A Most Unconventional Courtship

But walking up a steep track while making polite conversation under the observant eyes of a number of people was not the right place to be agonising about the state of one’s heart. Alessa turned to her cousin with a smile and tackled the other worry that was nagging at her.

‘Is your papa at home in England while you are on your travels?’

‘Oh, no, Papa is in Venice on some diplomatic business, to do with trade, I believe. He is with the Foreign Office.’

‘I am impressed; he must be both highly knowledgeable and very skilful,’ Alessa flattered. ‘But I had no idea the Foreign Office had anything to do with trade. I am very ignorant about the government, I’m afraid.’

‘It is all to do with piracy.’ Frances lowered her voice. ‘I am not supposed to say anything, but as you are family, I am sure it is all right to tell you.’

‘Piracy? Of course, these seas are notorious for it.’ Alessa pondered as they climbed, the sea sparkling blue below them and the fragrant pines and herb-covered rough ground rising on their right hand. ‘I suppose the British will use their naval power in the area to suppress it, now they have control of the Ionian islands.’

‘How clever you are.’ Frances sighed. ‘I really do not understand all this business about alliances and what happens in Venice, and the Papal States now Napoleon is gone, and all the other things that seem to occupy Papa. Still…’ she seemed to cheer up ‘…I am sure we will have a lovely time in Venice—after all, you and I do not have to worry about this boring diplomatic stuff.’

Alessa thought it fascinating, and would have liked to know more, but she did not want to encourage her cousin to be indiscreet. And there was a perfectly innocuous question that was far more important to have answered. ‘How long do you expect to stay in Venice?’ she asked casually, stooping to pick thyme.

‘Oh, until Papa’s mission is complete—about two more months, I think—and then we will all travel back together. Still, we will have plenty to occupy us. Mama will be holding lots of parties, I expect, and I believe the shopping is excellent.’

Two months in Venice. The only way to look at it was as an adventure; she could only hope the children would take to travel. Strange that her aunt had not mentioned their destination yet.

Alessa looked back over her shoulder. The two older women were walking side by side, heads together in deep conversation. Helena had apparently found the ascent tiring and was perched on one of the two donkeys that a groom was leading and Maria was climbing steadily, and in apparent silence, next to Mr Harrison. As Alessa watched, she tripped and he put out a hand to steady her.

The smile she gave him was warm and sweet and she made no attempt to free her arm, letting him hold it protectively as they walked. Ah, ha! So that is Maria’s secret. Now, what will Sir Thomas make of his secretary falling in love with his niece? And what will Lady Trevick make if it? Perhaps she already knew, although it seemed unlikely, if Maria was so secretive with her own sister.

Alessa was still preoccupied when they came to the flat area outside the monastery gates. Chance was lying on his back under an olive tree, his straw hat tipped down over his face. The Count had cast off his jacket and was leaning against the sloping trunk of the tree, looking out over the bay. As the girls reached the terrace he straightened up, nudging Chance with his toe. ‘The first of the intrepid ladies has reached us. And what are you dreaming about with that smile on your lips, Kyria Alessa?’

The question took her unawares and she answered without thought. ‘Love.’

Chance sat up abruptly, his hat falling off.

‘You are in love? Of course you are.’ The Count’s eyes were sparkling with mischief. ‘But who is the fortunate man?’

‘I did not say I was in love,’ Alessa corrected with a smile. ‘I was thinking about it in the abstract.’

‘How can love be abstract?’ Chance stood up, stooping to retrieve his hat and clapping it on his head. Bending had made him flushed, which seemed odd for such a fit man.

‘Divine love,’ Miss Blackstone observed solemnly. ‘And disinterested love of one’s fellow man, those could be abstract.’

‘Well, by all means, let us collect ourselves in a suitably reverential frame of mind if we are to enter the monastery,’ Chance said, somewhat tartly, but Frances merely gazed at him wide-eyed, and nodded agreement.

The Count put on his coat again and Alessa untied the shawl she had been wearing as a sash and threw it over her head and shoulders, topping it off with her straw hat. ‘I will go and ask for admission to the church and gardens.’

When she got back, a young lay brother at her side, the rest of the party had reached the gate. The groom lifted down the provisions and tied the donkeys in the shade while the ladies fussed with shawls and hats, then the group made their way up the steps and into the monastery.

The lay brother led them through a maze of paths, up and down steps and then into the first of the terraces of the gardens, overlooking the sea. With a shy gesture he invited them to sit and hurried off.

‘But how beautiful!’ Lady Blackstone was shaken out her usual calm by the vista of sparkling blue sea and craggy cliffs and islands. ‘What an exquisite place.’

The others began to explore, exclaiming as they found view after view, and endlessly tempting nooks and benches from which to admire them. Alessa, who had visited several times, turned to help the groom set out the food they had brought and was soon joined by the lay brother, a servant at his side, with jugs of water, a pitcher of wine and a big bowl of glossy olives.

‘Should we pay? What would be appropriate? I do not want to cause offence.’ Chance came across as the lay brother took himself off with a smile.

‘An offering would be appreciated; you can leave something with the porter at the gate when we leave. And in the church, put money in the box for candles. Even if you do not choose to light one, they will do so for our safe return home.’

She called to the others and the group clustered round the picnic, helping themselves and then finding a comfortable spot to eat. Alessa took her repast and went to perch on the edge of the well-head, which allowed a view, not of the sea, but of the complex tiled roofs of the monastery buildings. The scrape of leather on the flags made her glance up, half-expecting the Count, bent on more teasing, but it was Chance, plate in one hand, beaker in the other.

‘May I join you, Alessa?’

‘Of course.’ Everyone else was out of earshot, choosing to eat with a sea view. Alessa braced herself for whatever Chance had to say. They had not been alone together since their falling-out on the terrace and she had no idea what to expect from him. If the Count were correct, only a proposition of a shameful sort.