The Rich Shall Inherit (40 page)

“Venice in the summer can be very tiring,” Felipe commented, adding cryptically, “and it can play strange tricks on people’s perceptions.”

Poppy bit her lips to keep back her tears as she and Aunt Melody floated off in their gondola, leaving Felipe to follow with Angel. She remembered the secret afternoon rendezvous and their passionate kisses and Felipe’s declarations of love, and she told herself this couldn’t be happening, it was all a bad dream. Soon she would wake and everything would be all right again.

The foyer of the beautiful little theater was already crowded as they made their way to their seats in one of La Fenice’s painted rococo boxes. Somehow she and Aunt Melody had lost Angel in the crowd and she searched the aisles anxiously until she finally saw them. Felipe’s hand was resting possessively on Angel’s, arm as he whispered something in her ear, and Poppy’s heart sank even farther into despair as Angel turned to gaze at him. Her face was so radiant with love for him that her beauty lit up the theater, and Poppy had to bite her lips again to stop the sobs that threatened. She scarcely noticed the pain; her whole being was crying out that Felipe was
hers
, that he loved
her
… not Angel…

The orchestra was already playing the opening bars of Tchaikovsky’s
Romeo and Juliet
overture when Angel and Felipe finally slipped into their seats beside her. She stole a sideways glance at them, but Felipe’s eyes were fixed on Angel’s delicate profile.

Poppy closed her eyes as the romantic, sensual music filled the theater, feeling each chord with every fiber of her trembling being; now she understood all the passion and the pain and the despair of Shakespeare’s young lovers. She had no idea of how she got through the rest of the evening, torn between her desire to run as far away from Felipe as she could and a despairing need to be near him, even though he had eyes only for Angel. Sheer willpower kept her upright
in her velvet chair, seemingly absorbed in a Bach concerto, but inside she was crumbling.

She remained in her seat during the intermission while the others drank champagne in the lobby. Her hands were knotted together so tightly that the knuckles showed white, and she closed her eyes to block out the scene.

“I don’t like the look of you at all, darling girl,” Aunt Melody whispered when she returned. “I’ve given Angel permission to go on to dinner with Felipe and some of his friends, but I intend to take you back to the hotel and call a doctor.”

Poppy hung her head wearily as their gondola drifted back through the warm darkness to the Gritti Palace. Lights sparkled along the banks of the canals and the cafes were crowded; she could hear snatches of music and conversation and laughter, but she felt isolated, as though all the city’s beauty and happiness were meant for everyone but her. Without Felipe, Venice, and life, were meaningless.

“The Signorina needs a tonic,” the hotel doctor declared, smiling at her good-humoredly. “She’s obviously not used to the heat. A fresher climate might do her good, the lakes, perhaps, in northern Italy. Yes, yes, that should put the color back in her cheeks. Other than that, Signorina Abrego, I can find nothing physically wrong with her.”

“The lakes.” Aunt Melody sighed longingly. “I should be quite pleased to breathe a little cool, fresh air myself. But oh, dear, Poppy, Angel is not going to like this one little bit!”

Angel didn’t like it; she stormed, she protested, she cried, and finally Aunt Melody capitulated, arranging for her to stay with friends of Osgood Barrington’s, where the Contessa herself agreed to chaperone her.

Poppy couldn’t decide whether she felt relief or horror as the train rattled its way north; she just knew that her heart was broken and she would never be the same again.

Aunt Melody settled herself contentedly on the terrace of Signora Rossi’s small
pensione
on the border of Lake Como while Poppy wandered the gardens at the water’s edge in a daze, trying not to think about Angel.

The
pensione
was delightful and its proprietors took her under their wing, cosseting her with good food and encouraging smiles, but she scarcely noticed. One morning three weeks later Signor Rossi appeared on the terrace waving a telegram, and as she read it Poppy could almost feel Angel’s excitement.
Felipe has asked me to
marry him
, she’d written,
we are so in love
—
hope you approve and will convince Mama and Papa that he is suitable … Love, Angel.

A month later Nik and Rosalia arrived in Italy intent on quashing Angel’s sudden romance, despite Aunt Melody’s protestations that Felipe was a charming young man, and that all he lacked was money. “We’re not about to lose our daughter to some European fortune-hunter,” thundered Nik, but Angel just smiled at him confidently. “Wait till you meet him, Papa,” she said.

