The Autumn of the Witch Read online

  Maria’s expression lightened at once and uttering profuse expressions of gratitude she scurried away to get her coat. Stephanie lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture and then glanced round the kitchen to make sure everything was as it should be before going to get a woollen jacket to put over her shirt.

  Maria had apparently not stopped to get anything but an overnight bag and she was waiting at the top of the castello steps as Stephanie backed the car out of the garage.

  The drive down the twisting road was hair-raising to Stephanie, who had only previously negotiated it in daylight. However, the lights of the village were soon in sight and she asked Maria where she would like to be let out. The nursemaid hesitated for a moment and then directed Stephanie along a track which led out of the village away from the main highway towards a farm situated above sloping terraces.

  ‘Bene, signora, c’e la fattoria di Antonio, mio fratello.’

  ‘Your brother’s farm.’ Stephanie nodded. ‘Bene, Maria. Er—will you come back?’

  Maria slid out of the car. ‘Domani, signora,’ she nodded, vigorously. ‘Grazie!’

  Stephanie nodded in return and then slammed the car into reverse gear and accelerated back on to the track that led down to the main road.

  The journey back up to the castello was something of an ordeal. The low-hanging clouds left a blackness across the road and not even the car’s headlamps penetrated for much distance. The winding curves, a hazard in daylight, were tortuous at night and she was so relieved when the walls of the castello loomed ahead and she drew the car to a halt in the forecourt. She slid out thankfully, slammed the door, and walked into the building.

  She had left lights burning and she was glad she had, for there seemed a stillness about the place that had not been there before, as though someone or something was lying in wait for its victim. Her mind ran riot with recollections of stories she had heard about the Sicilian vendetta, and however much she tried she could not wholly dispel the feeling that she was not alone in the castello.

  Shaking her shoulders, she marched into the kitchen, and looked blankly at the clock. Was it really only a little after nine? It seemed much later. Or maybe it was the strange evening she had spent which had made it seem so abysmally long.

  The stove needed building up, but she would not go outside to get fuel. Pietro would have to do that on his return regardless of whether or not Santino approved. She didn’t know what to do. She could hardly go to bed so early, not knowing whether Santino and Lucia were returning to the castello, or if they were who was going to see to Lucia now that Maria was not here.

  A sound from the direction of the hall made her swing round sharply, her heart pounding rather erratically. What had it been? Surely there were no intruders in the castello. Her mind raced. Where were the telephones? The nearest one was in the hall itself, so that disposed of that. Besides, she was probably behaving foolishly. She could quite easily have heard a creaking board, the sound magnified by the unaccustomed stillness of the building.

  Even so, her pulses were racing as she pushed open the kitchen door and tiptoed silently down the passage to the hall. The hall was deserted, and a feeling of relief overwhelmed her. She was allowing Maria’s fears to get a hold of her, and that would never do. Whatever Santino might be, he was not a monster, and although he might be angry with her he would hardly use Maria as a whipping boy for the others.

  Taking a deep breath, she crossed the hall to the lounge. She might just as well get herself a drink, have a cigarette, and sit down and wait. There was no point in going to bed when in spite of everything else she would not sleep.

  The lounge door was closed, and she turned the handle easily, letting out a gasp of horror as the door gave inwards to reveal a man standing with his back to her in the centre of the floor. She pressed a petrified hand to her throat, the colour draining from her cheeks, as the man turned, and then felt an overpowering sense of relief as she recognized Pietro’s handsome features.

  Realizing she was on the point of fainting, Pietro rushed across to her, taking her in his arms and allowing her head to droop weakly against his shoulder. ‘Dio mio, Stephanie,’ he exclaimed anxiously. ‘What is it? What is wrong? Where have you been?’

  Stephanie shook her head blankly and then as the weakness overwhelmed her she started to cry quietly, pressing her face against his chest. ‘Oh, Pietro,’ she sobbed shakily. ‘I—I didn’t know you were back. I—I thought there were intruders in the castello.’

