‘Of course I remember meeting you.' Federica said diplomatically. ‘You’re Torquil’s closest friend.’
‘We go back a long way.' she replied wistfully.
‘How did you meet?’
‘In Italy. I was living in Rome and Torquil came out for the wedding of a mutual friend. We clicked instantly.' she said, smoothing down the manicured cuticles on her nails with a steady hand, recalling their lovemaking in one of the dark halls of the palazzo.
‘When did you move to London?’
‘Shortly after,’ she replied. ‘Ah, the menu. Let’s choose now then we can get down to some serious gossip. Bloody Mary please and my guest will have .. .?’ She looked at Federica and raised a black eyebrow.
‘A Spritzer please,’ Federica replied and thanked the waiter graciously.
‘You don’t know how happy it makes me to see Torquil so full of joy,’ Lucia continued.
Federica smiled, ‘I’m glad I make him happy,’ she replied. ‘He’s made me happier than I ever thought possible.’
‘Oh, he’s a unique man,’ Lucia agreed. ‘I’ve never met a man so devoted.
You’re so pure and innocent. That’s what he loves about you. Don’t ever lose that quality,’ she added silkily. ‘You are very lucky. He’s been in love many times before, but never the way he is with you.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well . . .’ She deliberated, playing with a black strand of hair that flopped onto her shoulder like the tail of a fat rat. ‘He always wanted to marry an innocent. Someone unspoiled, unworldly. Just like you. He dated sophisticates but he wanted his wife to be untouched by anyone else. That is your strength.’
‘I see.’ Federica nodded, fighting her unease.
Sensing her discomfort Lucia placed a soft hand on hers. ‘I don’t mean this as a criticism,’ she gushed. ‘He worships you, darling. He’s never met anyone as perfect as you. He adores you. I’m only giving you advice, woman to woman. You have to be smart in this world to keep your man. You have to know what it is that they love about you and then hold onto it.’
‘I can’t stay young and innocent for ever,’ Federica protested meekly.
‘Oh, yes you can.’ Lucia nodded and winked. The more ‘snow white’ Federica was the more Torquil would crave the dark sophistication of his Italian lover. ‘You can be anything you want to be.’
Federica shrugged and pulled a thin smile. Lucia had left her feeling uncomfortable. She was becoming sick of being told how angelic and perfect she was. No one could live up to that.
‘I’d love to be married to a man like Torquil,’ Lucia sighed, pushing the salad around her plate dreamily. ‘He’s so totally in control. I love that. Unbelievably romantic. And so unusual for an Englishman. Italian men take control and it makes women feel very feminine.’
‘Yes, although, sometimes, it’s nice to be independent,’ Federica argued, remembering their discussion about work and inwardly cringing.
‘Don’t be a little fool, Fede, you have a gem there, enjoy it,’ said Lucia seriously. ‘Millions of women would kill to leave their jobs, have their chaotic lives organized by a loving man. You don’t know how lucky you are.’
‘Oh, I do,’ she replied quickly. ‘It’s just a bit overwhelming.’
‘It’s his way of showing you he loves you. You’ll get used to it and then it will be second nature. Remember he has your interests at heart, always. Every choice he makes for you is for your own good. Goodness, he’s, what, twenty years older than you?’ Federica nodded. ‘Twenty years more experience than you. If I were you I’d put my feet up and enjoy the ride.’
Federica took her advice. She stopped seeing Harriet and avoided going into St John & Smithe in case she bumped into her. She studied literature once a week with an old Cambridge don called Dr Lionel Swanborough, who always wore a three-piece suit with a fedora placed crookedly above his thin face. He was at once impressed with Torquil’s library but unimpressed by Federica’s lack of knowledge.
‘I’ve barely read anything,’ she told him. He gave her Anna Karenina and insisted she read the entire book in a week. ‘Don’t worry, my dear girl, once you’ve turned the first page the other eight hundred and fifty-two will turn by themselves.’ He was right. Once she had analyzed Anna Karenina she moved on to Vanity Fair, Emma and King Lear. Her eagerness for learning was bred in the boredom of her daily life as Torquil’s wife, where she immersed herself in her studies so that she wouldn’t notice the world outside her gilded prison and yearn for it.