The Mermaid Garden (46 page)

vital link to him, and she cherished it, taking comfort from its value, which surely reflected his intentions to marry her eventually.

When she began to feel sick, she thought it was the result of not eat-

ing properly. But even the smell of food made her want to vomit. After

a few days of constant nausea she worried that she might be very ill

and went to see Signora Bruno. The old woman asked her a few prob-

ing questions about how often she had thrown up and for how long

she had felt like this, and Floriana answered earnestly, afraid she was perhaps dying.

But Signora Bruno took her into her apartment and sat her down in

the sitting room, closing the door behind her. She looked as stony as a grave and asked whether Dante had made love to her. At first Floriana

was evasive, remembering the promise she had made. But when Si-

gnora Bruno suggested that she might be pregnant, Floriana admitted

that he had.

“Is that how it happens?” she inquired innocently.

Signora Bruno shook her head, appalled. “Didn’t anyone ever

tell you?”

“Who was going to tell me?”

“Your aunt?”

“Zita? No, we never discussed it.”

“Curse that woman for her incompetence. What about Costanza?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“It’s not possible. Do you realize how serious this is? You’re going to have a child. How will we hide it?”

“Why would I want to hide it?”

“Because
you
are a child, my dear, and it’s against the law. Dante could go to jail. He’s a grown man; he should have known better. What

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came over him?” Signora Bruno wrung her hands. “What will Beppe

Bonfanti do when he finds out? God help you.”

Floriana’s initial joy at not being terminally ill slid away as she now realized the gravity of her situation. “What am I going to do?”

“You go and speak to Father Ascanio at once. He is the only one who

can help you.”

“Won’t I get Dante into trouble?”

“Father Ascanio’s a priest; he’s bound to secrecy. There’s not a secret of mine he doesn’t know. In fact, I suspect he knows all the secrets in Herba. He won’t tell and I won’t tell, so help me God.” She crossed

herself. “But I can’t help you. I’m not equipped. He is the only one who will know what to do.”

“I must tell Dante.”

Signora Bruno rounded on her like a spitting yak. “You’ll do noth-

ing of the sort. I knew that family were bad news right from the start.

I should have warned you instead of letting your heart run away with

you. Don’t breathe a word of it to Dante, do you understand? Not be-

fore you tell Father Ascanio. You need to take advice from him and him

alone.”

Floriana should have felt fear, but she ran her hands over her belly

and felt nothing but awe and happiness. She was going to have Dante’s

baby. His father would not be able to deny them his consent now that

she was carrying his grandchild—a son, perhaps, and heir to his great

fortune. She smiled, musing on Fate and how very clever it was to give

her the one thing that would irrevocably tie her to Dante forever.

This was all
meant
to happen. God had answered her prayers and

given her something that only He could bestow: a new life that be-

longed exclusively to her and Dante.

Ignoring Signora Bruno’s advice, Floriana wrote at once to Dante. A

few days later the butler from La Magdalena appeared at her door with

a message: Dante had telephoned to say he was coming down to see

her. Overjoyed at the prospect of being with him again, she set about

cleaning her apartment, humming a merry tune as she went about her

work. She looked around at the modest room and simple furnishings

and thought of the future that would take her away from her father and

this pitiful place. She envisaged sitting in the mermaid garden with

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Santa Montefiore

Dante beside her, reading poetry, while their son floated his toy boats in the fountain. Good-Night would be lying at her feet, snoozing in

the sunshine. Perhaps she’d be expecting another child. They’d have

many. In a house the size of La Magdalena she could have as many as

she wanted.

However, she was to be disappointed. The Dante who appeared in

her doorway was not the radiant, overjoyed young man she had ex-

pected. Instead of sweeping her into his arms with excitement, he

looked gray and terrified. Her heart plummeted like a stone.

“Are you all right?” she asked, tentatively wrapping her arms around

his waist.

“We need to talk, Floriana. I came as soon as I heard. Are you sure

you’re pregnant?”

“I think I am, but I’m not entirely sure.”

“Who have you told?”

“Signora Bruno. I
had
to tell someone.”

“I understand.” He turned to face her. She had never seen him look

so defeated. “And
she
thinks you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” She frowned up at him. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? My darling Floriana, you have no idea what this means.”

“We can get married.”

“This is no time for fantasy. My father will never allow that.”

“But I’m carrying his grandchild.”

“He doesn’t care about his grandchild. He barely cares about his

children. He’s as sentimental as one of those silly statues in the garden.

All he cares about is money and reputation.”

“So, you’re not going to tell him?” Floriana’s chin began to tremble.

She took a deep breath and puffed out her chest, willing herself to overcome her disappointment.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He took her hands in his, over-

powered by the sight of the woman he loved. “But I’m not going to

desert you. We’ll think of something.” He drew her into his arms and

held her tightly against his chest. “It’s my responsibility. I got you into this, and I’ll get you out of it. Somehow we’ll be together, I promise.”

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ever wanted is a child. Someone to love and care for. A little part of you that will always be with me, no matter what.”

He put his hand on her flat belly. “Hard to imagine there’s a child in

there.”

“I know. Signora Bruno says I won’t show for at least six months.”

“Then, that gives us time, at least. Don’t breathe a word to a soul, do you understand?” She nodded. “I’ll find you somewhere else to live, far away from here.”

“But I want to be with
you
.”

