Only in the Night (9 page)

‘I thought I should dress down for Vittorio. He’s a simple country man, John.’

‘As you like. This is your evening, but I should have thought you would want to dress up for such an old friend, honour the occasion.’

Eliza was wearing her St Laurent and looking every inch the elegant young beauty, sophisticated and desirable, when Vittorio rang the doorbell. Eliza all but shot out of her chair, and looked very embarrassed and sat down again hurriedly as John rose from his and went to let their guest in. She heard him introduce himself as a friend of Eliza’s and say he was joining them for dinner and hoped Vittorio did not mind.

It was not a successful evening. Several times Eliza wondered if she would even be able to live through it. Vittorio could understand English very well but did not speak fluently, and John made capital of that. He embarrassed the young man at every turn he could by asking Eliza if he had understood Vittorio correctly practically every time their guest opened his mouth. They went to The Ivy for dinner and it was far too grand a restaurant for Vittorio, showing up his table manners.

John never stopped talking, and when he was not talking he was making considerate and affectionate overtures to Eliza. Several times she tried to change the
subject by asking Vittorio about the Montecatini farm and the villa and their friends, but John would deflect her attempts by talking directly to Vittorio, asking him about his life, his background, politics, the state of the Italian economy – all of which Vittorio was not forthcoming about or else was relatively ignorant of.

Several times he made brave attempts to ask Eliza about her life and the family, even to ask how soon she would be going to the villa. It was at that point that John said, ‘We will be going to the South of France long before we go to Tuscany. There is so much of the world outside Tuscany that Eliza knows nothing of. I hope to show her some of it. You would like that, wouldn’t you, Eliza?’ And he took her hand in his and squeezed it.

There it was, out in the open. John had made his claim on her. Only a blind man could have failed to see that he was telling Vittorio there was no chance for him with Eliza. There was nothing that she could say or even wanted to say. She was somehow relieved to have John openly claiming her, taking over her life and constructing a future for them with that takeover. She was feeling too young, too inexperienced in love, to make such important life choices. Eliza was numbed, as if she had been anaesthetised by John. He made it so easy for her to take what appeared to be the easy option without even considering the state of her heart or what she really wanted.

It was then that Vittorio called for the waiter to bring the bill. John insisted the three of them go home to his flat for a night-cap. Eliza tried to get out of it gracefully as did Vittorio but John was insistent, he had control of the situation and was
not letting go. He stood up and handed Eliza her evening bag.

‘We must wait for the bill,’ suggested Vittorio.

‘There is no bill, it’s been taken care of,’ John told him.

‘But I invited you. I insist, John,’ Vittorio said, the anger he had hidden so well throughout dinner now audible in his voice.

‘It’s too late, it’s done, and I was delighted to have done it. Now do let’s go home for that cognac.’

It was all quite unbearable for Vittorio. He stayed for no more than ten minutes before he insisted he must leave. ‘I’ll let Eliza see you out, if you don’t mind. It was an interesting evening and I am glad we met,’ John told him, and the two men shook hands.

Eliza walked Vittorio out into the street. ‘Are you still with Janine?’ she asked, somehow hoping that he did have her or someone else in his life as she now had John. ‘If so then maybe we can all meet next time you come to London?’

‘I do not expect to come to London again. And, no, I don’t think you will ever meet Janine.’

Eliza was quite taken aback by the anger in his eyes, the venom in his voice. It dismayed her. She asked him, ‘Please, Vittorio, we can be friends? I’d like that, it would mean so much to me.’

‘That’s impossible. Walk away from this house with me now and never look back. You and I, that’s all there is for us.’

He never touched her, merely looked at her. Her mind was spinning and she felt as if frozen to the spot. It was only a matter of seconds and then he was gone without another word. She watched him walk away
from her and knew she would never forget the pain and disappointment in his eyes. She was aware of how cruel she had been to him, how much she had hurt him. She had until that moment never hurt anyone and the realisation of what she had done shocked her into a dislike of herself that she knew would remain with her all her life. Something hardened in her heart.

Returning to the drawing room she was surprised not to find John there. He was in his bedroom undressing. ‘Oh, there you are. I hope you didn’t get a chill.’

