Sam had been grateful. He had welcomed his mother-in-law with a newly furnished bedroom, a generous stipend and a comfortable allowance for expenses, and she had taken hold at once.
Therefore how could he cavil at the nature of her care? Ursula was well fed, well bathed, well clothed, supplied with expensive dolls and toys, and taken to suitable films and entertainments. Last summer there had been an expedition to the sandy beaches of the Lido and another to a theme park on the mainland.
"I hope you don't expect me to take the child to church," Dorothea had said at once. "I regard the Christian religion as dangerous for the impressionable mind of a child, especially the papist version here in Italy."
"Oh, no, of course I don't expect it." But Sam had felt a slight misgiving. It was true that he himself made jokes about saints' bones and relics of the True Cross, and here he was putting the matter to the test! And yet his mother-in-law's severe atheism seemed a cold inheritance for a little child.
So for the last three years father and grandmother had been sharing the task of caring for the youngest member of the family.
Mrs. Wellesley provided supervision over the little girl's every move, Sam supplied the affection the child was hungry for, whispering to her in Italian and bouncing her on his knee
Alpasso, alpasso
Va il cavallo del gradasso.
Al trotto, al trotto
Va il caval del giovanotto.
Al galoppo, al galoppo
Va il cavallo dell' Ursula, e ... PUMFETE!
But why was his mother-in-law so inquisitive? Sam found her habit of poking into every nook and cranny of his private life especially irksome. Her nosiness was the reason for the lock he had attached to his study door two years ago. At least now he could keep his papers and correspondence away from her prying eyes, although sometimes Sam wondered if his letters were opened before he picked them up from the hall table. The envelopes sometimes looked a little odd, as though they had been opened very delicately and pasted shut again.
For Dorothea Wellesley the lock was infuriating. It was an insult. How could there be secrets between her and her son-in-law? Did Sam have a secret woman? Someone he didn't dare bring home? Oh, she wouldn't put it past him!
The truth was, Sam's mother-in-law was as suspicious as her daughter had been of his possible erotic adventures. In fact it was Dorothea's warnings about the perfidy of men that had been responsible for Henrietta's wariness. She had been cautioned about voluptuous secretaries, curvaceous librarians, and sultry professional colleagues. She had been frightened into a state of perpetual jealousy. She had confronted Sam with her suspicions at every turn.
Poor dear Henrietta! She was gone now, carried off by a malignancy that had spread from her breasts to her lymph nodes to her liver. But her mother was still on guard. Three years after the death of Sam's wife, Mrs. Wellesley suspected darkly that he was ready for new amorous adventures. He was still so good-looking! And a widower! And a man with an important position! And therefore highly vulnerable to the seductive attentions of women on the make. He might betray Henrietta's memory at any time by sneaking off with some alluring female. Dorothea knew the pitiful prevarications of men. If there was one thing on this earth that she understood from top to bottom, and inside and out, and back to front in all its lust and deceit, it was the opposite sex.
Why did Sam always lock his study door? What secrets lay inside that room? What evidences of infidelity?
The arrival of the mysterious package at last goaded her into action. Dorothea began a campaign of discovery. On the very first day she won a victory. Foolish Sam! On his way upstairs to take a nap he forgot to bring his keys. There they lay, fully exposed on the table in the hall.
Which was the key to his study? Dorothea recognized the house keys and the key to the car that was parked at Piazzale Roma. The Marciana key bore a tag. There was only one left. It must be the one she was looking for.
She snatched it up and ran out of the house. There was a negozio di ferramenta around the corner, right next to the Church of San Giovanni in Bragora. Dorothea nipped out of the house and waited at the counter for the proprietor to finish counting out screws for one customer and helping another to choose an aluminum ladder. At last she presented her key and asked for two copies.
The errand took too long. When she got back, Sam was just emerging from his nap, looking more exhausted than ever.
"Oh, Sam, dear, I hope you're feeling better?" Dorothea backed up to the hall table and artfully dropped the borrowed key.
His face looked wasted from lack of sleep. "I'll just make myself a cup of coffee."
Dorothea watched him trudge away in the direction of the kitchen. Quickly then, she reattached the borrowed key to the key ring. Then she hurried into her bedroom and laid the new keys on her dresser next to the photograph of Henrietta as a bride.