Read Every Mother's Son Online

Authors: Val Wood

Tags: #Ebook Club, #Historical, #Family, #Top 100 Chart, #Fiction

Every Mother's Son (31 page)

BOOK: Every Mother's Son
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Marco was sitting alone, and after greeting him jovially he told Daniel that he had just missed Leo and Calypso, but that Calypso would be back soon. Leo had gone up the mountain to check on the grapes and would be home for lunch.

‘We are up early at this time of the year, before it becomes too ’ot,’ Marco explained and rang a small silver bell to summon Sophia. ‘But you are a farmer, you will know ’ow it is.’ His English wasn’t quite so good this morning and Daniel guessed that he needed to speak the language more often, as he had done yesterday, to be more proficient.

He sat down at the table facing Marco and with his back to the door. ‘We’re always up early,’ he told him. ‘But not because of the heat.’ He grinned. ‘That’s hardly ever a problem for us, but when it is hot we have to move fast to bring in ’harvest. Have you heard ’saying, make hay while the sun shines?’

‘Ah, yes, I think so.’ Marco invited Daniel to help himself to some thinly sliced ham as Sophia came out with a pot of fresh coffee that was hot and strong. ‘Or fruit,’ he suggested. ‘The melon is good. In Italy we do not eat much breakfast. Per’aps you like a brioche or sweet croissant?’ He spoke swiftly to Sophia before she went away, and then added, ‘What you eat for breakfast in England?’

Daniel laughed. ‘Porridge, to start with, then mebbe bacon and eggs with bread. And a big pot of tea, very strong. We have to eat well in a morning, especially in winter when it’s cold.’

‘Of course,’ Marco said. ‘I do not ’ave to rise so early now, although when the grapes are ready for picking I go along to watch, and also I like to be sure that they are ready. Old ’abits, you know.’

‘I hadn’t realized that you were a wine maker,’ Daniel said, sipping his coffee. ‘I’ve always thought of you as a seaman.’

‘No, no. I ’ave never been a seaman.’ Marco put his face up to the sun as he contemplated. ‘When I left school I asked my father if I could travel to England and learn English before joining him as a vintner – a wine maker. It takes a long time to learn about wine, and although my father was well known in the business and had brought me up to know some, I felt, like many young men, that I should see something of the world before I, ah, settled down, you know.’

Sophia brought out some fresh sweet bread and placed it in front of Daniel, who said a shy ‘
Grazie
’. She smiled, and patted the top of his head, murmuring, ‘
Prego, bell’uomo
,’ which he didn’t understand.

Marco glanced up at her, raised his eyebrows and then continued, ‘He agreed that I could, and as he know ze captain of a ship, he arrange the voyage and say I must work my passage – you know the meaning of this, yes?’

Daniel nodded that he did.

‘But I was not a good sailor,’ Marco said, and demonstrated being sick by holding his stomach and blowing out his cheeks. Daniel laughed. He knew just what he meant.

Marco poured them both more coffee. ‘So we sailed to the south coast of England and then to the north, and the seas there were much worse, very rough, and ze captain he took us to the port of Hull, which you know very well, and ’e told some of the other seamen to take me ashore and come back in three days.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t know where we were or ’ow we got upriver, but these men,’ he looked around him and lowered his voice, ‘they took me to a house where there were lots of young women – you don’t mind me telling you this? It is no – what you say,
reflection
on your grandmother.’

Daniel didn’t; whatever Marco said, Granny Rosie would still be, in his opinion, the best grandmother anyone could have.

‘And I met Rosie,’ Marco said softly. ‘She was so lovely, and very shy, which was surprising for ze kind of place she was in, and I vowed I would rescue her.’ He sighed. ‘I went back ze next day, but I know –
knew
no English and so I couldn’t tell her. The day after, we had to leave to catch ze ship and sailed back to the London docks, and then we left to come back to Italy.’

He told Daniel again about his parents’ decision to arrange his marriage. ‘What could I do?’ His voice softened. ‘But I didn’t forget Rosie. You must please tell her that?’

‘I will,’ Daniel promised, and thought how pleased Rosie would be to know that he was still alive. And he’s handsome still, he thought, and his eyes are dark like mine. ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Can I ask you a question – erm, I don’t mean anything too personal.’

Marco shrugged. ‘I ’ave no secrets,’ he said. ‘Not now.’

