Gramercy Park. Paula Cohen

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СКАЧАТЬ long as he cannot steal her back, or have her taken away from me … by having the marriage annulled, say, because she is underage, and did not receive his consent.”

      Buchan rises to refill Alfieri’s glass. “I suppose there is no doubt of your intention to consummate the marriage rather quickly? Yes, well, once she is your wife, in fact as well as in law, no court would consider undoing it, regardless of the lack of Mr. Chadwick’s consent. You have nothing to fear on that score. But let us discuss the question of the wedding itself,” he says, returning to his seat and refilling his own glass. “Have you decided how it is to be done? Who, for instance, will perform the ceremony?” He hesitates, then says bluntly: “You are Roman Catholic, are you not?”

      Alfieri laughs. “I am from Italy, Mr. Buchan, am I not? Italy is rich in many things, but not, I am afraid, in Lutherans and Baptists.”

      “But does it not pose a problem for you that Miss Adler is”—he hesitates again—“not Catholic?”

      “Perhaps I am not so good a Catholic as you believe, Mr. Buchan. Miss Adler and I have discussed this matter—briefly, to be sure—and how we marry is of small importance to me. What is certain is that with less than two weeks remaining before I am to lose her to Mr. Chadwick, we must move quickly. There is no time for her to take instruction in my religion … even if she were so inclined, which I do not know.”

      “Then the ceremony will be a civil one?”

      “If you will be so good as to provide us with a justice of the peace, or some other such dignitary.”

      Buchan cocks his head thoughtfully. “And will your church recognize a civil marriage to someone of another faith?”

      “No, Mr. Buchan, it will not. In the eyes of my church I will not be married at all. But I am not so concerned with the eyes of my church as I am with the laws of your country. So long as she is married to me legally and Mr. Chadwick cannot take her from me, I am content.” He smiles again. “And as for the state of my immortal soul … that is a matter for my confessor, not my lawyer. Do not let it disturb you.”

      Buchan says: “She means that much to you?”

      “Yes,” Alfieri answers. “That much.”

      Buchan leans over to stir the fire, blinking in the strong light. “Then it must be done quickly and it must be done in absolute secrecy.” He looks up at Alfieri. “But discretion is vital, as I am sure you realize. What of Slade’s servants? You will need their assistance, of course, but can they be trusted not to inform Mr. Chadwick of your plans?”

      Alfieri says: “Oh, yes, I am sure of it. I spoke with them both, you see, before I came here this evening. Not surprisingly, I discovered that they are not especially devoted to Mr. Chadwick … something to do, I believe, with his pleasant manner when he addresses them. I assured them both that Miss Adler—Signora Alfieri that is to be—would be grateful for their services in her new home … she is very shy, and too many new faces around her would make her uneasy. In return, I have been given to understand that both the maid, who has already served as Miss Adler’s ladies’ maid in a small way, and the footman, will be perfectly content to follow their little mistress to her new home—and would sooner have their tongues cut out than give away her secret.”

      “But can you be certain?”

      “They are faithful to their late master’s memory, Mr. Buchan, and greatly attached to his ward. And with promised positions at half again their current wages waiting for them in my house, in addition to the opportunity to escape from Mr. Chadwick once and for all …” Alfieri smiles. “Oh, yes, I think we can trust them. And with the inclusion of Gennarino—my valet—such a staff should prove an excellent size for a newlywed household.”

      “Signore, you take my breath away. Are you always this meticulous and well-prepared?”

      “Well, it does not pay to take chances, does it? Not with what really matters.” He pauses, grows serious, and seems suddenly hesitant to speak. “That is why I would ask … although I know it is a great imposition … still, might I ask if you would undertake to help me in yet one more way?”

      “Name it,” the lawyer says.

      “Actually, it would be for my young lady.” The tenor picks his words with care. “She is all alone, Mr. Buchan. She has no friends or family to assist her through this time, no one to help her prepare. Most especially, she has no one to confide in … no mamma with whom she can share her hopes and fears, as brides must surely need to do … no one to tell her”—he gestures slightly—“what happens to a young wife on her wedding night.” He pauses again. “I was wondering … and I know it is a great deal to ask … if your good wife would consent to be such a friend to her. When you introduced us just now, and I saw that Mrs. Buchan has such a sweet face, I knew that Clara would not be frightened of her, and I thought … perhaps … if it would not be too much …”

      Buchan’s voice is gentle. “Signore, consider it done. I would not normally speak for my wife in her absence, but I know that in this our opinions will agree. Frankly, she will be touched, as I am, that you thought well enough of us both to ask.”

      Alfieri leans back and smiles in pure relief. “Thank you, Mr. Buchan—and your wife too. There is such a great deal to do in so very little time, but with your help I know we will manage it.”

      “And after the wedding? You will want to go away, of course, on a honeymoon. Have you any idea where?”

      “Here again I must rely on your kindness, Mr. Buchan. I have only been ten days in your city. I was thinking of somewhere quiet, in the countryside. Clara has been ill; she needs sunshine and fresh air, but it must not be too far away—the strain of a lengthy journey would be too much for her. Do you know of such a place?”

      “I know of a place, signore, but it is very humble. Just a small farm, about two hours north of the city by train, outside a pretty little town called Hudson. The owner is a former client of mine: a widow with two daughters, who takes in guests to supplement her income. Mrs. Buchan and I have stayed there, and I can vouch for its excellence. The house is large—clean and very quiet—and the food is superb: Mrs. Noonan is a marvelous cook. Still, you may wish for something more imposing, such as a hotel … although many of them may already be filled for the summer …”

      “No, no hotels. Above all I want my privacy, and a great deal of quiet for Clara. The place you speak of sounds ideal.”

      “Then I will make the arrangements. I know the family well; Mrs. Noonan and her daughters are very discreet. No one here will know where you have gone, and no one there will say who you are. But of what date are we speaking? For the wedding, I mean?”

      “Wednesday, the sixth of June. Mr. Chadwick has told Clara that he will come for her on the eighth, and I want to be far away with her by then.”

      “Which gives us exactly”—Buchan does the mental calculation—“eleven days until your wedding.” He melts abruptly into a broad, complicitous smile, shaking his head. “My God, who would have thought it? The notorious Mario Alfieri marrying Henry Slade’s disinherited ward exactly a fortnight after their first meeting. You know, signore, that this will stand New York on its ear, don’t you? And I cannot imagine what all of Europe will think when the news finally reaches them!” He laughs out loud. “I fear that many who go to the opera, come the fall, will be going to do more than just hear you sing. Everyone will want to see what Mario Alfieri looks like as a married man!”

      “But СКАЧАТЬ