In Love In Lucca Read online

  It was a very gentle kiss and Paola knew that it was one of dedication and what he had said had come from his heart and soul and not just from his lips.

  He rose to his feet.

  “You are – not leaving me?” Paola asked.

  “I am going away, my darling, because I have so much to do. But I shall be thinking of you and, if you are thinking of me, we shall be very close as we have been since we first met.”

  Paola smiled.

  “I was thinking just now how – extraordinary it was that, when those – terrible things happened to us, we were both quite – calm and certain that – everything would come right. That was the feeling – you gave me.”

  “In finding you,” the Marchese answered, “I found the woman I was always seeking, although I was not aware of it. But with you I have discovered real true love, which I thought only existed in Heaven.”

  Paola held onto his hand.

  “You will – not forget – me?”

  The Marchese smiled.

  “You fill my whole thoughts, my whole world,” he said, “and after tomorrow we will never be apart.”

  Once again he kissed her hand.

  Then he left her quickly before she could think of anything else to say.

  When he had gone, she realised just how happy he made her.

  Now the last doubts had completely disappeared and she could only wait impatiently until tomorrow.

  *

  The little alarm tinkled by her bedside, but, as it happened, Paola was already awake.

  She had put everything ready the night before.

  Now she jumped out of bed, washed in cold water and dressed herself as quickly as she could.

  She had laid out the very prettiest of her white gowns and only then did she ask herself what she was to do about other clothes.

  The Marchese had not mentioned it.

  She thought she could hardly go away with him on her honeymoon with only one gown.

  Then she told herself that, if she had forgotten, he quite certainly had not.

  He would either spirit some clothes to her or perhaps buy them where they were going.

  The only thing that mattered this morning was that she should be married to him as he was planning and after that everything in her life would have changed completely.

  When she drew back the curtains, she could see that it was a perfect day.

  The sun was just climbing up in the sky.

  The birds were singing in the trees and there was the soft buzz of the bees in the flowers growing up the wall outside the window.

  She had a little difficulty in doing up her dress at the back, but somehow she managed it.

  Then, picking up her handkerchief to carry with her, she very cautiously opened the door of her bedroom.

  No one in the house was yet moving.

  The servants were all old and they saw no reason to rise early unless there was some urgent need for it.

  Paola tiptoed down the stairs and out through the garden door.

  It was bolted on the inside and she drew the bolts back very cautiously, afraid that she might wake anyone.

  Then she was in the garden moving swiftly behind the shrubs and trees.

  She reached the side gate into the villa.

  As it came in sight, she saw a closed carriage waiting outside.

  She knew with a feeling of wild excitement that the Marchese was there for her.

  He climbed out of the carriage to help her in.

  They did not speak, but just gazed at each other.

  She had forgotten that he would be wearing evening dress as was correct on the Continent. And she thought that it became him more than anything else he wore.

  As the carriage drove off, the Marchese put his arm around Paola.

  She could think of nothing but the nearness of him and the love that seemed to swell like a tidal wave within her breasts.

  “You have come, my precious one,” the Marchese said. “I was half afraid that at the last moment you would not be brave enough to do so.”

  “I had to – come because – you wanted me,” Paola said.

  “And that is the right answer,” he replied. “I shall always want you.”

  He did not kiss her, but picked up an exquisite veil that was on the seat opposite them and put it on her head.

  Then he placed on top of it a wreath of white roses. It was very skilfully made and fitted exactly.

  On the small seat was her bouquet, which was also of white roses.

  Almost as if she had asked the question, he said,

  “That is what you are to me, a white rosebud, my precious, not yet in full blossom.”

  He finished arranging her wreath as he spoke and Paola asked,

  “Do – I look – all right?”

  “You look so beautiful that I am afraid to touch you,” the Marchese said. “You might have stepped down from Heaven itself.”

  His lips just touched her hand, which he was holding in his and they drove on in silence.

  It was only a short distance to the Cathedral.

  They stopped by a side door, which was opened for them by a Verger and, when they entered, Paola was conscious of the intense atmosphere of faith.

  It was what she herself had felt the first time she entered the Cathedral.

  Now there was also the scent of incense and the fragrance of flowers.

  When they reached the Chapel of St. Francis, Paola saw that the whole altar was decorated with white roses.

  The Archbishop was waiting for them wearing a white vestment.

  The candles were all lit.

  There were two servers, men not boys, and no one else.

  Paola had heard the Marriage Service read many times, but she thought that it had never been spoken with more sincerity.

  She felt that God was blessing both her and the Marchese as they knelt before the Archbishop.

  Having blessed them, he turned away to kneel in prayer at the altar.

  Then the Marchese took Paola by the hand and drew her to her feet.

  They walked out of the Chapel and left the Cathedral by the same side door.