‘It’s just that, well, your eyes are very dark, as mine are, and when I was at school sometimes other children would say that I was foreign, which I suppose I am. But not all Italians have such dark eyes, and I wondered – well, I wondered …’

‘Ah!’ Marco exclaimed. ‘I will tell you, Daniel, why it is. Italy is very close to Sicily and Sicily is close to North Africa. My mother was Sicilian, but you will know, yes, that over many centuries Sicily ’as been ruled by many nations including the Romans, the Spanish and the Greeks, and my mother’s grandmother had Moorish blood from when the Arabs were also there many centuries before.’ He sat back and surveyed Daniel, and then smiled, his eyes crinkling, and Daniel could see the vibrant young man that he had once been. ‘And this is why we are so ’andsome, you and I, just as Sophia said. You understand what she say, yes? I knew the minute I saw you that you had inherited ze same bloodline as mine.’

Daniel laughed, embarrassed. ‘So how did your family come to be living in Italy?’

‘Ah, we ’ave always intermingled, but my father was pure Italian, and when ’e married my mother he brought her back ’ere to Italy. There has been much fighting in Sicily; even today there are – ah,
leetle
revolutions.’ He rubbed his fingers together significantly. ‘Pirates, you understand, and corruption too, and my father didn’t want to become involved. He was a very ambitious man and there were many temptations.’

Daniel contemplated all he had been told. So I’m a mixture of nationalities. I’m English through my mother and Granny Rosie, but Italian and Sicilian through my grandparents and great-grandparents and whoever else went before.

As if he could read his mind, Marco went on, in his halting English, ‘You should be proud. You are … multi-layered, a true citizen of the world. An Englishman as well as a descendant of a noble Italian family, which is what ze Orsinis were.’

A noble family, Daniel thought. I can’t begin to contemplate that.

‘And so,’ Marco glanced towards the door into the house, where they could hear voices, ‘when you come to choose a wife you may tell her father you have excellent, erm – what you might say –
providence
? No, not that,
provenance
I think is ze word. Or
pedigree
, perhaps.’

He broke off as Charles and then Beatrice came out on to the terrace and Daniel wondered if what Marco was saying was sheer coincidence or if he had seen Beatrice through the glass doors.

‘Come, come,’ their host called to them. ‘You must ’ave some caffè and biscotti.’

They came towards them, and to Daniel’s surprise Beatrice bent and kissed Marco on the cheek before sitting down. ‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely. ‘Thank you for making us so welcome.’

‘Yes, thank you, sir.’ Charles gave him a short bow. ‘We are total strangers and yet you have welcomed us to your lovely home.’

Marco lifted his hat, which he seemed to wear constantly when he was outside.

‘You are very welcome – indeed, as any of my grandson’s friends are.’ He indicated Daniel and said huskily, ‘You are good friends, I think?’

Daniel’s lips quivered and he blinked rapidly as he realized that Marco was making a public declaration of his acceptance of him as his grandson.

Beatrice looked at him and gave a trembling smile, her eyes glistening, whilst Charles gave a wide exultant grin. ‘I think I can speak for my sister as well as myself,’ he pronounced, ‘when I say that Daniel is the best friend
anyone
could hope to have.’

They sat silently as Sophia brought in more coffee, brioche and biscotti. Last night there had been a celebration, but in the clear light of day Daniel, Beatrice and Charles all wondered if the knowledge of Daniel’s background would make any difference to him.

Daniel knew for certain that there would be no changes for him when he got home, and he doubted that Granny Rosie would ever come to Italy. It would be too far for her to travel, but he thought that she would take great comfort from knowing that Marco accepted that she had given birth to his son and without any question had acknowledged Daniel as his grandson.

How trusting he is, he thought. I could have been anybody, a fraudster worming his way into his family, though I suppose the coincidence of being Leo’s nephew must have added to my credentials. But he felt satisfied that he had found out about his grandfather, and for the first time ever he wished that his birth father, Noah, could have known what he was doing. Neither could he wait to give his mother the news that he had found her long-lost brother and his daughter.

Although Beatrice felt light-headed this morning – too much sparkling wine and sunshine yesterday – she was scheming and planning. Father wouldn’t want me to marry for money alone, she thought, for he’s kind and not mercenary by any means, and in any case would not require a prospective husband to be rich. He has money of his own he could give as a substantial dowry, but perhaps he would like to think I was marrying into a family of status: a noble family, no less. A small smile played around her lips, but an involuntary sigh broke through. The barrier is Daniel himself, for I know for a fact that he won’t declare himself to Father. He’s far too proud, and yet so very humble. And, she thought, perhaps I’m wrong, perhaps he won’t declare himself even to me, because he thinks of me only as his friend.

