Charles hovered round her. He liked to sit beside her when we were all in the drawing room; he would talk to her in his execrable Italian interspersed with English, which made her laugh; but clearly she liked his attentions.
When we were alone at night I asked Philip if he thought Charles was falling in love with Madalenna.
“Charles’s emotions are ephemeral,” he said, “but there is no doubt that he finds Madalenna very attractive.”
“It is so romantic,” I said. “She had her accident right outside the door. She might have had it five miles away and then he would never have seen her. It seems as though it was meant.”
Philip laughed at that.
“Accidents can happen anywhere. There was a weakness in the harness.”
“I like to think it was fate.”
I should like to think of Charles’s marrying for he still made me feel uneasy, and I often wondered if he still remembered that occasion when Drake Aldringham had thrown him into the lake.
Madalenna had been in the house four days when one evening the manager of the Spitalfields works came to The Silk House in some agitation. It appeared that there was a crisis at the works and the presence of both Charles and Philip was urgently needed.
Charles was annoyed. Usually he was ready to leave The Silk House after a short stay, but now that Madalenna was there he felt differently. He wanted to stay but it seemed his presence was necessary and he was finally persuaded that he had no alternative but to go.
I heard him explaining to Madalenna. “I am sure they could manage very well without me. But it will only be a day. I shall be back either late tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“I shall look forward to that with pleasure,” Madalenna told him; and Charles seemed reconciled, and with Philip and the manager, he left early the next morning.
Soon afterwards I happened to be sitting in my window when I saw Maria. She was walking towards the forest with quick, short, determined steps as though she were in a great hurry.
I watched her until she disappeared among the trees. I was rather sorry for Maria. She must find communication with the servants difficult and they were decidedly not friendly towards her. Her stay in the house was very different from that of Madalenna who had been made so much of—particularly by Charles.
It was mid morning when the carriage arrived. Cassie and I had been riding in the forest and had just come in when we saw it. I recognized it at once, as I did the coachman.
He descended from the driver’s seat and bowed to me. He then implied that he must see the Signorina at once.
“Come along in,” I said. “She is much better.”
He murmured something about God and the saints and I imagined he was offering a prayer of thanksgiving to them.
Madalenna was in the drawing room resting her leg on a stool. Lady Sallonger was there drinking her glass of sherry she took at this time. Lady Sallonger was in the middle of one of her monologues which compared her present suffering with past glories.
As I entered with the coachman, Madalenna gave a cry and got to her feet quickly. Then suddenly she winced and sat down again. She spoke in rapid Italian, to which the man replied. Then she turned to us.
“I have to leave at once. It is a message from my brother. I must meet him in London. We leave for Italy tomorrow. It is necessary. My uncle is dying and calling for me. I hope to be there in time. We are so sorry to go like this … but…”
“My dear,” said Lady Sallonger, “we understand. We shall be very sorry. You must come again … when your ankle is quite well. Then we can show you everything, can’t we, Lenore?”
“Indeed, yes,” I agreed. “Can I help you … packing or anything like that? Do you want to go immediately?”
“It is nearly time for luncheon,” said Lady Sallonger. “Yes … you must stay for luncheon.”
“I do not think …” said Madalenna. “My brother says we have to leave early tomorrow. We have to be soon in Italy. It may be that we shall go this night. No, there must be no delay. Lady Sallonger, how can I thank you? You … your family … for your goodness to me. There is no way of saying how grateful …”
Lady Sallonger said: “Oh, but we have enjoyed having you, my dear. It has been no trouble at all.”
“I’ll go and tell Maria,” I said. “I saw her return from her walk a little while ago.”
She was about to protest but I went on ahead of her. I ran up to the room, knocked on the door and walked in. Maria was startled when I entered. She had the travelling bag on the bed and she was putting things into it.
“Ah … I had come to tell you that the carriage is here … your driver is downstairs. Signorina de’ Pucci wishes to leave at once.”
She stared at me and of course she did not understand what I was saying. I could see she was taken aback. She had expected her mistress to come in—not me.
The odd thing about it was that she was packing—as though she knew they were about to depart. I thought there was something uncanny about her. Why was she packing? How did she know about the message?
But there was something strange about Maria.
Madalenna came in.
“Maria!” she cried and spoke in rapid Italian. Maria threw up her hands to the ceiling. I left them together, still puzzled.
Within an hour they were ready to go. Cassie, Julia and I with the Countess went down to wave them farewell. Madalenna again expressed her gratitude. She said: “I will write.”
Then they were gone.
When Charles and Philip returned that night and Charles heard what had happened he went white with anger.
He glared at Philip. ”There was no need for me to have gone to London,” he said. “You could have done everything without me.”
“My dear fellow, your presence was necessary. Don’t forget we are partners. We had to have your signature on the documents.”
“Where have they gone?” demanded Charles.
Julia said: “Her uncle is ill. They’ve gone back to Italy.”
“I could have driven them to London.”
“They went in their own carriage. The driver came down with it. Her brother had sent him.”
“Where did they go?”
“To London, of course … for a night … perhaps not that,” I told him. “She did say that they might leave for Italy tonight. They were in a great hurry.”
Charles turned on his heels and left us.
I said to Philip that night: ”I think he really did care for her.”
Philip was inclined to be sceptical. He said: “He is just annoyed that the chase is over before the capture.”
“Are you a little cynical about your brother?” I asked.
“Shall I say I know him well. In a few weeks he will find it difficult to remember what she looked like. He is not a faithful-to-one-woman-type like his brother.”
“I am glad you are that type, Philip,” I said fervently. “You were not in the least overwhelmed by the charms of the siren.”
”There is only one for me today … tomorrow and for ever.”
In my happiness, I could feel sorry for Charles.
Three days after their departure two letters came—one was for Charles, the other for Lady Sallonger.
Lady Sallonger could not find her spectacles so I was called upon to read hers to her. It was a conventional little note saying how Madalenna would never forget the kindness of being taken in and looked after so wonderfully. She could never express her gratitude.
The address was a hotel in London.
Charles’s must have been the same. He went up to Town the next day and called at the hotel, but of course by that time she had left.
“That little episode is over,” said Philip.
* * *
When Philip went to London, I was with him. I think Grand’mere was a little sad to see me go, but her joy in my marriage overshadowed everything else and it was a constant delight for her to see how it was between us.