At their first meeting Felipe charmed them expertly with exactly the right mix of respect and frankness. “Of course the boy has no money,” Nik said as he walked with Poppy through the overgrown but still beautiful gardens of the Villa d’Oro a few days later, “but that’s hardly his fault. This mess was created by his ancestors. Felipe has good sensible ideas, he knows what needs doing and he’s prepared to work hard to achieve it.
Yes
, I must say I like his spirit.” He glanced affectionately at Poppy, clinging to his arm as though it were an anchor in a stormy sea. “And what do you think of Felipe?”

“I … the villa is so beautiful,” she murmured evasively, staring longingly at its faded rose-colored walls and mossy tiles, picturing herself as Felipe’s wife and mistress of the Villa d’Oro … but that role was now assigned to Angel.

Rosalia and Nik gave their consent to the engagement and Angel flourished the beautiful heart-shaped diamond ring Felipe had given her. “It was his mother’s,” she told Poppy, “it’s been in the bank vaults for years. Of course, they weren’t allowed to sell it even though they needed the money because everything really belongs to the family trust. Lucky for me!” she laughed, twisting it admiringly this way and that to catch the light. “And Poppy, we’re so in love, we want to get married right away ….
Do
help me to persuade Mama and Papa to let us have the wedding here instead of returning to Santa Barbara. Can you just imagine how romantic a wedding must be in Venice? Felipe says we’ll sail to the church in a gondola and the reception will be at the Palazzo Rinardi—and of course
you
will be my only bridesmaid.”

Poppy sank even farther into despair as a visit to the Paris salon of Monsieur Worth was hastily arranged to purchase Angel’s wedding gown and her trousseau. She barely noticed that she was back in the city she had once thought so wonderful, and she no longer had the desire or energy for the solitary afternoons she’d spent earlier, discovering a different Paris from the one Aunt Melody and the tour guides had shown her.

In between fittings for her white satin and lace dress, Angel fretted
about being away from Felipe, confiding in Poppy all the secrets of their romance until she thought she would go mad. Nik had been more than generous in his marriage settlement and she and Felipe would be able to begin work restoring the villa and the estates as soon as they returned from their honeymoon in New York, and the big reception in Santa Barbara, where she would introduce her new husband to her family and friends.

In Paris, Poppy burned with resentment as she endured the fittings for her pale green silk-taffeta bridesmaid’s dress, imagining herself walking down the noble aisle of Santa Maria della Salute behind Angel, the beautiful bride.
Why?
she asked herself, angrily pacing her room at the Hotel Lotti while Angel was out on yet another shopping expedition with Rosalia.
Why
has he chosen Angel instead of me? Was it her beauty? But Felipe had been entranced with the way
she
looked. Hadn’t he told her he was captivated by her white skin, the blueness of her eyes, her Titian hair? Hadn’t she felt his body tremble with passion for her? Angel had told her that Felipe’s kisses were so gentle that she wasn’t in the least bit afraid … In fact Angel told her
everything.
Suddenly she knew the answer. Of course, it was simple! Felipe was poor and Angel was the heiress!

With a tremendous feeling of relief, Poppy rethought the sequence of events. It was all so clear now, she couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t realized it earlier. Of course Felipe still loved her, but he needed Angel’s money! Oh, poor, poor Felipe, didn’t he realize that with love as true as theirs, they didn’t need money? They could manage … she would help him … surely there would be a way….

She glanced helplessly out of the window. Paris had suddenly become a prison and she couldn’t wait to get back and see Felipe; she wanted to tell him that there was no need to marry Angel, that she loved him and she knew he still loved her and that everything would be all right.

There was just a week left before the wedding as at last the train carried them back to Venice, and Poppy thought guiltily of Angel with her glorious wedding dress and her sumptuous trousseau packed into the brand-new Vuitton cabin trunks in the baggage van, and her plans for her future already bubbling excitedly from her lips. After all, Poppy reassured herself, wasn’t it better for Angel
not
to marry a man who didn’t love her? At Venice’s Santa Lucia railway station she hung back silently as Angel flew into Felipe’s waiting arms, only this time it was pity she felt, not jealousy.

