Lucianna laughed. “I suppose I am, but I know my father would be very pleased to know that I have engineered the marriage contract to say that my wealth remains with me.”
“Will you sell the house in Florence?” Balia asked her.
“Eventually,” she said, “but not quite yet. To sell it means to cut all my ties with Florence, and I am not yet ready to do so.”
Balia nodded. Then she said, “What are you to wear, mistress, on your wedding day? You have no wedding gown.”
“There must be something among the gowns we brought that will do for a widow,” Lucianna said. “Let us look now.”
As they laid the gowns out, Balia suddenly crowed with delight. “Here is that new gown you have not yet worn,” she said, drawing forth one of pale blue-green silk brocade. “It is perfect for you, and most flattering,” she noted.
“Ah, yes! I remember seeing the fabric among my father’s samples, and had the gown made just before we left Florence. Why have I never worn it, Balia?”
“It was not warm enough for winter wear,” her serving woman said. “When I was packing for you, I remembered it, and thought it would be perfect for a late-spring day.”
“I recall my mother thought the fabric especially beautiful and unique. She will be pleased I wore it on my wedding day. Robert will not wait for her to come from Florence. It would take too long.”
“Best you wed him quickly before another lass lays eyes on him and snatches him up.”
Lucianna laughed again. “You are as bad as my mother,” she teased Balia. “But at least Luca will be here to represent the family.”
The next few days were busy ones for the servants, although the bride-to-be spent much of her time riding with the earl about the estate.
She saw how proud he was to declare to each cottage that the lady with him would be his wife in another four days, in another two days, tomorrow. He declared a holiday for the estate folk.
Lucianna was amazed at the size of the earl’s holding. His lands seemed to stretch on forever. She wondered if the Medici, for all their wealth, had so much land. She doubted it. They were not much for the countryside, but true city folk.
Luca arrived from London, surprised to have been sent for, as no explanation had been given him, although Baram Kira had smiled and nodded when told he would be responsible for the shop for the next few days. Unlike the young Florentine, Baram saw the earl’s deep interest in Lucianna, and he rightly guessed marriage was in the offing.
The earl’s cook came to her, asking how many guests would be coming and what her ladyship would like for the meal.
“The earl has said we will have a morning wedding, but there will be no guests to my knowledge, other than my brother and Father Paul. I understand he has no family left,” Lucianna told her. “What would you suggest for a wedding breakfast?”
“Eggs poached in marsala wine, rashers of bacon, and I shall bake a special cake for the occasion, my lady.”
“I think since the earl has declared a holiday, we might feed everyone on tables outside? What think you? Is such hospitality allowed? I know so few of your English customs,” Lucianna said.
“I wouldn’t have enough eggs to feed them, my lady, but yes, the estate folk would appreciate a meal. What say you to ham, fresh bread, and cheese, along with several casks of ale? They would enjoy that, I know,” the cook told her.
“Then do so. And while I would have you bake a small cake for us, bake a large one so each of the cottagers may have a bit of sweet,” Lucianna instructed the cook.
“’Tis most generous, my lady. A cake with raisins will please all.” And with a curtsy, she left her new mistress.
Lucianna knew how to direct a small household, but the earl’s staff was even larger than her mother’s. She realized that she would be expected to manage the servants, to choose menus, to oversee it all. She wondered to herself if she was capable, but if not, she would have to learn quickly. They did not celebrate as many saints’ days and holidays here in England as they did in Florence. She must learn when and how. But who was to teach her? Her knowledge of English customs was meager, and she could not shame Robert by running an inefficient household. There would be none but cottagers at their wedding, but that would all change once her earl had a wife.
Luca was concerned and did not hesitate to voice his doubts. “Are you certain you are doing the right thing marrying this foreigner? Why does he insist on such a hurry? Why cannot he wait for our parents to come from Florence?”
“Have you never been in love?” Lucianna asked him.