  Pietro put a hand to her head, pressing it close against him. ‘Such alarm,’ he murmured softly. ‘But where have you been that you did not hear my return?’

  Stephanie heaved a sigh. ‘I—I took Maria down to the village. She wanted to go to her brother’s house. I—I didn’t see your car—’

  ‘How very charming!’

  The cold sardonic tones which had haunted every waking moment since first she had heard them caused Stephanie to pull herself out of Pietro’s arms and turn to face her husband, who was leaning negligently against the door jamb, regarding them cynically.

  ‘Santino!’ she gasped. ‘How—I mean—’ She turned back to Pietro. ‘Why—why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Your gallant admirer and I returned together,’ observed Santino chillingly, his cold eyes flickering over Pietro’s flushed face. ‘You say you have taken Maria to her brother’s farm?’

  ‘Yes, yes, she wanted to go.’

  ‘Might one ask why?’

  ‘She was afraid—’

  ‘Afraid?’

  ‘—afraid of what you might do to her!’

  ‘I?’ Santino’s expression darkened. ‘I see. I presume she felt like a—what would you say in your country?—er—a blackguard, si?’

  ‘Blackleg,’ said Stephanie automatically, and then flushed also. ‘Where—where is Lucia? I—I’ll put her to bed.’

  ‘That is not necessary,’ returned Santino coolly. ‘It has all been taken care of. I imagine Lucia is already tucked up.’

  ‘But—but—who—?’ Stephanie looked helplessly at Pietro, and he moved uncomfortably.

  ‘Sophia is back,’ he said, almost sullenly. ‘And the others. Sophia is putting Lucia to bed.’

  Stephanie felt an inner coldness spreading out from the core of her being. ‘I see,’ she said.

  Santino looked at her piercingly. ‘Do not look so disturbed, Stephanie. You should be glad that you will now have the time to relax again.’

  Stephanie turned abruptly away, unable to meet his sardonic gaze. He was so calm, so indifferent, so utterly the master of the situation and she hated him for it.

  Without another word, she walked out of the lounge and across the hall to the stairs, only to be halted by the sound of Santino’s voice. ‘Stephanie! One moment!’

  Stephanie stopped abruptly, but she did not turn, and he had to walk round her to see her face. ‘Stephanie, there is something we must discuss.’

  Stephanie averted her eyes. ‘Is there?’

  ‘God damn you, you know there is!’

  ‘Do I?’ She would not allow him to have it all his own way.

  ‘Stephanie, look at me!’

  Stephanie pressed her lips mutinously, and then raised her eyes. ‘Can’t this wait until morning?’ she inquired insolently.

  ‘No, it cannot.’

  ‘Why? What possible urgency is there about—about anything?’

  Santino was controlling his temper with difficulty and there were harsh lines beside his mouth. ‘Stephanie, about this afternoon—’

  A choked sob escaped from her lips and she stared at him with smarting eyes. ‘Don’t even mention this afternoon,’ she cried wildly. ‘I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to hear your reasons or anything about it! I just want to be left alone, don’t you understand?’

  ‘Stephanie!’

  ‘Oh, go to hell!’

  She turned on her heel and ran abruptly up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She hea
rd his footsteps following her and then the sound of other footsteps and a childish voice. Lucia had obviously waylaid him. Maybe Sophia was bringing her to say good night, Stephanie couldn’t be sure; all she knew was an immense relief that her confrontation with Santino had been postponed and she would have a chance to recover her scattered emotions before seeing him again.

  * * *

  The following morning Stephanie awakened with the heaviness of dread hanging over her. Today she would have to face Sophia again, and somehow right now that seemed an impossible thing to contemplate.

  She was dressing when Lucia came to her room, tapping at the door and slipping inside as she had done almost every morning since the servants walked out.

  However, this morning she regarded Stephanie almost warily and Stephanie guessed she was still disturbed about what she had seen the day before. Trying to put her at her ease, she said:

  ‘Buon giorno, Lucia!’

  Lucia hesitated only a moment, and then she responded with: ‘Good morning, Stephanie.’

