“He pined for you, Floriana. He just lay in the road and stared ahead.”
She pressed her hand against her heart, horrified. “He pined for me?”
“Yes. We carried him inside eventually, but he wouldn’t eat. Floriana, I didn’t know what had happened to you. I looked everywhere, but no one knew anything about it, except Elio.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That you had run off with another man, just like your mother.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Of course not. Tell me now, where did you go?”
The butler brought coffee in a silver pot and a tray of homebaked bread, cheese, and quince. Marina waited for him to pour the coffee and leave them alone before she replied to Dante’s question. She had never spoken about this before—even remembering had been too painful. But now, as she brought those memories to light, she realized that time had diminished their power.
“The evening before I was due to meet you at the wall, a stranger came to the apartment. My father told me he knew that I was pregnant with your child. He held in his hand a brown envelope. He said it was a gift from Beppe Bonfanti.”
“He blackmailed my father?”
“I’m afraid he must have.”
“So my father knew?” Dante lost his gaze in the gardens. “My father knew all along?”
“I don’t know how my father found out because the only two people who knew the truth were Father Ascanio and Signora Bruno, neither of whom would have betrayed me.”
“So, then what happened?”
She faltered a moment, for Dante’s face seemed to have fallen with the weight of his sorrow. “The man told me he had come to take me here, to you, and I believed him. What alternative did I have? He claimed your father was going to take care of me—of us.”
“Where did he take you?”
“We drove up here, and there was Good-Night in the road, his tail wagging at the sight of me. But then the car passed the gates, and Good-Night ran after the car.” Her chin began to wobble. Dante took her hand and stroked the skin with his thumb, silently imploring her to go on. “Good-Night couldn’t keep up. He ran and ran, but soon he was a little dot until he had disappeared altogether. That was the last I ever saw of him.”
“And why he remained in the middle of the road, expecting you to come back.”
“I missed him so much, Dante. I almost missed him more than you.”
She sipped her coffee, and Dante cut them both a slice of bread. They ate in silence as Marina remembered Good-Night and Dante remembered his demise. “He took me to the convent, Dante.”
“Santa Maria degli Angeli?”
“Yes, the very same.”
“But I pounded on the door. For the love of God, I pounded on that door day and night.”
“You knew I was there?”
“I hoped you were there. It was the only place I had to look. Father Ascanio promised he would arrange for you to go to the convent, so when Elio said you had run away, I prayed that you had gone there. You had nowhere else to go. But they turned me away, claiming they had never heard of you. Of course, I didn’t believe you had run away. I thought perhaps something had frightened you or that you had lost faith in me.”
He looked so dejected, her heart buckled. “No, Dante …”
“But I never suspected my father knew. He never let on. To his dying day, he never let on …” His voice trailed off.
“Yes, I read that he had died.”
“You did?”
“Six months ago. I keep all press cuttings about your family—and now with the Internet it’s a lot easier.”
“Oh, Floriana,” he groaned.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m not sorry at all. I never liked him.” He cut a wedge of cheese. “Let’s not talk about him. Go on. The puzzle is taking shape.”
At this point Marina found it hard to speak. It was as if a weight had descended onto her chest. “I gave birth to a son.”
“We have a son?”
“We had a son, Dante.” Her neck began to grow hot and itchy. “A beautiful little boy I nursed for five months, there at the convent, until he was finally taken from me.”
“Who took him?”
“Father Ascanio.”
“So Father Ascanio knew where you were all along?”
“He arranged everything,” Marina told him.
“I don’t understand. He said he didn’t know where you had gone. He said he was praying for your safe return.” He shook his head. “He lied to me.”
“He was only trying to protect you, Dante. He said he feared for our lives …”