Santina's Scandalous Princess(40)

‘As I'm sure you know, given that you obviously know so much about my  family history, my bad behaviour-especially with regard to my father's  new wife-to-be and the impact she felt it might have on her own  daughters-caused my father to ask me to leave.'

‘He threw you out.'

Caesar's response was a statement, not a question.

There it was again-that twisting, agonising turning of the knife in a new guilt to add to the old one he already carried.

Given that for the last decade he had dedicated himself to improving the  lot of his people, what he had learned about Louise and the uncaring  and downright cruel behaviour she had been subjected to by those who  should have loved and protected her, could never have done anything  other than add to his burden of guilt. It had never been his intention  to hurt or damage her-far from it-and now, knowing what he did, he could  well understand why she had never responded to that letter he had sent,  acknowledging his guilt and imploring her to forgive him.                      
      
          



      

It went against the grain of everything that being a Sicilian father  meant to abandon one's child, yet at the same time for a family to be so  publically shamed by the behaviour of one of its members left a stain  on that family's name that would be passed down unforgotten and  unforgiven throughout the generations.

Louise could feel her face starting to burn. Was it through guilt or a  still-rebellious sense of injustice? Did it matter? It certainly  shouldn't. The counselling she had undergone as part of the training for  her career as a much sought after reconciliation expert, working to  help bring fractured families back together again, had taught her the  importance of allowing oneself errors of judgement, acknowledging them,  and then moving on from them.

‘He and Melinda had plans to start a new life together in Australia. It  made sense for him to sell the London apartment. Technically I was an  adult anyway, as I was eighteen. I was going to university. But, yes, in  effect he threw me out.'

So she had been left alone and uncared for whilst he had been on the  other side of the world, learning all he could about improving the lot  of the poorest people in that world in a bid to expiate his guilt and  find a new way of living his life that would benefit his own people.

There was no point in telling her any of that, though. It was plain how  antagonistic she was towards him and anything he might have to say.

‘And that was when you moved in with your grandparents?' he continued.  It was, after all, easier to stick to practicalities and known facts  than to stray onto the dangerous unstable territory of emotions.

Louise felt the tension gripping her increase. Hadn't he already done  enough, damage, hurt and humiliated her enough without dragging up the  awfulness of the past?

Even now she could hardly bear to think about how frightened she had  been, or how abandoned and alone she had felt. Her grandparents had  saved her, though. With the love they had shown her, they had rescued  her.

That had been the first time in her life she had truly understood the  importance of giving a child love and security, and all that family love  could mean. That was when her whole life had changed and she herself  with it. That was when she had promised herself that, whatever it took,  one day she would repay her grandparents for their love for her.

‘Yes.'

‘That must have been a very brave gesture on their part, given … '

‘Given what I had done? Yes, it was. There were plenty of people in  their local community who were ready to criticise and condemn them, just  as they had already condemned me. I had brought shame on my  grandparents and by association could potentially bring shame on their  community. But then you know all about that, don't you? You know how  shamefully and shockingly I behaved, and how I humiliated and damaged  not just myself but my grandparents and all those connected with them.  You know how my name became a byword for shame in our community and how  my grandparents suffered for that. Suffered for it but still stood by  me. And because of that you will also know why I am here now, enduring  this further humiliation by you.'

He wanted to say something-to tell her how sorry he was, to remind her  that he had tried to apologise-but at the same time he knew that he had  to stand strong. There was far more at stake here than their own  emotions. Whether they liked it or not they were both part of a much  greater pattern, their lives woven into the fabric of the society into  which they had both been born. That was something neither of them could  ignore or walk away from.

‘You want to carry out the promise you made to your grandparents that their ashes will be buried here?'

‘It was what they always wanted, and of course it became more important  to them after … after the shame I brought them. Because burial of their  ashes here was their only means of returning to being fully accepted  members of their community, being accepted as having the right to be at  rest here in the church in which they were christened, confirmed and  married. There is nothing I will not do to make that happen-even if that  means having to beg.'

Caesar hadn't expected her honesty. Hostility and antagonism towards  him, yes, he had expected those, but her honesty had somehow slipped  under his guard. Or was it that part of him-the modern, educated part,  that was constantly striving to align the desire to bring his people  into the twenty-first century with being custodian of their ancient  customs-was looking on with modern-day compassion? This was a young girl  caught up in a system of values that had punished her for modern-day  behaviour that contravened the old  rules.

He could feel the weight of the letter in his pocket. Like pressure on a  raw wound, grinding into it painfully sharp shards of broken glass.                      
      
          



      

She was beginning to lose her self-control, Louise recognised. That  mustn't happen. She must accept that, whilst it was only natural that  she shouldn't want to answer him, she must resist the impulse to be  defensive. What mattered was the debt of love she owed her grandparents,  and no one-especially not this arrogant, lordly Sicilian, whose very  presence in the same airspace as her was causing her body to react with  angry contempt-was going to compromise that. After all, given what she  had already been through, what was a little more humiliation? The words  straw, broke and camel's back slid dangerously into her mind, lodging  there like small yet effective barbs.

She had almost been out of her mind with shock and shame and anger when  her grandparents had taken her in, incapable of thinking for herself,  never mind looking after herself. She had virtually crawled into bed,  barely noticing the bedroom they had given her in their pretty Notting  Hill house-the house they had bought so proudly when, after years of  working for others, their restaurant had finally made them financially  independent. She had wanted only to hide away from everyone. Including  herself.

Her grandparents and their house had been her sanctuary. They had given  her what she had been denied by both her mother and her father. They had  taken her in and loved her when others had rejected her, ashamed of her  and for her. Shame. Such a terrible word to a proud Sicilian. The scar  that covered her shame throbbed angrily and painfully. She'd have done  anything rather than come here, but she owed her grandparents so much.

In all the calculations she had made about what might be asked of her,  what penance she might have to pay in order to remove the stain of  dishonour from their family name and win agreement for the burial of her  grandparents' ashes, she had never thought to factor in the fact that  she would be confronted by this man and forced to answer to him for her  sins. The truth was that she had thought he'd be as antagonistic towards  such a meeting as she was herself. She had obviously underestimated his  arrogance.

‘As you know, I alone am not responsible for any decision made with regard to your request. The village elders-'

‘Will take their cue from you. As you must know perfectly well that I  know that. You are the one who holds the authority to grant my  grandparents' request. To deny them this, their chosen final resting  place, would be beyond unfair and cruel. To punish them because-'

‘That is the way of our society. The whole family suffers when one member of it falls from grace. You know that.'

‘And you think that is right?' she demanded scornfully, unable to prevent herself from saying acidly, ‘Of course you do.'

‘Here in this part of Sicily people live their lives to rules and  customs that were laid down centuries ago. Of course I can see many  faults in those customs and rules, and of course I want to assist in  changes that will be for the benefit of my people, but those changes can  only come about slowly if they are not to lead to distrust and  unhappiness between the generations.'