“And it’s done him the world of good. He can finally put it all behind him and so must you. You’re about to marry Fitz and start a family of your own now.”
“Thank you for the necklace. I’ll treasure it,” she said and got up to kiss her grandmother fondly.
“You’re a good girl, Alba,” said Lavender, patting her arm. “You’ve finally grown up. About time too!”
When Alba and Lavender returned to the drawing room, Fitz was drinking champagne with Thomas and Margo. “Look what Grandma has given me,” said Alba, rushing up to her father and opening the box.
“Ah, the pearl necklace, how nice,” he said. “You’ll make a beautiful bride in those.”
“How lovely,” enthused Margo, standing over them. “How jolly generous of you, Lavender.”
“We’ve had a nice chat,” said Alba, sitting beside Fitz. “I had never been up to her rooms before.”
“Not as comfortable as the Dower House, I’m afraid,” said Margo. “But at least here we’re all together.”
“Lavender suggested that we have the Dower House once we’re married,” Alba volunteered. “What do you think, Daddy?”
Thomas looked pleased. “I think it’s a tremendous idea. We lived there when we were first married.”
“Thank you, Thomas,” said Fitz, a little uneasily. “We’ll think about it.” Alba frowned at him. “Well, darling, remember I work in London.” Alba felt deflated. She didn’t want to live in London.
Later, in his bedroom, she broached the subject again. “Can’t you commute?” she said, lying on the bed while he changed for dinner.
Fitz sighed. “I’m not sure that it’s feasible.”
“Think how much Sprout would love it here. All this land to run about on. We could perhaps buy him a friend.”
He buttoned up his shirt. “I thought you loved the city.”
“I used to. I’ve grown disenchanted by it.”
“That’s only because you’ve been living in Incantellaria for five months. You’ll snap out of it. You’ll be trawling the shops on Bond Street again before you can blink.”
“I want a quieter life now,” she said, remembering the trattoria with a stab of regret. “I miss it.”
“Say we compromise,” he suggested. “We could have the Dower House at weekends.”
“What am I supposed to do all week?”
“Paint.”
“In London?”
“You can convert my spare room into a studio.”
“I need the countryside to inspire me,” she said, nearly choking on the thought of those lemon groves, the old lookout point, the wide expanse of sea, and of Cosima, her curls bouncing about her shoulders, twirling around in her new dresses.
“Darling, you’ve only just come back. Give yourself time to adjust.” He kissed her. “I love you. I want you to be happy. If you want to be here, then we’ll work something out.”
After dinner, during which they had discussed the wedding in great detail, Thomas asked Alba into the study. “There’s something I want you to have,” he said, exchanging a glance with his wife.
“I’ll be there shortly. I just need something from my room,” she replied, running off into the hall. Thomas went into the study and took the portrait of his father down from the wall.
He reached into the safe and grabbed the scroll that lay right at the very back. He no longer felt the pull of Valentina’s presence, that invisible demand to be remembered. He opened it to look at her once again. This time he felt detached; for the first time, her face seemed that of a stranger to him. At last he could relegate her to the past and leave her there.
Alba stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She saw the scroll in his hand and looked at him questioningly. “I think you should have this,” he said, handing it to her. “I don’t want it anymore.”
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she? But very human,” she said, watching her father pour himself a whiskey and sit down in the worn leather chair he always sat in after dinner. He leaned over and opened the humidor, chose a cigar, and began slowly to cut it.
“So, how was Incantellaria?”
“Probably the same as when you were there. It’s one of those places that will never change.”
“You said in your letter that Immacolata is still going strong. I’ll be damned. She was old when I knew her.”
“She’s very small and wizened, like a nut. But she loves me like a daughter. When I first arrived she never smiled. Then later, when I convinced her to get rid of those morbid shrines, she wore colors again and a rather beautiful smile.”