Beloved (32 page)

“His name’s Stefano Ferro,” Guy continued, enthusiastically. “He’s from Treviso, originally, but he and two of his brothers work for me in Venice.”

As he was telling her all this, he was touching her cheek, her hair, in a distracted way—as if he were admiring a statue. He wasn’t really talking
to
her. Guy had something else on his mind.

“I thought you’d enjoy having him here, especially since I’ll be gone so much over the next six months. He’s young, just a few years older than you, twenty-six, I believe. So tell me, what do you think?”

“What a lovely idea,” Christina said, trying to sound delighted. Instinctively, she knew this was the reaction Guy wanted from her. “It will be quite nice to have a guest, particularly someone from Venice. When do you expect him?”

“Why, any time now. I asked him to join us for supper tonight.” Guy’s eyes suddenly sought hers, now totally focused on his plan. He was imploring and at the same time demanding that she share his enthusiasm.

“I hope you’ll be pleased. This will be so good for us, you’ll see.”

Christina was confused. What did Guy mean, “good for us?” True, having another person in the house would be pleasant, but Guy seemed strangely agitated by the whole idea. Before she could further question her husband’s motives, they heard footsteps in the courtyard. Guy got up and went to the window.

“Here he is, now,” he said.

Christina stood up and Guy put his arm around her shoulders. Together they stepped out into the hall. Christina saw the young man’s back when he removed his hat and handed it to André. He was tall and his hair was dark and slightly curly.

“Stefano, welcome,” Guy said.

As the stranger turned toward her, Christina’s heart stopped. She barely heard Guy’s introduction, for the man she had never stopped loving stood before her. Her lips tried to form his name even as she collapsed.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her heart leapt with joy! It was indeed Richard smiling down at her, Richard who was gently patting her hand. Instinctively, she returned his smile and then suddenly pulled away. It wasn’t Richard. It couldn’t be. Richard was dead.

“Signora
,
forgive me, please,” the young man said quietly as he knelt beside the sofa. “Your husband told me that I resembled a friend of yours, but I can see it came as quite a shock. Can you forgive me?”

Christina just stared in disbelief. The resemblance to Richard was uncanny. Guy brought her a glass of brandy and Stefano stood up and moved away. Christina’s fingers trembled as she tried to take the glass. Guy smiled as he pressed it to her lips.

“I’m truly sorry, Christina,” he said, sincerely. “I so hoped you’d be pleased.”

Christina begged off dinner that night and was surprised when Guy allowed it, surprised, in fact, that he didn’t seem to have any objections at all. Stefano’s arrival had put him in an unusually good mood. He even sent Marie up with some tea and some broth and his hope that she felt better.

She dismissed Marie and got ready for bed. As she lay there, she began to think she’d imagined that the young man looked so very much like Richard. True, he was dark and there was a certain similarity of features, but it simply wasn’t possible. It had surely been wishful thinking on her part.

She awoke to the sound of low voices and good-natured, quiet laughter in the hallway just outside her door. Then Guy came in. He seemed in exceptionally high spirits as he sat down beside her on the bed. He took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips with a concerned smile on his face.

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Fine,” was all she could say. Christina knew better than to avoid answering.

“Do you forgive me for springing him on you so suddenly? I thought you’d be pleased. Christina, really, I did.” Guy looked at her, then said very quietly, “I know you miss Richard. Ever since we had the awful news…” He looked away. “I saw the light go out of your eyes that day. I can’t tell you how that hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Oh, no. It’s not your fault. Believe me, I understand completely. What I think will surprise you is that I miss Richard, too. I do.”

Christina was indeed surprised, and for a moment, she almost believed him.

“I admit I was jealous, and it’s because I love you so very much, but Richard was a part of my life, too. The three of us were meant to be together, Christina.”

The look in Guy’s eyes frightened her and though she did her best to hide her reaction, he saw it. He smiled in an effort to reassure her.

