Chapter Twenty-Five
Early June, 1817
For the first time in his life, Elias was not looking forward to coming home. Did that make him a coward? He hated to think so, but it probably did.
He stood on the railing, one foot on the bowsprit, holding on to the rigging to steady himself as he yelled instructions up to the crew. At sea was the only place he felt mastery over himself. The elements seemed a much more conquerable force than a woman who refused to love him – or refuses to admit she loves him. The thought whispered in his ear, a traitorous resistance to his new resolve, encouraging false hope when there should be none.
Elias kept his concerns to himself. There was no need to burden his shipmates with it. He looked up to the hills where he had always fancied he could see a glimpse of his villa if the angle of the sun was just right.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
Perhaps it was time to move on. Laura had made it clear she was going back to England soon and would not return.
His deliberations turned to Benjamin, and he thought of the gift he and Giorgio had made for him over a couple of evenings. It was three hand-carved, round-bottomed wooden sailors that wobbled when nudged. The child would enjoy them, and Elias was grateful to Giorgio for his help carving them – the cook was much greater skilled with the knife than he was.
Finally, the Calliope had settled into her berth and Morwena waited on the dock, more or less patiently, for them to come ashore. She went unerringly to her husband’s side and held his hand, a proxy for the kiss they would no doubt share later in private. Yet it was Elias who was the focus of her attention.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said with a satisfied grin. He was immediately on alert. Kit simply laughed, quickly followed by Jonathan, both amused by his squirming under Morwena’s gaze.
“What is it?” he asked. “Am I going to like this surprise?”
She swatted him on the arm. “Of course, you’re going to like this surprise! It is going to make you a lot of money. In fact, it’s going to make us all a lot of money.”
Morwena led the way and the senior officers of the Calliope followed dutifully, like ducklings waddling off after their mother.
“Is this going to take long, Morwena?” Kit asked as they approached one of her warehouses. “We’ve just come off a week at sea. I want a wash, a drink, some food, and to see my wife – and not in that particular order.”
“Patience, my dear captain, I promise you will have all of those and more, but there is someone I want you to meet first.”
“Is there a reason why this person couldn’t have met us at the dock – or even at our home?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes, there is a reason,” she answered quickly. “You men battle pirates at sea; I battle pirates in commerce. The longer I can keep a secret, the more money we all make. Here.”
Morwena opened the small door set into the larger warehouse door. They slipped through. A quarter of the space within was filled with crates stacked three high. In front of them, there was a small stack of cans arranged as if a pyramid. They bore bright yellow and red printed paper labels.
Urged by Morwena, Elias picked up the uppermost can. In the center of the label was a cartouche. Around the edge, it read Prodotti Carantiti Stablimento I & V Florio
In the center of the cartouche was a crouching lion drinking by a stream – the symbol of the Florio family, which Elias recognized from their winery interests.
Above the lion, Elias translated the words Tuna of Favignana and Formica. And below, proudly in bold white letters, Sicilia and beneath it, Tonno All’olio.
Then it dawned on him. “This is my olive oil?”
Kit and Jonathan picked up a tin each and examined them with interest.
“The experiment is a success,” Morwena confirmed. “And someone wanted to thank you in person. It is my pleasure to introduce you to Vincenzo Florio.”
Emerging from the shadows was the slender figure of a young man – little more than a youth really. Elias would be surprised if the lad had actually reached his majority. Vincenzo stepped into the light from one of the high warehouse windows. He was sharply dressed in a charcoal grey ensemble. It set off his black, curly hair that rose from a pronounced widow’s peak.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for keeping this secret with me, and for your assistance in making this product possible. What you see here is a small sample of what we can do with the large numbers of tuna that pass by our waters. We can now export our products across the world and also make available provisions on long sea voyages. We set a whole pallet aside for four months. When we opened them, the tuna was still fresh.”
“It’s very impressive, Senor Florio,” said Jonathan, putting the can carefully back on the pyramid. “Simple but ingenious. I wonder why no one has thought of this before.”
“I think you’ll find, Senor Afua, that they have. There is a factory in London canning foodstuffs for the Royal Navy these past three years. It was they who supplied the cans we used for this test. What I intend to do is build the largest tuna cannery in Sicily – in the whole of southern Italy.”
“So you want someone to bring in the tins,” said Kit.
“No, Captain Hardacre – I want to make the tins. And for that I will need machinery. I understand that, through your wife’s English family connection, I can get the expertise to make my cannery.”
Elias noted the curl on Kit’s lips at the mention of Laura’s brother.
“I have asked my childhood friend, Morwena, for an introduction because I understand you are returning to England in the next few weeks. I wish to book passage with you.”
“And you are welcome aboard the Calliope,” said Kit.
Elias stepped forward and shook Vincenzo’s hand, then addressed everyone. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
“Then you shall be my guests!” Vincenzo Florio announced.
As Jonathan, Morwena and Vincenzo chatted further, Elias felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder.
