Chapter 7
(Correction made by my precious Nila)
Leaning against the balcony ledge of his bedroom, Terry looked with a distracted glance at the movement of the boats and ships on the Grand Canal. All his thoughts went towards the young blonde woman he had let go to Europe. At the present, as it was his turn to reach his destination, a feeling of anguish and excitement was awakening inside him. He knew she was close and was sure that he would not have any difficulty in finding her. Venice counted many hotels susceptible to welcoming a lady of her rank and Terry had planned to visit them, one right after the other and to lay siege as soon as he found her. What would he tell her when she would be in front of him? What would be the first words they would exchange, their first reaction? Would they keep the distance like they did on their reencounter in New-York or would they throw themselves into each other's arms? He hoped that the second eventuality would be the right one. He had dreamed so much of that moment, to feel her body against his, to embrace her so strong that he could merge with her. He had missed her so much during all those years!
In the same moment, the butler knocked at his door to tell him that dinner was ready and that the Count was waiting for him in the dining room. Terry looked at himself in the mirror, readjusted his suit and with his hand, brushed his hair still wet from his grooming, to lift up a long lock that was falling on his eyes, and followed the maid. The Count Contarini was sitting at the head of a long table, an empty seat at his right. The young man took his place beside him, then the old host waved at his servant and the service began.
The dinner elapsed in a very convivial atmosphere, thanks to the host's good mood, but also by the quality of the meals offered. Terry hadn't had the opportunity to eat such a good meal since he had left America, and was surprised by his big appetite. The old man was observing him with amusement and asked him suddenly, as he was lifting once again the hair lock that hid his view:
- I didn't notice, my young friend, that injury above your eye. It looks well recent. What happened to you?
- To tell you the truth – Terry answered, dabbing his mouth with his napkin – I got hurt during a storm in full sea…
Before his interlocutor's astonished gaze, the young man decided to recount the tale of his misadventure. He put back his napkin on his knees and began his story: the travel by boat, the storm, the fire, the sinking and the rescue of the team. Then, more evasively, his reencounter with his father and his arrival in Venice.
- Well, this is a true adventure you're telling me! – The Count cried out at the end of the tale – But… This does not explain the reasons that pushed you to travel on a merchant ship? Why such conditions of travel while you can offer yourself the biggest liners?
- The reason is… that I wanted to leave as fast as possible…
- As fast as possible? But who were you running away from ?
The Count stayed for a while nonplussed before the persisting silence of Terry. Then he began to fidget in his seat, agitating his finger under the young man's nose, as a blissful smile split his wrinkled face.
- Ohohoho! Do you think you can hide me this with that innocent look? You can't fool an old cheapskate like me! I'm ready to bet that there is a woman under this!
Terry opined in silence, arching maliciously his eyebrow.
- She must be wonderful to have bewitched you that way!...
- She is divine!...
- Divine!... – he sighed – And what is the name of that young goddess?
- Candice… Candy…
- The name of innocence: that says it all! – The old man giggled – Is this ingénue living in town?
- I think so – Terry said, smiling. Then, before the Count's interrogative gaze, he followed – Without going into details, her protector had decided to test me and not tell me specifically where she lives….
- Hahaaaaa! He's challenging the sincerity of yours feelings for her…
- This is the simplest challenge to meet. I can move mountains for her!
- Mountains, maybe, but what about that vertiginous labyrinth that is Venice?
- I'll find her, for sure!
- I haven't any doubt about it, but if you please, I'd like to join discreetly your search. You cannot refuse help when it's about love…
Terry hesitated a moment then answered:
- Ok!... If this allows me to find her more rapidly, I accept your proposal.
- I'm delighted about this! – The Count said as he raised his glass of wine – After the loves of Georges Sand and Alfred de Musset, of Lord Byron, of Gabrielle of Annunzio, I hope this town will welcome your future embraces!
Blushing, Terry shrugged his shoulders and raised his glass in his turn. The bloom of happiness in his eyes made the old man recall the same one he had seen in his youth, in another aristocrat who was foolishly in love with a young American actress. The story was repeating itself and with a pinch to his heart, he began to hope for a happier ending.
*************
The spoon was angrily spinning in Elisa's cup of coffee. Throughout lunch, the latter had tried to put on a good front and had hid under her usual grins, the anger that bubbled inside her. Albert's lunch invitation, while she was on her way through Chicago, had not surprised her. It was common in all good families. But the welcome he had reserved at her arrival had passably upset her. In reality, she had not expected that from Albert. He had always maintained a certain distance regarding her that she had interpreted as a fear towards her, especially after her marriage with the very wealthy August Withmore. That disproportioned pride that bewildered her, had prevented her from noticing the contempt that her husband inspired in him, that man who had acquired his wealth during the war by selling steel and weapons designed to kill. One of those weapons which may have caused Alistair's death… Unfortunately, Albert remained persuaded that it shouldn't have certainly crossed her mind. She was so indifferent to the world around her. On her side, Elisa had always considered him as an oddball who was mentally frail. He surely did not have a good head on his shoulders when he adopted that idiot Candy and made her as his heir. Great Aunt Elroy had almost lost her mind since then and had taken refuge at the home of her daughter, Sarah, Elisa's mother, with whom she could snivel on about a past where poor people knew their place. Fortunately, Elisa had increased her status by marrying August Withmore, who, in spite of a curious appearance characterized by his big ears, globular eyes and a falling lip that gave him a libidinous look, was fortunate enough to have a very abundant bank account. This, with a bit of imagination, allowed her to forget all those imperfections. With that union, she had therefore thought that Albert would show her some special considerations, but her disappointment had been up to her expectations. This only emphasized her bitterness towards him and her hate towards Candy. Candy, who once again, was the origin of the humiliation she had suffered few hours before in her uncle's office. The wound was still sharp and painful, and she was wondering if she would be able to forgive him one day for that difficult moment, where every second returned to echo in her mind…
As she pushed the door, Albert, with a distracted gesture, had beckoned her to come in. Sitting behind his desk, his face did not express any emotion, but she was able to feel that he was not happy to see her again. Wanting to escape from the oppressive atmosphere of the room, and searching for some composure, she had initiated a movement towards a comfortable armchair, but he had stopped her dead on her tracks and launched at her:
- It won't be necessary for you sit, Elisa. What I have to tell you can be said in a single sentence…
She had looked up, dumbfounded, while her dark eyes had widened when hearing those words.