“I know. Fate had other plans and now Richard’s gone. I hoped that having Stefano with us might remind us of happier times, times when we were all together. And Stefano being Italian, I really thought that would please you, as well.” Guy touched her cheek, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face. “Don’t you see? I just want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Christina smiled to placate him, but she was gripped by a chill of apprehension.
Dear God, make him leave. I can’t bear to be with him tonight.

Mercifully, her prayers were answered.

“Well, I’ll let you sleep. Promise me you’ll give him a chance. Try to get to know him. He’s a very special young man, I promise you.”

In the morning, Christina did her best to compose herself before she went downstairs. She dreaded seeing Stefano again. She met Agnes on the stairs, and when she told Christina that Guy had already gone for the day, she was greatly relieved. She was therefore startled to find Stefano seated at the table when she entered the dining room.

He was on his feet immediately, offering a solicitous bow.

“Signora
,
” he said politely.

Christina merely nodded in his direction and hastily went to take her place at the opposite end of the table. Before she could sit down, he was beside her, helping her with her chair.

“I’m surprised to see you,” she said softly in Italian. “I thought you might have accompanied my husband to the warehouse this morning.”

Stefano returned to his own chair and smiled at her as he sat down. “The Signore very generously suggested I sleep late. I was quite fatigued from my journey.”

Christina had to look away. For all her hopes to the contrary, Stefano’s resemblance to Richard was remarkable. He was not as tall, his shoulders perhaps not as broad, and his eyes, when one looked closely, were blue rather than grey. And there was something missing from those eyes—a kindness, a warmth that was Richard. And there was a hardness to the line of his mouth, making his smile appear a bit cynical. The overall effect was disconcerting.

Stop it! It’s not his fault that he looks so much like Richard. He didn’t plan to be born in a form that would torment you.

Still, it hurt her to look at him and Stefano sensed it. He made several attempts at conversation, but Christina was unwilling to participate.

“Signora
,
I apologize again for startling you yesterday. You must forgive me. If I am to be staying with you, I hope we can become friends. I need a friend in this country, Signora.”

The words surprised Christina.

“Very well, Signore
,
I will try, but I’m afraid you must be patient with me. I still find your appearance rather unnerving.” She looked at him and tried to smile. “So, would you like to tell me a little about yourself?”

Stefano told her about his two brothers who worked in the factory in Venice. It seemed they were quite pleased that Guy had purchased the business, and felt it would mean more work for all of them. Stefano had been proud to be chosen to come to France to learn the other side of the silk business from Guy.

Christina was paying little attention. The entire situation was too bizarre. What was Guy planning and how was Stefano involved?

“Signora?”

Christina looked up again, still surprised that Richard seemed to be sitting at the other end of her table.

“I asked if perhaps you might want to tell me about this friend of yours who is evidently my twin.”

Suddenly, the whole situation made her angry. Who did Guy think he was to toy with her emotions this way? She slapped her napkin down on the table and stood up.

“My friend, Signore, is dead!”

She left the room, went down the hall and into the salon, slamming the doors behind her.

Stefano stood up immediately. He frowned as he watched her go. It was obvious that he was going to have to find another approach if he hoped to become friends with his benefactor’s wife.

Later that afternoon Stefano returned to the house. He immediately sought out Christina and found her in the library. He knocked lightly and then opened the doors. She looked up, annoyed when she realized who it was. She’d hoped not to encounter him again until supper.

“Signora
,
forgive me, but your husband asked me to come for you. It’s your father.”

The blood drained from Christina’s cheeks as she stood up.

“No, Signora
,
no. He is well, but his housekeeper is very concerned. It seems she’s not been able to convince him to take his medicine for several days and this afternoon he’s become very upset. She asked if you would come.”

“Of course,” Christina said, hurrying past him into the hall. “Marie?”

A few moments later her maid appeared and she sent her for a wrap.

“Signora, please allow me to accompany you. Your husband asked that you not go alone.”

Christina hesitated. She didn’t want to go by herself and perhaps it would be wise to have a man along. There was no way to know what condition her father was in. His household staff was rather elderly and having someone strong with her might be advisable.