Luca looked at his twin sister as if she were a madwoman. “In love? Love is for dreamers, Sister. I always thought you a practical woman, like our mother. Besides, love is nothing more than romantic lust, Lucianna.”
She laughed at him. “Our mother loved the wrong man, a married man, before Grandfather saw her wed to our father for expediency’s sake. My marriage to Alfredo was a similar union.”
“Mother has been a good wife to Father, as you were to the bookseller. This union seems hurried to me. I cannot help but wonder why, Lucianna. I am a cautious man.”
“When did my brother, the soldier, become cautious?” she mocked him. “There is nothing unseemly in my impending union to Roberto. He loves me. He lusts after me. As for me, Brother mine, I feel the same way. Our parents will be pleased with this union. Our mother, because I have wed a noble, a close friend of a king. Our father, because I have kept my fortune to myself.” Reaching out, she patted her brother’s hand. “I am happy, Luca. For the first time in my life I am truly happy for the choices I have made. They are mine alone. No one made them for me. I did not make them because they were expected of me. I made them because it pleased me. Be happy for me.”
He sighed. “I was sent to watch over you,” he said. “I wonder if our parents will consider I did a good job.”
Lucianna laughed softly at him. “When will you learn to please yourself, Luca, and not our parents? You are a man now.”
Her brother made a face at himself. “How did you become the wiser of us?” he asked her, and she smiled lovingly at him.
Tomorrow was her wedding day, and she realized that her affianced husband had hardly touched or kissed her in the past few weeks. He knew she was a virgin, so she could take hope that he would be gentle with her. For the first time in her life, Lucianna felt shy.
When Balia brought up the subject of the wedding night, Lucianna put her off saying, “I am twenty-two and know what is expected of me.”
Balia dropped the subject. She wondered if Lucianna did indeed know, for she knew Alfredo Allibatore had never coupled with the girl. Had her mother spoken to her? Or had Orianna found it unnecessary, knowing the celibate marriage her daughter was entering into six years ago? She would pray for her mistress. It was the best she could do. The earl, however, seemed a kind man.
Lucianna took the time to bathe on her wedding day, arising very early to find a tub of hot water already before her dayroom hearth. Balia took her time, not rushing her mistress, for she could see that Lucianna was nervous. The serving woman washed the long gold-red hair using a soap that was scented with the fragrance of the night lily. It was Lucianna’s personal favorite, and Balia thought the familiar smell of it would be comforting to her. Afterwards, she brushed the lovely soft hair until it was dry.
“What style have you decided upon?” Lucianna asked.
“You will wear it unbound, as you should,” Balia said sternly. “You are a virgin, my lady.”
“But what will people think?” Lucianna said, concerned.
“I will see the house servants understand your first marriage was to an elderly gentleman who was not able to perform his duties, and that you are therefore untouched.”
“I do not know if . . .” Lucianna began, for she doubted that even Luca knew, but Balia was going to have her own wa
y in this matter.
“Your mother would be pleased I maintained proper tradition, my lady. I will hear no more about it.” Balia’s voice was determined.
The serving woman dressed her mistress in the blue-green gown. It had a modest V-neckline, and about the neck, running down the gown itself, was beautiful gold-and-blue embroidery that also edged the hemline. A low hip belt of the same fabric fell from her waistline. The sleeves were narrow to the elbow, then widened into large embroidered cuffs dripping fine Venetian lace.
“Oh, my lady,” Balia said, stepping back a pace. “I only wish your mother could see you in this gown on this day. You are every bit a beautiful bride. You must wear no jewelry to take away from your perfection.” She wiped her eyes, and then said, “This is what Master Alfredo would have wanted for you. A good husband, and the prospect of a happy marriage.”
Lucianna smiled softly. “Aye,” she said. “I know he would bless this second union I am about to make. He was a good man.”