- Leave Candy alone! – He had followed, staring at her, his jaws pressed.
- Candy? But… I… - she had mumbled, taking the most innocent of looks. Quickly, the irony of her voice had toned down before his severe and explicit gaze.
- Please, don't play the ingénue with me! I've read your misleading interview in the newspaper, and I can tell you that, at that moment, I really wanted to treat you the way I did with that paper cloth, crumpled and littered!
The young woman had quivered and moved backwards. But her brash nature had quickly recovered, and facing the enemy, she had cried out:
- Come on!... You're losing yourself! What violence in what you say!
- Believe me, Elisa, if you knew the depth of my thoughts, you would not behave with such haughtiness! I'm telling you just one last time! Stay out of Candy's life!
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, the young woman had opted for another tactic, and lowering her eyes, she had begun again with a lamenting voice:
- You're impugning me motives towards her that are false! – She had said, sniffing – I've certainly never really accepted her intrusion in the family, but this is not a reason to imagine that I want to hurt her. Each action I took towards her were only aimed at searching the truth.
- Visibly, we don't share the same definition of truth, my dear! – He had answered with a sigh, a bitter smile on the corner of his lips – I'm not going to enumerate here all the trickeries you set up to her. The list is too long. But the last one you did, with the purpose of pure mischief, is enough!
- Come on, Uncle Albert, the only thing I did was describe a reality that you persist in not seeing: the danger she represents for the family! Behind her candid manners, she hides a hypocrite nature. She is a manipulator who spreads misery everywhere she goes! You forget she killed Anthony! She shamed us many times, she…
- That is enough! I want you to shut up! – He had shouted, pounding his fist vigorously on the table.
He had gone out of his seat and was dominating her with all his height. Afraid, Elisa's heart had begun to beat very strong. It was the first time that Albert had reacted so violently. Stepping back, she stumbled against the wall behind her that blocked her runaway.
- Very few people would have been able to overcome as well as Candy did, all the ordeals you put along her path. I understand you hate her. She is the antithesis of what you are. You are only hate and jealousy while she could, I'm sure, reach out to you in spite of all the sufferings she had to endure because of you. Unfortunately, I know that it is a wasted effort to search a hint of humanity in the stone that serves you as a heart. I've no explanation to that mystery that runs through your veins, that perfidious poison that makes you that evil being I execrate. But what I am unfortunately sure of is that the evil that lives in you will never disappear, and you'll remain all your life that person, detestable and hated by all. I've no hope then that one day you redeem yourself for the unspeakable acts you committed to her. You've been free to act for a long time, passably encouraged by your mother and our aunt, then you've stayed lurking in the shadows, waiting for a new opportunity to wrong her. But now, as the person in charge of the family, every decision I take is indisputable. And if I've to banish you, which I will not hesitate to do if you disobey, no one will be able to stop me…
- Those are just vile threats! – She said, jaw tensed – You can't do that anyway, you don't have the right to!
- No one will prevent me from forbidding your presence in all the places you'd like to go! I can also disinherit you if I want to and I will enjoy it even more when thinking about your face when you come to the worldly salons and people will look at you like a leper, as the one who's been chased from the Andrey family. Shame will reflect also on your husband who will no longer be able to live with a woman who would have lost her name and her dignity. He will certainly petition for divorce and you won't have anything left: no name, no social status, only your memories…
- My uncle, you're absolutely worse than I imagined. How can you do such horrible thing to a member of your family?
- My poor Elisa, you've so often shown by example that it's been child's play to imitate you. "What you sow, you reap". And for that, I can now predict that your harvest will be very abundant. This is why I want to be very clear with you. From now on, if you once again defy my authority, you'll cross me on your path and your life won't be long enough to regret your past actions!... Have you well understood what I said?
Dismayed, Elisa had nodded like a caught little girl, but the inner rage that animated her had made her pulse beat so strong that it painfully hit her temples and blushed her cheeks.
- Well, I guess we agree. Let's go and see Archibald and Annie who are waiting for us to lunch. I'm sure you're looking forward to meeting them! – Albert had declared as he walked to the door. Elisa had acquiesced with a sigh and had reluctantly followed him, grumbling some polite words that did not dissimulate her dissatisfaction.
Uncle William had clearly decided to poison her day by first, his reproaches and his unfair accusations, then, as an icing on the cake, by the presence of those two dreadful idiots, her cousins, and especially that poor tearful Annie. She hated her so much! She had tried to stop their marriage by using all her influence on Great Aunt Elroy, but Albert already had at that time, the whole authority and had given his blessing to that union. Constrained and forced, she had been unable to oppose it.
Having to spend the whole meal with them had been a real ordeal. She regretted her dear husband's absence. He would have been able to give some height to their discussion. He knew so well to talk about money! But she had to resign herself to endure the torture and listen to them by simulating some interest. However, as she was drinking her coffee without any passion, her attention was closely captured by Annie as she evoked Candy and Patty's holidays in Europe.
Europe… What a strange idea to go there with that yellow-belly Patty who is bound to faint at the slightest complication. Candy really had a gift of choosing odd friends!... Both of them must be such a match!...
They were now supposed to be in Venice. The family was waiting for some news from them. They were not worried. The means of communication there were not as developed as they were in America, and they knew it would take longer to get news. Strangely, Annie looked excessively delighted about that journey…
- Venice!... The city of lovers! Isn't it romantic? – She exclaimed with stars in her eyes.
