“Oh Willie, isn’t that just sweet! And Miss Pleydell… Oh, I’m sorry. You’ll be Mrs. St. Clare now. What a lovely surprise.”

“You must have some coffee,” said Aubrey.

“I’d like something …”

There were two seats at the table and they sat down; Mrs. Freeling had changed; she looked much older than I remembered; her eyes were sunken and she seemed very thin. I had seen very little of her husband and could hardly remember what he had looked like before.

“What are you doing?” asked Aubrey.

“Having a holiday?”

“My dear, life is a constant holiday.”

“I suppose you are on leave. Captain Freeling,” I said.

Mrs. Freeling leaned towards me and laid a hand on my arm.

“No more leaves. No more duties. No more regiment. We’re free of all that, aren’t we, Willie?”

Captain Freeling looked a little rueful.

“I’ve resigned my commission,” he said to me.

“Oh …”

He did not offer any explanation and I sensed that it would be tactless to pursue the matter.

“We’re home now,” said Mrs. Freeling, ‘with Willie’s people until we decide how things are going. It’s so good for the children. We’re having a holiday before we settle down to life at home, aren’t we, Willie dear? “

“A very pleasant holiday, I imagine,” said Aubrey.

“How long have you been in Venice?”

“For three days.”

“Not long, which explains why we haven’t run into you before. But Venice is not really big enough to lose oneself for ” i long. “

“I’m glad of that. Wouldn’t it have been a tragedy, Willie, if we had never found each other? And now we’ve done it… just in the nick of time. We’re leaving in three days’ time.”

“We’re going at the end of the week,” said Aubrey.

“I could stay here for months,” said Mrs. Freeling. She smiled at me.

“I dare say you could, too. And how are you liking life at home? An unnecessary question. You’re revelling.”

“You must miss India,” I said.

“Not a bit of it. Glad to get away. Sometimes I used to get the shivers in the night. Those natives … They looked so. sinister sometimes. You could never be quite sure what they were thinking … or what they would do next.”

“What happened to the children’s ayah?”

“Oh … she was yours, wasn’t she? She went off to one of the other families the Laymon-Joneses, I believe. The children were fond of her. They made a fearful fuss about leaving her. “

“She was a very good ayah.”

“We’ve been to Florence and Rome, haven’t we, Willie?”

Willie said they had.

“Marvellous! Those palaces! Those pictures! That lovely, lovely bridge . what was it called, Willie? Ponte Vecchio? The shops. Fascinating! “

Captain Freeling talked to me and Aubrey was occupied with Mrs. Freeling. I heard scraps of their conversation as the Captain asked after my father and how he was liking being at the War Office after India. He said that he missed the army but he thought he would settle comfortably at home and the children had always been a worry. They would have had to be sent home to school sooner or later and that was always an anxiety and a disturbing experience for the children as I probably remembered.

While the Captain was talking I heard Mrs. Freeling say to Aubrey:

“Damien is in Venice.”

“My people live in Worcestershire,” the Captain was saying.

“We’re at the family home for the present. It’s a fine part of the country, really.”

I said I did not know it and he asked questions about the Palazzo Tonaletti and while I was describing that Mrs. Freeling looked at her watch and said they must go.

They shook hands and we parted.

As we walked back to the palazzo, Aubrey said: “It’s a small world.

Imagine meeting them. “

“I wonder why he resigned from the army.”

“Fancied some other way of life, no doubt.”

“People don’t usually.”

“There speaks the soldier’s daughter. There are some who might not find it such a glorious way of life.”

“I mean, I don’t think it is easy to resign. I’ll ask my father. I suppose we shall see them again.”

“Have to, I suppose. But they are going in a day or so.”

He sounded unenthusiastic, which pleased me.

“And so are we going very soon,” I said.

“Oh Aubrey, it has been so wonderful. Do you think anyone else ever had such a honeymoon?”

“Of course not,” he replied.

And we laughed and walked into the marble hall of our palazzo.

We did not speak of the Freelings after that. I fancied that Aubrey felt as I did, and that was that we could have done without the intrusion. The remark that we must meet before we left Venice was, I suspected, one of those vague statements which people make out of politeness rather than intention.

