CHAPTER NINETEEN: A Smile in the Dark

As she watched Jean and Megan glide together in perfect concert across the dance floor, Ronnie felt sick to her stomach and she wasn’t even sure why.

“I didn’t even know Jean could waltz,” she said, more to herself than to her companion.

Carandini admired the play of light and gold in his crystal champagne flute and took an appreciative sip before he spoke. “Your fiancé and his sister are very close, aren’t they?”

“Yes, it’s just that –“

“And they do look well together, do they not?”

Ronnie gritted her teeth. “Like a matched set.”

Carandini plucked another glass from the tray of a passing waiter. Offering the champagne to Ronnie, he smiled comfortingly. “Drink this. It’s a quite nice Veuve Clicquot. For all their faults, my cousins do know their wine."

“Thank you, Wilton, but no…I’m just not feeling well. All the excitement of the last week seems to be catching up with me. Could we…would you mind if we stepped outside for a moment? I’m afraid I’m not used to the…restrictions of this costume and I can’t seem to catch my breath.“

“But of course! How remiss of me not to notice. A bit of fresh air is what is needed.” Setting the glasses down on a small table, he turned back to her. "Cara signorina?” he asked, offering her his arm. Ronnie accepted gratefully, and Carandini led her from the over-heated ballroom to a small covered veranda that overlooked the gardens and the ornamental koi pond. “Here we are, my dear. Please, sit. “

Ronnie took a deep breath of the rich, ocean-scented air and arranged herself on the cushioned bench next to the balustrade while Carandini closed the French doors for privacy. In spite of her blue mood, she found herself admiring the fine figure the professor cut in his Victorian garb. She wondered, not for the first time, why it was that all the other men at the party seemed so…callow compared to him.

“Ah, that is better,” he said, rejoining her. “A moment away from the chatter. You are not too cold, I hope?” he asked, giving her a concerned look.

“No, I…I’ll be fine, Wilton,” she replied. It was actually quite comfortable out here, she noted with surprise. A small antique brazier lit in one corner of the balcony gave off enough warmth to keep off the chill. Ronnie wondered for a moment if it had been one of Roderick’s. Uncle Roderick. Jean as Roderick and Megan as...

She shook her head to clear it of the discomforting image and attempted a reassuring tone. “I just needed to get away for a moment,” she said. “The crush of all those people was starting to get to me, I guess.”

“Along with the fact that your fiancé does not appreciate you.”

“No! He’s just…”

“He’s just a fool. My sweet girl, forgive an older man’s bluntness, but you should be enjoying this splendid party that you created; you should be celebrating a triumph! Not making yourself miserable over a man you cannot change. “

“I…I don’t want to change him, I only want…”

Carandini’s voice softened as he drew closer. “You only want what you have every right to expect from your fiancé. Understanding. Compassion. Tenderness. Loyalty. Si, mia preziosa?”

Ronnie looked down at her hands gripped tightly in her lap, and tried to keep tears from welling up in her eyes. How could she explain that she just wanted to change Jean back to the way he was only a few weeks ago? He’d turned from the charming, gentle, attentive man she’d fallen in love with into a bad-tempered, sneering jerk who seemed to take his main pleasure in either drinking himself into a stupor, making snide comments or spending time with his precious sister. Damn him anyway!

Her reverie was broken when Carandini spoke again. “The last thing I want to do is make you sad, my dear,” he said, reaching down to lightly caress her cheek. His touch was so comforting, Ronnie thought as she gazed back up into his eyes. So gentle. “You are too good for him,” he went on, “but then, you would be too good for almost any man. May I?” he asked, gesturing to the bench.

“Of course, please,” said Ronnie, easing over. Carandini sat down next to her with a smooth economy of motion, flicking the tails of his coat out of the way in a fashion that seemed oddly natural to him.

He looked at her then with mock severity. “Now, on a more serious note, I must tell you…I have the hardest time calling you Ronnie! Ah, that name, it does not suit you at all, no. And Ronnette most certainly does not. “

Ronnie couldn’t help give a rueful laugh. “I know! I’ve always hated it. It makes me feel like I should be snapping gum and trying to bowl a strike or something.”

“What an appalling image!" He chuckled with her and leaned in closer. "No, I have given this some thought. From now on, Ronnette will be stricken from the record. Fftt!” Carandini snapped his fingers with a flourish. “There. Gone forever. However…” He paused for a moment, musing. “The original form of your name is really quite lovely. Veronica. You hear it? Veronica. Every syllable a delight. Yes. I shall call you that from now on. It means 'true image' and it could not be more appropriate. For tonight you see truly, do you not?”

“I’m starting to, I think, Wilton. Thank you. Thank you for being my friend and making me smile again. It’s been too long since I’d done that.”

“It would be a glorious ambition to be the man who always made you smile.”

“Flatterer.” Ronnie hoped it was too dark for him to see her blush.