But the disapproving way with both Albert and Archibald glanced at her, immediately broke her enthusiasm, which did not escape Elisa. Pretexting a nose to powder in emergency, she slipped away from the living room, taking care not go too far as she hid behind the half-opened door.
- My word! Are you crazy? – Archibald angrily cried out – What possessed you to talk about Candy in front of that vixen?
- I'm sorry, my love – Annie said, contrite – I am so happy for what's happening to Candy that it's very hard for me to hide my joy.
- If Elisa guesses anything, she'll be able to ruin all you've worked so hard for – Archibald continued, disappointed – I don't have a high opinion of that Grandchester, but I wouldn't like my terrible cousin to come and ruin their reencounter. Candy deserves to be happy, even if it means with him!...
- My goodness, Archie! You scare me! Do you think that….
- Don't worry, Annie – Albert spoke, with a reassuring voice – From where she is, Elisa can do very little. She has maybe some influence in America, but Italy remains out of her reach. At this time, Terry might have also arrived in Venice and is looking for Candy. It's even very possible that they are already together.
- Let's hope you're right, Albert! I'm so eager to hear that!
- Let these things happen quietly, my dear Annie – he added with a confident smile – What are a few more days compared to all those years they were away from each other? I've no worry about it. The love that unites them will know how to reunite them in due course. We must just be patient. But I've to confess that he will have to be persistent in finding her…
- What do you mean? – Annie asked, her forehead pleated with concern – You gave him false information?
- Not really… - he answered, enigmatical – I've chosen a hotel close to Saint Mark square, the hotel Baglioni. Terry will not have too much difficulty in finding it. I've just complicated things by booking a room for Candy under a false name. To tell you the truth, I haven't done that to demotivate him, but on the contrary, to preserve Candy's anonymity. She is registered under the name of Capwell.
- But, that way, he will never find her! – Annie exclaimed, demoralized.
- Don't worry, at the reception desk, they are instructed to take his address and to discreetly guide him if he ever fails in his search. I don't want to abandon him to his fate, but I want him to be obstinate. I want him to show his determination. If he really loves Candy, he'll do everything possible to find her. I don't want for her someone who would surrender at the slightest mishap. She has suffered too much and I would blame myself if her heart was broken another time.
- I wouldn't have done better, Albert – Archibald said, visibly convinced – Candy deserves a determined and willful man. Terry is that sort of man. I'm sure he will succeed.
- I hope you are both right – Annie sighed with a pensive look as she turned her kind face to the window.
Albert's plan seemed very audacious and she did not like that he took such risk avec her dear friends. She raised her head as Elisa came back and felt disconcerted by the radiant smile she wore.
That latter quickly explained that she had to go. She wanted to be back in New York in the evening and she did not want to miss her train. She kissed Annie without getting her lips wet, vaguely shook her uncle and cousin's hand, praising the quality of the lunch and their warm welcome. The three of them watched her leave, mouth opened, surprised by the strangeness of her behaviour which was so different from the execrable one she had had throughout lunch. They were puzzled by the exuberance of her gestures and the joy she expressed.
Arms crossed behind his back, Albert went close to the window and saw her throwing herself in her car. They heard her overly shrill voice squeaking something to her chauffeur who started the vehicle with a great rush, leaving only a greyish and smelly fog in the courtyard.
- That's suspicious!... – Archibald did as he approached his uncle.
- Indeed… - he answered, impenetrable – We shall be watching her very closely…
**********
As they were, like a shot, driving through Chicago, Elisa noticed a post office and ordered her chauffeur to stop.
I can't wait to arrive at my mother's. I've to act quickly!
She rushed to the first phone box available and asked the operator to call a certain Mr. Gosseep in New York, the one who had interviewed her about Candy. After a moment, she heard a male voice at the other end of the line:
- Gosseep speaking!
- Mister Gosseep, this is Mrs. Elisa Withmore! Do you have any reporter in Italy? I've something that could be of interest to you…
*************
The nearby church bell had just rung eight times when Candy opened her eyes. Through the shutters, the early sunrays were warming her body, numb from too much sleep. She stretched for a long time, enjoying the tranquility before starting a very full day. She left her bed, washed herself then opened her suitcase. She hadn't run out of dresses but none of them fitted the situation. She needed something simpler, more comfortable. Verona was mainly a touristic city that swarmed with vacationers and she wanted to be like them, at ease, instead of being dressed up. However, she couldn't go out naked, so she wore her more discrete dress. She would find something later in town.
She left her bedroom and went down to the dining room where she had a quick breakfast. Mrs. Roberta's pastries were delicious, and the coffee, though a little strong to her taste, was excellent. Before leaving, she asked her host to indicate to her the nearest post office. The latter gave her a little touristic leaflet with a map of the inner city and wrote a cross on the place she had to go. It was not very far. She would be there quickly and with her map, she had no risk of getting lost. She thanked her warmly then left the boarding house with a hopping step. It was very pleasant to walk along the streets of Verona which had preserved many roman vestiges, but which had also saved a beautiful historic and medieval center towards which she was walking. This was very different from the big avenues of Chicago or her little town of La Porte. Here, history emerged from the pores of each wall. She could imagine without any difficulty, rich notables, princes and princess, dressed in their most beautiful finery, walking in the alleys. She felt like it was a real change of scenery and she appreciated with much more pleasure, each step on the antic streets pavements she was walking down.
Finally, she noticed the sign-board of the post office. It was a bit crowded inside but the file was moving forward quickly. A moment later, she could give to the agent the text of her telegram in which she informed Albert about her misadventure:
" Patty, appendicitis crisis. Surgery in Verona hospital. All is well.
Since recovery, will go to Venice.
Will write you back. Not to worry.
See you soon.
