Lucy Gordon - Wedding in Venice

"Because you're worth so much more," he said simply.

He went to the trapdoor and held out his hand to her. "Come."

"Where?"

"I'm taking you home."

There was nothing to do but agree. The night was suddenly dead. On the way down he collected one of his jackets, and slipped it about her shoulders.

"Where are we going?" she asked, for he didn't turn toward the landing stage.

"It's only a short walk. The boat brought us almost in a circle, and now the palazzo is just a few streets away."

"How quiet everything is," she said, listening to their feet echoing on the flagstones.

"This is the best time," he said, "when the people have gone in, and the ghosts come out."

"Ghosts?"

"Venice is full of ghosts. They haunt the corners and the little alleyways in the twilight. But don't be afraid. They're friendly ghosts. In Venice they have known love, and been happy, and now they cannot bear to leave it."

She tried to be sensible. It would be easy to become drunk with the words of this charming dreamer. But being sensible didn't really seem very important any more.

What was important was to stroll through these narrow alleys, letting him weave magic spells around her. There would be time for common sense later.

After a while he fell silent, but the magic continued in the unearthly quiet of a city where there were no cars.

His arm was around her shoulders, drawing her close so that she was intimately aware of the warmth of his body. The stress of the evening fell away, and a blessed calm fell over her. Desire had passed into tenderness, giving her a space that she badly needed.

"Here we are," he said at last.

"Where?"

"The Palazzo Calvani. This is a side door. You must ring the bell, but not just yet."

He stroked her face with gentle fingers.

"When the weddings are over, promise me that you will not leave without seeing me again."

"I promise," she whispered contentedly.

After the evening's stormy, unfulfilled passion, he now kissed her like a boy on his first date, lips caressing hers almost uncertainly, if such a word could be associated with this man.

She relaxed into the warmth and tenderness that he offered, not wanting it to end.

It was he who drew back. "Good night," he murmured.

"Good night," Justine whispered back – with just a hint of wistfulness.

He rang a bell by the door.

"The porter will let you in. Good night."

He moved away swiftly and was out of sight before the porter admitted her. Justine hurried up to her room.

At the turn in the stairs there was a half-open window that looked out over the street where they had said goodbye. She could see the place where they had stood together, and wondered where he was now.

Then she saw something that might have been a shadow, standing by the corner. She blinked, and the shadow vanished, only to reappear. Surely it was her imagination? For a moment she had thought the shadow was familiar, and that he was gazing directly up at the window, as though reluctant to leave her. But when she looked again, he was gone, as elusive as a ghost.

Guido's cousin Marco arrived from Rome, bringing his English fiancée, Harriet.

Marco was one of the most handsome men Justine had ever seen, but, while perfectly civil, he had a distant air.

"Harriet and Marco are rather cool for an engaged couple," Justine observed to Dulcie. "They're not like you and Guido."

"It's not precisely a love match," Dulcie said. "Harriet is the granddaughter of his mother's oldest friend."

"You mean they're not in love?"

Dulcie chuckled. "They think they aren't."

The last one to arrive was Leo, Guido's half brother, an amiable young giant whom Justine liked immediately. He arrived in Venice direct from Texas, where he'd been visiting a ranching friend, enjoying himself riding and "fooling around" as he put it.

Justine gathered that he'd also met Selena, a rodeo rider who'd made more of an impression on him than he wanted to admit. Dulcie and Harriet promptly settled down to grill him about her, until he grinned sheepishly and escaped.

"I'll swear he was blushing," Justine chuckled.

Dulcie nodded. "I don't think we've heard the last of Selena."

She seemed to be floating to her wedding on a tide of serene happiness. Liza, by contrast, was in a state of nerves, suddenly declaring that she needed help with the food.

"But she wouldn't hear of it the first time," Justine protested.

"I know," said Dulcie, "but she liked Riccardo, so I think it's an excuse to send some more work his way. Also," she added with a significant glance at Justine, "I think she may be doing some matchmaking."

"I can't imagine why," Justine said stiffly.

