Roman Summer (22 page)

‘Though one questions why he should pay such an inflated price,’ demurred Agnese, looking at Ruth. ‘Do
you
not know why? As his
fidanzata,
you should,’ she ruled.

But Ruth, remembering that they had agreed to know nothing of
Erle
’s plans until they heard them from Cesare, was able to say with truth that
Erle
had confided none of his motives to her. It was not until
Agnese had gone to collect her things, preparatory to returning to the Casa with Cesare, that he showed he had come to his own conclusions on the matter. He said wistfully to Ruth,

‘Obviously, having bought the Casa to make it your home with him,
Erle
wouldn’t want a riding-school to be run from the grounds. Nor even for me to continue there for as long as I might need to bargain with other purchasers. He is rich. He could afford to buy me out and sell the goodwill to no one else. The stables he will keep up privately and you, Ruth, will have to learn to ride!’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps
—
’ she said non-committally, agreeing privately with Cesare’s reasoning, though not with his conclusion that it was she whom
Erle
meant to install as mistress of the Casa. He intended it should become a private home again. What otherwise could he have meant by ‘clearing his decks’? But when all was done, though he might live there himself, it would not be with her as his wife. Not with her.

Cesare said goodbye to her then, while they were alone. He took both her hands in his and, humble and self-effacing as ever, he said, ‘The one
thing
I wanted of you, you couldn’t give me, but I still have a lot to remember and to treasure. And though I am jealous and envious of
Erle
now, I wouldn’t choose not to have known you—and loved you. You understand?’

Ruth nodded. ‘Nor I—not to have known you,’ she said.

‘And you will be here, as my friend, when I come back to Rome—as I shall?’

B
ut she had to find an evasive answer to that. Where, when he returned to Rome after a time, might she be herself? She didn’t know, and after he and Agnese had gone, she questioned why he should be grateful to her. For the only service she was able to do him was a negative one, of which he must never know. In his eyes, Agnese might have failings, but she had no feet of clay. He did not guess at the lengths she would go in pursuit of an enemy, and Ruth was determined that, if she could help it, he never should.

H
owever subtly offensive Stella Parioli could be when she chose, she did not lack the veneer of social good manners, in that she telephoned Ruth to repeat her thanks for the Casa party before she left for New York.

‘Such a success you and
Erle
made of it for me,’ she crooned. ‘A thousand pities that you weren’t able to enjoy the end of it with us, but I told
Erle
he mustn’t
fail
to let you know how appreciative I am for your having given it for me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ruth, and with too vivid a memory of the belvedere rendezvous, couldn’t resist adding, ‘Certainly the papers gave a great deal of space to it the next day.’

‘Oh,
them
.’
Stella’s tone dismissed the whole Italian Press. ‘Of course they are always rather avid for anything about me, though I assure you I told any reporters I spoke to that they should give full credit to
Erle
and you too.’

‘Which they did,’ said Ruth drily.

Stella agreed, ‘Yes, and I was so glad. Because though it was
Erle
’s idea to give me a farewell party, it was mine that it should be at Rienzi. A nice touch, I thought, that you should give it as your first party in the grounds of your future home.’

At Ruth’s ambiguous murmur in answer to that, Stella went on blandly, ‘Which reminds me, I do have a small quarrel with you, you know. Because it was so very soon after
Erle
asked me to look over the Casa that
you
were denying to me that there was any romance between you at all. Do you think that was quite fair?’

Ruth said stiffly, ‘At that time there
was
nothing between us, and I think you must have known that,
signora
.’

‘Ah, I thought I did, but with
Erle
one never can tell. He has such universal charm. Rather too universal, I’m afraid, for a young wife to tolerate easily ... You won’t have to mind too much if, after marriage, he appears to—and even does on occasion—neglect you for other women. Not really the marrying kind,
Erle
, and later he could feel trapped. And if you are thinking it morbid of me to warn you, do remember, won’t you, how well I know him myself, and have done for years?’

‘I’ll remember it,’ promised Ruth. As if she would ever need warning against entrapping
Erle
in marriage! Opportunity, they said, was a fine thing ...

Stella murmured, ‘So wise of you not to resent advice. And I speak from exp
eri
e
nce; never, for all our closeness, letting
Erle
fear that he wasn’t free as air—even to indulge an urge to marry, which isn’t
him,
you understand? Though of course one can only hope for you
—
’

‘Which I am sure you will be charitable enough to do,’ put in Ruth.

‘
Of course! Though—forgive me—just an instance of how, for your own sake, you shouldn’t claim
Erle
too much, too early. Naturally he will be coming over for my d
e
but at the Met. But unless it is so soon after your honeymoon that he can scarcely refuse you, do wait, won’t you, for him to suggest you accompany him? And if he does not, try to make an unimportance of whether you are to come to New York with
him
or not?’

To which Ruth said, ‘I see what you mean. And though of course
Erle
will want to see your d
e
but in America, I think you may take it—safely—that I shan’t be there.’