Candy"
Enchanted, the postman promised her to be as fast as possible, and hopefully, the telegram would arrive to his recipient in the small hours of the day, at local time. Candy was delighted and granted the official with her most charming smile. With a sigh, he looked at her as she left, but got quickly reminded by a surly mama who was growing impatient in front of the desk. The contrast was so stark that, upset, he dismissed her with annoyance, making her understand that she could wait a little. This did not please at all the lady who began with a loud complaint, calling the people around her to express her discontent. The tones rose in a bewildering cacophony in which bird names and other nicknames began to come from everywhere like arrows crashing just as fast on the ground. Everybody calmed down and went back to one's own business, the crisis being over. Unfortunately, that delightful sight had escaped Candy, who was already far away, looking at the shop windows and seeking a pretty dress. She ended finding one that suited her: made of cotton, with a large and square collar, bent at the waist, not too long, just above the knees. She liked the shape so much that she bought the same kind in different motifs: flowered, small paned, and a last one with a pretty ecru colour that reminded her of the Italian ice creams she had noticed on her way. This last was the one that she kept on her with a pair of flat sandals. What a relief it was not to walk anymore with heeled shoes! The saleswoman fulfilled a big paper box with Candy's new and old clothes and offered her to have them carried to her hotel. Candy accepted, delighted not to have to walk with a load, and gave her the address of the boarding house. Then she crossed the street and stopped in front of a souvenirs shop where she bought a book about Verona for Patty. Inside, there were many pictures that would allow her friend to have an overview of the city that she wasn't able to visit. The morning was already late in the day, but Candy still had some time left before joining her back at the hospital. She then continued her stroll with pleasure. Along her way up the Via Capello, she noticed some strange comings and goings from farther up alley. She went closer and discovered that the alley was disappearing behind a few meters that lead to a pretty small paved courtyard surrounded with a wall approximately three meters high, covered with ivy. At the foot of the wall stood a bronze statue that represented a young woman from the Middle Ages, her hand to her heart, the other one holding the hem of her long dress. Looking down, her tender face looked pensive. Candy recognized that expression as she had been surprised many times to find it on her own face when she randomly looked at herself in the mirror or saw her reflection in a window. But when she read the name engraved at the statue's feet, she understood…
Juliet... Juliet… - she told to herself, trembling – Shakespeare's heroine, Romeo's big love that Terry had so well played in Broadway!
Luck had then led her to that mythical place in which legend mixed with reality. For some still unknown reason, she couldn't realize that her presence in Verona was nothing fortuitous. Once again, fate was playing with luck and was forcing her to look back at her past, and mainly to whom her heart had never ceased beating for. What other city but Verona would have been able to wildly revive those memories and all this buried love? Verona, the town of Romeo and Juliet, the play that had revealed Terry, the play that he had introduced her to while they were together in Scotland, and had opened her eyes to his great talent!...
Shaking with emotion in front those walls that housed the Capulets' home, she looked up and saw Juliet's balcony, the famous balcony on which that latter had had so often leaned unto to listen to her Romeo, hidden by the shadows of the night, reciting all the love verses she inspired in him. She could imagine the scene without any effort. And oddly, those two heroes cloaked in her thoughts a familiar appearance. Terry's powerful and enchanting voice on stage returned to her mind, so deeply that she had the feeling that he was standing next to her, and that his breath was brushing the hollow of her ear until it made her thrill. After a while, she was able to snap out of it and she realized that she was not alone. She was surrounded by couples that were tenderly holding hands, but also by young girls who looked very inspired. Some of them were sitting in a corner or on a bench, busy writing on a sheet of paper that they would fold in four, place inside an envelope, and finally wedge in the worn down cracks of the walls of the house. Then, they would leave, sighing, but not before looking one last time at their piece of paper. By the morning's end, the wall already counted tens of similar notes. From the distance, one would have thought that multicolored butterflies had landed on the wall, ready to fly away with the slightest movement of air.
Candy easily guessed that those letters were directed to Juliet, the symbol of eternal love. Those girls, with their still moistened eyes, confided to her all their expectations and fears, with the secret hope that she could help them grant their wish. The young American, as she observed them, felt a ball of emotion inflating within her throat. She understood those girls so well. She shared with them the same wonderings. How many times hadn't she felt that ardent need to feel his presence, to press him against her, to feel the heat of his body that could have given life back to hers? When the absence of him was too painful, she did not know where to run away to nor in whom to confide in. She knew there was no answer to that. Duty and reason called her to order and she accepted it, repenting, covering her wounds with a smile of convenience on which everyone closed their eyes. She wanted so much to have at that time, someone like Juliet to cry on!... She then felt a will to also share her thoughts with the tender Juliet. Maybe she could calm the doubts that permanently assailed her? It was not easy to believe in happiness when it's been refused to you for so long…
She took a sheet and a pen that were purposely offered in a cardboard box at the foot of the wall and went and sat in a corner. But as she was about to write her letter, the church bell rang half past eleven. She had to leave her task to join Patty. She would be very surprised by everything that she was going to tell her!
One last time, she looked at the statue of Juliet and promised herself to come back and visit it as soon as possible. That place evoked within her so many things that she did not want to leave it. She felt that what she had to do there was not yet finished…
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Editor's note
Juliet's house is visited every year by thousands of tourists. It talks about the Stallo del Capello, which is an old tower-house built in the XIIIth-XIVth century. According to common tradition, it was the house of the Capuletti, the family of Shakespeare's heroine. Damaged in the past, the house and the courtyard were restored and some new architectonics and decorative elements were added, inspired from the medieval era. The famous balcony, from which Juliet used to lean on to see her Romeo, was added to the front yard that faced the inner courtyard when the house was completely restored between 1936 and 1940. The statue of Juliet was made in the beginning of the XXth century by Nereo Constantini. To preserve the charm of the story, I did not consider some chronological details such as the balcony which was built long time after Candy's visit to that place. I hope you will not blame me for that.
As a side note, it was while watching the movie "Letters to Juliet" that I discovered the house of Juliet and the enthusiasm of the visitors. This is what greatly inspired me for this fic. I invite you to watch that movie which is very entertaining with beautiful pictures.
