Miracle For a Madonna Read online

  “Actually by London hours it is long past my bedtime and so tonight, at any rate, we will not take any risks.”

  His eyes met the Contessa’s as he spoke and he knew that she thought he was promising her that there would be other nights and other occasions when they would meet.

  Both he and Sir Julius kissed her hand and Lord Mere was very conscious that her fingers tightened on his as he heard her say very softly,

  “I shall see you again?”

  “As soon as it is possible,” he replied and hurried after his host to help him into his carriage.

  As they drove away, Sir Julius asked,

  “Now, what is all this about? As it happens, I was only too willing to leave as I do find such parties extremely tiring if they go on for too long.”

  Lord Mere told him the truth.

  “Quite frankly I thought that it would be a mistake to become too closely embroiled with our hostess.”

  Sir Julius laughed.

  “She is a very determined woman and you will find it hard to escape her. Every man in Florence is aware of that.”

  Lord Mere was not listening.

  Instead he said,

  “Tell me about the Soginos and the Gorizias. How is it possible that a coarse, unpleasant young man should marry anything so exquisite as the Princess?”

  “You are only voicing what everybody in Florence is asking,” Sir Julius replied. “I know you are aware that the two families have been at each other’s throats for generations. Now quite suddenly the news comes almost like a bombshell that these two young people are to be married and the betrothal party will take place next week.”

  “But why? That is what I am asking.”

  Sir Julius was silent for a moment.

  Then he said,

  “There must, of course, be some reason, if not on the surface, but I cannot find an answer to your question which, in fact, all Florence wishes to know.”

  Thinking of how Prince Antonio had stolen the necklace from his sister, Lord Mere said tentatively,

  “Are the Soginos hard up?”

  “Everybody says that they are short of money,” Sir Julius replied, “but di Sogino has always been thought of as a rich man. He certainly has a remarkable collection of pictures. In fact they far exceed anything owned by the Gorizias.”

  “That reminds me,” Lord Mere said. “I arranged with the Prince that you and I will visit him tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock, as I am very anxious to see his treasures.”

  “They will certainly delight you.”

  Again there was silence.

  Then Lord Mere asked,

  “Surely, if the Prince needs money, he can sell one of his pictures?”

  “That might be easy to do if he was an Englishman or a Frenchman,” Sir Julius answered, “but the Sogino Collection is part of the wonders of Florence and the people look upon it as belonging to them. There would, I am quite certain, be an outburst of indignation if any of them left the City.”

  Lord Mere supposed therefore that, because he badly needed money, the Prince had sold the necklace to the Marquis of Kirkham with the intention of retrieving it at the first convenient opportunity.

  It seemed an extraordinary thing to do and yet there appeared to be no other explanation for the fact that in the first place the Prince should have sold anything that was so much a part of the family history or that he should, if indeed he was aware of it, have allowed his son to be nothing more than a common thief.

  The more Lord Mere thought about the Prince with his aristocratic appearance and proud bearing, the more he was certain that there was more behind what had happened than what so far he had been able to surmise.

  He, however, thought that it would be a mistake to say too much to Sir Julius and he turned his attention to the Gorizias, saying again how repulsive he found the young Prince while his father looked both coarse and unpleasant.

  “I have never liked the youngster myself,” Sir Julius agreed, “and there are some unpleasant tales of his licentious behaviour that can hardly be dismissed as ‘boyish pranks’.”

  “And what are his particular vices?” Lord Mere asked.

  What Sir Julius told him was so revolting and degrading that even in the darkness of the carriage, Lord Mere turned to look at his host with a startled expression in his eyes.

  “If that is true,” he said, “then why in the name of Heaven does the Prince di Sogino consent to the engagement?”

  Sir Julius made an expressive gesture with his hands.

  “I cannot pretend to understand,” he admitted, “but then I have often found that the Italian code when it comes to vendettas and points of honour is well beyond the comprehension of any plain-thinking Englishman.”

  Lord Mere laughed.

  At the same time he could see in front of his eyes Florencia’s beautiful face, so like the Madonnas by Raphael that he felt as if her intrinsic purity radiated from her.

  Then again he could see the fear in her eyes.

  “There must be some very strange reason for this union,” he murmured beneath his breath.

  He knew, as the carriage drew up outside Sir Julius’s villa, that he would never rest until he found out what it was.

  *

  The following day Lord Mere spent the morning in the sunshine in the garden.

  The view beneath him was exquisite, so radiant with light that his mind dwelt for some time on the City of such architectural beauty, grandeur and due proportions that at the time of its building it was a revelation to the whole of Europe.

  Then, as if it was inevitable, he found himself thinking once again of Florencia and trying to decide which of the many exquisite Madonnas by Raphael she most resembled.

  He thought that perhaps it was the Madonna of Foligne and yet there was an undoubted resemblance to several other Madonnas that he had studied so often in his preoccupation with Raphael as an artist.

  Then Sir Julius joined him and they sat talking of their diplomatic and political friends until it was time for luncheon.

