‘What about love and marriage? Did you never want that?’
‘If the right woman had come along, then maybe yes, but it was never a priority for me.’
‘So what are you trying to say, in your ever so subtly English way, caro?’
‘I suppose I’m asking you if your career as a singer is bringing you the happiness you thought it would. Is life everything you want it to be? And what about love? Have you met a man who makes you happy?’
‘Carissimo Roddy, what makes you ask all these questions?’
He cleared his throat. ‘Because I suspect you are not happy, and that something is very wrong with you right now. Have you been overworking, is that the problem?’
But before she had a chance to reply, he went on, ‘Last year, in one of those inexplicable coincidences that sometimes happen, I was in Lucca and came across you singing the role of Mimi in La Bohème. You sang beautifully; in fact I was moved to tears, remembering with sadness the fiercely angry child you had once been. I’ve never forgotten how striking you could look and how your eyes could change colour depending on your mood – dark and flashing when in a temper, soft and as sweet as molasses when quiet and lost in thought. Poor Hope, your beauty made her feel so very ordinary in comparison.’
Again Allegra tried to speak, but Roddy was clearly in the mood to say his piece. ‘After the performance that evening in Lucca, I tried to find you backstage at the theatre, but I was denied access by a foppish upstart of an Italian who pompously informed me that Miss Salvato never spoke to anyone after a performance, least of all an ageing stage-door Johnny. I left you a note; I doubt for a minute you ever received it.’
‘What did it say?’
‘That I was so very proud of you that night, because you had achieved your dream, and that is something very few people do in life. But dreams often come at a cost, and I’m wondering what price you’ve had to pay.’
His words filled Allegra with an enormous sadness and she suddenly felt the irresistible urge to rest her head against his shoulder. ‘Dear wise old Roddy,’ she said, ‘how perceptive you are this evening.’ She sighed. ‘I am wretched, but not for the reason you think. Overwork is not the problem, far from it.’
‘Will you tell me what is?’
Why not? she thought. ‘The man who turned you away that night in Lucca had not only been managing my career; he had promised to marry me. Instead, though, he ran off with all my earnings. He owes money to theatres all over Italy and has blackened my name in the process.’
‘Good God, Allegra, what a scoundrel!’
She smiled at his outrage. ‘That certainly is one way of describing him.’
‘But surely, in terms of work, the right people will quickly realise that what he’s done is not your fault. That you’re not to blame?’
‘I shall be tainted by association and will be lucky even to get a role in the chorus. And …’ She stopped herself short. No, there was no need to admit her real fear: that she was terrified she had lost her voice and would never sing again. Say the words aloud and it might become reality.
‘And what?’ pressed Roddy.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Are you sure? If I can help in any way, please say.’
Snatching at something to satisfy his curiosity and his need to help, she said, ‘I’m ashamed to confess this, but Luigi stole from my trust fund. I put my faith in him to manage all my financial affairs. I was such a fool. Please don’t tell the others. I couldn’t bear for them to know that I’ve been so stupid.’
‘My dear girl, whatever you tell me stays strictly between us. I speak as a lawyer and as a friend. But is there anything I can do meanwhile?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you know what you’ll do when your week here comes to an end? Because if I may be so bold, I don’t recommend you go back to Italy. Not with the threat of war hanging over Europe.’
‘Italy won’t join the war,’ she said with more certainty than she felt. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘But I do. I know what you’re like, Allegra, that you can be hasty, and that once your mind is made up over a thing, there’s no changing it. You’re just like your uncle in that respect.’
She laughed, in spite of being likened to, of all people, Jack Devereux. ‘Well, for now I have no choice but to remain here at Island House with Arthur and his insufferable arrogance,’ she said. ‘I can’t help but feel that Uncle Jack is punishing us all in some horrid way. As if we haven’t been punished enough.’
‘I assure you that wasn’t his intention; you must trust me on that. Through loving Romily, he came to appreciate just what his family meant to him. I know for a fact that had he still been alive when you arrived, he would have asked you to forgive him for all that he got wrong. The question is, can you do that now that he’s dead? Can you forgive him?’
Allegra thought of the inheritance Uncle Jack had left her, knowing that it would offer her a degree of security for many years to come. And of course now it might not just be herself she had to think of.
Her suspicions had been roused when the queasiness she had been experiencing at the shock of Luigi’s treachery had worsened, and always first thing in the morning. Before she left Venice, she had gone to the basilica in St Mark’s Square and prayed with all her being that she was mistaken; that God wouldn’t inflict this on her, not on top of everything else.