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As for Terry, he was walking all over Venice in all directions. Nonetheless, he could not contemplate Candy staying in a cheap hotel, which is why his search was mainly focused on luxurious hotels of the inner city. Until now, unfortunately, they remained fruitless. To be true, the receptionists did not appear very cooperative nor very understanding. Most of the time, they would answer that professional confidentiality obliged them not to divulge such information. The more he insisted, the more they remained silent. This was really discouraging to him. Naively, he had believed that it would be a lot simpler to find Candy...
So, he left a message for Candy with the hope that she was staying in their hotel, while promising inwardly to return the following day and harass them again until he received a concrete answer. Very occupied by his search, he did not give any attention to the splendours of the place while he was in one of the most beautiful cities of the world. In spite of all its efforts, the square San Marco, the basilica, the palace of the Doges did not capture his interest, which remained bound to his unique purpose : to find back Candy as soon as possible. He would have time enough to discover those wonders with her and to appreciate their beauty though that of Candy's would certainly be what would monopolize him the most...
It was with a heart full of hope, that he pushed the door of a new establishment, that of the hotel Baglioni which took place in a fabulous aristocratic Venetian palace, with a view to San Giorgio Island and to the San Marco pond. But what was waiting for him in that prestigious house turned out to be one of the most atrocious experiences he had ever lived...
- Good afternoon – he said to the receptionist who understood immediately from his allure that he was dealing with a highly born man – I'm looking for a young lady who might be staying in your hotel : very beautiful, fair-haired, with amazing green eyes. Her name is Candice White Andrew.
- I'm sorry, but I cannot give you that information, sir... - whispered the employee – This is what I've already said to that man next to you...
-Excuse-me ? - Terry said, then turned towards a man who was leaning against the reception desk. The latter was holding a little notebook between his hands and was writing something. He looked up and met the interrogative eyes of his interlocutor.
- I would say that news travels fast ! - said the man with an ironic tone – You must be a colleague.
- Colleague ?
- Let me introduce myself. Peter Clackson, reporter at the New York Post – the man answered while holding out his hand to be shaken – Who am I speaking too ?
- Terrence Grandchester – said Terry, in a laconic way.
- Grandchester ? I don't know that name. Which newspaper are you from ?
- Which newspaper ? I don't know what you are talking about...
- You are not a journalist ?
- No, I'm not.
- But I've just heard you talking about Mrs. Capwell...
- Capwell ?
- Yes, well, Miss Candice White Andrew just before she became Mrs. Capwell !...
- You must be joking ? - cried out Terry, an icy thrill running along his back.
- This is not a joke ! I've just received a telegram from my boss in New-York asking me to investigate on that topic and to write an article. Miss Candice White Andrew, heir of the same named family, is here in Venice for her wedding trip, following her union with a rich business man from California, a certain Sir Capwell. According to my sources, she is supposed to be staying in this hotel...
Hearing those words, Terry staggered and had to grasp the desk not to fall, afraid that the ground was collapsing under his feet.
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It was almost four o'clock of the afternoon when Candy came back to Juliet's house. Time had elapsed quickly with Patty who had shown a great enthusiasm to her friend's discovery. That latter, while pushing the bedroom's door had immediately noticed that a new rose had joined the former one in the vase, and at that rate, she would have to think about replacing the vase for bigger one. Patty's cheeks had turned pink as she saw Candy's gaze on the flowers, but she had smiled shyly, lowering her eyes. The young blonde had not felt the courage to share her doubts with her and had voluntarily neglected that new attention coming from the handsome Alessandro Biazini. She knew she would have some concerns about that relationship that was becoming equivocal, but the joy that replenished Patty's face retained her in her resolution. Then, she had decided to wait for a while before interrogating the attractive doctor more accurately on his real intentions.
It was not the time for blames and suspicions, but for Patty's shouts of joy as she discovered the book about Verona that Candy had brought back to her. At that time, the lunch had been brought to them and had interrupted their reading, to which they had immediately returned when finished. Candy had rushed to show her the pictures of Juliet's house while describing the inner upheaval it had provoked in her. Then, she had talked about all the letters hanging on the wall of the house, all those desperate words waiting for an improbable answer. All of this had left Patty thoughtful and Candy had been worried that all those stories could affect her mood while being stuck in a hospital.
- Don't worry. I don't have time to get bored. I'm slowly finishing the pullover for Annie's baby? I'm reading and have visits (She had turned red while saying that)
- Is that true ? You're not saying that to make me feel good ?...
- Not at all ! Everything is alright. On the contrary, if you had stayed with me that morning, you would not have been able to tell me about your walk and it would have been regrettable...
- Are you sure ?
- How can I tell you this without chasing you from my bedroom ! - Patty had launched, laughing – Besides, I'm feeling tired and I'd like to sleep a little... - she had added, yawning.
- I'm sorry, I'm talking too much ! I'll come back later... Get some good rest !
Patty had nodded in agreement as she sank her head in the pillow. Her eyes were already closed as Candy was turning the handle of the door that she had carefully closed. She had not had any hesitation about her destination : direction towards Juliet's house !
Now there, she noticed that the number of letters hanging on the wall had increased. Only one of them was missing : hers ! But oddly, while she was had all the time necessary, she could not write the first words. Hard in effect to entrust what one has always been unable to confess to oneself !... With her nose up, looking for inspiration, she saw at that moment a young woman, holding a basket, coming in the courtyard and walking towards the wall of messages. What a surprise it was for her to see that young woman taking every letter and filling her basket with them ! Within a few minutes, the wall was like a virgin paper, while the young woman, her basket full, turned her heels and left the place. Intrigued, Candy wanted to know more about this, and began to follow her. The unknown woman walked along the street, then turned at right in a narrower street that led to a little square with several coffee shops. She entered one of them and disappeared. Candy hesitated a second, then entered too. But there was no presence of the young woman ! Upset, she was going to leave when a male voice called her :
- Miss ?
Embarrassed, Candy did not know how to explain in Italian her presence in that coffee shop. Finally, she asked :
- Juliet ?
