be late for
Carmen
.'

But throughout the opera, a great favourite of ours, my mind was half on the problem of Daniel and what to do about ‘losing him’, as Luigi had put it. Clearly, I was in for an uneasy time ahead.

CHAPTER 23

Over the next few months, things didn't get any easier with Daniel. He was constantly adapting my design sketches to his way of thinking; insisting that it would be more practical for the chosen fabric, or that it was more imaginative and original. Scribbling over my sketches with thick lines his comments could sometimes be caustic, and I began to wonder which of us was boss here.

'Annabel, for heaven sake, we have to be bolder! Look, doing it my way, it has much more pizzazz!'

Unfortunately he was usually right; by the time we'd modified a particular design it did look better and had mostly become
his
design. To my chagrin I had to admit he was innovatively brilliant. What I really objected to was having it thrust down my throat by him, especially whilst he was in my employ.

He was slowly sapping my confidence and I knew he could completely destroy it if I allowed it to continue. He was taking over the place; but I also knew I was backed into a corner.

If it hadn't been for the brilliance of his designs, which I knew were likely to be a wow at the next collection, I would gladly have sacked him long ago. The crux of the matter was, and I loathed admitting it, my own creativity had suffered badly over the past year. Okay, this might have been due to my health problems, but Lynda had always been there to help carry me through.

In October, just prior to the collection, on one of his infrequent visits to Beauchamp Place, Luigi was able to witness Daniel's rude, presumptuous attitude towards me for himself.

I'd been aware of Luigi carefully studying him while we'd been dealing with a couple of earlier clients. Then later, he was able to see him blatantly contradict me. It was in front of an operatic diva too, for whom I was hoping I could adapt one of the evening gowns from my latest collection to suit her requirements for a Royal Gala performance.

True to form, Daniel was in full flow. 'No, no, no! The design will
never
work, as Miss Barroni wants it in this fabric. It needs to drape and move as she does, not stagnate shapelessly the way it
is
doing now.' He waved his hand dismissively at the dress.

Grabbing a length of vibrant cerise silk jersey, he draped it, with a flourish, over the soprano's shoulder. 'Now this will look far more effective! See! Now
that
is sensational! And the colour suits Miss Barroni much better too!'

In other words he was saying ... Annabel, your previous version of the design is crap!

I was furious at the way he'd belittled me in front of the client, who just so happened to be a close friend of Luigi's family. It left me almost speechless with embarrassment. Luigi knew that few people could ever do this.

On the way home in the taxi, he took my hand and kissed it. I turned to him and he gazed gravely into my eyes. 'You are right, my darling. That young man is nothing but trouble for you. He may be a brilliant designer, but he ... how you say… needs to be cut down to size. He is much too cocky for his own good, yours also. He was extremely rude this afternoon, and in front of Magdalena Barroni too! I was so angry.'

'I know; but the awful thing is he
is
so often right with his observations and ideas. Even today he was. So I find myself going along with them.' I sighed wearily. 'If only he could be a bit nicer about the way he does it, that's all. It offends me having to conform when
I
should be the one calling the shots!'