There was a knock upon the dayroom door, and Argel stuck her head in. “Oh good,” she said, “you are ready. “The master is as jumpy as a boy about to get his first kiss,” she said with a chuckle. “Ah, my lady, you look beautiful. Your brother awaits to escort you.”
“Has the priest arrived?” Lucianna asked.
“Aye,” the housekeeper said. Then she added, “’Twas most generous of you to include the servants and cottagers. We are all honored to share in this day with you.”
Lucianna nodded. “You are now all my English family, and I am grateful for it,” she replied.
Luca was waiting in the corridor when Lucianna stepped from her chamber. “Santa Anna!” he exclaimed, “How beautiful you are, Sister.” He escorted her down to the hall where the earl was awaiting her. The bridegroom was garbed simply so as not to take the glory from her. His hose were silk. The length of his sea blue doublet, which he wore over a white cotton shirt, was short, but his deeper blue coat was trimmed with fur. About his neck, he wore a large gold pendant.
“Good morning, my lord,” Lucianna greeted him. “How handsome you look. I have never seen you garbed quite so elegantly.”
“I might return the compliment, madame. You are even more beautiful today than I have ever seen you,” he answered. “It is said, of course, that all brides are beautiful,” he told her, and smiled.
Luca harrumphed audibly.
Lucianna ignored her brother. “I am pleased that my garb meets with your approval, my lord,” she said, curtsying.
“I suspect,” he told her as he took her from her brother, and whispered in her ear, “that you are even more beautiful without it.”
She felt the warmth in her cheeks. “So bold,” she murmured back to him, but she smiled as, much to her surprise, he escorted her to the courtyard. “Where are we going?” she asked him.
“To the village church,” he told her. “We will walk the distance so our cottagers may get a better glimpse of you. You have invited them to share in our day, Lucianna. I am pleased you did so, and would have them share it all from beginning to end.”
“I had not considered walking,” she responded. “I hope it is not too distant, for my pretty silk slippers are not fit for long walks.”
“Not far,” he promised as they began a walk down the hill upon which Wye Court was set. Luca walked behind them.
The day was glorious, with a flawless sky and bright sunshine. The narrow little road from the manor house was lined with cottagers.
Recognizing a few faces, she directed smiles at them, to their delight. And he had not prevaricated. The village church was just a few steps from the base of the hill, and it was filled with Wye Court’s servants, and certain of those considered the more important of the villagers.
Together, bride and groom walked up the aisle to the waiting priest. Lucianna had not felt particularly like a bride when she had wed Alfredo Allibatore, but today she felt every bit the bride. And she found she did regret the absence of her parents. But even if they had traveled at top speed, it would have taken more than a month for them to reach England.
Besides, her mother did not travel quickly and must have several trunks with her to assure a wardrobe she could tolerate. No. It was better this way, with only her brother to give her away. And who knew if Balia wasn’t correct, and some lass, neighbor, or someone from among the queen’s ladies was waiting to snatch Robert up? But they could not. He was hers now. She smiled as she gave Father Paul the proper answers to the vows he asked of her.
And then it was over. Robert Minton took Lucianna in his strong arms and kissed her most thoroughly, to the delight of those in attendance. Lucianna blushed, hearing someone among the crowd say, “We’ll have an heir before very long now, won’t we?” And those in the little church who had heard the remark nodded in the affirmative. But Luca scowled, for such candid chatter was unseemly, he thought to himself, but then these English were plainspoken.
Outside, they found someone had brought their horses down so they might ride them back up to the house. The earl lifted his new wife carefully into her saddle, and their eyes caught briefly. He said nothing, and neither did Lucianna. She must keep calm, she reminded herself, until after the feasting was over. Lucianna saw the servants running ahead of them so they would be ready to give service.
They rode slowly through the crowd of estate folk, smiling. The earl greeted many by name and laughed at their bawdy humor, answering them back in friendly fashion. Lucianna saw how well he treated these people. They were his, barely out of serfdom, but he treated them with respect and kindness.