"Well it's your own fault. If you will hurl yourself into a boat driven by a ludicrously attractive man, spend the night with him -"

"I did not spend the night with him – not the way you mean, anyway."

"Well, you came home with the dawn."

"I bet you were all hanging out of the windows," Justine said wrathfully.

Dulcie chuckled. "Let's just say it's not a secret."

"So he'll be coming here to talk to Liza?" Justine asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"I'll tell Liza you want him," Dulcie said mischievously.

"You do and you're dead!" Justine said quickly.

Her own heart was hidden from her. Did she want to see Riccardo or not? He was dangerous because he wouldn't be pigeonholed, and he wouldn't let her take control of their relationship. But that was the only way that she felt safe.

That day she took her camera and went to explore Venice, thinking that when she returned he would be gone. But suddenly she felt distressed at the thought of missing him, and ran all the way back.

Then, disgusted with herself for shilly-shallying over a man, she refused to go anywhere near the kitchen, where he probably was, and sought the garden.

And there he was, talking and laughing with Guido, Marco and Leo. Worst of all, when the three Calvanis saw her, they immediately vanished with a speed that told her what the palazzo gossip was.

"I had hoped to find you here," he said, when they were alone.

"I have a lot of pictures to take," she said. "I'm hurrying to get everything done before the wedding."

"Of course. I, too, have much work to do, but I couldn't leave without seeing you. Does that make you angry?"

"Of course not. Why should it make me angry?"

He gave his wry smile with the wicked hint of mischief, and she had to work hard not to be melted by it.

"So much that I do seems to annoy you," he said. "I've learned to tread carefully. I'm really very scared of you."

"Don't be absurd," she said, laughing despite herself.

What could you do with a man who talked like this, except smile back at him and feel that the day had become brighter?

To give herself a moment she turned away to lean on the railing overlooking the Grand Canal. Riccardo came to stand close behind her.

"There's something I must tell you," he said quietly.

"What?"

"That I've thought about nothing but you since we said good night."

"Nothing but me?" Justine asked lightly. "I hope you gave some thought to the food as well."

Riccardo didn't answer at first, but turned her to look at him.

"It's no good," he said at last. "You can't make a joke of it. That won't solve the problem. And somehow we have to find a way to solve it."

"So you admit it's a problem?"

"Of course it's a problem when a man has fallen in love with a woman, and she -"

"Don't you dare say that I'm in love with you," she spit out.

"How can I? I don't know, any more than you do. I only know that you're fighting it – fighting me. And you're angry with me. Can't you tell me why?"

"You know why," she murmured. "I don't want to feel what I'm feeling. I've got my life in such good order, and you're threatening everything."

"No, I'm only threatening the bolts and bars with which you try to imprison yourself."

"You think I want to be locked in there?"

"Partly, yes. Prison can be a very comforting place. You know where everything is. But I won't let you cling to it. When the wedding is over, I shall be back, knocking on the door."

"And you're so sure that I'll open it for you?"

"No, I'm not sure at all. I'm never sure with you. Perhaps that's why it has to be you and no other."

The sound of voices from inside the building drew them back to reality.

"I must go," he said reluctantly. "But I'll be back."

He would have turned away, but Justine detained him with her hands on his shoulders, just long enough to kiss him gently.

"Yes," she said. "You must come back."

* * *

The next day saw the first wedding, that of the count and Liza, a small, private occasion that took place in a side chapel of St. Mark's Basilica. The day after, it was Dulcie and Guido's turn.

No city in the world staged a wedding like Venice. It was normal for a bride to go to the church in a gondola, but Guido sometimes amused himself by being a part-time gondolier, and many of his friends had turned out for the occasion. At least twenty gondolas escorted Dulcie down the Grand Canal from the Rialto Bridge to the landing stage at St. Mark's.

Justine took pictures to her heart's content, traveling just ahead of the convoy in a motorboat. Landing first, she was able to witness Dulcie's arrival at the great church.

* * *

When the bride and groom emerged from the basilica together Justine took her final pictures and raced for the motorboat, to be whisked back to the palazzo and start frantically downloading. When she'd finished, she joined the reception for her final shots, which she took between mouthfuls of wedding cake.