by Edale Lane
“Will you be conducting my interview?” Florentina’s question shook her from her thoughts. “Or shall we wait for Don Alessandro?”
“Come with me to the study,” Madelena motioned. “My brother will join us soon.”
As the women proceeded into the grand mansion, two children raced around a corner, deftly dodging to miss running into their mother. “Matteo, stop chasing your sister this instant!” Madelena scolded. “Oh, where is Livia, and why can she not perform her duties?” she moaned as much in embarrassment as frustration.
“We’re sorry, Mama,” replied a blonde haired five-year-old girl with enormous blue eyes in the sweetest, most contrite voice she could muster.
The little boy two years her elder halted beside her. “But Mama, chasing Betta is my most fun thing to do!” Loose light brown curls flopped over his head like noodles framing a fair face lighted by laughing brown eyes.
“You know you are not allowed to run in the house,” Madelena reiterated in a stern authoritative timbre. “And where is Livia?”
Matteo rolled his eyes and groaned. Betta obediently answered. “She is in the water closet with Luca. I don’t understand why she needs help in there when I can go all by myself.” Betta folded her hands in front of her waist and beamed up at her mother and the guest.
Madelena raised a hand to her brow in an effort to ward off a headache. This was not the impression of the household she wished to make on a potential employee. What if Alessandro decided against her? Rumors of unruly children and lascivious servants would spread all over the city tarnishing their reputation.
“My, what lovely children you have,” praised Florentina with a genuinely warm smile. She bent down bracing her hands on her thighs so as not to tower over the pair. “Such energy and enthusiasm, so observant and competitive. You two could make great scientists some day!”
The children’s joy with the stranger’s accolades was apparent on their round little faces. Matteo put his shoulders back and stretched as tall as he could, raising his chin for emphasis. “I’m going to be a rich, successful merchant like my papa,” he stated with assurance, then added with scrunched brows, “or a pirate.”
Betta reached out and tugged on Florentina’s sleeve. “What’s a sy-tist?”
Madelena marveled to herself at the ease with which Florentina dealt with the children and toyed with the idea of dismissing Livia and hiring her as a governess. She warmed to the sound of the singular woman’s laugh and listened with delight as she explained what a “sy-tist” was to her beloved daughter. Maddie determined that her brother must employ Florentina in some capacity; the woman would undoubtedly be an asset to the household. With the decision made and Florentina’s lesson concluded, she ordered, “Now, out to the courtyard with you both. You may run all you please outside.”
“Yes, Mama,” they chimed in unison. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Matteo tapped Betta’s shoulder and bolted away toward the archway out to the Roman style courtyard. The little girl started to race too, then stopped herself, glanced over her shoulder with a coy smile at her mother, and walked as fast as possible without running after her brother.
Madelena blushed and shook her head. “They are good children, but as you so tactfully observed, quite energetic.”
“They are delightful!” Florentina exclaimed with such sincerity that Madelena dared to believe she meant it.
Florentina gazed about the elegant study in awe. An interior room, the windows looked out into the courtyard and were surrounded by row after row of leather-bound books stretching from floor to crown molding. Above the bookshelves and on every side, painted arches inhabited by suns, moons, and stars curved up to the plastered ceiling. The other walls were paneled in rich wood planks arranged in large rectangles, carved with leaf designs around the edges. A few paintings hung, but the wall opposite the windows teemed with an impressive weapon’s collection. An artistically carved cherry curio cabinet housed precious vases and sculptures behind glass. A new addition was the huge globe sitting in its cradle with a representation of the continents, as well as they were known. Europe, the Mediterranean region, North Africa, the Near East and Far East had some degree of detail, while the Americas were vaguely shaped with no details; the vastness of the unexplored Pacific Ocean was a dark half of the sphere opposite the side displaying the known world. To one side of the room rested a huge desk and chair positioned near a dormant fireplace with other sitting chairs arranged near a trunk and small lamp table. Another lamp sat atop the desk with more attached to the wall.