“Very well,” she said, gathering the ends of her shawl around her.

She said nothing to him as they hurried through the narrow streets. Her father’s house was only two streets over and when they arrived, his housekeeper, Francesca, was waiting for them, standing at the gate to the courtyard, nervously wringing her hands. She opened her arms to Christina and embraced her.

“Tina, Tina, thank heaven you’ve come.” When she saw Stefano standing behind Christina, her mouth dropped open.

“I know, I know,” Christina said softly. “This is my husband’s associate, Signore Ferro.”

Francesca dropped into an unsteady curtsy. Stefano nodded.

“So? What is it?” Christina asked.

“I don’t know, but he frightens me, Signora. He talks to himself and gets quite upset. I’ve tried everything I know, but I can’t get him to take his medicine and he’s refused to eat anything all day. Talk to him, Signora
,
please.”

Stefano followed the women into the library where Antonio paced back and forth across the dimly lit room, muttering to himself.

“Papa?” Christina attempted to embrace him. Antonio pulled away and moved on, paying her no attention. “Papa, come. I’ve brought you a visitor,” she said brightly as she pulled open the heavy damask drapes and let the afternoon light flood into the room.

“Eh? What?” Antonio turned, looking at his daughter and blinking uncomfortably in the brightness. Then he turned his attention toward the doorway where Stefano waited. Slowly, the anxiety seemed to melt from his face and he began to smile as he walked toward the unexpected visitor.

“Richard…oh, Richard…” He opened his arms and embraced Stefano.

Christina looked away. She knew she shouldn’t have allowed him to come with her. But, thankfully, Stefano seemed able to handle the situation.

“Signore, it’s been too long,” Stefano said, returning Antonio’s embrace. He glanced quickly at Christina to see if she approved, but she wasn’t looking at them.

“Come, come,” Antonio said, leading Stefano to the sofa. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” He sat down beside him, then reached up and touched Stefano’s cheek. “Ah, Richard…Richard. Please tell me you didn’t kill my boy.”

Stefano glanced at Christina again, wondering how he should respond. This time when their eyes met, he could see she was fighting back tears. Before he could say anything, Antonio spoke again.

“No, never mind. Of course you didn’t. You couldn’t kill a friend.” Suddenly, Antonio turned to Christina. “Tina, where are your manners? Get something for us to drink. We must celebrate.”

He turned back to Stefano. Antonio was obviously distracted, but it seemed very important that he explain himself. He struggled to find the right words and to put them in the proper order, to be sure that he was understood.

“But you see,” he said slowly, “I thought perhaps you were angry about Tina. I had to give her to Guy. I had no choice. He said he would ruin me, and then there would have been nothing left for my son…” Antonio quickly brushed the tears from his eyes. “And now, you see, I have no son and he’s ruined me, anyway. And my poor Tina, she deserved to be a baroness, she did.” Antonio stared down at his hands. “You know, you’re the one she loved, Richard. It was always you.” He shook his head, his voice breaking as the tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“I understand, I do,” Stefano said as he offered his handkerchief.

Christina returned with a tray and three glasses of wine, her father’s containing the medication he’d been avoiding and a mild sedative as well.

“We must have a toast,” she insisted, hoping to get her father to down the wine before he became more agitated. She succeeded.

Antonio continued to talk to Stefano as though he were Richard, mostly about his family and business affairs that were now several years old. Stefano saw Christina’s signal and urged Antonio to keep drinking his wine as they talked.

Christina watched Stefano play his part and she began to warm to him. He was wonderful with her father, inventing fantasies to capture his interest. Soon, the medication began to take effect and the old man grew sleepy, but he seemed relaxed and happier than he’d been in a very long time.

“Well, my boy,” Antonio said, as he got unsteadily to his feet. “I suddenly find I’m very tired. Can you forgive me? I hope you’ll come again.”

“Of course,” Stefano said as he helped Antonio stand.

Christina took her father by the arm and led him from the room.