“They love you,” Lucianna noted.
“I have grown up with many of them. My father was a good lord. I hope I am too,” he answered her.
“Those treated with respect more often than not give better service,” she replied. “My father said it often.”
The morning slipped into afternoon. With late spring, the day would be a long one. By midafternoon, all had been fed, and some of the casks of ale were empty, the remainder running low. The tables that had been set in front of the river were slowly emptying as the estate folk departed for their homes while it remained light. Even the hall began to empty of the more favored of the Wye Court folk. Luca had disappeared with a very pretty village girl.
“Has it been a happy day for you, amore mia?” Robert asked her, tipping her face up to his.
“It has,” Lucianna told him. “I never expected such a fine second wedding day, my lord.”
“Your first was not?” He was surprised.
“Alfredo had been most direct with me. Our marriage was not a romantic liaison. He wanted a pretty wife to care for him in his old age. My parents obliged him out of desperation. We wed in my family’s church, and I was gowned as befitted a bride. But my family invited few guests, angry that those families who had sought after Bianca and Francesca had not wanted me. Our wedding supper was small.”
“You consider this a romantic liaison?” he asked, having heard little of what she said after those two words.
“I love you,” Lucianna said simply. “You have said that you love me, amore mio. Is that not romantic?”
He pulled her into his lap from her chair at the high board where she had been seated next to him. “Yes! It is romantic,” he agreed, “but there is more to romance than mere words.”
“I know,” she told him, blushing. “I know what I must do, and what is expected of me.”
“No woman ever really knows that first time, Lucianna, and it will be your first time,” he said softly in her ear as he cupped a breast in his palm. “The first time, I have been told, can be heaven or hell.”
“Who told you such a thing?” Lucianna said to him.
“The venerable Lady Margaret. She lectured both her son, the king, and me on the matter when we were lads. She said milkmaid or lady, a woman in a man’s bed must be trea
ted with kindness no matter her rank. I don’t know if the king listened, but I did.”
“Have you had many women in your bed?” she inquired of him. She was, after all, his wife now, and she should know just how experienced he was. But from the fingers teasing her breast through the cloth of her gown, she suspected his expertise was more than sufficient.
He laughed. “I have had enough women to satisfy my manly appetites, but now I have you. I shall have no others.”
“Do not promise such a thing, my lord,” Lucianna surprised him by saying. “All men of wealth and stature have mistresses. It is expected of them. As long as you love and respect me as your wife, I will not complain. Wise women do not.”
“Perhaps in your Florence, this is so. And certainly even here in England some men keep mistresses. But there is no shame put on a man who doesn’t and is faithful,” he explained.
“Do you have any bastards?” she asked, again startling him.
“No! Certainly not to my knowledge.” And then he laughed. “I wonder how many other brides have discussed such a thing on their wedding day, madame. We are obviously well matched, as you, it would seem, are as bold as I am, sweetheart.”
Lucianna giggled. “My poor mother would be horrified with such a discussion as we are having. But what if I don’t please you, my lord? If you vow to be faithful and I disappoint, I will relieve you of your foolish promise, Robert.”
He gave her breast a little squeeze. “We cannot determine that, madame, until I have bedded you,” the earl told her. He tipped her from his lap. “Go upstairs, and prepare yourself for me.”
His words gave her pause for thought. Not even turning back as she slipped from his lap, Lucianna departed the hall, and as she reached the stairs, Balia joined her.
“You will not be sleeping in your old chamber now that you are the earl’s wife,” she explained. “There is a suite for the earl and his countess to cohabit. Argel and I have spent the afternoon preparing it for you. It is a lovely apartment, my lady. I hope you will be very happy there.” Then the serving woman led her mistress upstairs to her new quarters, which were indeed lovely. “Now that you are his wife,” Balia said, “you must choose a lass I may teach to help me with your care. I will remain her senior, but you must have two serving women, my lady. ’Tis expected of a lord’s wife.”
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