And she had also acceded to Ellie’s request that no-one should be informed of her presence—with one proviso.
‘I understand that you need time and privacy to consider your future, my dear child, and they are yours.
But if anyone asks me directly at any point if you are with us here, I will not lie.’Ellie bent her head.
‘That—won’t happen.’Nor had it.
Six weeks before, while she was still at Casa Bianca, she had written to both Angelo’s grandmother and the Principessa stating that she was well and happy but needed to be alone, and asking them to understand and not worry about her.
Her room in the part of the convent that housed the orphanage and school was pleasant if a little Spartan, its bed too narrow to encourage forbidden dreams.
On the practical side, Mother Felicitas had arranged an extra table and chair so that she could continue to work as usual.
She paid for her board and lodging, but in addition she helped out in the school, giving informal English lessons to some of the older children and reading her own translations of popular children’s stories to the younger ones.
Her mail was being sent on by arrangement from the property company selling her house in Porto Vecchio, but so far there was no sign of the documentation which would begin the legal dissolution of her marriage.
Clearly Angelo’s lawyers did not share Silvia’s sense of urgency about the procedure, thought Ellie who found the delay bewildering.
Apart from anything else, surely Angelo’s pride would demand his heir should be born in wedlock.
She found the whole situation becoming seriously unsettling.
How could she begin again, or even plan positively for the future, with this cloud still hanging over her?In spite of the convent’s almost tangible air of peace, the strain of waiting was taking its physical toll of her.
The food was good and plentiful, but her appetite had temporarily deserted her, and she had lost a little weight.
She felt weary much of the time too, yet had trouble sleeping.
In addition, and not too surprisingly, she found herself often on the verge of tears.
She’d taken her troubles apologetically to the Infirmarian,Sister Perpetua who, in her quiet noncommittal way, had recommended fresh air and exercise.
She’d followed her advice, yet, this morning, she’d woken with a slight headache and vague queasiness as if she was coming down with a virus.
I can’t afford to be ill, she told herself.
I’ve too much else to cope with, and I don’t want to be a liability to the nuns either.
Being with the children had lifted her as it invariably did, and the headache at least had faded.
But the thought of food was totally unappealing, Ellie admitted with a sigh, resting her forehead against the glass.
Maybe she would forget the mid-day meal and rest on her bed for a while.
As she turned from the window, Mother Felicitas came into the room, an envelope in her hand.
‘This came for you, dear child.’It was from the property company in Porto Vecchio, Ellie saw listlessly.
Perhaps they’d sold Casa Bianca, which would be gratifying, of course, but still wasn’t the news she was expecting.
She slit open the envelope and extracted the single sheet, scanning the typewritten contents.
There had been, she read, a lot of interest in Casa Bianca, but they had accepted on her behalf an excellent cash offer well above the asking price from Count Angelo Manzini.
Ellie gave a gasp, her hand straying to her lips as the words swam in front of her incredulous gaze.
She turned to Mother Felicitas.
Her voice barely audible, she said, ‘My home.
He’s bought my home—for her …’ and felt herself slide down into impenetrable darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THERE’S NOTHING WRONG with me,’ Ellie protested.
I shouldn’t be in the Infirmary.
I—I just had a shock, that’s all, and that’s why I fainted.
I—I’m not ill.’‘No, no.’ Mother Felicitas patted her hand.
‘Sister Perpetua assures me that the symptoms of early pregnancy are often uncomfortable, but only rarely do they become serious.’If a bomb had gone off in the quiet Infirmary, Ellie could not have been more horrified.
When she could speak: ‘A baby? She says I’m having a baby? But I can’t be.
It’s impossible.’‘She nursed in an obstetrics hospital before she joined our Order,’ Mother Felicitas said gently.
‘She told me what she suspected over a week ago.’ She paused.
‘Whatever has happened in the past, Contessa, this is news that you must share with your husband.’‘No.’ Ellie sat up, icy with sudden alarm.
‘I can’t do that.’‘But you may carry the heir to an important name, my child.
This cannot remain a secret.
Count Manzini has to know he is to be a father.’‘That’s the last thing he’ll want to hear,’ Ellie whispered.
‘Please believe me, Reverend Mother, and don’t ask me to explain.’ And as the realisation of everything she had lost overwhelmed her, she began to weep silently and hopelessly.
Worn out emotionally, she slept better that night, aided by a tisana of Sister Perpetua’s making, and woke the next day calmer, and filled with a new sense of resolution.
She would close her mind to the past, and use the money that Angelo had paid to take Casa Bianca from her to fund her new life in England.
He had everything now, she thought, pain twisting inside her.
Her pride, her memories, her little house—and the love—the need she’d tried desperately to deny, and which he had also taken so carelessly, because he could.
At lunchtime, she made herself eat a bowl of soup and a little pasta, then, encouraged by Sister Perpetua, went to sit out under the mulberry tree.
It was a hot, drowsy day with little breeze when even the birdsong seemed muted, and not ideal, she thought wryly, for the making of serious plans.
For looking forward instead of back as she must do.
And at first, when she heard the excited yapping of a dog disturbing the stillness, Ellie thought she must be having a waking dream.
But bundling across the courtyard towards her was total reality with a round face and drooping ears, his tail wagging furiously and his barking changing to squeaks of excitement.
She jerked upright, staring in disbelief.
‘Poco?’ she whispered.
‘Poco, what are you doing here?’And then she realised who was following him, standing in the archway, tall and lean in cream denim pants and a black polo shirt, watching her in silence.
Oh, no, she wailed inwardly.
It can’t be true.
This can’t be happening to me.
She knew what she must look like—washed out with scared eyes and lank hair in a faded cotton dress—and as she jumped to her feet, she folded her arms defensively across her body.
Angelo halted, brows lifting almost resignedly as he saw the gesture.
He said quietly, ‘Buona sera, Elena.
Come sta?’‘I was all right,’ she said.
‘Until now.’He was thinner, she thought with a wrench of the heart, the lines of the dark face more clearly marked, his eyes shadowed, his mouth bleaker.
But she could not let herself see these things.
Feel the ache of them.
She said tautly, ‘I’m told you’ve bought Casa Bianca.
If you mean it as a gift for Silvia, you’ve wasted your money.
She never liked Porto Vecchio even as a child.
She always preferred places with glitz and glamour.’‘I bought it for myself,’ he said.
‘Do you wish to know why?’‘I presume because it’s a way of providing for me that I can’t refuse.