Angel’s extravagant trousseau and her lavish purchases overflowed
from their shared hotel room until she was forced to move into a separate suite along the corridor. “It’s all going to change now, Poppy,” she said seriously as her new cabin trunks and valises, hatboxes and shoe bags, were wheeled down the hall by the porters. “Remember when you first came to Rancho Santa Vittoria? Mama had prepared a special room of your own and you told her you’d rather share with me. Oh, Poppy, I’ve just realized we shall never share a room together again and I shall miss you so. I’ll miss all our secrets, all our silly girlish confidences in the dark. This has all happened so suddenly, sometimes it frightens me. Poppy,
promise
you will come back to Italy to visit me. I can’t bear to be without you.” Bursting into tears, she flung her arms around her. “I love Felipe so much,” she sobbed, “but I love you, too, and suddenly California and home seem so far away.”

“Don’t cry, Angel,” Poppy murmured soothingly, “everything is going to work out just fine, you’ll see. Maybe it’ll all be a little ‘different’ than you expected, but it will be for the better.”

Angel glanced up at her, puzzled. “Whatever do you mean?”

Poppy shrugged, turning away to avoid her cler, direct gaze. “Oh, I don’t know … it’s just that sometimes things are not really the way they seem, people do things for the strangest motives …”

“Poppy, you’re talking in riddles,” Angel cried, exasperated. “But whatever you mean, I’m still going to miss you. And Greg,” she added soberly. “It’s so sad that he can’t be here for the wedding, but Papa says that someone has to be home to look after the ranch. Still,” she added, cheering up, “I’ll see him when we’re home on our honeymoon.”

Poor Angel
, Poppy thought as she disappeared with the last of her packages down the corridor.
Poor, poor Angel, I do so hate to hurt her.
Walking to the mirror, she studied her reflection, pinching her pale cheeks to bring color to them and patting her upswept hair into an even smoother chignon, wondering if Felipe would still think her beautiful after Angel.

The whole week was devoted to a round of parties and receptions, but this time instead of avoiding Felipe, Poppy went out of her way to stay close to him, catching his eye across a table, touching his arm in passing, glancing sideways at him, a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth as her blue eyes signaled her message….

Uncle Umberto, tall, urbane, and immaculately tailored, had opened up the Palazzo Rinardi for its first grand party in years. An army of workmen and cleaners had been hard at work putting the palace to rights, ready for the ball and the lavish wedding reception,
which would take place two days later, and which more than four hundred distinguished guests would attend. The palazzo’s tall windows sparkled with the light of a thousand candles shimmering like a reflected moonlit dream in the dark waters of the Grand Canal, just the way Felipe had told Poppy it always did for special celebrations.

Poppy was frantic; she still hadn’t managed to find an opportunity to speak to Felipe alone. Poor Felipe, she thought as she mounted the stairs where he was waiting to greet his guests, to be forced into marrying a girl he didn’t love in order to save his heritage. But she would rescue him from all that. There was a desperate gleam in her eye as she smiled at him, because it was a fact that they had not exchanged a single private word since that terrible night at the consulate when his glance had seemed to wipe her from the face of his earth.

She wondered if it was her imagination, as she caught his eye yet again, or was he really glancing her way more often tonight? Hope lifted her heart and she thought desperately that maybe he, too, had finally realized that marrying Angel for her money was wrong. That he loved her as madly as she loved him, and that he couldn’t live without her. Like a gray shadow in her molten velvet gown, she sat quietly amid the chattering partygoers, awaiting her opportunity. And when she finally saw Felipe murmur an excuse to Angel and make his way to the door, she headed quickly across the room, grasping his arm determinedly.

“Felipe,” she whispered urgently, “I must talk to you … now … tonight.”

“What is it you want?” he snapped, pulling her quickly into an alcove. “I thought you understood what had happened. After all, it was your own fault.”

“My fault?” she cried, bewildered.

He pushed her farther behind the curtain. “I can’t talk to you here,” he whispered angrily, “but in any case there’s nothing further to say.”

“But I
must
talk to you, Felipe, I
must see you alone.”
Her blue eyes beseeched him and for a moment he hesitated.