  The carriage was waiting and they drove swiftly away.

  *

  It was not far to the Marchese’s villa and, when they reached it, the sunshine had only just begun to glitter on the windows and on the fountains playing in the garden.

  They had both been so deeply moved by the Service they had just taken part in that neither of them had spoken since they left the Cathedral.

  But now, as they went in through the main door, the Major Domo bowed and said,

  “May I, most honoured Marchese, congratulate you and your lady wife and wish you every happiness in the future.”

  “You are the only person, Antonio,” the Marchese said “who knows we are married and you must keep it to yourself for a long time. We will leave as soon as we have changed.”

  “Everything is arranged,” the Major Domo replied.

  Taking Paola by the hand, the Marchese took her up the stairs.

  Only, as she reached the top, did she ask,

  “Where are we going?”

  “On our honeymoon,” he answered. “First we have to change. The clothes I bought for you are waiting.”

  Paola looked at him in surprise and then she laughed.

  “I knew you would think of it.”

  “I think of you, and nothing else is of any significance,” the Marchese replied.

  He showed her into an exquisitely beautiful bedroom and Paola thought that it must have been used by the previous Marchesa di Lucca.

  There were white roses everywhere.

  Laid out on the carved and gilded bed was a very smart travelling gown and a cloak and there was also an attractive bonnet to match the blue of the gown.

  She took off her wedding gown and put on the one that he had bought for her.

  She was not surprised that it fitted her exactly and thought that only he could be so clever.
Not only to remember what she would want but to find it at such short notice.

  She was just putting the finishing touches to her bonnet when he came to the door saying,

  “Are you ready?”

  He had changed into comfortable driving clothes and looked even more distinguished in them, she thought, than he had in the evening dress he had worn to be married.

  He held out his hand.

  She ran to slip hers into it and they went down the stairs side by side.

  Only as they were driving away in a comfortable open chaise drawn by four white horses, did Paola manage to ask where they were going.

  “As far as I am concerned to Heaven,” the Marchese replied. “And now, my darling, my sweet and perfect little wife, I need not feel afraid that something might happen to prevent us becoming, as we are now, man and wife.”

  “It is so – wonderful I don’t – believe it’s – true,” Paola sighed.

  “That is what I am feeling,” he answered. “When we arrive where no one can interrupt us, I will tell you all the things I have been wanting to tell you and for which there has never been enough time.”

  Paola laughed.

  “That is true! So many things have happened so quickly it has almost been difficult to breathe.”

  She drew a big breath as if to make sure that she could and then said,

  “Before we say anything more, you must tell me what you have done about Papa and Mama and the Contessa.”

  “I have written to your father and mother,” the Marchese replied, “and explained exactly why we have run away and that there will be no scandal about our marriage as long as it is kept a secret.”

  “I hope Papa – will do that,” Paola murmured.

  “I am sure that if they are sensible people they will understand and say nothing until your mourning is over.”

  Paola gave a little sigh of relief.

  “I also told your parents,” the Marchese went on, “that the Contessa is trusted on her honour not to say anything in Lucca. I have enclosed to her a copy of the letter I sent to your father and mother. I am quite certain that will ensure she will say nothing even to her closest friends.”

  Paola clasped her hands together.

  “You are splendid! You are wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Only you could do anything so outrageous as marrying me in secret – and still get away with it.”

  “Touch wood,” the Marchese said. “I am certain that we are safe and the only other two people who know about us are the Archbishop and my Major Domo, who has been with me since I was a small boy and who would rather die than hurt me in any way.”

  Paola was sure that all the people who worked for him felt the same.

  She was so relieved at what he had told her that she felt her last doubts and fears slip away.

  “Now,” the Marchese was saying, “I will tell you where we are going. It is to Bagni di Lucca where I have a small Castle. I think you will find it enchanting. I have always thought since I was a child that it is a Fairy Castle.”

  He drove on a little further before he added,

  “I want you to know that I have never been there with any other woman. It is also some years since I visited it, so I know how pleased they will be to see us when we arrive.”

  They had not very far to travel.

  When they arrived before luncheon, Paola thought that she had never seen anything so lovely as Bagni di Lucca.

  The River Lima flowed slowly through small hamlets situated on its banks.

  The hills and mountains rose above it, bringing in, the Marchese told her, since the Middle Ages many health-giving properties and this was verified by documents dating back to the eleventh century.

  When Paola saw The Castle, she knew that it really was like a Fairytale.

  As they drove up to it, she could see that there was something about it that, like everything to do with the Marchese, was different.

  It was not only the mellow grey stonework of the building or the exquisitely beautiful flower gardens that surrounded it.

  There was an atmosphere encompassing it as if it had been made for love.

  The servants waiting for them were all very old. They had served the Marchese’s family since he had been born.

