Signora Bellini has known Davide many years. She says it was at his urging that she refused to clothe herself permanently in black after her husband's death. He helped her through her grief and showed her, she says, how to 'live by honouring her spirit'. This is the heart of Davide's message: 'Vivere felicemente onorando il vostro spirito'.

  You may remember, Aunt, how very despondent James was back in October when I last wrote. He became increasingly ill-tempered: he was cold and distant with me, frequently on the verge of rudeness to Signora Bellini, and he berated Piero angrily on several occasions over trivial matters.

  On October 31st, the Signora brought Mr Lazzaretti to the house. The servants were very excited, gathering round the entrance to the courtyard and applauding him. I was struck by the clarity of his gaze and the kindness in those eyes. James, however, was in no mood for visitors, charismatic or otherwise, and stormed rudely away when Signora Bellini tried to introduce them.

  I noticed Mr Lazzaretti speaking into her ear immediately after, and later that day, after Davide had left, she asked to speak to me in private.

  "Bella Leedia," she said. "We must help James. His fury is like a poison. If we do not help him, it will get very much worse."

  I was in tears. I knew she spoke the truth, but I felt so helpless: James's rage at his mother seemed to encompass me as well. He would neither accept nor respond to anything I could say or do.

  She then outlined a plan that at first I flatly rejected. I protested most vigorously that I would not, nor could I, act in such a way; but she begged me so convincingly to trust her (and Davide, whose advice, I later discovered, she was following), claiming her love for James, though different, was equal to mine, that eventually I agreed, even though their suggestion filled me with anguish.

  I was to change my behaviour towards James completely. Instead of my constant attempts to appease him, I was to be distant, to ignore him, to treat him as if he were of no significance. I was to belittle him whenever the opportunity arose, dismissing any ideas he might express as being foolish and misguided. I was, furthermore, to find fault with him for the pettiest of incidents. She and Piero would do their best to act in a similar manner, she said, as far as their positions would allow.

  The purpose of these agonising requirements, she explained, was to draw out the poison of his rage by inducing in him a crisis whereby he would express and release the worst of this fury, and thereby be healed. She promised, moreover, that she and Piero would remain close by and keep watch to ensure he did no physical harm either to himself or me.

  Perhaps you can guess, dear Aunt, in which direction this narrative leads?

  For the rest of that day and all the next, I acted my part to the nastiest of my ability.

  "James, why have you left your jacket on the arm of the sofa? It will crease! .... Don't talk nonsense, James, of course it won't rain tomorrow ... Well, if you can't be civil, James, then I believe I shall ignore you all together."

  I suppressed and hid the hurt in my heart as I witnessed the bewildered and increasingly distressed expressions on his face at my casual taunts and cruelties.

  By dinner time the following day, his eyes bore an evil, haunted look. As I crossed the hall to the dining-room, the Signora whispered to me,

  "We are close, Leedia, very close now. Be careful. Piero and I are near."

  For most of the meal we sat in silence. My fund of belittling statements was exhausted; I had no energy to continue the process, and I was not a little afraid of the glowering thunderstorm knitting his brows and darkening his eyes.

  When we had retired to the drawing-room and were sitting across from each other in our armchairs before the hearth (as we are wont to do on these winter nights), James happened to knock over his brandy glass. With one last, weary effort, bringing as much derisive scorn into my voice as I could, I berated him,

  "Clumsy boy! Someone will have to clear up after you, yet again!"

  In an instant, he had leaned down, picked up the overturned glass, and hurled it across the room, where it smashed against the wall by the door. He then took two steps forward, grabbed me by my upper arms, lifted me out of my chair and shook me, roaring into my face: no words, just an unmitigated roar.

  For a moment I was terrified: his face was almost purple with the extraordinary force of his fury, and he was shaking me so violently that my brain seemed to rattle against the sides of my skull. I knew this was the moment of release, the chance for healing of which Signora Bellini had spoken, but I also feared he would kill me if I did not act.