Charles kept glancing towards the staircase, hoping that Calypso would appear. I wish I could remember what Signor Orsini said to Beatrice. Something about the day made brighter? Something
lumino
? I’m in love. I haven’t met many young ladies, it is true, but it doesn’t matter how many one might meet, I just know that Calypso is the only one for me. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, and she seems kind and gracious too. I will come back to Italy. I shall ask my father –
tell
my father that my chosen profession is art and that I would like to study in Italy. Where else? He continued to debate in his mind. Where else would anyone wish to study art? Except, yes, I agree, I’d first thought of Paris, but I was wrong. Italy is the only place.

‘We must move on soon,’ Daniel was saying to Marco. He wasn’t sure what name to give him.
Grandfather
seemed to be very personal and he didn’t think he yet knew him well enough, but he couldn’t call him Signor Orsini when they were related, while just Marco was, he thought, perhaps impolite.

‘No! Not yet!’ Marco said. ‘Why? Why must you go?’

‘Well,’ Daniel fidgeted, ‘I don’t mean today, but perhaps tomorrow or ’next day. We must collect ’hosses and then make our way back home to England.’

Marco frowned. ‘Your horses? You have horses? Where are they?’

‘They are being well looked after,’ Daniel assured him, ‘and they were in need of a rest after their long journey.’

Marco was astounded, just as Leo had been, to hear that they had ridden across the Alps. ‘And you will ride back?’ he asked.

Daniel looked at Charles. ‘We’ll sell them,’ Charles said. ‘Although we’ll miss them. They are beautiful animals, Haflingers, but we used the emergency fund and Daniel insists we must put it back before we go home.’

Daniel stood firm. ‘Well, I must sell ’one I’m using and put ’money back, no matter what you and Beatrice do with yours.’

‘And, erm, this emergency fund,’ Marco asked. ‘This was given to you, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Charles admitted. ‘My father said we should have it in case we got into difficulties.’

‘I see, but instead you decided to ride across ze Alps rather than take the train, yes?’

‘There was no train from where we started, and we couldn’t afford to come all the way by carriage,’ Daniel told him. ‘We’re travelling on a shoestring.’ He broke into laughter at Marco’s bemused expression. ‘On very little money,’ he explained. ‘But we haven’t spent everything, so we can go part of ’way back by rail.’ He glanced at Beatrice. She hadn’t said what her plans were, but he was fairly sure she wouldn’t be going back to the academy, even if they would have her back after this escapade, and he added, ‘Mebbe as far as Switzerland. We haven’t talked about it yet.’

‘We didn’t expect to find any clues about Daniel’s beginnings so quickly,’ Charles said. ‘We half expected we’d have to travel to Rome.’

‘Well, why not do that?’ Marco suggested. ‘It is not only a beautiful city but also Daniel’s ancestral home.’

The three of them looked startled, Daniel with astonishment and wonderment written on his face.

‘Oh, yes, do let’s, Daniel,’ Beatrice pleaded excitedly. ‘We can go home and boast about Signor Orsini living in a castle by the Mediterranean and seeing the family palaces in Rome.’

Daniel frowned and lifted his hands in an almost Italian gesture, she thought.

‘But who would I boast to? And why would I want to? I onny wanted to find ’Orsini family and tell Granny Rosie that I’d found Noah’s father. On ’other hand, I suppose we might … seeing as we’re here. I might not ever get ’chance to go there again.’

‘Ah! Tsk, tsk,’ Marco said. ‘I ’ope that you will be ’ere often.’

‘I didn’t mean …’ Daniel chose his words carefully, not wanting to offend. ‘I want to come back and see you, Grandfather.’ The designation slipped out without intention. ‘And I’ll come back when I can, but I’m a working man and if I’m not there on ’farm, pulling my weight, then someone else has to tek my place.’

‘I understand,’ Marco nodded, ‘and it’s Nonno,’ he added mildly. ‘It means grandfather. But let me think. There must be a way round this.’

He gazed at Beatrice and then Charles. ‘I think you also understand, but sometimes forget, that Daniel has to make a living, yes?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Beatrice said, her cheeks flushed. ‘Yes, we do forget, and we forget also how spoiled we’ve been and take it for granted that we can do what we want, more or less; yes we can, Charles,’ she admonished him, seeing the dispute in her brother’s expression that said that he couldn’t. ‘At least as far as finance is concerned. Of course, there are times when we have to do what is considered to be socially correct. To conform.’

BOOK: Every Mother's Son
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