And one day she’d be able to look back and be proud—maybe even glad that she’d had the strength to behave so well.
At last, she gave up on the current translation, and deciding that struggling against the wind and rain was better than fighting her unhappy thoughts, she took the ancient hooded waterproof cape that had once belonged to her grandmother from the cupboard, and went for a walk.
Under the leaden sky, a grey sea hurled foam-tipped waves at the beach, the hiss and roar of its ebb competing with the noisy gusts that whipped at Ellie’s cape, and stung her face with whipped up particles of sand.
Head bent, she battled along the deserted promenade, her imagination telling her that at any moment she would hear him say her name—her real name—and she would look up and see him there, on his way to find her and say all the things she longed to hear.
Last night in the trattoria she’d let fear and pride get the better of her, but now there was only her need for him.
Her longing to be his in any way he wanted.
However little he could offer.
She stopped, gazing up at the bulk of the hotel above her on the headland, determination building inside her.
What she was planning was probably the height of stupidity, but, as he’d said last night, it was too late for wisdom.
I have to see him, she thought.
Even now.
Talk to him.
I can’t let it end like this—not without knowing—being certain …She made for the long, steep flight of steps cut into the cliff, and began to climb.
When she reached the top, breathless and dishevelled, she cut across the gardens to the hotel’s main entrance, and the wide glass doors opened at her approach.
The foyer was almost empty, but there was a buzz of laughter and chatter from the bar where the guests were enjoying their pre-lunch drinks.
Ellie went straight across the wide expanse of marble floor to the reception desk, water dripping from her cape.
A man in a formal dark suit raised his eyes from the computer screen he was scanning and stared at her as if he could not believe the presence of such a scarecrow in the hotel’s sophisticated surroundings.
He said with hauteur, ‘I may help you, signorina?’Pushing back her hood, she said quietly, ‘I wish to speak to Count Manzini, if you please.
I believe he is staying here.’‘He was a guest, signorina, but no longer.’ The man offered a thin smile.
‘He left two hours ago to return to Rome.’The world seemed suddenly to recede to a great distance.
Ellie leaned against the edge of the desk.
She said, ‘I didn’t realise he was leaving so soon.
Did he say—why?’She received a disparaging look.
‘His Excellency gave no reason for his departure, signorina.
He is not obliged to explain himself.
But I believe he received a telephone call.’‘I see.’ Ellie paused.
‘Do you know if he is planning to come back?’‘He did not say so, signorina.
He was clearly in a hurry to be gone.’Ellie lifted her chin.
‘Well, I’m sorry to have missed him, but no doubt we’ll meet up when I too return to Rome.’‘Indubbiamente, signorina.’ He inclined his head with insincere courtesy.
‘Is there any other way in which I can assist you?’‘No,’ she said.
‘Thank you.
I should also have telephoned instead of wasting a journey.’As she walked back towards the entrance, she realised that her legs were shaking and prayed it did not show.
She did not dare risk the steps again, but made her way carefully down the winding hill, half dizzy with the questions teeming in her mind.
As she reached Casa Bianca, the Signora’s door opened, and the good woman appeared under an umbrella, brandishing an envelope.
‘This came for you, cara.’ She gave her a shrewd look.
‘A boy was knocking at your door—a fattorino from the hotel, I think.’The envelope was cream, thick and expensive, bearing the single word ‘Elena’.
‘Grazie.’ Ellie forced a smile and took the letter into her own house to the Signora’s evident disappointment.
She removed her cape and hung it in the shower to dry, then sat down and opened the envelope.
‘Circumstances force my return to the city,’ the letter began abruptly.
‘And perhaps it is better this way, even though so much still remains unsaid between us.
‘You were right, of course.
I did not come to Porto Vecchio in order to become your lover.
On the contrary, my original purpose was to agree terms for the separation you requested when you left Vostranto.
‘I allowed myself to become sidetracked, but the ridiculous pretence, which should never have begun, is now over.
Luca and Helen no longer exist, and should be forgotten.
I accept too that the marriage between us is over.
‘In conclusion, let me say that I intend to make full financial provision for you in the divorce settlement, and you may use this or not as you wish.
‘This will be a matter for discussion at our next meeting.’His signature ‘Angelo’ was a dark slash at the foot of the page, and Ellie felt the anger in it like a slap across the face.
She sat staring down at the words in all their bitterness and finality until the tears she could not hold back made them first blur and, eventually, vanish altogether as she wept for everything that might have been, but was now lost forever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RIDICULOUS PRETENCE …Those were the words which haunted Ellie for the rest of the day, and the greater part of the night.
Of course that was all it had been, she told herself over and over again.
She’d known that from the first, but, somehow, she’d allowed herself to forget for a while.
To let herself be drawn into this crazy charade that he’d initiated.
And, almost, in some incredible way, come to believe it.
To actually think that Angelo Luca Manzini was the lover she’d only dared to imagine in her wildest dreams.
And, in the most dangerous kind of wishful thinking, to suppose that some of these dreams might even come true.
Just how many kinds of a fool was it possible to be? she wondered in quiet anguish as she contemplated what she had done.
What she had allowed him to do.
After all, she knew that he didn’t care for her—that it was Silvia he really wanted.
That evening at the reception, she’d seen with her own eyes that, in spite of everything, the passion still burned as brightly as ever between them.
Dear God, wasn’t it the knowledge of that, with all its attendant humiliation, that had made her leave Vostranto? Leave him, as she’d thought, forever?Yet, somehow, he’d made her think she was beautiful—desirable—when all the time he’d simply been amusing himself.
Or, which was even worse, perhaps taking his revenge for all those past rejections of his lovemaking.
Making a deliberate nonsense of her avowed indifference to him.
Demonstrating that she was just the same as any of the other women who’d shared his bed.
As easy to seduce.
As easy to walk away from when he wished it to end.
And he had wished it, she reminded herself painfully, as she read once more the letter that she already knew by heart.
He’d come to Porto Vecchio to offer her a divorce—the first one in the entire history of the Manzini family and bound to set tongues wagging in conjecture all over Rome.
But giving her the freedom she’d asked for was no simple act of altruism on his part, she reminded herself stonily.
He had his own reasons for wanting their sham of a marriage to end, no matter what scandal that might provoke.