“Let us go home,” Lucianna said. “I am certain Baram can manage the shop for today. Will you play chess with me? I will feed you dinner.” She smiled at him as she drew on her gloves.
He was both surprised and delighted by her invitation. “Yes,” he said to her. “I should like that, Lucianna.”
They departed Lady Margaret’s house and rode back through the narrow streets, which became less busy as they reached the area where Lucianna’s house was located. Her stable boys came quickly to take the horses and bring them to the shelter of the stables.
Balia hurried downstairs, having seen them coming from the upper story. “Well?” she asked. “What is she like? Did she like you?”
“The king’s mother was a lovely lady, and yes, she was most welcoming and kind to me. I enjoyed my visit with her. Now the earl will be remaining for dinner, so tell Alvina. We’ll be in my library as it’s warmer than the hall, I am certain.”
Balia hurried off with a nod as Lucianna and the earl settled themselves in her library. They seated themselves by the hearth, setting the game table between them. Lucianna opened her box of chess pieces, and he was surprised by the beauty of them. The black were carved from ebony. Both the king and the queen wore tiny silver crowns, the bishop a silver mitre, and the knights silver helmets. The white were ivory with gold décor.
“I always play the white,” Lucianna told him as she set her pieces upon the elegant wood board.
“Then, of necessity,” he said with a chuckle, “the black is mine.”
They were evenly matched in skills and played several games. The earl won a few, and Lucianna won the others. They enjoyed playing with each other, for both were clever and enjoyed outwitting the other. He felt no necessity to play down to her, nor did she feel any reason to overplay him. And as they played, they spoke to each other.
“Come the springtime, I hope you will allow me to take you to visit my estates in Hereford,” he said to her.
“Do you mean to spend the winter here in London, then?” she asked him, curious. “Do you always spend the cold months here?”
“I rarely spend the winters in London, but this year I am here for the king. Once he dismisses me, I will return to Hereford. I believe he is becoming comfortable enough to speak with his queen on certain matters on which he would normally speak with me. As she was raised in a royal court, her instincts are very good. Her mother is no fool, although she would meddle if she could.”
“Then one day you will return to your Hereford for good,” Lucianna said. “I hope it will not be soon, my lord.”
“I will not return to Hereford for good until I am able to take you with me for good,” Robert Minton shocked her by saying.
The pawn in her fingers fell to the board. She could not have heard him right. “What a charming thing to say, my lord, but alas I have a duty to my guild.” There. That would give him a way to explain himself easily.
“Lucianna,” he said quietly, taking her now-empty hand in his. “I asked your father’s permission to court you with marriage in mind should we find that we suit each other. I have been trying to do it ever since you arrived in London several months ago.”
“I am a shopkeeper,” she said. “The widow of a shopkeeper. Lords do not wed with shopkeepers.”
“Lords wed with whomever they choose to wed,” he countered. “You are your father’s daughter. The child of a wealthy silk merchant, the granddaughter of a Venetian prince. But if you were no more than a milkmaid, and I loved you, I would want you for my wife, Lucianna.”
“You would be the laughingstock of the court,” she said to him.
“I have little to do with the court. I am nothing more than the king’s true friend,” Robert Minton insisted. “Lady Margaret knows my intentions towards you. Why do you think she wanted to meet you? She wanted to be certain that I was not being foolish. She now tells me I am not, and that you will make me a fine wife, Lucianna.”
“You spoke to her after I was dismissed from her presence?”
“I did,” he replied.
“I have a duty to my guild, Robert. Do you think because I am a woman that my duty is any less than a man’s duty?”
“I have spoken too soon, and I never meant to press you, Lucianna. You need more time to know me better.”
“You have surprised me, I will admit,” she told him. “And do not think, I beg you, that I am not both flattered and honored by your desire, for I am, but I am not quite ready to marry again. My family took care of me all my life until I wed Alfredo. Then it was I who took care of him, and myself. I like being in charge of myself, Robert. I wonder if you can understand that, my lord.”
“I honestly don’t, but I love you, and so I respect your feelings on this matter. Understand that I will continue to pursue you, amore mia.”
“I have not said I would refuse your offer, my lord.” She smiled at him. “I have simply stated I am not ready to be a wife again.”
Balia came to tell them that the meal was ready and being brought into the hall. They ate, but their conversation was sparse.
Afterwards, he took his leave of her, and Lucianna went to write to her mother. She would tell her about the king’s mother, but not about the earl’s proposal of marriage. She was not ready to deal with Orianna, even long distance, about such a thing. And what if her mother decided that she must come to England to encourage her daughter to another marriage? Marriage for Orianna was important, but not in the same way as it was for her third daughter. Lucianna needed time to consider what being married to a man like the Earl of Lisle would be like.
She suddenly realized that, like her sisters before her, love was the paramount thing. For Orianna, there had been no such option. There had only been a husband socially beneath her, and exile to another city.
Would marriage to Robert Minton be filled with his love for her, or his duty to King Henry and her duty to his estates and any children they would have? This had not been something she needed to consider when she wed Alfredo Allibatore, but she certainly needed to consider it now.