  After a delicious meal served with some excellent wine, the carriage was brought to the door and with the hood down they drove through the City and along the side of the River Arno to reach the Palazzo Sogino.

  As they drove through the crowded streets, each one having a characteristic beauty that was somehow inescapable, Lord Mere felt as if he were setting out on a voyage of discovery in which he was far more personally concerned than usual.

  He knew because he was honest with himself that every time he thought of Florencia he was vividly aware of the fear in her eyes after Prince Vincente had spoken to her.

  And he had known too that her whole body shrank from him.

  It was impossible not to envisage that nothing could be more cruel or more horrifying than for a pure and, he was certain, innocent young girl, to be subjected to the excesses and the depths of depravity which he now knew the Prince enjoyed.

  Excesses so unspeakable as to shock any man with any feelings of decency.

  The Palazzo, when they reached it, was exactly as Lord Mere might have expected.

  Very impressive, partially surrounded by an ancient wall and with trees protecting its garden from the elements.

  Nearby he saw an imposing Medieval building with feudal battlements, which he was to learn later had been built in the thirteenth century.

  Inside there was a huge open courtyard and from the windows of the magnificent room into which they were shown there was a view over the countryside that was breathtaking.

  A few minutes after they arrived the Prince came hurrying into the room and was quite obviously delighted to see them.

  “My dear Sir Julius,” he said, clasping his hand, “it is far too long since you honoured me with your presence. I can only be grateful to your guest that he has brought you here today.”

  Sir Julius smiled.

  “I really was confined to my villa for most of the winter,” he said, “but it is delightful to see y
our Palazzo looking even lovelier than the last time I was here.”

  “That is what I want you to think,” the Prince replied.

  Lord Mere thought, however, that there was just a shadow over his eyes, although he could not be sure.

  They drank a glass of wine and then, while Sir Julius said that he would rather sit comfortably than join their tour of inspection, the Prince and Lord Mere set off together.

  Every room in the Palazzo was filled with magnificent pieces of furniture that had been handed down through the ages.

  But it was not until they reached the rooms, which Lord Mere learned were seldom used by the family, that he came upon the collection of pictures.

  They were wonderfully impressive hanging on walls that seemed to have been designed precisely as a background for them and they were lit by the long oval-topped windows that let in the lucid light that was so particularly Italian.

  Lord Mere enthused over a painting by Leonardo da Vinci and was spellbound by a masterpiece by Giorgione.

  Then, as the Prince would have drawn his attention to a picture on the other side of the room, he saw one by Raphael.

  It was a picture that he had always wanted to see of the Madonna and Child, which was known as the Ansidei Madonna.

  He was standing in front of it thinking once again that there was a distinct resemblance in the downcast eyes and the soft innocent lips to that of the Prince’s daughter when some sixth sense, some intuition which never misled him, told him that the picture was a fake. For a moment he could not believe it possible.

  Yet, because Raphael’s works meant so much to him and because, in some way he could not understand, they vibrated towards him so that he was aware of them as if they were human, he knew that he was not mistaken.

  His common sense told him that in this case he must be wrong. Yet his appreciation of beauty was so acute that he knew his instinct was right.

  The picture was a fake and certainly had not been painted by Raphael, although he was well aware that it was one of the most valued of all the pictures in the whole Palazzo.

  He did not say anything, he only stood before it, trying to see whether the actual brushwork was different from what he would recognise as Raphael’s.

  Then he sensed that behind him the Prince was worried by his scrutiny and he could feel his restlessness, even while he was standing quite still.

  For a long time Lord Mere did not move, then he turned and walked across the room to view the picture that the Prince had already spoken about.

  He was almost certain as he did so that the Prince gave a sigh of relief, almost as if he had been afraid that Lord Mere might have expressed his doubt as to the authenticity of the ‘Raphael’.

  There were more pictures in other rooms, all of them outstanding, all of them, as Sir Julius had said, part of the glory of Florence.

  While Lord Mere wandered from one to the other, he knew that the majority of them were authentic and what they purported to be, while he was absolutely convinced that the Ansidei Madonna was false.

  He felt that a number of the smaller pictures he looked at were suspicious, but they were not of the significance of the one he had noticed first nor did they have the same impact upon him.

  This was because he knew that they were not painted by Raphael to whom he felt so personally attuned and he told himself even in a bad light he would have been aware that something was wrong.

  Their tour of the Palazzo was coming to an end and he was beginning to think that he and Sir Julius would leave without seeing Florencia when unexpectedly she came towards them down the passage, looking, Lord Mere thought, as if she had just stepped down from one of the pictures on the walls.

  Because she had made such an impression on him the previous evening, he was apprehensive in case in the daylight she would not seem as beautiful as she had the evening before.

  And yet he knew as she moved towards him that only Raphael could have painted her as she was and the vibrations she sent out were the same as those he had felt when he stood in front of one of Raphael’s perfect Madonnas.

  “Oh, here you are, Florencia!” the Prince exclaimed. “I forgot to tell you that I had two distinguished visitors this afternoon and I have been afraid that you might miss them.”