‘Did you have to be so cruel to him? Show him up so badly. Humiliate him at every turn. He was like a fish out of water here in London, away from Tuscany.’

‘I was jealous, that’s my only excuse.’

‘You had no need to be.’

‘I know that now.’

John went to her and began undoing her dress, kissing her with great tenderness on her lips and face. ‘He was only a peasant. He will never be any more than a poor Tuscan, quite uneducated, farmer. And you, my beauty, were not cut out to be a poor farmer’s wife.’

‘Now we can never go back for summer with the family at the villa, it would hurt him too much. And I will never hurt him again with your snobbery, John, and my new lifestyle.’

There were tears of anger and frustration in Eliza’s eyes but John kissed them away. He finished undressing her and then carried her to the bed. He loved her tenderly until she came once, a second time, and when she was lost in her ecstasy and he was
still in the act of exquisite fucking to bring her to orgasm again, he told her, ‘I don’t want you ever again to expose me to such a stupid and boring evening as we have just had, do you understand? Never! ’

Chapter 5

The Forresters never did have Christmas dinner in Little Barrington; they had it instead in the form of a wedding luncheon on a large and luxurious yacht off the coast of Barbados because that was what John wanted. They were all there, mother, father, all four of the Forrester girls and their husbands and lovers. Eliza had been emphatic: she would not marry John unless her family was invited to the wedding. He relented on one condition: she was to leave all the arrangements to him, everything must be a surprise to her.

It was all frightfully elegant, as were most of the guests whom the bride hardly knew. Glamorous and social enough for the
Tatler
to fly a photographer and columist out for the event. But that hardly seemed to matter because Eliza was swept along on a tide of happiness. John was responsible for that: besotted still by his young bride-to-be and by becoming a father, he courted her in an even more attentive and loving manner in public, and in private quite simply could not get enough of her sexually. Eliza was dazzled by his love for her, the attention and the gifts which never seemed to stop coming.

It was several days before the wedding when John took her quite by surprise. They were in bed in the early
hours of the morning, lying wrapped in each other’s arms, when he asked, ‘What are you going to do with your life, darling?’

The answer that she gave him was immediate and exact, before she even contemplated the question: ‘I’m going to marry you.’

‘That’s marvellous but not enough.’

‘I’m going to be the mother of your children.’

‘A wife and a mother, admirable, but in this day and age that is still not enough. Have you ever considered going to university?’

‘No,’ she answered him, but this time unwound herself from his arms to sit up in bed and look at him. At last she understood that he was trying to tell her something.

‘I think you should,’ he told her, while brushing strands of hair away from her face.

‘What’s this about, John? If you have something to say then just come out and say it.’

‘Frankly, much as I love and adore you the way you are, I think I need more from you, that you should be better educated. I see a big life ahead of us and a dim wife … well, not good for you, your husband or your children. You have a good mind which you don’t use. If you will forgive me, darling, you have a lazy mind, and that’s not very interesting and difficult to build a life on. I have my career, I think we should find one for you.’

‘You astound me, John. Run your home, care for a baby
and
go to school?’

‘Well, you won’t be running the home or cooking the meals – we have staff for that. There will be a live-in nanny for the baby. There’s our hunting and
riding, but that’s not a career, that’s not developing your mind, doing something for society – all of which you are capable of but are not doing. What did you think was going to happen when we returned from Barbados? That you were going to lie around the house waiting to give birth? No, I expect more from my wife than that.’

‘What do you expect, John?’

‘For you to be my wife, my delicious whore in bed, the mother of my children, the hostess of my home – and for you to do something with your mind for yourself. I hoped you would like my suggestion. I can pull a few strings and get you into London University after the Christmas break. We can get you tutored for the first half of the year you’ve missed. You can go to classes while I’m at the hospital and we can live as we have been these last few months as lovers, then a family when the baby arrives, and have a wonderful life. You’re so young. You’ll get bored by domesticity, which you’re hopless at anyway.’

‘What you’re really saying, John, is that it’s you who is worried about getting bored with me.’

