Last Voyage of the Valentina(116)

When she showed her uncle the portrait he rubbed his chin. “Madonna!” he gasped, peering closer. “Where did you find it?”

“At the palazzo,” Alba replied defiantly.

His rough face turned solemn. “So you went?”

“You know me, Falco. I don’t give up.”

“Nero showed us the grotto,” said Fitz. “It was there that Alba discovered the portrait.”

“And the truth,” she added. “That the marchese killed my mother.”

Falco poured a glass of water and took a gulp. “So, the picture was there all along,” he muttered.

“It was not hers to give away,” grumbled Alba. “It belonged to my father.”

“You must take it to him,” said Falco.

“I can’t,” she sighed, recalling the effect of the first one.

“I think you are wrong, Alba. I think you should tell him.”

“Falco’s right. I think it’s time he knew the truth,” Fitz interjected wisely.

Alba sighed heavily in resignation. “I can’t believe the bastard killed my mother out of jealousy. It’s so bloody futile.”

Falco raised his eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

“Lattarullo,” said Alba.

Her uncle thought for a moment and then said gravely, “That’s not the full story.”

Alba’s heart lurched. “There’s more?”

“The marchese killed Valentina because of you.”

Alba was appalled. “Because of me?”

“He thought you were his.”

She clutched her throat, finding it hard to breathe. “How do you know that I’m not? Am I?” She was horrified, suddenly doubting her own parentage.

“Valentina knew. The marchese knew too, in his heart.”

“He killed her for revenge,” said Fitz, shaking his head. “What a coward.”

“Because he had lost her and because he was going to lose you as well. The marchese had no heir. He was old and sad. Valentina and you were his future, his life. Without you he had nothing. He wanted to rob Tommy of his future as Valentina was robbing him of his.”

“Nero said that he was murdered.” Alba’s eyes met Falco’s. He did not look away, his eyes as hard as hematite.

“Let’s just say that here in the south families have their ways of taking revenge.”

“You, Falco?” Her voice was a whisper.

“I slashed his throat like he slashed Valentina’s and I watched him die, choking in his own blood,” he said. The simple act of unburdening his secret expelled the dark shadows from his eyes. “It was a matter of honor.”



A few days later, Alba broke the news to Cosima. She deliberately took her into town to buy new dresses at the shop owned by the dwarfs, hoping that the excitement of a few purchases would make up for the disappointment that would follow. Cosima tried them on, twirled around like a dancer, took time to make up her mind as she had the first time Alba had taken her. Because she felt guilty and because she wanted the child to remember her with affection, Alba bought her all five with tights and cardigans to match and a pale blue coat for when it got very cold. Cosima was overwhelmed, but this time she didn’t cry. She thanked her cousin, pressing her small face up to Alba’s to kiss her on her cheek. Alba had to bite back her tears. She hadn’t even left and yet the seams of her heart were already tearing.

She led Cosima up the path through the rocks to the lookout point where she had first drawn her. It felt like another lifetime. In the space of only a few months, she had lived so many.

“Shall I give a fashion show tonight?”

“Definitely. They should see your new autumn collection,” Alba replied, making her voice jolly.

“You bought me so many,” Cosima said, placing enormous emphasis on the “so.” “Five. They’re so pretty. I love pretty things.”

“That’s because you’re pretty too. And not only pretty, Cosima, you’re sweet like honey.”

“We should have brought a picnic. I’m hungry.”

“It’s all that shopping. Wears you out. Wait till you come to London and then we’ll really hit the shops. When you’re a little bit bigger perhaps.” Cosima nodded, unable to comprehend the idea of London. “Darling, I have something important to tell you.” She coughed. Cosima lifted her clear gaze and smiled expectantly. “I’m going to be leaving soon.” She blinked back tears as her voice cracked.

Cosima blanched. “Leaving?” she repeated.

“Yes, Fitz has asked me to marry him.”

“Where are you going?”

“To England.”