“That’s just not possible, Floriana. Can you imagine the scandal? No

one must ever know.”

“But our child will be born out of wedlock.”

“There is no other way.”

Floriana blanched. “We can’t have a child out of wedlock. It’s a sin.”

“We have already committed the greatest sin, Floriana.”

His words slapped her in the face and stung, but she lifted her chin

and fought for her unborn baby. “We can marry in secret.”

He pulled away and strode over to the window as if searching for a

means of escape. “It’s all so simple for you because you’ve got nothing to lose.”

She sat on the bed and folded her arms. “All that matters is that

I love you and our child.”

“But life is more complicated than that.”

“Only if you let it be.”

“I am my father’s heir.”

“Can’t you just walk away?”

“And what will we live on?”

“I’ve lived on nothing all my life, and I’ve been happy.”

“I have a responsibility to my parents. I am set to inherit my father’s company. I can’t throw it all away and ride off into the sunset. My father will disown me. My mother’s heart will break and I’ll have nothing.

Don’t you see? I’ll lose everything.”

“You’ll only lose what doesn’t matter.”

Dante felt like a drowning man. He didn’t doubt his love for

Floriana, but he did doubt his ability to stand up to his father. All

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his life he had done what was expected of him and earned Beppe’s

love, which was entirely conditional. He held his father in the highest respect, but if he searched deep inside his soul where all truth lies hidden, he’d find the residue of fear that remained at the very bottom, left over from his boyhood, with the same old need to please. He cursed his

weakness, but there was nothing he could do. Confiding in his father

about Floriana was inconceivable. His mother would probably be more

sympathetic, but even she, with her sentimental heart, could not con-

done marriage to Floriana, even if she were the right age.

Dante gave Floriana money to use the public telephone to call him,

and promised that he would go away and think about how best to deal

with the situation. However, he had no idea how he was going to re-

solve it. If only he could just turn his back on it all and return to his old life—but that possibility no longer existed. His love bound him

to Floriana, and the knowledge that his child was growing inside her

made walking away impossible. He was responsible for them both.

Never before had he felt the weight of duty so heavily upon his shoul-

ders.

He cursed himself for not having the courage to elope and start

again in a new place. But marriage was impossible, whichever way he

looked at it. He could set her up in a flat somewhere near Milan so she could give birth in secret, but then what? The future was grim for both of them. He stopped the car on the side of the road just outside Herba

and put his head on the steering wheel, closing his eyes in desperation, wishing to lose himself. What had he been thinking? He should never

have fallen in love with Floriana. It was doomed from the beginning.

His mind whirred with images that grew large and distorted: the scan-

dal, his father’s wrath, his mother’s disappointment, Floriana’s hopes

dashed yet again. It was all too horrible to bear.

Then a tiny pinprick of hope glimmered through the darkness. He

sat up and stared at it. The more he stared the bigger it got, until he was sure that light would show him the way. He turned the car round and

drove back into Herba.

Father Ascanio was surprised to see Dante. The family had long

gone back to Milan and didn’t usually return until the following sum-

mer. When he saw the young man’s stricken face, he was sure there had

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been a death in the family, and that Dante had come to inform him

personally.

“My son, what has happened?”

“I need to speak with you urgently,” Dante replied.

“Of course. Please.” The priest led the way to the little chapel where, not so long ago, he had advised Floriana that nothing could come of

her love. They sat down. Dante inhaled deeply. He noticed a faint smell of alcohol waft in from behind him and turned to make sure that they

were alone. “How can I help you?” Father Ascanio asked, his tone soft

and reassuring.

“I’m in terrible trouble, Father. I have sinned.” Dante put his head in his hands.

“Don’t be afraid. God forgives those who repent.”

“Oh, I do. I regret my transgression wholeheartedly.”

“Would you not prefer to use the confessional?”

He sat up and gazed at the priest in despair. “No. I need more practi-

cal help.”

“I see.”

“Father Ascanio, you have known me since I was a child.”

“I have.”

“And you have always guided me to the best of your ability, with the

greatest wisdom and tact. Is that not so?”

“I have always done my best.”

“Well, I need your wisdom now, but I fear your judgment.”

“My son, I’m not here to judge you. That is not for me to do, but for

God, in His wisdom. Tell me what troubles you have, and I will do my

best to advise you.”

Dante swallowed hard. He could no longer look into the priest’s

eyes and dropped his gaze onto the flagstone at his feet. “Floriana is

pregnant.”

Father Ascanio caught his breath. His hand shot to his chest where

a sharp pain caused him to wince. He stifled a groan. His first thought was for Floriana, so innocent and trusting and brave, and his heart

flooded with compassion. His second thought was for Dante and his

foolishness, and he tried very hard not to condemn him to the harshest

criticism.

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Dante felt the priest’s horror without having to look at his face. He

buried his head in his hands, overcome with shame.

Father Ascanio stood up and walked over to the altar. He put his

hands on the white linen cloth and closed his eyes in prayer. What was

the right thing to do for Floriana? He tried to remain detached, like

a surgeon poised to cut through the flesh of a patient, but his heart

swelled and contracted as he explored every alternative.

Finally, he returned to his chair. Dante raised his eyes. “What shall

I do?” he whispered, feeling worse for having shared his problem.

“There is only one thing you
can
do,” the priest replied with a sigh.