‘But, monsieur, the bombardment is over! Surely you’ll permit me the benefit of fresh air?’
They were sitting at the kitchen table and for the last few mornings the conversation had been the same. Every time she begged to go out, Monsieur Carot refused point blank. Her wound had festered and, as Madame Carot applied hot bran poultices to draw out the poison, she told her of the desolation the Redshirts had inflicted on Palermo. Carina did not believe her. Now her injury had healed, she was desperate to get away.
In that instant there was a loud rap at the door. Before anyone could stop her, Carina ran to open it. Enrico was standing on the doorstep wearing freshly laundered uniform, and she took him through to the kitchen where he spread his arms in apology.
‘Forgive me for not coming before now.’
‘Have they gone?’ Monsieur Carot asked.
‘The last ship, taking Bourbon troops to the mainland from Palermo, sailed last night.’
‘Sacre Coeur!’ Madame Carot pressed her hand to her mouth while her husband’s gaze rested nervously on Enrico as he continued.
‘General Garibaldi secured an armistice and there’s has been a ceasefire for four days. Surely you’re aware of that?’
‘We’ve had no news. We were waiting for you.’ Carina was impatient. ‘Please tell us everything.’
They sat round the table and listened as Enrico described how the battle lasted three days and nights with victory balanced precariously between the two sides until the Bourbons were confined to an area surrounding the Royal Palace. Cut off from supplies and reinforcements, they called a truce and proposed a conference on board Admiral Mundy’s ship. At this point Carina made a small sound, then nodded vigorously, urging Enrico to go on.
‘Miss Parsons sent you many messages, Carina. I’ll come to that later. A cease-fire was agreed and Garibaldi appealed to the citizens of Palermo for help. Men, women and children worked all night, building barricades and repairing weapons. General Lanza was so confounded by their support for Garibaldi, he telegraphed the king and received the order to evacuate by return.’
‘So Garibaldi’s in charge of Palermo?’ Monsieur Carot enquired fretfully.
‘La municipalite c’est moi. That’s what he said, only in Italian.’
Madame Carot’s cup rattled in its saucer and Carina shot Enrico a cautionary glance, which he ignored.
‘The general’s taken up quarters in the Royal Palace. You’re invited to a reception there tonight, Carina. Miss Parsons told Garibaldi how you refused to take refuge aboard ship and stayed to help the Redshirts. You are quite a heroine!’
‘But that’s nonsense! I don’t believe Jane said any such thing!’
‘Why else does he want to meet you? I’m here to take you home so you can make yourself ready for this evening.’
Enrico did his best to reassure Monsieur and Madame Carot while Carina fetched her belongings. She thanked them for their kindness and, once in the carriage, her eyes began to sparkle.
‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you at the palazzo. How did you escape from house arrest?’
‘I was rescued by agents of the Secret Committee. They bribed the guards and took me to the squadri in the mountains. Fortunately, I had time to recover before Garibaldi attacked Palermo.’
So it was Enrico, and not Ben, stoking the fires and watching over Palermo, Carina thought as they jolted along. Flagstones had been ripped up to make barricades and the roads were precarious, with potholes and mounds of rubble to negotiate. Some of the finest buildings in the city had been destroyed, but from the burnt-out ruins came the sound of laughter and singing. Tricolour flags were draped from shattered windows and Enrico assured her the palazzo was in good order. He had called by yesterday and the servants were preparing for her return.
‘What’s the purpose of this evening?’ Carina enquired.
‘To celebrate our victory and rally the support of the municipality. One and all are fascinated by Garibaldi – whether they attend is a different matter.’
‘Have you news of Captain Mavrone?’ Finally, she asked the question foremost in her mind.
‘Mavrone’s well and promoted to colonel. I am sure he’ll be there tonight.’
His tone gave nothing away, but disquiet stirred in Carina and Enrico turned towards her.
‘Nothing stays the same in times of war. We must prepare ourselves for change. I only wish Gabriella was here to share in our victory.’
‘Have you heard from her?’
‘I’ve written, but my letters are returned unopened.’
Carlo meant to punish Enrico for his politics, Carina thought, and she wasn’t having any of it.
‘Then we must arrange this among ourselves. Nonna loves Gabriella. Between us, we’ll find a way to circumvent my uncle.’
They drove into the courtyard and she outlined a plan as it came into her head. She would write to her grandmother and enclose a letter from Enrico to Gabriella. He must bring one for her tomorrow. If the contessa agreed to act as go-between, they could correspond under her seal. There was no time to say more for they had arrived and Pietro was letting down the steps.
Enrico led her to the door and Carina waited until the gig drove out through the gates. She went inside and walked to the sitting room, barely aware of Pietro as he took her bag to the bedroom. Tonight she would be reunited with Ben! Every day for the last two months had been destined to lead to this evening. Suddenly, she was apprehensive. Would Ben be pleased to see her? ‘Nothing stays the same …’ Enrico’s words came into her mind. Was he trying to warn her? Pietro said there had been no visitors. Ben was in Palermo, but he had not come to find her. How would it be when they met each other again?