  They were obviously thrilled and delighted to be allowed to be a part of his honeymoon and they had decorated the house with flowers including, on his instructions, a great number of white rose buds.

  Everything was perfect.

  And Paola was therefore not surprised when she went up into the large bedroom to find that there were clothes for her in the wardrobe.

  There were white roses by the bed and on the dressing table.

  When she had washed, she went downstairs where luncheon was waiting.

  The dining room had a Mediaeval charm about it and it seemed to Paola appropriate that the Marchese was sitting in a high-backed carved armchair, which made him look, she thought, like a King.

  The food was delicious, but it was difficult to think about anything except that she was his wife.

  She had run away with the most renowned and talked-about man in Italy and it was not just a story!

  “I think I am dreaming,” Paola sighed before the meal was finished.

  “I am quite certain that I am,” the Marchese answered. “But I have never been so happy in the whole of my life or so completely and absolutely certain that I have done the right thing.”

  “Oh! Please go on – thinking that and – never have any – doubts,” Paola pleaded.

  “Do you think it is possible that I could?” he enquired.

  He did not wait for an answer, but drew her from the table.

  She thought that he was going to show her some of The Castle.

  Instead they went upstairs into the room where she had left her cape and bonnet.

  “Because we have risen very early,” he said, “we are now going to have, which is a regular habit in this country, a siesta.”

  Paola looked at him wide-eyed and he carried on,

  “My darling, my sweet, you don’t suppose that I can wait any longer to tell you of my love and to teach you to love me?”

  Very gently he undid her gown.

  When it fell to the ground, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her into the huge golden-canopied bed.

  He laid her down softly on the pillows.

  The sunshine streamed through the window and there was the sound of birds outside.

  Paola thought once again that she was dreaming and this could not be true.

  The Marchese joined her.

  He put his arm around her and drew her close to him.

  Although her lips were waiting, for the moment he did not kiss her.

  Her eyes were gazing up to his and after a moment he said,

  “I was thanking God that I have found you and that in so strange and unusual a manner we have been brought together as we were meant to be since the very beginning of time.”

  “And no one – will ever – part us?” Paola asked.

  She was not for the moment thinking of her parents.

  But of the men who tried to kill the Marchese for the diamond ring and who themselves had perished.

  “There was something I was going to tell you,” the Marchese said, as he knew just what she was thinking.

  “There will – not be – others?” Paola questioned nervously.

  He shook his head.

  “Yesterday I sent the money I promised to Hugo Forde and the ring to His Holiness the Pope. I asked him either to put it with the treasures in the Vatican or to sell it and give the proceeds to be distributed in the name of St. Francis of Assisi to those who are in need.”

  Paola gave a little cry.

  “ I am – glad about that – so very glad. Now it will – no longer – menace us.”

  “I have no intention of ever thinking of it again,” the Marchese said. “It has served its purpose in bringing us together and now everything that is ugly and cruel and
evil must be kept from you. That is what I must spend the rest of my life doing.”

  His arms tightened.

  “You are so beautiful, so pure and unspoilt,” he said. “I will show you in the library what Lord Byron and Shelley wrote about this magical place and I feel the same.”

  Paola looked at him in surprise and he said very softly,

  “Seeking love I travelled far and wide,

  But the blossoms I picked faded and died,

  Disillusioned, I swore no love was true,

  Then an angel from Heaven came – it was you!

  Beautiful, perfect, your heart beats with mine,

  You have taught me, my darling, that love is Divine.”

  Paola gave a little cry.

  “Oh, darling Vittorio, you wrote that for me? It is so clever of you!”

  “Not quite Lord Byron,” the Marchese said, “but it is yours with my heart.”

  He drew her close to him and his lips sought hers.

  Just before he kissed her, she prevented him from doing so and said,

  “There is – something I – want to – ask you.”

  “What is it?” the Marchese enquired.

  “You know I – am very – ignorant about – love,” she said. “Will you – teach me to – love you as you – want to be loved, so that I will – never disappoint you?”

  There was a tender expression in the Marchese’s eyes that no one had ever seen before as he replied,

  “I will teach you about love, my beautiful one, and it will be the real love that comes from God. A love that saved us when you were in danger and which made us realise that we belonged to each other and could not go on living alone.”

  He kissed her forehead very gently before he went on,

  “It is a love which has brought us here into a new world where no one will disturb us until we are completely one person and it is a love which will make us that.”

  As he finished speaking, he kissed Paola at first very gently.

  Then, as he felt her body move closer to his, his kisses became more possessive and more passionate.

  Paola felt an ecstasy that she never knew existed and which responded to the same feeling in the Marchese.

  He went on kissing and kissing her.

  She felt as if there were little sparks of fire within her heart and her soul.

  In a strange way they responded to a fire burning within him.