Carina leant back against the cushions as the Scalia carriage sped along the road back to Palermo. She had managed to escape a day early and the rest of the visit had been torture. By this morning she had reached breaking point.
She made sure she was never alone with Prince Scalia, but felt his eyes on her wherever she went. Her remarks to him were caustic and ill-tempered; yet the more she repudiated his advances, the more cloying he became. The prince made no attempt to conceal his interest and Bianca spent most of the time in her private apartments. On the few occasions she joined the party, she was nervous and distracted. Carina had hoped they might be friends, but understood her no better the day she left than when she arrived.
Was Bianca slightly unbalanced, Carina wondered? She was beginning to think she was losing her mind herself. A string of sleepless nights had left her nerves shattered. Now anger had faded, she was tormented by guilt. Every time she thought of the encounter with Ben Mavrone she felt ashamed. She had beaten a man in chains. How could she have acted with such violence? She wasn’t a bad person, Carina told herself. She was proud of her courage and Mavrone had frightened her – but she should never have breathed a word to Scalia. If she only she’d said Pabla bolted and she fell off, he might have escaped.
A tear slipped from her lashes and slid down her cheek. She wished she had never gone to the villa. And never set eyes on Captain Mavrone. Prince Scalia had received an urgent summons and departed for Palermo last night. Carina was terrified of what it might mean. She must warn Enrico and Baron Riso! Whatever she felt for Mavrone, she hated Prince Scalia more. If she could save her patriot friends, then at least one good thing would come out of the visit.
Worn out by the conflict of her emotions, she fell asleep, not waking until they reached the outskirts of Palermo. The storm that had threatened all day broke over the city and a battery of rain hammered on the roof. Torrents of water gushed down the streets so it took forever to reach her grandmother’s house. When they drove into the courtyard, Carina didn’t wait for the coachman to bring an umbrella. She was out the minute the steps were down, running to the porch with her face turned up so rain fell on her cheeks.
She could see Pietro, her grandmother’s footman, reading a newspaper as she tugged the bell rope. He swung the door open and Carina dumped her bonnet and cape on a chair and set off down the passage. The curtains were drawn in the sitting room and Nonna was installed by the fire with game of patience laid out on a table in front of her. She looked up in surprise.
‘My dear! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Why, you’re wet through!’
‘It’s only a drop of rain. I thought you’d be pleased to have me home.’
‘I’m delighted to see you.’ The contessa paused, studying Carina’s face, as she rang the bell. ‘First, you must have something to eat. Then you can tell me everything.’
Pietro was dispatched to the kitchen and Carina stood warming her hands in front of the fire. Nonna picked up the cards, shuffling the pack, and then set it down with a slap.
‘Scalia has the habits of a tomcat. I hope he didn’t misbehave in any way?’
Pietro came in with a tray, which he placed on the table, and Nonna waited until he had gone before she continued, ‘I expected him to act properly with his wife in residence but one should never underestimate Riccardo Scalia. He’s a strange, unpredictable man. Carlo says it’s because his parents showed him no affection and he was bullied at school. In my opinion, he was born devious and your uncle is a little afraid of him.’
‘It wasn’t because of the prince I left early. There was an odd atmosphere about the place, Nonna. I couldn’t make head or tail of Bianca. She was like a different person there …’
Her grandmother began to lay her cards down on the table, turning them over slowly. The fire crackled in the grate and Carina took a glass of wine from the tray and drank it. The wine warmed her and she crossed her ankles, looking at the toes of her boots glowing in the firelight.
‘They’re an ill-matched couple. I can’t understand why Bianca married him. She must have had a hundred suitors.’
‘It wasn’t a love match, if that’s what you mean. Isabella del Angelo was a good woman, but not wise. She regarded the proposal as a golden opportunity for her daughter. On the surface, Prince Scalia offered everything – wealth and a high position in society – everything except happiness. The child was only seventeen, how could she know better?’ The question was rhetorical. ‘Bianca was also very susceptible at the time. She was recovering from a broken heart.’
‘So she married Prince Scalia after her engagement to Captain Mavrone was broken off?’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Paulo told me. Well, he didn’t say they were engaged exactly. He implied they were …’
Carina couldn’t get the word out and Nonna answered without looking up. ‘I’m sure Paulo puffed a lot of nonsense! Bianca was never engaged to Mavrone. It was a childhood attachment and brought to an end the moment her mother found out. The Mavrone boys were sent abroad and within months she was married to the snake.’
‘And Mavrone never forgave Prince Scalia. Was that the beginning of the vendetta?’
‘No one knows. Mavrone was a wild young man, but he respected Donna Isabella. He and his brother were orphans and she brought them up out of the kindness of her heart. Her only mistake was to allow Bianca to spend her holidays with them. Can you imagine, the daughter of Count del Angelo falling for the son of a peasant?’
At once everything became clear – Bianca’s strange behaviour and her relationship with her husband. Theirs was an arranged marriage embittered by the memory of her first love. And Bianca must have known Ben Mavrone was near the Villa Pallestro! That was why she had been distressed about the roadblocks. It was the only possible explanation. Mavrone had come to meet with her and been captured, quite by accident, along with the others.