Two days after the encounter Aubrey asked me when I was going shopping for the gifts I intended to buy and why did I not do it that afternoon.

“I know you don’t really care to have me around while you’re doing it,” he said.

“So why don’t you go and spend as much time as you like in those little shops and I’ll wait for you. Oh … I know what I could do. I could look in at the Freelings’ place and perhaps spend an hour or so with them. I know you are not very keen on seeing them. And I suppose it is only common politeness … having met them here.”

I said I thought it was a good idea.

I spent several hours in the shops making my decision. There was so much to choose from. I bought a bracelet for. Amelia. It was gold, studded with lapis lazuli; and just as I was about to settle for a marble paperweight for my father, I saw some beautiful wall plates which I felt I had to buy. So I bought one with a picture of Raphael for Stephen and of Dante for my father. I was sure they would like them and they would remind me for ever of those magical days in Venice.

When I returned to the palazzo it was about six o’clock. Benedetto informed me that Aubrey was not yet home. I had a leisurely bath and lay on the bed reading for half an hour expecting Aubrey to return at any moment.

As time passed, and he still had not come, I began to be’ alarmed.

Benedetto came to ask me if I would have dinner served, and I said I would wait.

He smiled sympathetically. I knew he was thinking that we had had a lovers’ quarrel.

I began to be afraid. I thought of those dark alleys; memories came back to me of the man I had seen lying with blood on his clothes . dragged out of the canal. I had not heard the end of that story. Who had he been? A tourist who had been set upon by robbers or was his death the result of some long-standing vendetta?

I sat on the veranda. I went back to my room and paced up and down.

Aubrey had gone to the Freelings. I had not heard the name of their hotel. Mrs. Freeling must have told him but he had not mentioned it to me.

I felt inadequate. Here I was in a foreign country, not speaking the language, and I could not think how I should act. Surely Aubrey would not stay away so long unless something awful had happened. Suppose the Freelings had invited him to dine with them. Surely they would have asked me to join them or perhaps sent word to me that he was with them. No. It could not be that. Something must have happened to him.

What should I do? Go round the hotels? Go to the British Consul? Where was that? Call a gondola and ask to be taken to the Embassy? Was I making a fuss? There had been times when Aubrey had made me feel a little naive. Was I? Would he come in and say: “The Freelings asked me to stay. I knew you’d be safe here.” Was that the way in which worldly husbands and wives behaved?

He would know how I was feeling. He would never worry me like this.

I must do something.

I went down to the servants’ quarters. I could hear their voices. They were chattering as they normally did. They apparently did not think Aubrey’s absence was unusual. I went back to my bedroom and stood on the veranda looking out at the darkening water.

He must come back. There must be news of him. How could I go through the night like this? I could hear the bronze figures striking on the bell in the Clock Tower. I must go and get help. I would find Benedetto and ask him to accompany me. We must find the Embassy and report Aubrey’s disappearance.

But I remained standing on the veranda. Gondolas slipped by. I prayed for one of them to stop and for Aubrey to get out and come running to tell me what had happened.

Just as I was feeling I could endure it no longer and that I must go out in search of him without delay a gondola stopped at the palazzo. A man got out. He was very tall. He stood with his back to me; he was wearing a black cloak and a black hat.

Then both he and the gondolier were helping someone to alight.

I stared. It was Aubrey.

I gripped the rail of the veranda. I could not see the stranger’s face because his hat hid it; and as I stood there as though petrified, for a moment floods of relief swept over me. Aubrey was safe.

I turned and ran out of the room to the stairs. He was coming up and he was alone. The man in black was no longer there.

“Aubrey,” I cried.

“Susanna … Oh, my dearest Susanna.”

I ran to him and was caught in his arms. He looked strange; his cravat was twisted, there was an almost wild look in his eyes and his hands were shaking.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Let me get in … I’ll explain.”

I put my arm through his and unsteadily we went upstairs.

“Did someone attack you?” I asked.

He nodded, but he was clearly too weak to talk. He wanted to get to our room. When we reached it he sank into a chair, i “I’ll get you some brandy,” I said.