“I’d have thought you’d be eager to get home to Villagrazia.” Kit kept his voice low, so it traveled no further than the two of them.
“Matteo is becoming an excellent farm manager. There’s no reason for me to be there all the time. My absence for another day or two isn’t going to matter to anyone.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Kit responded with a frown.
“I know,” said Elias, and he went to join the others.
*
Laura caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned swiftly and took in the sight of the man on a black horse coming toward the villa at a canter. Her heart beat along as fast as the horse he rode.
Elias!
He had returned.
She hated the gratitude that flooded her being on his return. It seemed too much like the slavish delight she saw on the faces of some of the concubines when they had been chosen to grace Selim Omar’s bed for the night.
But even so, Laura had to concede her feeling of relief was real. Now that Elias was home, he would stop this madness that plagued her.
Every day, something else went missing and, a few days later, it would return – sometimes in the place she last put it (even though it hadn’t been there the day before), other times in completely the wrong place, sometimes even in the wrong room.
It made her doubt her sanity, even making her afraid to be alone with Benjamin.
She didn’t believe Gina’s assurances she had not interfered with her belongings, but without proof she could hardly accuse the girl. That was not to say she hadn’t been keeping an eye on her. One day, she even secretly followed the girl going about her duties right until the noon meal, before she was overcome with shame at her actions.
So instead, from sunrise to sunset, Laura retreated to her studio. There were times a nap on the day bed would see her sleep so deeply she wouldn’t awake until morning. Her disquiet fed the muse, and she was ravenous.
The darkness in her soul needed release and she had found it in dark and stormy seascapes, heavy seas in greys and greens pounding rocks and bringing unwary ships to be dashed in the shallows.
It had been nearly three months since she had last had a letter from Samuel. Perhaps he had forgotten her, too, leaving her here to fade away. Dreams of having an exhibition of her own withered and died. Once she had instinctively known her best work and had sometimes surprised herself with how good it was. But there was none of that when she painted now.
She turned back to her current work. Someone who wasn’t an artist would likely think it a nice painting, but she was dissatisfied with it. Perhaps she should destroy it, but that required energy she couldn’t muster. She ought to clean her brushes and re-order her pigments and pastels – but what would be the point? Her phantom tormentor would only have them in disarray by morning.
She gave up on the seascape, merely putting her brushes in a pot of water instead of cleaning them thoroughly as she had been taught. She locked her studio, clutching the key in her hand, and started toward the villa.
Elias had been gone for more than a week and it had been two before that since the night when she had hurt him more than she thought she was capable of doing. She deserved how angry he’d been with her, but she also knew him to be a fair man, steeped in the tradition of forgiveness. Would she find him and see the look in his eyes that revealed the wellspring of his love for her? Or had it dried up?
She raised her eyes to the terrace where she saw Elias in deep conversation with Serafina. His face was expressionless as Serafina spoke. The housekeeper was talking about her. She knew it. Serafina was telling Elias all about the argument she had with Gina, how Laura had accused everyone of stealing a bracelet, only for it to appear in the bottom of her writing box instead of her jewelry box.
Well, she was not going to let Elias think she had returned to that feeble and traumatized woman she had been almost a year ago. She would demand that Elias take charge of his household and end this petty nonsense.
By the time Laura reached the terrace, Serafina had gone, probably to the kitchen from the sounds she heard of pans clattering and the off-key singing of a Sicilian folk tune.
“Welcome home,” she said. “Benjamin has missed you.”
Laura watched him carefully as he looked up at the sound of her voice. His eyes lit up for a moment before they shuttered themselves from her. He looked down at the brown leather letter pouch in his hand. When he regarded her again, it was with a distant politeness.
“I’m glad someone missed me.” She saw him grimace slightly, perhaps recognizing the bitterness in his comment. He swallowed and started again. “I went in to see him. He was asleep.”
“He pulls himself up to stand now and rolls over by himself,” said Laura. “He loves watching Matteo as well as Serafina’s nephews working on the farm. I think he might grow up to be a farmer himself—”
Elias’ face contorted, as though he were in pain. “Stop it. Just stop it, Laura. You don’t have to put on this act any longer. Not for my sake. You don’t have to pretend anymore. You’re free.”
He looked down once more to untie the leather thong holding the parcel in his hand.
“Kit, Sophia, Jonathan and Morwena will be here tomorrow to spend a few days while the Calliope is provisioned for her trip back to England. Morwena thought you might want these letters straight away. I think one of them is from your brother. I’m sure he’ll be wanting you home soon.”
He thrust the pouch into her hands and turned away. She stood rooted to the spot in shock and it wasn’t until he was three paces away she recovered enough to call out.
“Wait! I need to talk to you.”
“You will just have to wait!” he snapped, half-turning back to her.
Laura started. It was the first time she had heard Elias raise his voice in anger. It even seemed to take him by surprise. She watched his expression in profile change as he worked to master the flash of temper. He ran an impatient hand through his dark, golden-brown hair.
“You wanted time. Just give me time, too, Laura. That’s all I ask.”