‘Well, there is that possibility if you don’t grow as a human being, stretch yourself outside our intimate life. Will you think about it?’ He teased her with kisses and caresses to soften the impact of his suggestion until she agreed to take it under consideration. He had Eliza obedient to his will by the sheer power of his sexual possession of her, and delighted in her weakness.

Eliza was standing with her father and Effie under a canopy garlanded with flowers in the stern of the yacht owned by a Saudi prince who was hosting the wedding
in gratitude for John’s having saved the life of his favourite wife. Eliza was still feeling haunted by the memory of that morning several days before when John had all but declared that he did not want an uneducated wife. Not for the first time she was offended by him and his expectations of her, but love and fate tend to make a young woman rationalise away offences and make compromises.

Only an hour before when Effie had been helping Eliza to adjust her wide-brimmed straw hat banded with cream-coloured satin and embroidered with seed pearls, the two sisters had caught a reflection of themselves in the mirror. For a second they had gazed into each other’s eyes and Effie had remarked, ‘You don’t have to do this, Eliza. Even now it’s not too late to pick up your skirts and run. The family will support you, you know that.’

She had replied, ‘But it is too late.’ Nothing more.

Had Effie been reading her mind? Only then, minutes before she was to marry John, she had felt unsure as to whether she had made the right choice. Was opening a new world for her, giving her a grand and glamorous life, one that offered security, being the woman John had chosen in lust and love above all others, not enough for her? Was not the fact that their erotic togetherness, so extraordinarily sublime for her, had created first a bond to tie them together, and then a baby, not sufficient for her happiness? John had made it clear to her in so many ways that he loved her for those things as much as he loved her for herself – was even that not enough? She felt spoiled and foolish for her misgivings, ungrateful for the rich and full life he was offering her, even though she had never
been looking for such a life, and so she had laid her doubts aside.

She had stood up and Effie had taken Eliza’s hands in hers. ‘Just remember, Lizzy, John Hope-Quintin will never be better than you. You’re the best.’ And the two sisters hugged each other and, arm-in-arm, left the stateroom.

As Eliza had walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, smiling, looking around at so many people looking joyful at the occasion, she felt a degree of relief that it was too late for doubts, in spite of thinking, I wish all this and my new lifestyle were more important to me than they are and less of a burden to be dealt with. But then John had taken her arm and she had once more been seduced by how handsome, sexy and exciting he was at that moment, as he always was to her. They were together, and Eliza had once more felt thrilled and full of hope for them.

She snapped out of her thoughts as her father slid an arm around her shoulders and touched her cheek with his hand. ‘You look the loveliest of brides but you seem very far away.’

‘I was thinking about my new life and the future, Poppy.’

‘I think John will take very good care of you materially, dear, better than I ever did my wife. But then there were compensations: we had a very good time, lived the way we wanted to live, were very happy. And we had Tuscany.’

‘I feel a long way from Tuscany, Poppy, but it will always be my spiritual home.’

‘You of all the girls loved it best, understood it most, respected the land and beauty of the place. The
house loves you as it doesn’t the other girls. I always think it’s you that will be the next custodian of the villa. Your mother says that and she should know – it did after all come down through her side of the family. Yes, maybe you’re more of a throwback to the Montecatinis than the other girls. Oh, dear, I’m getting sentimental, missing you already, and I’ve only just given you away. Well now, you and John and the children that will come can add to its history, be a part of its divine grace.’

Eliza knew in her heart that that would never happen, John would never settle in the villa or ever appreciate it as she and her family did. But she somehow could not bring herself to say that to her father. She merely kissed him on the cheek and said, ‘I need you to do something very important for me, Poppy.’

‘Anything I can, Eliza.’

‘I want you to beg some favours on my behalf. Come over here where it’s quiet and I’ll explain. You too, Effie.’

The father and his two daughters only had a short time to themselves as the guests were milling all around them, but Eliza was quick and made her point with clarity: ‘Poppy, John thinks that I am not very well educated, and he is going to do something about that. I don’t want him to.
I
want to do something about it. He may be my husband and think he is in control of my life, as he is, but only to a degree. He thinks I should go to London University. He can think what he likes. I know I want to go Oxford, to your old college. John thinks he will choose some impressive career for me. I know he won’t because I would like to follow in your footsteps and study ancient and modern law.’

‘Eliza, you take my breath away, you
are
full of surprises. That’s right, you give John a run for his money,’ said a smiling Effie.

‘I knew you were interested by justice and the law but I had no idea you were committed enough to make a study of those subjects. I am of course delighted and will do what I can for you, but this isn’t a spur of the moment thing, is it?’ asked her father more soberly.

‘No, Poppy. I’m sure that if you can get me in, I’ll make it to graduation. But, Effie, Poppy, I want it kept a secret until I’m accepted. Promise?’

It was then they were interrupted by John and their host: there was champagne to be drunk, guests looking for the bride, cables of congratulations to be read, the appearance of the four-tiered wedding cake, a gift from Robert Carrier. The three Forresters, full of the joy a wedding can engender, rose admirably to the occasion.

It was not a good marriage. But like so many flawed marriages there were interludes of short-term happiness: Eliza and John’s sex life and the birth of their children, Alexander, the elder, and Olivia, born just one year later. Horses and ponies for the children, and riding with the hunt for them all. Eliza, a young mother of two, achieving a first at Oxford. John’s work. A busy social life that was a burden Eliza bore with fortitude but was on occasion interesting to her. She and John enjoyed holidays for just the two of them to exotic places round the world, usually taken to save the marriage for another few months.

John was a good lover but a bad husband to Eliza. He had to be in control, have the power in
their relationship. She was passive in the face of his controlling nature. That was quite easy for her because she really did not understand control, it meant nothing to her. She had come from a household that didn’t believe in domination or manipulating people, and only when it was almost too late did she come to understand how evil such things could be.

John’s domination of her caused Eliza to be a guest in her own home: being replaced by interior decorators, party planners, florists, a cook, cleaner, live-in nanny, chauffeur – and always with John at the helm of their lives, making all their decisions, directing every detail of their marriage. Even his nurse and receptionist were brought in on occasion to accomplish some task that Eliza had been excluded from.

Though she had not been happy about having a baby so young, the moment she took Alexander in her arms she fell in love with him and motherhood – only to have her son taken away from her because John did not want her to have to deal with the hard work and mundane tasks of bring up a baby. Like some Victorian upper-class mother, a kiss in the morning and an hour at teatime was pretty much the extent of her rearing of her children. Even when they went on family holidays, the staff went with them.

John wanted her always to be young and beautiful, his child bride. He wanted no encumbrances that might keep him from taking her out and playing with her as and when he wanted to play. He gave her roles in his life to act out but not to live. She went along with him but did on occasion surprise him. Oxford had been a case in point: her insistence that they gear their lives to her time there as much as she geared
hers to being wife and lover to the famous surgeon, and mother of his children. John was proud of Eliza and her accomplishments; he considered them his.

She had been shocked and upset that she should become pregnant again so soon after giving birth to Alexander. John had been delighted. He liked her pregnant. It did nothing but excite his lust for her and she made beautiful babies whom he loved. The years seemed to fly by, Eliza and John living in separate worlds when she was in the role of student and he was working in the hospital. The world of husband and wife, where she neither felt he was a husband nor she a wife and mother, was a play worthy of the West End. What they were both aware of was that he was a more considerate father than he was a husband. This was made even more evident by the contrast with Eliza’s behaviour with her children: she was awkward, never quite knowing how to behave with them. They simply did not take to her in the same way as they did to their nanny, Mrs Fanshaw or their father.

Alexander was four when Eliza discovered that John had other women, many and often, that he had always had them: that it had begun when they were lovers and had never stopped. They were a part of his life as much as being married was. That he had never been particularly discreet about his affairs had made it common knowledge. Eliza was devastated by the discovery and that she should be the last to know. The deceit, that she had been cuckolded and had never seen a sign of it, was shattering enough but the very idea of John with another woman made her insanely jealous as well. She had believed that she was everything to him, that their sex life was too good for him to
crave another woman. Her ego took the blows badly, her self-esteem plummeted. She was now twenty-two years old and her life was inextricably entwined with John’s in lust, in love, by children. She was no more equipped to handle disloyalty than she had been a marriage made by circumstances. Over and over she kept asking herself, How could he deceive me? Have I been deceiving myself?