  Summoning all my strength, I drew my arms up and out, twisting them away from his grasp, shouting back in his face,

  "Let go of me, and don't you DARE speak to me like that, you clumsy boy!"

  I turned quickly as if to make for the door, but deliberately let myself trip and fall forwards over a footstool between my armchair and the sofa.

  His response was as I had hoped.

  He sat on my back, facing my feet, grasped the hem of my evening dress in both hands and ripped it apart, right up to my waist. With another single, violent gesture, my petticoat went the same way, leaving only my drawers between my bottom and his vengeance.

  He stood and turned. Then, leaning down, he tore my drawers in two, from the waist downwards. I felt the cool air of the room on my exposed rear.

  "Clumsy boy!" I cried. "How dare you!"

  With another great roar, he lifted me by my hips, and carried me bodily to the sofa facing the fireplace. All my garments from the waist down - strips of my dress, petticoat and drawers - trailed in tatters below me, almost causing him to trip over them. Reaching the sofa, he turned and fell backwards onto the cushions, bringing me tumbling onto his lap.

  As the first, furious slap of his palm flattened my right cheek with a loud crack, he began a tirade that continued for the next quarter of an hour, his smacks punctuating the key words in the withering critique he appeared to be addressing to his mother:

  "I am NOT clumsy, I am NOT a boy and you will NOT tell me what to do!" he yelled, as his hand rose and fell with great force.

  I ceased my goading, gritted my teeth and smiled (at first) at the thought of this latest sacrificial offering of my backside.

  Almost as soon as the spanking began, Signora Bellini appeared suddenly at the door, with Piero peering over her shoulder. Unseen by James, who was facing the hearth, both their faces bore expressions of great alarm, but I shook my head vigorously and waved them away with my left hand. As the Signora retreated, I noticed the faintest smile raise the corners of her mouth. Shaking her head slightly in wonder, she pushed Piero away behind her and closed the door silently.

  I can assure you, Aunt, that James' right hand is not only large but exceedingly hard - it is calloused and toughened by the ropes he has to grip when sailing. If at first I had smiled at the thought of my position - over his knee, bare bottom at his mercy, and all in aid of helping another beloved young man - it was not long before my lips were parted and my mouth spread wide in a very different kind of expression. He spanked me so hard that each jolting impact of that firm, flat palm made my eyes wince shut in reflex.

  I was soon yelping and squirming, kicking my legs out helplessly behind me. When the heat and stinging intensified to an almost unbearable level, my struggles to escape became more and more desperate: I wriggled every which way, slapping at his calf with my left hand, whilst reaching vainly behind to try and protect myself with my right. My efforts, of course, were entirely in vain, for he was filled with the strength of the righteous. Vice-like, he gripped my right hip and pulled me further over his lap, and ignored my pathetic efforts to assault his leg. He was oblivious to all but the flow of his furious oration, and the emphatic accompaniment of his palm on my flesh.

  "You are a stupid ... cowardly woman. I shall ... obey you no longer ... I am a MAN ... I am my OWN man ... I BANISH you ... I curse you ... I go my OWN way ... You do not CARE ... You NEVER cared!"

  On and on he ranted; and on and on he spanked, intent on unleashing the pent-up power of years of frustration by punishing, once and for all, his mother - in the form, of course, of my now very tender, burning bottom, which no doubt he saw as a kind of representation of every belittling incident of maternal authority and hurtful neglect.

  I was sobbing in abject torment when the door opened, and Signora Bellini reappeared. James had already, in truth, begun to tire, and a different note had entered his voice - it had become strangled, as if something were rising in his throat.

  The moment I heard the Signora saying quietly, "James, James..." his grip upon my waist went slack and the spanking ceased. I rolled off his lap on to the carpet, clutching my swollen, burning cheeks.

  An anguished wail filled the room. The agony of its emotion cut like a razor through my physical pain. I looked up in shock to see James standing, staring down at me as if only now did he recognise the true recipient of his relentless battering.