A quiver of jealousy darted through Carina. Ben Mavrone was Bianca’s responsibility – so let her save him! Bianca wouldn’t have the nerve, she thought. Then a new idea occurred to her. Bianca might appear fragile, but there was resilience beneath her fragility. There must be, and cunning, too, to carry on with her lover under her husband’s nose.
Suddenly Carina was furious. Furious with herself and furious with all of them. Her infatuation had been madness, a stupid girlish fantasy, and thank God it was over! She didn’t care what happened to Mavrone. She wanted nothing more to do with the whole wretched business. And yet, she must speak to Enrico and warn him. She would ask Nonna to send a card, requesting he call upon her at his earliest convenience.
Refreshed by a good night’s sleep, Carina felt better as she waited for Enrico in the garden. The storm had passed and the sun was out, warming her as she sat on the stone bench. She wanted to speak to Enrico outside so they wouldn’t be overheard. Should she say she had seen Ben Mavrone? Only if absolutely necessary, Carina decided. She didn’t want to think about him and Enrico was in enough trouble already.
A bird was nesting in the viburnum bush close by, darting in and out and Carina looked up to see Enrico walking down the path. How attractive he was with his pale face and limpid eyes, she thought. No wonder Gabriella was in love with him. Enrico was far nobler than the man who branded him a traitor.
What’s so urgent that I’m summoned here post-haste?’ Enrico sat down beside her.
‘A matter of the greatest importance. It concerns Prince Scalia. He claims you’re a member of a secret society and a traitor to the king!’
‘Does he really?’
The look in Enrico’s eyes was guarded and his stiffness made Carina feel awkward. Did he think this meeting was a contrivance on her part to entrap him? Why, the very idea was absurd! She caught her lower lip between her teeth and waited a minute before she spoke.
‘The authorities discovered a plot involving Baron Riso. You’re suspected of treason and are under surveillance. You could be arrested at any time!’
A smudge of yellow pollen fell on Enrico’s sleeve and he blew it off, his tone indifferent. ‘I’m sure Scalia was keen to impress you, but they have no evidence.’
‘They don’t need evidence, you know that! Please listen to me, Enrico! You must consider your safety and that of your family. Think of Gabriella.’
‘Gabriella would want me to stay.’
Lord, he was being difficult! If she’d known he’d be so stubborn she might not have bothered. Carina twisted her hands to contain her frustration.
‘How does it serve your cause if you are imprisoned?’
‘It testifies to the world there are men in Sicily prepared to sacrifice themselves for their country. It gives the people hope.’
‘Fiddlesticks! The people don’t want martyrs – they want food! The revolution failed last time. How can you prevail against the might of the Bourbon army?’
‘In ’48 we were alone. If we demonstrate the courage to rise up ourselves in the name of unity and freedom, Garibaldi will come …’
As if he had said too much, Enrico gazed up to the palm fronds swaying in the breeze. Carina had read about Garibaldi in the newspapers. He was a charismatic leader whose aim was to unite Italy. Enrico’s no dreamy idealist, she thought suddenly. He’s in far deeper than any of us ever imagined. Heaven protect him, does he have any idea of the risk he is taking?
‘Not even Garibaldi can perform miracles. Whatever it is you’re planning, you must postpone until circumstances are more fortuitous. It would be folly to act now.’
‘If we delay, every free-thinking man in Sicily will be silenced.’
‘And if the revolution fails, you’ll achieve the opposite of what you hope. The injustice and suffering will only be worse—’
‘Forgive my impertinence, but you’ve only been in Sicily a month.’ Enrico lowered his head to look her in the face. ‘What do you know of injustice and suffering?’
‘I know you cannot fight suffering and injustice with the sword. They are only be defeated by endurance, using pain as your weapon and courage your strength.’
Enrico looked at her curiously, but said nothing. He was impatient to be gone, Carina could tell. She had failed to convince him and must play her last card.
‘Captain Mavrone has been arrested,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I saw him with other prisoners on the Scalia estate. He’s on his way to be interrogated in Palermo.’
There was a moment of silence and then Enrico swung round. ‘Are you sure it was him?’
‘I’m absolutely sure. And if they have Mavrone, they’ll soon arrest you. You must leave Palermo before it’s too late!’
He stood up and Carina followed suit, disconcerted by the shift in his reaction.
‘Please forgive my lack of civility earlier.’ Enrico extended his hand. ‘We dare trust nobody – not even our own families. You’re a true friend and I thank you.’
‘Will you warn Baron Riso?’
‘I’ll warn Francesco, but we cannot run away. It’s our patriotic duty to win Sicily her freedom.’
For all his fine words, Carina would have done anything to stop him. Tears welled up in her eyes and Enrico dipped his head beneath her bonnet and kissed her cheek. Then he stood back.
‘Don’t lose faith in us, Carina. And stay away from Prince Scalia. That man would move heaven and earth to have you in his power.’
Enrico’s resolve was unbreakable. Did Paulo have any idea of his friend’s commitment, Carina wondered? More importantly, was Gabriella aware of the danger he was in? Her cousin would be proud of him, she thought. And what of herself? Enrico’s passion stirred her heart. The patriots had right on their side, but revolution was a bloody business and the odds stacked against them. They must be certain, she thought as she watched his slim figure disappear towards the house. They must be sure that their sacrifice is not in vain.