The twittering of small birds woke Carina soon after dawn. She had fallen asleep confident and woken up cold with apprehension. Supposing Ben denied her request? Would Greta be willing to have her to stay? If Greta wouldn’t help her, then who could she turn to?
Ben had left early and, trapped in a state of nervous tension, the day seemed to last forever. It was past five when Carina heard Ben come in. She peered down from the landing to make sure no one was around before she crept downstairs to the library. She listened and then opened the door quietly. She needed to talk to Ben undisturbed and would wait for him here. He was bound to come soon.
Leaving the door ajar, Carina tried to rehearse her arguments, but could hardly think for the butterflies in her stomach. She ran her eye along the titles of the books. Dictionaries and periodicals were on the lower shelves with novels and poetry higher up. To distract herself, she climbed the library steps and took out the first volume that her hand touched.
It was an anthology of English verse and the flyleaf was inscribed with the name Alexander Mavrone. The binding had been stretched and she let the book fall open at will. The pages parted where a piece of folded paper acted as a bookmark and the lines of a poem by Byron were underlined in pencil.
When we two parted
In silence and tears
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years …
They knew not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well,
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
If I should meet thee
After long years
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
Beneath the quiet rhythm and simple words was a depth of feeling that haunted Carina. The folded bookmark caught her attention and she blew away a fine layer of dust, and spread the paper open. A curl of flaxen hair lay in the crease. She touched it lightly and then snatched her hand away. The image of Bianca Scalia’s face swam into her mind and she shut the book with a snap.
‘Did you find what you’re looking for?’ Ben’s voice came from the doorway.
How long had he been watching her, Carina wondered? She put the book back and came slowly down the steps.
‘Your library is a revelation.’
‘My brother’s library,’ Ben corrected her as he strolled forward, his gaze scanning the surface of his desk. ‘Perhaps my correspondence is of more interest?’
‘I’m not in the habit of prying.’
‘Of course you’re not.’ He was mildly sarcastic. ‘Now you’re here, why don’t you sit down?’
Ben pulled up a chair and Carina sat down. The piercing blue of his eyes made her heart pound, but it was now or never and she held her nerve.
‘I’ve decided not to return to Palermo. I’m going to volunteer my services to Garibaldi.’
‘You know that’s out of the question.’
‘Please hear me out.’ Carina lifted a hand, her voice gathering strength. ‘I shall write to my grandmother and tell her it’s unsafe for me to travel. I’m better staying where I am for now.’
‘Which isn’t true. In a few weeks Monteleone will be the most dangerous place in Sicily.’
‘Then I’ll stay with Greta Mazzini and her husband.’
‘That’s nothing to the purpose. You’ll only be safe if you travel with your family to Naples.’
‘I’ve no wish to go to Naples. I want to take part in the revolution. Sicily is in my blood. I have the right to be a part of our nation’s future.’
‘Please be reasonable, Carina. I’m not sending you away for my own convenience.’
‘Then why are you?’
‘I’ve no choice. I brought you here to save you.’
‘Not from yourself!’ Carina saw a muscle in Ben’s jaw twitch and went on quickly. ‘I’m sure Greta will agree. I’ll discuss it with her later.’
‘Greta and Stefan can’t look after you. They know that it’s madness for you to stay.’
‘Then I shall find somewhere else—’
‘For God’s sake, Carina! It’s time you went home.’
He sounded exasperated. And with the collapse of her hopes, despair and anger took over. Carina struck out with her hands, pointing first to herself and then to him.
‘I thought my home was with you! You said you were serious and I trusted you! Were you afraid I wouldn’t succumb unless I was convinced of your integrity?’
‘Oh no, I knew you’d succumb from the first moment we met. Integrity didn’t come into it.’
His words fell on Carina with crushing brutality. Did Ben know the hurt he caused? Was he being deliberately cruel in order to distance himself from her?
‘Don’t you understand what I’ve become? How can I go back to my family now?’