  It was a game they played where Lucia spoke in English and Stephanie spoke in Italian. It had amused the child to think she was helping Stephanie to speak Italian while she was learning English. But her use of Stephanie’s name might cause something of a problem now that Santino was home, Stephanie thought. And yet the child had accepted her so much more naturally as Stephanie, as a friend, than she would have having an artificial relationship thrust upon her.

  However, this morning the atmosphere was definitely taut, and Stephanie wished she could speak to the child and explain that she had nothing to fear. But after a while, as Stephanie completed her toilette, Lucia began to poke about as usual, picking things up and putting them down like any other curious child. The bottles on Stephanie’s dressing table always intrigued her and Stephanie sometimes let her spray herself with perfume before sending her off for her breakfast.

  Today, as a special treat, Stephanie gave her a small spray of perfume for herself. It was in a plastic atomized container and was perfectly safe for a child, and Lucia was delighted when Stephanie explained that it was a present. With unaccustomed charm, Lucia demonstrated her pleasure by wrapping her arms round Stephanie’s neck as she bent down to her and hugging her tightly. Stephanie hesitated only a moment and then she wrapped her arms round Lucia, too, and lifted her up into her arms. Lucia sat there in her arms, looking at her smilingly, her earlier doubtfulness forgotten as she experienced the wholly aesthetic delight of giving someone else pleasure. They were laughing together over Lucia’s mis-aiming of the spray when there was a sharp knock at the door, and Stephanie called: ‘Who is it?’

  The door opened and as once before Santino stood on the threshold. He looked in surprise at his daughter in Stephanie’s arms and then spoke to her swiftly in their own language. Lucia looked half reluctantly at Stephanie and then slid down to the ground and ran across to her father.

  ‘I’m sorry she troubled you!’ remarked Santino bleakly. He was already dressed, Stephanie saw, in close-fitting grey slacks and a black sweater.

  ‘She didn’t trouble me,’ Stephanie asserted quickly. ‘We—we usually spend this time of the morning together.’

  ‘I see. Well, I will take her for breakfast now. Excuse us both!’

  And with that he went out and closed the door. Stephanie stood staring at the blank panels for a few minutes and then turned abruptly away. It was foolish to feel so affronted, just because he had come for his daughter like that. After all, he had not known Lucia usually spent some time in Stephanie’s room in the mornings. Even so… the look on his face had disturbed her terribly, and not even closing her eyes could shut out the mask-like hardness of his expression.

  Stephanie had breakfast in the small dining-room served to her by Teresa. The young maid looked rather shamefaced as she brought in the tray and Stephanie felt obliged to smile at her and put her at her ease. After all, she was not to blame really. She would follow the others’ example in all things, and Sophia was the real ringleader.

  She was in the hall, hesitating about whether she should go to the nursery, when Sophia herself appeared. She came silently across the hall, dressed in her black gown, like some grim bird of prey, and Stephanie hardened herself for the triumphant attitude that was surely to come. However, Sophia did not look at all triumphant. On the contrary, she looked almost diffident, and regarded Stephanie rather cautiously.

  ‘Buon giorno, signora,’ she greeted her mistress politely. ‘Did you enjoy your breakfast?’

  ‘Thank you, yes.’ Stephanie wasn’t at all sure whether that question was a deliberate attempt to intimidate her after all, but she squashed the thought as Sophia went on:

  ‘I understand you wish to be consulted about the menus, signora. I have them here if you would care to examine them…’

  Stephanie only just controlled the gasp of astonishment that threatened to escape her, and making her expression blank she thanked Sophia and took the lists she handed her. Her fingers trembled as she flicked over the pages and Sophia said:

  ‘Dominica wondered whether you would prefer the pasta this evening or perhaps for lunch?’

  Stephanie wet her dry lips. ‘This—this evening, I think, thank you, Sophia. Oh, and this dessert—the ice-cream could we have it at lunch time?’

  ‘Si, signora. And tomorrow, Dominica she say if you have any preference you are just to advise her.’

  ‘Well—thank you.’ Stephanie tried not to look too astounded. ‘Oh—and Sophia?’