- Haaaaaaa, Juliet ! - he cried out, his big dark eyebrows raising up until the middle of his forehead. Then, he turned his head, displaying the profile of a mountain dweller, and, his fists closed against the apron that encircled his large waist. He opened wide his mouth : Isabella ! Someone is waiting for you !
The young woman she had seen before came out from a room nearby, visibly the kitchen, half-hidden by a curtain made with multicoloured wooden pearls.
- Yes ? - said the one whose name was supposed to be Isabella.
- Excuse-me, Miss... I... well... Hummmmm !... Do you speak English by any chance ?
- Yes, I do. May I help you ? - answered the pretty dark-haired lady with a perfect English.
Candy pushed a sigh of relief and held out a friendly hand to the young Italian woman.
- Let me introduce myself. My name is Candy and I was in the courtyard of Juliet's house when you came to take the letters. Please, forgive my curiosity but this intrigued me so much that I could not resist the temptation to follow you.
- You've been right to do so ! - said her interlocutor, laughing – Welcome to the club of Juliet, Miss Candy !
- The club of Juliet ?
- Follow me and you'll understand...
Candy remained silent and followed the young woman who brought her to the first floor, to a room in which three other women were already busy opening the mail.
- Here is the club of Juliet ! - said Isabella, sweeping with her hand the room and its inhabitants.
- Ladies... - said Candy as she saluted them with her head.
- Our work consists in collecting the messages left for Juliet, in reading them and in answering them if there is a return address... - explained Isabella, with a bit of pride in her voice.
- Really ? This is unbelievable !
- We receive mail from everywhere in the world and we try to answer them as well as possible.
- You are all Juliet, then !
- Well, I would rather say that we are her secretaries... Donatella, for example, has been married for fifty years with the same man. She answers to women who have troubles with their husband. Francesca is a nurse : she takes care of illness and mourning. And Maria here, has twelve children, twenty-eight grandchildren and sixteen great-grandchildren. She answers to anyone she wants.
- And what about you ? - asked Candy.
- Isabella answers to complex letters – interrupted Francesca, holding out a letter to Candy.
- That's right... - nodded Isabella – Lovers fights, ruptures, relationships particularly difficult... Someone must do it...
- If I had written one, I'm sure you would have been the one who would have answered it... - sighed Candy sadly – But I feel much better now ! - she added with a smile as she noticed Isabella's afflicted face.
- That's reassuring ! It's hard for me to deal with distress. I think I share it too much every day.
- If you want, I can help you ! - proposed spontaneously Candy – The girlfriend I'm travelling with is confined at the hospital because of an appendicitis crisis. I've some days free before we take the normal course of our journey. I would be very pleased to help you, at least for the letters written in English...
- Well, one more person would not be a luxury... What do you think, ladies ?
Altogether, they answered in the affirmative and in a way so frank and unanimous that Candy's eyes glittered in return for such a warm welcome. Donatella pulled out a chair near her and asked Candy to come and sit down. In front of her, a small amount of letters was waiting for her. She opened the first envelope. The address indicated that it was coming from Nebraska. She could not believe that someone from this lost land of the United States knew the Juliet of Verona. But when her eyes encountered the refined and lyrical writing of its author, she threw her prejudices to the basket and plunged herself in the reading of those confidences, with her heart beating and her throat tightening...
************************
When Candy entered Patty's bedroom, it was already late in the evening. The night was almost fallen outside and the crickets' song could be heard through the half-opened window. She had not noticed the time fly by. While blaming herself, she had walked in a sportive way, two kilometers that separated her from her girlfriend. Breathless, she observed, disappointed, Patty who was sound asleep, her peaceful face turned towards the vase of flowers, inside which a third rose had been added. Candy would have so much wanted to apologize for her delay due to Mama's delicious pasta with tomato sauce that she could not refuse and had retained her more than planned. She would have so much wanted to tell her about her encounter with Juliet's club and the new and extravagant occupation she had found. She decided then to write her a note that would explain what had happened and she left it on the bedside table to be seen when she wakes up in the morning. Then she took her path back to the pension of Roberta, hoping that that latter would surprise her with a good bath. The sky above her was studded with stars which sparkled along miles without meeting any cloud. The following day promised to be hot and beautiful, a new day with Patty and her new friends and maybe other pleasant surprises. Light-hearted, she hopped down the street, unaware that a hundred miles away, the heart of the one she loved was sinking into the deepest of despair, devastated by the unbearable misfortune he had just discovered. His dreams and hopes pulled to pieces by the destructive fury of a sick and malefic mind...
*******************
The staff could not believe it ! The lady of the house, Mrs. Withmore, had not yelled after her servants as she usually did every morning as soon as she woke up. She had hummed during her ablutions and devoured all her breakfast without a grimace. Even her husband did not recognize her. Since her return from Chicago last night, she had been displaying a blissful smile which left him skeptical. What could have happened there to make the execrable mood of his charming wife soften to the point of a gaiety that she had never expressed during five years of their marriage ? Sitting at the end of the table, he observed her out of the corner of his eye, hidden behind his newspaper, and wondered if she had not been hurt in the head. She seemed so different than usual. He knew her too well to suspect that this excess of happiness should have for origins something that she was hiding : a little plot of her own invention hatched in her mind that he knew to be troubled. She was only happy in the schemes in which, he had to admit it, she excelled. He had always been surprised by the fervour in which she plunged herself to the task, indifferent to the fate of her victim of the moment where she would come out victorious, having struck the intruder. Nevertheless, he regretted that her malevolence focused mainly towards the members of her family and those close around her. It was a state of mind that he found difficult to understand. He was far from being an example and he knew that his work damaged many people. But he felt less concerned by the fact that he neither knew them nor their faces. He would never meet them. But Elisa would jubilate before the suffering of the members of her family and would love to give them the last straw. He wondered if there was not some perversity in him to have married such a person. But as time elapsed, he admitted that he was becoming less and less dazzled by her beauty and her delight that could no longer hide the evilness that lived inside her. He hoped that the intrigues of his wife would not lead to an inextricable situation from which he would have difficulties to get out without suffering the regrettable consequences of it. He looked at her, mincing before her cup of tea and wondered if it was not too late already...