  Crying, 'Lydia, Lydia!" he covered his face with his hands and began to shake. Signora Bellini, who had come round the sofa, took him in her arms and cradled his head against her shoulder, into which he sobbed with great wracking gasps.

  I got to my knees and rubbed my stinging cheeks.

  James broke away from the Signora and came to kneel beside me, gently taking my face in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

  "Lydia, Oh Lydia! Forgive me, my darling, forgive me, please! I didn't know ... I was lost ... I ..."

  He began to smother me in kisses, licking away my own tears as he continued to beg my forgiveness.

  I hugged him to me, whispered his name and assured him of my love. I said I understood, and that I was not really hurt; I told him that I loved him for his courage in facing his pain; that there was nothing to forgive.

  Over James' shoulder, I saw Signora Bellini silently go to the door and close it behind her.

  Our mutual sorrow soon turned to a passion so powerful, Aunt, that I do not quite know how James became undressed, or how I found myself quite naked beneath him. But I shall never forget the melting pleasure that grew ever stronger as he kissed and caressed my face, my neck, my arms, my thighs, with caring, fascinated love; nor shall I forget the sweet gentleness of his touch as he explored my breasts, my belly, my opening; nor, finally, the delicate strength with which, after many long, languorous kisses, lovingly he entered me.

  The delicious throbbing of my bottom as it rubbed against the rough grain of the carpet subsumed the momentary pain of his first penetration; thereafter, I found the sensation of his being inside me quite, quite overwhelming. I gave myself to him more willingly, I think, than I had ever done anything in my life. I felt as if we were one body, moving together. As his thrusts grew stronger and his kisses more ardent, it was as if my whole being melted into a blaze of ecstasy. We cried out the height of our love together, and then lay spent in each other's arms for a long time, before drifting slowly into sleep.

  Signora Bellini must have returned, for when I awoke, we were covered with a blanket, the fire had been stoked and two glasses of wine had been placed on the small table nearby, with some bread and cheese.

  Oh Aunt! Why do we not talk of such bliss? Why, indeed, do we not sing of it from the rooftops? Why must it be kept so secret?

  I felt no shame. I feel none yet, even though I am unwed and with child, and thus supposedly 'ruined' in the eyes of the respectable! I do not feel ruined. I feel newly-made; I feel joyous life within me, and each day dawns to fresh joys I had not known existed.

  The next morning, James proposed, and you may understand better now why my response was so unhesitating. He is transformed. He is kindness itself to everyone here. He has welcomed Mr Lazzaretti and many of his friends, providing copious lunches for dozens at a time. He takes the children sailing, and brings home fish which the Signora and I prepare and cook in butter and lemon juice for any who are hungry. And he has learned to ride. He and I go for long gallops with Piero, high into the woods on the hills about. Sometimes, we gather mushrooms or search for truffles to bring home and cook and share.

  Signora Bellini, meanwhile, quietly celebrates and nurtures us. James confessed that he had asked her, soon after we arrived, and before his distress grew so painful, about love-making: what a woman feels; how a man can hold himself back (he never spoke of it, but he had obviously never forgotten that moment in the clearing by the river at Greystones - a moment whose meaning I now understand myself, dear Aunt, though with no thanks to you!). She is a wise woman.

  Thus it is, Aunt. I am a woman now, full-grown - and growing fuller!

  But I cannot conceive how you may be feeling at this moment; whether you can approve of me at all any more. I shall be so sorry if I have, in your eyes, gone beyond the pale.

  Have you succeeded yet in rescuing dear Cecil from Mother's clutches? If so, please embrace him for me. You must tell him whatever you think appropriate about my situation, but I hope you will feel able to reveal the truth, for I believe Cecil would be delighted to know he is to become (God willing) an uncle by the end of July.