"Ah, only the truth between you and I from this night forward. I swear.” Carandini’s tone grew serious once more. “Jean is very young and very blind. Perhaps you can make him see. I would tell you to take him and your children away from here tomorrow, if I didn’t have my own selfish plans for you.”

“Selfish…plans?” Ronnie felt her heart thud against her chest.

“Why yes! Your kind offer to help me research my book?”

“Oh! Right!”

“How could I possibly do all my work here without your incomparable assistance? Who else finds it all as intriguing as I do? You feel it here, too, don’t you? In this house? The past is alive here, in ways we do not yet fully comprehend. It waits for us, Veronica. The first thing Monday, I had hoped we could examine the family mausoleum together. There is so much I have yet to share with you. In my studies, I’ve already found a direct connection between-"

Suddenly there was a rustling in the ivy that grew around the balcony and a black, sinewy shape burst upon them from the shadows.

“What the devil?“ Carandini said, pulling back slightly.

“Mrroowl?”

“That cat!” Ronnie exclaimed. “Watch out, it has a nasty temper-"

Completely ignoring Ronnie, the big black cat ran to Carandini and immediately began twining around his legs, purring ecstatically. A look of mild embarrassment crossed the professor’s features as he stood and tried to shoo the creature away. But the cat would have none of it. Leaping up onto the wide stone balustrade, it alternately butted its head against Carandini’s shoulder and gazed worshipfully into his eyes. Sighing, the professor gave in and gingerly patted the cat, which promptly went limp with rapture, flopped over on its back and revved up its purr a few decibels.

Ronnie had to smile. “Gee, do you think it likes you?”

Carandini sighed ruefully. “Apparently I’m a...cat person, whether I wish to be or not. They seem to sense it, somehow." Warily eyeing the animal, which seemed to have fallen into a blissful slumber, he then looked down at his sleeves in distaste. “So much for this suit, I’m afraid…”

“Well at least the colors match!” Ronnie had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her meticulous friend trying to brush a flurry of cat hairs off of his fine black frock coat. He stopped long enough to raise an affronted eyebrow at her. “Do you mock me, child?”

Ronnie briefly recalled Jean teasing her in the same way last week – the last time they’d been alone together, really. The last time they’d enjoyed each other’s company. Much too long ago. She smiled again, making a decision. She wouldn’t let Jean’s boorishness ruin her night. This charming, sophisticated man was doing everything he could to make her feel better, and she wouldn’t disappoint him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir. And I’m not a child. Here, let me,” she said, standing up to help him. As she raised her hand to his lapels, his own hand caught hers in a vice-like grip. Gasping in surprise, she felt the mood between them suddenly alter. She realized how very close their bodies were now, and she also became aware of how good Wilton smelled – a subtle blend of bergamot and some other, earthier spice. He smelled…rich. Rich and very, very masculine. Ronnie could feel the heat emanating between them, and a sort of delicious, languid need permeated her being as she looked up into Wilton's face. The moonlight struck him in such a way that his eyes seemed completely black, and the hollows in his cheeks were even more pronounced. Almost like a death’s head, she realized. Strangely, the image did not repulse her. When he whispered her name again, she seemed to hear it echo inside her head.

Veronica.

“No, you are right. You are most certainly not a child,” he told her in a voice like velvet. “I feel your true self here,” he said, his thumb caressing her wrist in a slow circle. “And here." He drew her hand up against his chest and looked deeply into her eyes. Ronnie could now feel his heart beating in time with her own. “Yes,” he breathed. “Vital. Passionate. The pulse of life.” A shudder went though Ronnie’s body, and he gave her a warm smile of understanding. “Don’t ever be afraid of it. Or me. Remember, only the truth between us now, Veronica. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, and you deserve only the very best that life has to offer. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve seen how they all treat you. Believe me, I speak from experience. They act the part of a warm, adoring family, but if you are outside their circle, outside their...blood...if you will, you may love them, you may serve them, but you will never be one of them. And they will suck…you…dry. ”

Ronnie tried to shake her head, to deny his words, but she couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t stop the sensations his touch ignited in her body.

Carandini continued, still quiet, but with an increasing urgency. “I say this because I care about you, and I deplore waste. There are things…I could teach you, if you are willing. If you are ready to become the courageous seeker of truth I know you to be. There is…a connection between us. You feel that too, don’t you?" Ronnie felt his other hand snake around her waist, pulling her up against him even tighter. “Don’t you?”

Ronnie could only nod. Her throat had suddenly gone very dry.

Carandini’s eyes glinted in acknowledgement, and he smiled a very different smile. One that hinted of immeasurable promise. And at that moment, something else Jean had said came back to Ronnie. Something he’d mentioned in reference to this strange, compelling man who now held her fast.

"He’s just a man I hope you never have to meet.”

As the blood pounded in her veins, Ronnie suddenly realized she was about to find out why.


L.A.G.