Chapter 9
Henry Tudor’s throne was not quite secure. In the months preceding Lucianna’s arrival in England, it had been threatened by a Yorkist pretender claiming to be the young Earl of Warwick, son of Edward IV’s late brother, the Duke of Clarence. It was said that Warwick had escaped from the Tower where Henry had installed him after winning the Battle of Bosworth against Richard III.
That this boy was an imposter was accepted by many Yorkists, yet they still supported him. He was crowned in Ireland as Edward VI. His armies then made their way into the heart of England before being defeated at the Battle of Stoke. Those managing this young pretender were killed in the battle, and Lambert Simnel, for that was his real name, received clemency from King Henry, and was put to work as a turnspit in the royal kitchens.
Robert Minton related all of this to Lucianna.
“The Medici would have publicly tortured such an imposter,” Lucianna replied. “Then they would have executed him for all to see as a warning to others.”
“I thought you said the Medici do not rule Florence,” he said.
“Legally they do not, but their wealth and position of power give those who do not know better the impression that they do, which is why when someone desires a favor of Florence, they go first to the Medici.”
He laughed. “It is clever.”
Lucianna then told him, “The Medici like the power, but they do not want the responsibility, for if it were officially theirs, they would not have time for all their amusements. So they eschew any claim of governing, and instead hold festivals for the people with much food and fountains of wine that seem to flow endlessly.”
“Such behavior can work for a city,” Robert told her, “but not an entire country, I fear.”
Thinking about it, Lucianna had to agree, especially knowing now
what she had learned about England.
Late winter begat early spring, and the representative from the silk merchants’ guild in Milan arrived, setting up his own shop. He was surprised by the brisk business being done by Florence, and by the lovely Lucianna. He had heard they had sent a woman, and found it amusing until he discovered that she had taught the London merchants the difference between fine silks and those of lesser quality. His shop did some trade once the local cloth merchants had investigated his premises. Only those seeking to sell silk cloth to customers with less coin to spend came to buy from him. The Milanese representative wrote home, complaining to his guild that he must have better-quality materials if he was to compete with the Florentine woman. April passed.
In May, the Earl of Lisle invited Lucianna to visit his estates in Hereford with him. She accepted, leaving Baram Kira in charge of the shop while she was gone. “There are several orders and new inventory arriving from Florence shortly,” she told him. “You know what to do.”
“I do, mistress,” he assured her.
Having come to know Baram Kira over the past few months, Lucianna was confident that she could trust him, and so she left London on a bright sunny morning in the company of the Earl of Lisle for Hereford. She knew her mother would be shocked, but she was becoming more English in her ways, and liked the freedom their women seemed to have. She would write to Orianna when she returned. By then, her description of the earl’s estates would fascinate her mother so much that the fact Lucianna went with only Balia as her chaperone would not trouble her as much.
They traveled for several days. Nightly refuge was found at inns chosen in advance by the earl. As they grew farther and farther from London, Balia complained to her mistress.
“I have never been in such a wild place before. Where are these estates of his? At the edge of the world?”
“Hush!” Lucianna cautioned. “He has said they are a distance from London, and it would seem he does not lie. I am as curious as you are as to where we are going.”
The next day they rode along the river the earl told them was called the Wye. “My estates border it and are near the border with Wales. It is not far now. We should be there by midafternoon.” Then he added, “The stone cairn we just passed marks the borders of my lands.”
“Does this cairn signify anything else other than a border marker?” Lucianna asked him.
“It is probably a grave marker as well,” he said.
The track they now followed went through lush greenery populated by cattle. It seemed to Lucianna that it was a very large herd.
Seeing her unspoken interest, Robert Minton said, “I raise cattle and feed for them. I also have a fine apple orchard that produces some of the finest cider in the county.”
“I have never tasted this cider,” Lucianna said.
“It’s made with apples,” he explained to her, “and is very favored here in Hereford.”
“Your people do not drink wine?” She was surprised. In Florence, both rich and poor drank wine.
“Wine is expensive in a simple place like this. Cider is not. I allow my cottagers to take the apples I do not use and make their own if they so choose,” he said.
Lucianna was fascinated. She had always assumed everyone in the world drank wine. Water was not safe, as a rule.
Finally, as he had predicted, they reached his home. It was a large manor house of wood and brick, known as Wye Court. It sat on the banks of the river Wye in a small hollow between the hills.
“The hills to the west are in Wales,” he told her. “These lands were given to my family by the first Norman king, William, although the Welsh claimed it. The first house was burned to the ground about two hundred years ago by a lightning strike. We rebuilt it, and the family’s heir married the Welsh daughter of a nearby neighbor, thereby assuring us of the friendship of the Welsh ever since. Now and again, we marry into a Welsh family, but I shall marry you when you agree.”
Balia’s ears perked up at this bit of knowledge. She wondered if her mistress had passed this bit of information on to her mother, but suspected she had not, else Orianna would be in England inspecting the suitability of the earl, and seeing to her daughter’s quick acceptance. Though he was a foreigner, he was noble. A nobleman was indeed an acceptable mate for Orianna’s daughter.