Actually, she was jubilating. At the present time, the Machiavellian plan she had imagined and entrusted to the good care, for a price, of reporter Gosseep, was getting executed. She knew that rumour was her best ally and that it would spread all around like an epidemic in all Venice. Who else there could contradict her and denounce her lies ? How simple it had been thanks to the false identity that Albert had imagined for Candy, to give her a new one, the one of a very rich American man's spouse from the west coast. It didn't matter if he did not exist. No one could verify it. But the information, passed by the local newspapers will quickly go around the socialite salons and arrive to Terry's ears. What else could be better to take him away definitively from her than sowing the seeds of doubt in his heart ? She knew that she was setting herself one hell of a challenge and that she was acting like a tight-rope walker, but she remained confident. All that she had done to separate Candy and Terry had always been a success. The only thing remaining was to wait for some news from Mister Gosseep.
Just for a minute, she remembered Albert's threats. She chased that thought with a shrug. He should not have provoked her ! Her hate towards Candy was even more fortified. A hate she had to assuage, which gave her an indescribable pleasure like an uncontrollable drug that would end when her revenge would be satisfied. Plunged into her thoughts, she emitted a little shout of joy which called out to her husband who, before the crazy gaze she was returning him, felt terrified...
******************
Terry's trembling hand shook the bottle of whisky in all the directions, but it remained desperately empty. This really annoyed him. Not because it was empty but rather because the one liter of alcohol he had just gulped down had been unable to confuse his mind enough to anaesthetize the wide-opened wound that tore his heart. He called the barman and ordered a new bottle. He brought him one back, dragging his feet. The customer is king but it was really painful for him to watch that young man getting voluntarily deeper into intoxication to daze himself and obviously forget something unbearable to live. To be true, he had experience as a waiter at the Caffé Florian of the San Marco square. The biggest names had passed by that Illustrious place : The Doges of Venice, aristocrats, ambassadors, rich merchants, artists, literary men. He had seen many tortured ones pass here ! According to their attitude, he was then able to guess when things were not going well : face distraught, spine curved. Most of the time, they would take refuge at the bottom of the room, sheltered from the gazes, and would stay that way for hours, waiting before their drink for a hypothetical salvation.
Terrence Grandchester's behavior had not then left any doubt. When he entered the café at the end of the afternoon with a crazed look, walking like an automation, the waiter had immediately sent him towards the bottom of the room and, sighing sadly, had followed him from the corner of the eye. He did not like seeing people unhappy ! A café was supposed to be convivial, to reunite people and watch them talk, laugh or listen to them putting the world to rights. It was not made for collecting all the miseries of the soul ! Each time he had to deal with one of those desperate beings, he could only serve them with sympathy, while regretting his powerlessness. Several times, he had asked Terry if he knew someone to contact and who could come and pick him up. Each time, he would answer with a shrug and a little sarcastic smile as if he was laughing to himself. Then, he would swallow a new mouthful of alcohol, quaffing in one gulp his glass, and afterwards flap his tongue with greed like it was a delicious nectar.
So young and already and alcoholic ! How sad it is !... - thought the barman as he passed a clean sweep on the desk – What misfortune could have happened to him to have him so upset ?
If he had asked Terry, maybe he would have told him the reason for his distress, that unexpected and awful news that he heard about just a few hours before...
When the journalist had shared with him his information, it had perturbed him at the moment, then he had recovered and the will to shut his mouth with a full punch in his face had seized him. The latter, reading the fury in his eyes, had rushed to ask him the following question :
- If you don't believe me, ask that man behind his desk if there isn't written in his register the name of a certain Mrs. Capwell...
Terry's head had pivoted towards the hotel employee, who had tensed up, feeling that the situation was taking a bad turn.
- Could you then, sir, tell me if Mrs. Capwell has booked a bedroom in your hotel ? - the young English man had then asked, trying to keep his calm.
- I'm sorry, sir, but as I told you five minutes before, I can't go against the rules of the hotel...
The aristocrat's tone had then changed radically. Without warning, he had seized the receptionist's collar, who had taken ten centimeters off the ground, his body toppling forward which he retained from falling by grabbing his desk. Paralyzed, half-asphyxiated, the rage he could see in his aggressor's gaze had achieved to convince him.
- Listen !... - Terry had launched with an icy voice – I've crossed the ocean, risked death to arrive until here and find the one I love. You can easily understand that I'm not here to play and I rely on you to tell me if that woman is staying in this hotel. Don't make me languish, please...
Far from being a plea, the last sentence had all the appearances of a serious threat. Terrorized, the hotel employee, still hanging over the desk, had instinctively turned the register towards Terry. He instantaneously released his victim, who had come and take refuge against the wall, trembling and panting. With his heart beating, the young actor had browsed with a nervous hand, the most recent pages of the book and finally found the feared name : Capwell !...
- This.. This does not mean anything !... - he had mumbled, shaking his head.
The reporter had come closer, then, with a half-smile, had pointed his finger on the name.
- Look closely at what's written next to it...
Between parenthesis, three initials had been added : C.W.A... Candice White Andrew !...
Against all expectations, there had not been any shouts, neither any demonstrations of violence. Terry's face had become pale, then without any word, nor any gaze towards the two men who were observing him in silence, he had turned around and left the hotel. Unable to think or act, he had wandered in the streets of Venice without seeing anything, knocking against the walkers, jostling what was on his path until through chance of his wanderings, he found refuge at the Caffé Florian, a place that was waiting for him like a very good old friend to whom he had been very faithful for a while many years before : that good old bottle of whisky !...