Stella drew a sharp breath that could be heard on the line. ‘“Safely”?’ she echoed, catching at the deliberately chosen word. ‘Ah, that means you are offended, jealous! Though I assure you
—
’

But Ruth had had enough. She hung up.

CHAPTER TEN

Stella duly departed, after being feted in the airport
V.I.P.
lounge, laden down by bouquets, and pursued
to
the departure gate by reporters.

Erle
held auditions, put out feelers towards new contracts, and consolidated existing ones in a tight schedule of flights to Paris, Milan, Vienna, and Berlin.

The everyday of Ruth’s life continued while she looked ahead at time—at such interval of it as she supposed
Erle
would consider ‘decent’ before the breaking of their false engagement.

Then, one evening when she was to dine with
Erle
at a restaurant, he postponed ordering aperitifs, saying he was expecting two other guests, people on a visit to Rome.

‘
Then I haven’t met them before?’ qu
eri
e
d Ruth.

‘You know one of them
—
’ As
Erle
spoke he rose,
offering both hands to the two women who were approaching his table. Ruth looked and gasped, her first swift thought one of reproach that he should have inflicted
this
upon her; her second, that he probably couldn’t help himself. For coming ahead of a beautifully groomed older woman was Cicely—all smiles and open arms, first for
Erle
and then for Ruth herself.

‘Surprise, surprise! Isn’t it? I made
Erle
swear he wouldn’t tell you!’
Cicely
carolled. ‘Mother, meet Ruth and congratulate
Erle
on getting her. Fancy! They must have been growing a yen for each other all the time they were coping with me. But not so much as a whisper out of either of them. Why not? You may well ask. Search
me,
though there was a time when I
admit I shouldn’t have been amused
—
Ruth, meet
Mother. Isn’t she marvellous? Only convalescent a week, and suggesting we come out here to thank you for all you did for me! We’re staying at the Salvatore—fabulous! How’s Cesare Fonte? And that grim Agnese?
Erle
, what are you giving us for dinner? I’m
starving
!’

From such eager twitterings Ruth and Mrs
.
Mordaunt, smiling at each other, took it as read that they were introduced.
Erle
ordered drinks and they chose their meal, and presently, to all appearances, they were as happily normal a group as any in the room. Even Ruth forced herself to behave as if it were all true; wanting to believe it was; trying not to look at the inevitable aftermath of continuing lies and evasions until Cicely and her mother went back to England and the lengthening ‘decent interval’ which this re-meeting with Cicely must entail. After this, she and
Erle
couldn’t break with each other yet. He might carry it off. But she knew she could not, if she were ever to look the girl in the face again.

Cicely’s gaiety was infectious, the people at nearby tables watching and laughing with her, indulging her youth. Mrs
.
Mordaunt was a much-travelled American, urbane and drily amusing, and
Erle
was, as always, a perfect host. The evening was hilarious, but not a late one, the price of Mrs
.
Mordaunt’s surgeon’s having allowed her to make the trip being her promise that she would always be in bed by midnight, and
Cicely
jealously saw that she kept it.

They parted, arranging to meet for shopping, for sightseeing, for a return dinner party before the fortnight of the Mordaunts’ holiday ran out.
Erle
first took them back to their hotel, then came back for Ruth. As she joined him and he started the car he said, ‘You’re thinking that was an unlooked-for complication, but I assure you I couldn’t avoid it. Didn’t see why I should—particularly,’ he added, as if by afterthought.

Ruth said wearily, ‘Why not? I see that you couldn’t. But you should have wanted to try—for my sake.’

‘What would have been the use? You know perfec
tl
y well that
Cicely
, in Rome again, would have looked you up. And you were glad to see her and to meet her mother, weren’t you?’

‘Of course I should have been—in any other circumstances. As it was, it was the most embarras
sing
exp
eri
e
nce I’ve had since
—
’

‘Since we got engaged? Well, bless you for a good actress. No one would have guessed.’

‘I’ve had enough practice, the last month or two. But that didn’t make this evening any the less hurtful.’ Ruth looked out of the car window at an
unfamiliar
street. ‘Where are you going? Isn’t this an odd way to take me home?’ she asked.

Erle
turned a
corner
. ‘I’m not taking you home—yet,’ he said.

‘
Not? Where then? Please—I’ve had enough. I’m tired.’

‘You can be tired later. We’re going out to the Casa. I’ve a fancy to serve you a nightcap in the belvedere.’

She sat upright, outraged.
‘
Not
at the belvedere
!
’

‘Why not? You’ll like what I’ve had done to it. The Fontes never furnished it, except as a summerhouse. But I’ve had some rather nice period pieces found for
it
.
’

‘I—I wonder you dare
!’

‘Dare furnish my own property? Why shouldn’t I?’

She was convinced he was deliberately baiting her, ‘You know quite well what I mean
!’
she accused him. ‘The—the associations it has
!’

He threw her a quick glance. ‘But I understood from Fonte that you turned him down. That being so, I didn’t suppose the belvedere would have all that many nostalgic associations for you?’

‘It hasn’t any,’ she snapped. ‘You know I meant—for you!’