  I imagine that the expedition to Egypt must be due to depart quite soon - did he not say it would commence in the new year? I do hope he gets his wish, even though that would mean once more a loss of companionship for you. If he is to venture abroad, please beg him to write to me as often as he can. We have seen so little of each other since this adventure began that I fear I will know him less and less as Time marches on and Life takes us where it will.

  Finally, dear Aunt, I must turn to the subject of my parents. I realise my actions have jeopardised your relations with your brother and that my mother will be grievously stricken. Events, as you have seen, have carried me away on an irresistible current, further and further from that old safety of home.

  If I can be frank, I have still not quite forgiven Father for his too-ready accession to Kendrick's cruelty last summer. If he must disown me, so be it. I shall never disown him, for I shall honour him as my father until I die, but I feel I need not approve of his casual acceptance of barbarity.

  For my mother, I can only pray that she may be well and find forgiveness in her heart for me.

  But it is for your forgiveness, dearest Aunt, that I pray most fervently. To be encompassed still in the warmth and wisdom of your love is more important to me than anything save the safety of my child and the love of my future husband.

  Happy Christmas, Aunt.

  I await your verdict in humility, as ever...

  Your loving niece,

  Lydia

  20. Far from Home

  Podere delle Betulle

  Montalcino

  Toscana

  Italy

  20th January 1869

  Dear Jasper,

  Thank you so much for your letter of late November. Please forgive my tardiness in replying. There is much that has happened here in the interim to distract me from my cousinly duties! But I hope you enjoyed your Christmas holidays, that Uncle Richard and Aunt Elizabeth are well, and that you are not shivering too horribly under those cruelly thin Greystones blankets. What do they spend our parents' fees on, I wonder? It most certainly is not on any boy's comfort!

  It was wonderful, even amidst the sadness, to hear about Miss Kendrick and Frobisher - I am so happy they are now Mr and Mrs Frobisher! I am glad, too, that you had a chance to talk with her, and I thank you for telling her the truth about me. Your description of your conversation in the garden reminded me of my own first meeting with her, when I tried to gather the St John's wort (against your advice!). I felt an immediate bond with her from the moment she said her name was Lydia: I was thrown into such confusion that I couldn't remember the name I was supposed to be going by!

  I hope your friends are well, and that you are surviving the Soames regime without too many stripes to your backsides.

  My own news will doubtless shock you, but I hope you will be able to share in my happiness. I am with child by James, and he has asked me to marry him. We are living a blissful life here, surrounded by many loving friends who make no judgment of our, as yet unwedded, state. Although the question of our parents' disapproval hangs over us - we cannot marry without their consent for another two years - we are too happy for it to spoil our joy.

  Have you heard at all from Aunt Julia? I have not received a reply to my last letter, written before Christmas, in which I informed her of the news I am sharing now with you. I am anxious to know her reaction, and am beginning to fear that she may want nothing further to do with me. Yet she has been so kind, so wise and helpful, through all the events of this past year, that I cannot believe she would abandon me now. What frightens me most is that I have placed her in a most painful position with regard to my father and mother. We have little choice but to tell them the truth of my whereabouts, which will inevitably bring down Father's wrath on Aunt Julia's head - and on mine too, no doubt. I need to know if she has said anything yet. If she has not, then I think it is for me to write to them myself.

  I have also had no news of Cecil. When last I heard, he was still at Hartwell Hall but itching to get away! There is an expedition to Egypt, led by his mentor at the British Museum, in which he has been invited to participate.

  Please write, dear cousin, even if you have no light to shed on the situation in London or Essex. I miss you all, even though I have found a kind of new family here.

  Hoping to hear from you as soon as you are able, I remain

  Your loving cousin,

  Lydia

  P.S. It occurs to me that it is just over a year since you visited us at Hartwell Hall. So much has happened since, but I remember that holiday with great fondness, especially your gallantry in fulfilling my unusual request in the stable! I certainly got more of that than I bargained for in the succeeding months, did I not?

 

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