He poured a new glass of alcohol to himself that he swallowed like if it were a glass of lemonade. The burning liquid went down slowly in his throat, during which he could feel a light euphoria that gave square to a feeling of emptiness, of inner death that terrorized him. He knew too well that feeling since having felt it all along those years, but he had believed he had gotten rid of it when the foolish hope having found Candy had made him blind. Blind, actually, he had been. Blind to have been unable to distinguish the true from the false, the reality from the lie ! They had made a fool of him ! Patty, Albert and even maybe Candy...
He understood why Albert had not wanted to tell him where she was exactly.
Because it was too late. Because he could not imagine that he would cross the ocean to find her. Because he was sure that he would give up like he had done after Suzanna's accident.
He understood why Candy had come to his apartment during his absence and had run away...
Because she was already promised to someone, to that man. Her presence in New York had nothing to do with him, Terry. She wanted just to say farewell...
What else could it be ? Bowing down under the violence of his sadness, so convinced he did not deserve that love, so convinced that his life had to be forever miserable because of that youthful mistake, he was unable to detect any incoherence to what was happening to him. He had already forgotten Patty's pleas, Albert's warm welcome and his encouragements, Candy's tears on the boat... All of this had no importance anymore. He only remembered the name Capwell on the register of the hotel and the initials C.W.A that proved her identity. If he had not yielded so easily to doubt, he would have noticed the link between Capwell and Capulet of Shakespeare's play. This would have caught him immediately and he would have understood that it was a disguised way to tell him that it was Candy. He would have interrogated the receptionist longer and he would have learnt that this latter had been replacing his colleague who had suddenly fallen sick for the last two days, the one colleague who had been in contact with Albert and who would have instantly been able to stop that misunderstanding. If he had taken the time to think, he would not have given faith to those dubious information from a gossip reporter, he, who had never given credit to those idle gossips. It seemed that everything reunited to make him fall into the trap of Elisa, who had benefited from an unbelievable luck. Although she was hundreds of kilometers away, she achieved her ends, taking profit, though ignorant of them, from many coincidences, but mainly from the little confidence Terry had of himself. She did not have any heart, but she was far from being an idiot ! She knew that after all those years of separation the young man would have all the difficulties to believe in the reality of this reencounter with Candy. Too much time had elapsed, too many things were forcing them apart nowadays and this was the reason why he had never come back to her...
When the newspapers announced Suzanna's death, Elisa had trembled, thinking that he would have rushed to join that damned orphan. Surprisingly, he had done nothing like that and she had ended by understanding that he had never been sure of Candy's love. How could it have been different anyway as they had neither seen nor written to each other for years ? That voluntary silence they had both established between them had built in Terry's mind the conviction that she had passed to something else, that their youthful love was only a distant souvenir, and that she had built a new life without him. Elisa had grasped Terry's weaknesses and understood that a grain of sand was enough to break the balance and make him renounce all his good resolutions. Worse than being blind is not wanting to see... Victim of the intensity of his emotions, he had lost all reason, unable to see the evidence : the horror he was experiencing did not exist, except in his imagination that he had fertilized when it concerned suffering...
All of this brought him the confirmation that he was not made for Candy. Since the beginning of their relationship, the obstacles had summed up to prevent them from loving each other. Even the ocean had got involved, so well that at the hospital, he had already thought about to stopping in his search for her. What's the point of persevering when everything was clear now ? … He had believed in a dream, a marvelous dream whose fate had perfidiously cradled him, to better weigh him down when he wakes up with the atrocious weight of reality. It was unbearable to him ! He was suffocating. He took out some money from his pocket and left the café in a shot. It was almost night at San Marco square and this surprised him. It was still crowded at that time and nobody gave any attention to him. He walked up the square towards the campanile, a very high tower made with bricks isolated at one of the square's side, then turned around it to his right towards the Palace of the Doges whose wonderful Gothic frontage bordered the canal. The gondolas had been gathered on the border for the night, abandoned until the morning by their owners. They were undulating at the pace of the wavelets, making them incline and bang together, their bows in a ballet of lapping and metallic noises. A cold draught coming from the canal scattered the frozen walkers returning towards San Marco square, well protected by the archways and the monuments that surrounded it. Only Terry remained, impassive, indifferent to what was happening around him, captivated only by the reddening reflection of the twilight on the water. He came closer to the bank and saw his silhouette deformed by the water that came to break itself against the deck. He thought that it summarized his life very well : forever tormented by the misfortune...
This time, Candy's face materialized on the water, the one he had seen on the boat in New York. A sob escaped his throat and burning tears scrambled the green of his eyes, tears suffused with regret and bitterness.
- Why ? Why did I wait so long to write to her ? - he thought, squeezing his fists as the shape of a man without a face appeared near Candy – I was so afraid she would reject me, and now, I'm doubly punished not to have had the courage to contact her sooner. How hurtful it is to have to renounce her ! …
The thought of putting an end to his hell crossed his mind. It had to stop !
He drew closer to the canal..
There would be no more sadness, no more suffering, no more tears. He would not be under torment as he imagined Candy in the arms of another man. He would not have to torture his mind at the thought that he could have been at that man's place.
The tips of his toes were now exceeding the bank.
There would no more regrets, no more remorse. There will only be the absolute emptiness, in which no feeling could consume him. There would be no more memories, no more laughs that could come and haunt him...
One more step and he would topple...
He would be in peace at last !...
He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and let himself go. But as he was going to fall, a firm hand grasped him by the shoulder and retained him in his momentum.
- Don't do that, son !...
Terry turned around, his gaze lost in a fog, groggy, as he emerged from a long sleep.
- You ? - he said as he recognized the one who had just prevented him from committing an irredeemable act.
The count Contarini was standing before him, still feeling the emotional blow of what he had just witnessed. He remained immobile, stunned, and unable to say any word. As an answer, he slowly moved his arms away. Terry staggered in return and a quivering sigh escaped his chest. His mouth twisted into a rictus of despair and his eyes filled up with tears that he tried to hide by shaking his head. Down to his last ounce of strength, he flung himself into the old man's arms and burst into tears.
End of chapter 7