  As he spoke the words that were ordinary and commonplace enough, Lord Mere knew, again with a perception that never failed him, that the Prince was lying.

  He had deliberately not told his daughter that he and Sir Julius were coming to inspect the pictures and, although it was hard to understand the reason for such deception, the Prince was undoubtedly disconcerted by his daughter’s appearance.

  “Yes, I am here, Papa,” Florencia said lightly.

  She held out her hand to Lord Mere.

  As he took it, he felt her fingers tremble just as they had last night.

  He saw too that deep in her eyes the same fear was there and his whole being cried out once again that he must help her.

  “Have you been enjoying our pictures?” she asked.

  “They are magnificent!” Lord Mere replied, “And I particularly enjoyed seeing for the first time the Ansidei Madonna which I have heard about so often.”

  He spoke deliberately and saw, as he expected, just a faint flicker in Florencia’s eyes that told him that she knew, just as he did, that it was a fake.

  Sir Julius was waiting for them in the room where they had left him.

  When Florencia greeted him, it was obvious to Lord Mere that they were expected to leave as the Prince offered no invitation to them to stay.

  Then, as he and Sir Julius walked ahead towards the stairs that led them down to the courtyard, Lord Mere hung back.

  He made an excuse to study a metal-point of the Madonna and Child that hung in the passage.

  He stopped in front of it and said quietly to Florencia,

  “It is very like you!”

  She smiled.

  “That is what Papa has said, but it is difficult for me to judge.”

  “But not for me.”

  Then, as he realised that the Prince and Sir Julius were out of earshot he said,

  “When can I see you? You know we have a great deal to say to each other.”

  “It is impossible – quite impossible!” Florencia said quickly.

  “But why? I want to see you!”

  Almost as if he compelled her to do so, she raised her eyes to his and he thought as he had last night that she was pleading for his help and yet at the same time was aware that there was nothing he could do.

  “I must see you!”

  She shook her head, but he persisted,

  “There must be some way?”

  She made a little gesture with her hand that was somehow pathetic and he said,

  “When I saw you, I thought that you were too beautiful to be real and now I know that living here amongst these pictures you have gained a beauty that is not vouchsafed to other women.”

  She drew in her breath as if his words moved her.

  Then she said,

  “If only I could – creep back onto the – wall and stay there. Then I would be – safe!”

  “If you did, it would be a terrible waste of life.”

  He knew as he spoke that he had said the wrong thing.

  A shadow passed over her face that was very eloquent and she said in a voice that he had not heard her use before,

  “It is sometimes – easier to – die than it is – to live!”

  He glanced at her and at that moment the Prince was aware that they had not followed him and he called her name.

  “Florencia!”

  It seemed to echo along the long corridor with its arches and painted ceiling and guiltily Florencia replied,

  “I am – coming, Papa!”

  She started to walk quickly and Lord Mere could do nothing but walk along beside her.

  Only as they reached the top of the steps to see below them Sir Julius stepping into the carriage, did Lord Mere say,


  “Don’t give up hope. Just trust me.”

  For a moment he saw a sudden light in her eyes as if the sunshine was caught in them.

  Then the fear was back and, although she did not speak, he knew that she was telling him from her heart that it was hopeless.

  As he touched her hand, Lord Mere knew that their vibrations were joined for a moment and that just as he felt there was something inevitable about their meeting and nothing could have prevented it, so Florencia felt the same and just for one fleeting second her fingers clung to his.

  Then, as her eyes fell and she looked again so unbelievably like a Raphael Madonna, he said ‘goodbye’ to the Prince and stepped into the carriage.

  Only as they drove off did he have the extraordinary feeling that Florencia was not standing in the courtyard of her father’s Palazzo, but alone on top of a treeless hill and the only thing beside her was an empty cross.

  *

  Back at the villa, while Sir Julius retired to his room to rest, Lord Mere sent for Hicks.

  He came in with an air that told his Master that he had something to impart and closed the door carefully behind him.

  “Well, Hicks?” Lord Mere asked.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed as he spoke and Hicks came nearer to him, lowering his voice as he said,

  “I’ve found out some of the things your Lordship wanted to know.”

  “What are they?”

  “First, my Lord, about that necklace. There seems to be some mystery about it.”

  “What sort of mystery?”

  “Well, my Lord, one of the maids at the Sogino Palace, and a pretty little bit her be too, tells me it seems to have vanished in the last two years and no one’s seen sight nor sound of it!”

  Hicks looked at his Master, but Lord Mere only remarked,

  “Go on!”

  “Then I learns and perhaps this’ll surprise you, my Lord, the Prince and his family be pushed for money and there’s been all sorts of economies made in the Palace. There’s also talk of them sellin’ things.”

  It was what Lord Mere expected and he only nodded as Hicks continued,

  “She weren’t certain what had been sold, but she’d heard the older servants talkin’.”

  “Is that all?”

  “All for the moment, my Lord. But I’ll be meetin’ her again. Very keen, her be, and she likes Englishmen!”