For years she had believed her uncle had regarded her as some sort of trophy charitable cause, a way for him to garner accolades for good work, for giving a home to his brother’s bastard child. Surely this will of his was no more than a last attempt to salve his conscience? Or was she misjudging him? Could a person change that much? Roddy had once said that her uncle had gone in search of her in Naples because he’d known it was something his wife – his first wife – would have done; apparently Maud would never have turned her back on a child in need. Was Allegra supposed to feel grateful that she’d been plucked from the orphanage by a stranger and dropped into the bosom of a family that had resented her presence so keenly? She didn’t, and never had.
‘I tried to dissuade him from putting that clause in his will, you know,’ Roddy said, his voice as soft as the velvety dark sky. ‘But you know Jack; once he had an idea in his head, he wouldn’t be swayed.’
‘You sound tired, caro,’ Allegra said, but still not turning to look at him, or responding directly to his comments.
‘I am,’ he replied. ‘I’m dog tired. It’s been a long day.’
‘You should go to bed.’
‘I will. Before I do, I want to talk to you on your own.’
Now Allegra did turn to regard him. ‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t look well.’
She faltered at his perceptiveness. ‘I’m in mourning,’ she said. ‘One isn’t supposed to look well. Although Romily makes for a fine widow, don’t you think? She’s an attractive woman. I can quite understand how she caught Uncle Jack’s eye with her bella figura. But then he was never short of beautiful women in his life. It was quite a hobby for him.’
‘That’s unfair, Allegra. Romily is the first woman Jack truly loved since Maud. That’s what makes his death so hard to bear for me, knowing just how much he loved her. For almost as long as I knew him, he was looking for that elusive special person with whom to share his life, and finally he found her. He was the happiest I’d ever seen him. I’ll … I’ll always be grateful to Romily that she did that.’
Hearing the catch in his voice, Allegra put a hand out to Roddy and rested it on his forearm. ‘You sound like you care for her.’
‘I do. I have the greatest respect and admiration for Romily. That’s why I readily promised Jack I would help her if required, just as I promised him I’d always be of assistance to you if you needed it, and to Hope and Kit, and even Arthur.’
‘Was ever a man so lucky as to have a friend such as you?’ she murmured. And then: ‘It’s odd, but Romily strikes me as being too young to be a widow. Whereas Hope seems more than old enough.’
‘What a strange thing to say.’
‘Not strange at all. Naming her Hope was in vain as far as I can see. She was born to be hopelessly miserable, to be a widow in a perpetual state of bereavement. From what I’ve seen of her since yesterday, she virtually revels in the role. In contrast, I predict la bellissima Romily Devereux-Temple will shake off her widow weeds in no time at all.’
‘It’s unworthy of you to speak of them in that way.’
Allegra shrugged. ‘But you know it’s true. You English are so afraid of the truth, aren’t you?’
‘You’re half English yourself, may I remind you.’
‘Sì,’ she said with a sigh, ‘that is the cross I have to bear in this life.’
Roddy tutted and moved his arm so that the stump within his jacket sleeve was resting on his lap. When she had been a child and met him for the first time, Allegra had been petrified of his stump, or more particularly the ugly artificial hand he had worn at the time. Arthur had made it worse for her by saying that if she didn’t always do as he said, he would cut off her hand and make her wear a false one just like Roddy. She had been so relieved when Roddy had given up wearing the cumbersome mechanical device.
‘What about you, Allegra?’ he said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Were you born to be unhappy like Hope? And bitter?’
‘Maybe so. Maybe the nuns at Casa della Speranza should have called me Mara, the Hebrew word for bitter.’
Neither of them spoke for a while. Allegra listened to the rustle of something moving in the nearby undergrowth, and an owl hooting in the trees on the other side of the pond.
Roddy was the first to speak. ‘May I give you a piece of advice, Allegra, as someone who has known you for a very long time?’
‘Only on the understanding that you don’t make me promise to heed it.’
‘Did you ever?’
She smiled into the darkness. ‘Not often. But go on, try me with your advice.’
‘It’s a very simple piece of philosophy by which I’ve tried to live my own life. It’s this – happiness is a choice; you either decide to be happy with what you have, or you don’t.’
‘And has that worked for you?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I decided that I was happy with the life I had. With my work, with my friends, especially with my best friend, Jack, and his family.’