They stopped their horses before the house, and servants hurried out to aid them. Lucianna was very impressed by the warm greeting the earl was given by his servants. She was less pleased when he said to them, “I hope to make this lady my wife one day, so be on your best behavior.”
“You had no right to say such a thing,” Lucianna complained to him afterwards. “I have not said I would wed you, my lord.”
“You will,” he said with a grin, “and I am willing to give you your way in the matter until you are ready to accept the responsibility of being my wife, Lucianna. I am patient.”
“You will have to be!” she told him sharply.
“Are you aware of how charming you are when you are indignant, cara mia?”
“You are impossible! I should demand you return me to London immediately, my lord,” she said, trying to sound as if she meant it. But the truth was Lucianna had already fallen in love with Wye Court, and the countryside surrounding it. It was different from anything else she had ever known. Her father’s Tuscan villa was little more than a large family farmhouse, but Wye Court was more of an elegant country home. She liked it. It felt comfortable, even from the outside.
Inside, it was, she found, even more comfortable. The rooms were large, the furniture substantial. The walls were paneled in warm wood, and hung with either tapestries or paintings. The large windows were hung with draperies. It had the feel of a home. Even Lady Margaret’s house had not had that particular feeling. Lucianna was immediately at ease, to her surprise.
“Let Argel show you your rooms,” the earl said. “I must speak with my steward now and learn what has been happening since I have been away.”
Argel curtsied politely to Lucianna. “I am the earl’s housekeeper, and I hope you will be comfortable in the rooms I have chosen for you and your servant.” She led them upstairs, down a hallway, finally stopping before a door. Opening it, she entered, ushering Lucianna and Balia inside.
Ever mindful of her mistress’s comfort, Balia took a quick look about her and then went to inspect the bedchamber. It was a lovely, small apartment. Pleased, she said to Argel, “Thank you for choosing such comfortable quarters for my mistress.”
“The earl has never before brought a lady to Wye Court,” Argel said. Then, unable to control her curiosity, she asked Lucianna, “Are you really going to wed my master, my lady?”
“So he says, and he assures me he had received my father’s permission while he was in Florence. I know a good daughter would accept her parent’s decision in such a matter, but my father said nought to me. I am a widow, so I must assume my father is leaving the final decision in this matter to me,” Lucianna told the housekeeper. To her surprise, the woman laughed.
“You are one of those shocking women who claim to think for themselves,” she said, chuckling. “I hope you will wed him, my lady. He needs a strong wife, not one of those mild-as-milk court lasses.” Then, with a curtsy, she left the two women, saying, “I will send a maidservant when it is time for the meal. Your baggage will be brought shortly.”
“You could do a lot worse,” Balia said bluntly. “He has charm, and a fine house for a wife.”
“And I should never have to go back to Florence, and my mother’s meddling,” Lucianna said candidly. “But, I would love him before I wed him.”
“Mistress, you know better. Marriage is for stature and wealth. Do not be foolish like your sisters were,” Balia advised, as she knew Orianna would want her to advise Lucianna.
“My sisters, for all the difficulties they caused, were happy—are happy. Bianca loved he
r prince enough to give up her family. Her love was strong and certain. And Francesca fell in love with her duke, so much so that she has resisted our mother’s pleas to remarry.”
“Your sister Francesca has a duchy to rule for her son until he comes of age,” Balia reminded Lucianna. “And as for Bianca, who knows if she remains happy with her prince? But having cast the die, she must live with her decision now.”
“I believe she is still happy,” Lucianna said. “If she were not, she would return home despite the shame that would be heaped upon her.”
“He cannot take his eyes from you, or perhaps you haven’t noticed?” the serving woman said.
“I have noticed,” Lucianna admitted. “Such scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, I fear. It is as if he is looking for some flaw in my person but cannot find it, so he continues his surveillance of me.”
Balia laughed. “He will find no fault in you because he doesn’t want to find a fault. The man is already in love, mistress. Why must you discourage him?”
There was no chance for Lucianna to answer her companion, for a knock came upon the door, and several menservants entered, carrying their luggage. Balia quickly directed them as to where to place the trunks. Lucianna stood before the afternoon fire, warming her hands, for they were chilly. It might almost be summer, but it was still chilly here in the country.
“We’ll want water for a bath up here,” Balia said to the man who looked in charge.
“Will ye now, my pretty?” he responded boldly.
“Yes!” Balia answered him, standing her ground and looking him directly in the eye. “My mistress has been a-horse for days, and she does not wish to greet the earl later stinking of the road.”
“Well now, that being the case, I expect we could get a bit of water up here,” the serving man answered. “My name is Fflam.”
“Is it? Well, Fflam, I will be grateful if you will see to the bathwater for my lady. My name is Balia.”
He gave her a small nod of his head, and then with a wave of his hand he signaled the others to leave the apartment. “We’ll be back,” he said to her with a grin.
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