It was the last argument she had left to use and Carina looked into Ben’s face. She saw the shadow in his eyes and tension in the hard line of his jaw. She waited, but he was silent. His mind was made up and no appeal of emotion nor reason would alter his decision.
Carina came to her feet and fled the library. She ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. When she reached her bedroom she slammed the door shut and fell on the bed. Pressure had been building up all day and she burst into a storm of weeping. She cried until her eyes were sore and her head throbbed. How arrogant to think last night changed anything! She had thought Ben cared for her – but he cared only for himself. He had lied to her and she had fallen for the oldest deception of all.
Some time later, Selida came in and sat down on the bed. She put a hand on her shoulder and Carina muffled her sobs in the pillow.
‘Benito doesn’t mean to hurt you. He’s suffered more than you will ever know. You’re on his conscience. He only wants what is best for you.’
After she had gone, Carina went through to the washroom and splashed cold water onto her face. I’ve done everything in my power to reach you, she thought. I have given you all of myself. I touch you, but leave no imprint. I am as wind blowing over rocks.
Never in her life had Carina accepted defeat, not in the sense she faced it now. She had lost her way before and recovered. It was not in her nature to yield and, standing by the basin with water dripping off her chin, she spoke out loud, ‘I won’t let you break my heart, Ben. I am as strong as you are …’
She would return to her family, but go no further than Palermo. When they left for Naples, she would find a way to stay in Sicily. With single-minded determination, Carina cast everything else aside. Selida had hung out a black evening gown, but it wouldn’t do for her last evening at Monteleone. She searched the wardrobe until she found a dress the colour of poppies. Red for passion and red for Garibaldi.
The dress was of a later style and required stays, so she waited until Selida came back. Holding on to the bedpost, Carina made her lace her in until her waist was tiny. She soothed her eyes with pads soaked in cold water and buffed her cheeks to give them colour. Selida helped pin her hair into a chignon and, at her suggestion, she put a touch of cream to her lips. Then Carina thanked her and made her way downstairs.
Ben was walking across the hall as she came down and stopped to wait for her.
‘You look beautiful this evening.’
She inclined her head as he ushered her into the salon where the others were gathered. Greta introduced Carina to her husband, Stefan Bosco, a tall man with a high forehead and gentle smile. Soon afterwards, Baron Riso arrived. He looked tired, Carina thought, as he bowed over her hand. Ben brought her a glass of wine and she settled herself on the sofa with Greta while the men talked together by the fire.
‘I’m sorry you must leave us.’ Greta’s eyes were filled with concern. ‘I worry for you alone in Palermo.’
‘I’ve friends to support me and I won’t be entirely alone. But what will happen when the authorities learn that I’ve been staying with you? They’re bound to make enquiries.’
‘We’ve had plenty of practice and know how to handle them.’ Greta smiled mischievously.
‘You must tell me all about your home. I need to be acquainted with every detail.’
‘We’re half an hour’s ride south of Calatafimi. We have a smallholding with a few hectares of olive groves and …’
Greta went on and Carina did her best to pay attention as her gaze strayed to the far end of the room. Ben had discarded his jacket and looked relaxed, but she knew how swiftly his pose could transform into action. He was the true soldier among the men, she thought. Baron Riso’s courtesy made it hard to imagine him in hand-to-hand combat and Stefan seemed more a professor than an infantryman. The only other warrior in the room was Greta. Carina could imagine her on horseback, wielding a sword amidst the fray. Would she be kept from the battlefield, too, because she was a woman? Had their hope of riding with the Garibaldi been no more than a dream?
Dinner was announced and Carina was placed next to the baron, at the opposite end of the table from Ben. During the main part of the meal, conversation was general, but once the servants withdrew, talk shifted to the current situation.
‘When does Garibaldi plan to set sail for Sicily?’ The question came from Stefan.
‘He will leave Genoa when he learns of our success.’ Baron Riso’s voice was compelling. ‘I thank God the voice of freedom will soon be heard! We have bombs and firearms stored in the Gancia Convent and the day is appointed. I trust the squadri will support us, Captain Mavrone.’