  ‘Si, signora.’

  ‘I—I’m glad to see you back.’

  ‘Grazie, signora.’

  Sophia’s dour old face relaxed for a moment and she smiled, and then she turned and walked away towards the kitchen.

  Stephanie shook her head helplessly. Obviously she had been mistaken in imagining that Sophia would regard her return as something of a victory, although she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Santino had said to gain such a result!

  She did not see Santino at lunch time, although Pietro joined her for lunch in the small dining-room looking rather hot and flustered as though he had been working hard all morning.

  ‘Maria’s back,’ he announced as he took his seat. ‘Did you know?’

  Stephanie shook her head, spooning melon into her mouth. ‘No. I haven’t been to the nursery this morning. Lucia seems to have spent the whole time with—with her father.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But that’s usual when he’s around.’

  ‘Yes.’ Stephanie looked down at her plate. ‘What happened? I mean—last night. Was—was Santino very angry?’

  ‘Do you mean before or after that little scene in the lounge?’

  Stephanie shrugged. ‘Both, I suppose.’

  Pietro sighed. ‘To say he was angry would be understating the obvious. He was furious! He blamed me, naturally, for not letting him know what you were doing, but I think what maddened him most was finding you weeping in my arms later.’

  Stephanie shivered. ‘I don’t see why. He doesn’t give a damn what I do!’

  ‘Doesn’t he? I wonder.’ Pietro raised his shoulders thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes…’ He shook his head. ‘Bene, it’s over now and the others are back, thank God! I must confess my back appreciates the rest!’

  Stephanie half-smiled, tracing a pattern on the polished table surface. ‘Exactly how did Santino find out what was going on then?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t tell him, so who did?’

  ‘It was Sophia.’

  ‘Sophia!’

  ‘Yes. I should have guessed she might do something of the kind after I told her what was going on.’

  Stephanie was astonished. ‘But why then? Why not sooner?’

  Pietro frowned. ‘You may not believe this, but Sophia is not as black as you seem to think. When she walked out she did so out of pride, nothing else. Sicilians are damned proud people, and don’t you ever forget it.’

  Stephanie made a helpless gesture. ‘So?’

  ‘Wel
l, to begin with there were many possibilities. You might have contacted her and asked her to come back. Or you might have employed temporary staff. Sophia did not know.’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘When she discovered you were trying to manage alone with only Maria’s and my help she had no compunction about cabling Santino and informing him what was going on. Cola! That is the situation.’

  Stephanie shook her head. ‘You mean to tell me that Sophia was thinking of me all the time?’

  ‘More or less.’

  Stephanie looked sceptical. ‘I find it hard to believe.’ ‘Nevertheless, it’s true. Don’t be so quick to take offence, to see dislike where there is only suspicion! Surely you realize you cannot make friends overnight!’

  Stephanie sighed. ‘Oh well, it’s done now.’ She bit her lip. ‘Sophia consulted me this morning—about the menus.’ Pietro smiled. ‘Good. I think you’ll find she’s quite prepared to make concessions if you are.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just don’t rush things. You’ve only been here two weeks. That’s not very long, you must admit. Surely your success with Lucia proves all things are possible if they are tackled the right way.’

  Stephanie laughed. ‘Oh, Pietro,’ she exclaimed helplessly, ‘you’re so tremendously good for my morale.’

  While Lucia had her rest that afternoon Stephanie decided to tidy her bedroom and after this was accomplished she found herself looking rather curiously at the door which Santino had said opened into an adjoining dressing-room. Until now she had had neither the time nor the inclination to explore, but with several empty hours stretching ahead of her she decided to open the room.

  However, as he had also said, it was locked, and the outer door which opened on to the landing was locked too. Frowning, Stephanie made her way downstairs, considering whether she should ask Sophia for the keys. Surely such a request was not unjustified, and she went into the kitchen with some misgivings.

  Sophia was helping Dominica prepare some vegetables for the evening meal, but she looked up quite amiably at Stephanie’s entrance. Stephanie smiled encouragingly and said: