by Fanny Finch
Mattia looked away again, ashamed to continue and ashamed to give it up.
What sort of man did it make him if he did not fight for something that he loved so deeply?
It didn’t matter, not truly. His father would be appeased, that much he knew. Nothing in his life was really his own and he would have to change accordingly.
He was the son of a Count: Mattia Cancio, Nobile dei Conti di Siga. The rest did not matter.
“I shall do as you wish, Father,” he replied sullenly.
The Count nodded with satisfaction to this, certain that his son was finally going to forsake the thing that brought him humiliation.
It was good news to him, Mattia knew. But inside his chest, Mattia’s heart broke.
“I am glad that you are understanding. It’s for your own good and the good of this family.
”Make us proud, Mattia. Make us proud and be the man that I know you can be, the man that is strong and brave enough to do great things with his life. A man who is born to be a Count,” his father said with great vigor.
Mattia nodded in defeat, allowing his father to believe that he was content with this solution.
But he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t abandon his dreams that easily.
He had devised one very good plan during his days of pursuing art. Clearly, this idea could be the very thing that enabled him to continue.
Mattia’s family did not know that he had chosen to use a new surname for making his English contacts. This false identity was the solution he needed.
If he was careful, he could avoid being seen by those known to his father and would interact only with the English who came and went. Moreover, searching for clients in Rome instead of Siga, where fewer people were familiar with his outward appearance, seemed part of the solution as well.
They would never know that he was a Count’s son.
It had seemed the best strategy in case of a situation like this, and now, Mattia was glad for it.
However, this couldn’t be a permanent situation. He would still hold to his promise. He wouldn’t be lying to his father forever.
If, after one month, he was completely unable to make himself successful in this work, then he would give it all up as he had already promised to do.
But, if he found himself able to make a life under this new name, he would be a fool not to chase after it, at least for a while, until he thought of a better solution to all this.
“You are dismissed,” his father said, apparently noting that Mattia had remained standing there longer than necessary, lost in his thoughts.
He bowed swiftly and made his departure, returning to the room he used for his paintings. Mattia arranged the flowers and began to put paint on the canvas, hoping that he might finish the piece before the night fell.
It wasn’t that his family had ever discouraged him from painting in general. It was the idea of being a professional artist that seemed to bring them so much disdain.
It was the knowledge that their son wanted to be a great master of the arts that caused them to speak against his efforts.
But when his art benefited their home, or when it brightened up his mother’s room as he believed this piece would, he wondered how anyone could refuse art.
How could a woman like his mother, a woman in great need of all things beautiful, not rejoice in the idea that her son followed his passion for art?
He thought for a moment about his mother and the difficulty of her life.
She tried so hard to appease his father by doing the social things that were expected of her. But over the past month, her health had deteriorated beyond what any of them could have imagined.
She was no longer able to force herself to stand upright through an evening, to keep her legs strong for a dance, to stand and sit and kneel during mass.
It was heartbreaking to see her like this. It was horrible to watch as his mother had become so weak that she spent all her time in bed. She was a woman previously full of life. A woman who loved to eat, but was now scarcely able to keep a bite down.
He worried for her. And no matter how much Mattia wanted to pursue his goals of finding a patron in London and leaving his family behind, he knew that she would be nearly impossible to say goodbye to.
With each stroke of the brush, Mattia whispered life into the painting. The brightness of it would be a good addition to his mother’s wall. It would bring her joy, he hoped.
Enough joy to appease his guilt for pursuing his dreams against his family’s wishes.
With each stroke of the brush, Mattia lost himself in his art, where there was no pain or rejection, only his vision of beauty and his dreams of being free.
Chapter 3
“Oh, Mama, can you even believe it? Look at all these buildings! I can hardly imagine what it must be like to truly live here, to get to see such astonishing places every single day,” Georgette exclaimed, staring out the window of the cab.
“Yes, yes, it is all very well and lovely, but you must contain yourself. Comportment, darling. It is one of the most important things a gentleman looks for when he notices a young lady of breeding,” Mrs. Caulfield reminded her.
Georgette tried to seat herself, to be still and patient. But it was impossible. All the grandeur she witnessed outside of her window was too astonishing to immerse in it fully.
Her father snorted in his sleep then, startling all of them. Miss Franklin made every effort not to laugh. They were a rather odd bunch in the cab.
But before long, they made it to the apartments that they had rented for their stay abroad. Upon their arrival, Georgette was astounded by the welcoming they received from the manager of the place.
The man came rushing out with an assortment of maids behind him and, before the cab even stopped, he was greeting them with a great deal of friendship and passion for his guests.
Georgette could hear the thickness of his accent as he called for the cab to stop so he could greet his most welcomed new friends.
The second the door opened for her father to emerge from the cab, the proprietor of the place where they would stay threw his arms around Mr. Caulfield in a brotherly hug. A rather unexpected one at that.
The man’s bushy goatee and wide grin set against an olive complexion filled Georgette with excitement. It was, however, a bit of a shock when he kissed both her cheeks.
Georgette blushed from the unexpected gesture, but she saw how her father stiffened and it made her want to laugh. When her mother received the same treatment, it was clear to all of them that the Italians were a great deal friendlier than they were used to in England.
From there, they were brought up to the rooms in which it had been arranged they would stay, and Georgette was once more captivated by the architecture and beauty of everything in Rome. It was greater than she had even dreamt of or could have fathomed.
“What do you think of it, Miss Caulfield?” Miss Franklin asked, leaning in close.
“It is magnificent! You told me as much, but I never thought that anything could be as beautiful as all of this,” Georgette declared in reply.
Miss Franklin seemed satisfied by the response, as if she had wanted nothing more than for her charge to be overwhelmed by the beauty. She had been successful. It really was magnificent. Georgette couldn’t deny it even if she had wished to.
After leaving her things in the room that she would stay in, Georgette made her way back down the stairs to the common area where her family had said they would meet before long. From here, they would go out to dine and make plans for the days ahead.
When she reached the common room, Georgette saw that her parents were already in conversation with two men. One of them she recognized right away as the Earl of Rudford. He was rather well known to her sister Thea’s husband, the Duke of Sandon.
Through that connection, the Earl knew Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield, and he was clearly entertaining them well. But the man standing beside him, Georgette could not see, save for the fact that he had thick, dark hair.<
br />
But as Georgette came closer, the man’s frame came into view. And then, she saw his face.
He was absolutely beautiful. No matter what she knew proper society would say, Georgette could not take her eyes off him.
For all of her life, she had wanted something more than being forever restrained to those just like her. And here she was, finding something more, something different than the box of sameness of everyone around her. It was not what she had expected - it was better.
Georgette made every effort to not be noticed by those surrounding the two of them. She could not allow anyone to see her being distracted by a foreign man. But this Italian was like no man she had ever seen, no man she had ever known.
To find herself beside someone so captivating, was a gift.
“Ah, and this is my daughter, Miss Georgette Caulfield,” her father introduced, noticing her presence among them just then.
The Earl of Rudford made to greet her, but Georgette remained focused for a moment longer on the other man.
When he turned his eyes to her, she was held captive. His gaze seemed unable to move from hers as well and, in that moment, the two were completely alone in the world.
But the cold hand of the Earl lifted hers, to bow over it in greeting, and Georgette focused on the older man, the far less interesting one, to greet him in reply. She made every effort to be polite but could hardly control her eyes.
Every time she allowed herself to glance at the foreigner, she noted that he glanced at her as well.
“Miss Caulfield, it is wonderful to see you again. And I must introduce my magnificent new find! This is the next great master, Mattia Ricci, genius of the arts,” the Earl announced enthusiastically.
Georgette curtseyed low and delicately as Mr. Ricci bowed to her in a most gentlemanly manner. He was astonishing, and Georgette wondered how she had never thought that such a man could exist.
The thick lashes that framed deep brown eyes were enough to grasp her attention, but when she saw his strong build, his gentle hands, and the curve of his mouth, Georgette nearly swooned.
“Well, it is an honor to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ricci,” noted Mr. Caulfield who had presumably already been introduced to him.
“The honor is mine, Mr. Caulfield. Your wife and two daughters are quite lovely as well, I must say,” Mr. Ricci complimented, assuming that Miss Franklin was a member of their family as she walked forward.
Georgette could see that her father was also captivated by the young man, as he wanted to impress the artist. It was clear that Mr. Caulfield was enjoying the honor he was receiving as a respected, foreign guest.
“Ah yes, thank you. I make every effort to keep them in their finery. But this is Miss Franklin, she is my daughter’s chaperone,” he noted with a tone of pride.
It was evident to any who met Mr. Caulfield that he was glad for the things that money had bought him. Even the people that it managed to buy.
“Welcome, Miss Franklin,” Mr. Ricci said in a voice that lilted of song. His accent was like a music that Georgette had never heard but found herself desperate to study. Or to sing along with.
She saw that Miss Franklin was charmed as well, although the governess was certainly too old for a man like Mr. Ricci.
Nevertheless, Georgette was glad that everyone seemed so intrigued by him. It meant that her own intrigue would be less likely noticed.
“Miss Georgette Caulfield?” came a voice from behind her. Georgette turned and saw the butler, with a similar lilting accent, coming towards them all with a small silver tray holding what appeared to be a card or letter of some sort.
“Yes? That is me,” she replied. The butler came closer and bowed, holding out the tray for her to take the paper.
Indeed, it was a letter.
“Oh, dear, who is it from?” inquired Mrs. Caulfield right away.
Georgette looked up and shook her head, not knowing, even as she opened the paper.
Her lips parted in surprise and then mild disgust when she saw that the sender was none other than Michael Thompson, Viscount of Grimsby, the son of the Earl of Compton.
“Well?” her mother prodded.
The Earl of Rudford, Mr. Ricci, Miss Franklin, and Mr. Caulfield all stood watching her for a moment as her mother showed apparent demand.
“If you all will excuse me just a moment,” she said, turning quickly to go to her room and avoid them.
But even as she went, rather quickly, her mother kept pace with her.
“Now, girl, you will tell me who that letter is from,” she demanded.
Halfway up the stairs, and still in view of those in the common area, Georgette turned to her mother.
“Mother, I ask that you do not misinterpret this. It is from a young man from whom I do not have any desire to hear.
”It is a letter from Lord Grimsby, and you are aware that I care nothing for him. I should like to have a moment just to read his letter, but you must know that he is nothing to me,” she said, allowing the full truth to come out so that her mother did not get too excited.
Lord Grimsby was wealthy, titled, charming and handsome… but he was vain and shallow and had very little to offer a woman who wished for more in life than balls and parties.
Still, Georgette knew that if her parents thought the match was an option, they were likely to pursue it. It was far better that she made it plain to her mother now that she didn’t wish for it at all.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Caulfield said again. “You must read it at once. And reply immediately. Whether you feel anything for him or not, we cannot afford to lose such friends as the family of the Earl of Compton. You will reply to him immediately,” Mrs. Caulfield ordered.
“Mama-” Georgette began to protest.
“Do as I say. You must keep him happy, whatever it is you have determined in your foolhardy mind,” Mrs. Caulfield said sternly.
Georgette was resigned to do her mother’s bidding, despite what she truly wanted. She nodded in agreement and looked back at the group gathered in the room.
While the Earl and her father had returned to their conversation, and Miss Franklin was seated with a book, Mr. Ricci was watching her.
She looked at him with a sense of longing. Georgette knew nothing about him, but she was certain that he would never force her to choose him. He would never be like the wealthy and intolerable scavengers of England.
Georgette made her way to her rooms where she pulled out the letter and read it.
My Dear Miss Caulfield,
I have heard the most terrible news of late, that you have made your way to Rome and are sure to be gone for a number of weeks.
I trust that you are happy about this, but I must confess that I never shall be. Being without you in England is a dreary sort of life.
I do hope that you shall return soon and we might have the opportunity to continue our acquaintance.
I imagine that such an acquaintance would be acceptable to your parents, even if it is not the standard of which my parents would hope for me. Yet even though you are far below my station, and a woman of meager and fresh means, I find that I am utterly devoted to you.
As I have little doubt of your devotion to me in return, I trust you shall write me back to say when you will come to me.
Fondly,
Lord Grimsby
Georgette tried to control the rage that boiled within her upon reading his words.
That he would dare to insult her so fluently even as he asked her to be a part of his life was an unbelievable thing to her. Lord Grimsby was entirely the most generic, overrated, pitiful excuse of a man that she could think of.
Georgette knew that in her return letter, she must be clear about that thought, no matter what her mother wished.
Chapter 4
Trying to make himself interested in the conversation at hand, Mattia listened intently to Mr. Caulfield and the Earl of Rudford.
He focused as best he could. And yet, still his thoughts traveled to the y
oung woman who had just come and gone.
“Ah yes, but do you really think that this is the place for it?” Mr. Caulfield was asking.
“Of course! You are involved in trade, are you not?” asked the Earl of Rudford. “And as a man who has devoted himself to trade, you ought to have a solid understanding of what this state has to offer.”
Mr. Caulfield seemed to be considering it and, while the conversation held no interest for Mattia, he continued to listen anyway. If he knew about Miss Caulfield’s family, he might learn more about her.
“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Mr. Caulfield replied reluctantly.