“Do you think we can escape?” asks Bingley, looking around.
“We have to cross the foyer to access the stairs.”
“What if we went out the back again, took a ladder from the garage, and climbed up to one of the second-floor windows?”
“Are you mad?”
“It was just an idea.”
Donatella unsuccessfully continues her attempt to dissuade the visitors.
“Mr. Bingley and Mr. D’Arcy aren’t in.”
“But Elisa told us Michael was here,” says one woman, not taking no for an answer. “We’ll wait. They’ll be back sooner or later.”
Damn Elisa, she was serious today.
“Let me guess,” Bingley murmurs. “Revenge underway?”
“On second thought,” I whisper to him, “let’s try that ladder thing.”
We’re about to leave when a “Pssst, hey!” behind us makes us spin around.
The whisper comes from the cupboard, and for a moment, Bingley and I look at each other as if we were hearing things.
“Pssst! Here!” we hear it again.
The cupboard moves away from the wall, opening like a door, and a dark-blond head peeks out. “Hey, you. This way.”
Bingley and I look at each other in surprise, remembering one of our favorite tricks when we were kids. “The secret passage!” we whisper in unison.
The belly of the villa hides several secret passages that connect the rooms to one another, and the accesses are hidden behind the furniture or camouflaged between the boiserie panels.
When the villa was a stately home, the servants used these passages so as not to disturb the main rooms.
This one in the kitchen, specifically, has a spiral stone staircase that connects all the floors. If I remember correctly, the other passage connects the greenhouse to the living room ...
“Come with me,” the girl urges, and we willingly follow her. “Once they get an idea into their heads, no one can stop them.”
“Stop who?” I ask.
“The three Cozzi cousins: Regina, Intemerata, and Pompilia, also known as ‘the three clams’ because once they attack, they’re impossible to shake off,” she explains.
So that’s why Elisa chose them; she really does want to make me pay. “You know them well, then,” I comment.
“Everyone knows everyone here. Belvedere is tiny. The arrival of two handsome, rich bachelors under forty is a rare event in these parts. They won’t let you leave without marrying one of the brides-to-be, even if it means tying you to the village hall gate. Even if it seems one of you is already taken.”
“You certainly know what’s up around here, don’t you?” Bingley chuckles.
“I’m an attentive observer.”
“In addition to being an attentive observer, do you also have a name?” I ask her as we climb the steps of the winding spiral and she lights the way with the flashlight on her cell phone.
“Linda.”
“Donatella’s great-niece, right?” I ask.
“Y-yeah.”