‘As soon as we receive your signal, we’ll come down from the mountains and fight beside you in the streets of Palermo,’ Ben answered.
‘I would like to offer my assistance. I’ll be in Palermo and the family home is at your disposal.’
Carina’s announcement was met by stunned silence. She looked down the table and saw Ben frown. She expected him to protest, but it was Baron Riso who replied,
‘We don’t wish you to put yourself in danger, Miss Temple.’
‘And yet you jeopardise the security of your wife and children? I’ll not be excluded from the dangers that others face!’
‘Brava!’ Greta’s eyes were bright as she clapped her hands. ‘We womenfolk are ready—’
‘You’ve a long journey ahead of you, Carina,’ Ben cut her off and stood up. ‘I’m sure you wish to retire. Let me escort you to the stairs. Will you excuse us, please?’
He came round the table and offered Carina his arm. She wanted to say a proper goodbye to Greta, but he barely gave her the time. They walked through the salon to the hall where the sconces had been extinguished and, leaving her at the foot of the stairs, Ben went to fetch a light. He returned with a candle and, as Carina reached for it, lifted it away and placed it on the base of the bannisters.
‘Are you determined to frustrate me?’
‘I told you before, I want to be part of the liberation of my country.’
‘What am I to do with you, Carina Temple? You’re utterly impossible but I’ll miss you, my beautiful woman.’
Ben’s fingers traced the contours of her face and Carina did not move. Cool and calm, she waited with her mouth slightly open until his arm went round her waist. Ben kissed her slowly and gently, his mouth pressing open her lips with a warmth that caressed her whole body. Remember this, she thought. He will come back to you …
There was no warning of the sound that broke in on them. One moment Ben was kissing her and the next, released her so abruptly that Carina lost her balance. She flung out her hand and sent the candle crashing to the ground.
‘Please forgive me,’ Baron Riso’s voice came from somewhere near the door.
‘Not at all.’ Ben bent down and retrieved the broken candle. ‘Carina was about to go up.’
‘I’ll get another light.’ Stefan spoke next and returned with a candelabra from the dining table. With her hand on the rail, Carina climbed the stairs. An oil lamp was burning on the landing and she stopped to look down. Stefan held the candelabra aloft and Baron Riso coughed, putting his hand over his mouth – only Ben appeared unaffected by the moment. There was humour and admiration in his eyes as he smiled up at her. Then he put a hand on Baron Riso’s shoulder and the small group headed towards the library, taking the light with them.
Carina departed from Monteleone early the next morning. She had said goodbye to Selida, whose niece accompanied her. The young woman sat on the seat opposite and she wondered whose idea it had been to provide a chaperone.
She could see Monteleone standing on its hill and the plain below, distinguished only by complexion from the sea beyond. How she wished this part of the journey over! Her papers would be checked along the way and she must practice her lines. She had to be word perfect to be convincing, but she was leaving Ben and sorrow strangled her heart.
He was to accompany them as far as the border of the estate and, as the carriage came to a halt, Carina leant out, craning her neck in search of him. Ahead on the road, a group of armed men gathered round the cavalcade. One of them began a chant and was joined by the others.
Come join them! Come follow, o youth of our land!
Come fling out our banner, and marshal our band!
Come with cold steel, come with hot fire,
Come all with the flame of Italia’s desire.
Begone from Italia, begone from us now!
Stranger begone, for this is our hour!
Carina could see Ben now, standing in his stirrups as he motioned the men to silence. Baron Riso spoke a few words and then Ben sat back in the saddle and aimed his rifle in the air. A single shot rang out and the patriots waved their black hats and began cheering. Ben signalled to the coachmen to drive on. He was on her side of the carriage and her gloved hand gripped the rim of the window. As they drew level, he leant down from the saddle and said something but his words were lost in the din. The whip cracked, and, as the horses broke into a canter, Carina put her head right out of the window to look back. Dust flew up, stinging her eyes, and she had a last glimpse of Ben on his black horse before they swept around the corner and he was gone.