As Florentina gazed up she spied the splendor of the ceiling art, a colored fresco framed by carved wooden molding encompassing the whole dome. Her mouth fell agape as she struggled to take it all in. Having grown up under the tutelage of a legend in his own time, she was no stranger to fine art; however, she was unaccustomed to being surrounded by so much of it outside a cathedral.
“Please have a seat,” Madelena motioned toward the grouping of cushioned chairs. Florentina tingled all over with excitement. Just think! I will have access to all these books, all this knowledge! And those children are so adorable! Add a beautiful donna to gaze upon each day. This will be an even better arrangement than I had imagined.
“Grazie,” she replied and settled herself in a comfortable arm chair. “You have such a beautiful home.” When Madelena took the seat beside her, Florentina felt a new wave of excitement course through her body. These feelings were completely unreasonable. Madelena may not technically be nobility, but in practicality she was its equivalence. While some people in the Italian city-states still held titles of duke or prince or whatnot, power had already shifted to the wealthy merchant class. Theirs were also various positions of political power, and many a titled noble had become the puppet of a dominant merchant. She, on the other hand, was a commoner–middle-class, but not aristocratic. She was well versed in the classics, could read, write, and speak three languages, and even play the harpsichord, but in the eyes of society she was not, and never would be, the equal of one such as a member of the Torelli family. Even if Madelena shared her peculiar inclinations, such a relationship would be out of the question. No, Florentina would have to be content to admire this alluring woman in secret.
“It belongs to the Torelli family and has since before I was born. Alessandro and I grew up in this residence. We all lived here with our families under Papa’s authority until he passed two years ago, and now Alessandro is head of the House. Vergilio didn’t mind; it was advantageous for him to be in such close association with my father and brother. And I get along well with his wife Portia and their children. It’s a shame they are so much older than mine, but at least Bernardo–he’s Alessandro’s youngest–sometimes plays with Matteo.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what has gotten into me today. I am not usually so forthcoming with such a new acquaintance and do not mean to bore you with so many personal details.”
“Oh, do not apologize,” Florentina insisted. “I want to learn as much as possible about the House I will be serving in.” And the woman whom I shall serve, she thought.
Just then the door flew open and an unusually tall, distinguished, broad-shouldered man entered, shadowed by his ashen, spindly butler. Madelena rose, the glow of her joy evident. “Alessandro!”
Chapter 2
The man who stood in the doorway boasted the body of an Olympian and the face of Adonis, with chin-length wood brown hair and bangs hanging above keen umber eyes. He was markedly taller than most men with a commanding air of authority swirling around him. Alessandro was as masculine as his sister was feminine; Florentina barely noticed.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted while retaining his regal stance of hands clasped behind his back.
Florentina sprang to her feet beside Madelena and returned the greeting. “I am honored to meet you, Don Alessandro.” She attempted an awkward curtsey, never knowing what to do in these situations.
“Ally, this is Florentina de Bossi,” Madelena intro
duced. “I didn’t think of it at first, but she is the inventor’s daughter–you know, Leonardo da Vinci’s assistant, the one who made the exquisite clock in the entry hall.”
His eyes brightened as he crossed the room to stand with them, shadowed by his attending specter. “Yes, yes,” he said in recognition. “So exactly what position are you applying for?”
“Whatever is available,” she replied, trying to appear humble. Florentina was not accustomed to behaving subserviently, but she determined to play the role as best she could.
Alessandro laughed and shook his head. “We don’t frequently keep domestics long; they tend to come and go, and I am looking for someone who will be with us for a while. I fear you are far over-qualified for cleaning house and washing linens. One with your educational background would become easily bored and we would have to replace you in no time. Tell me, why are you not maintaining your father’s shop?”
“My lord, I did try, but the patrons fell away like leaves in autumn when word of my father’s death was spread. No one wanted to commission a woman to make their clock, repair their equipment, install their locks, or develop a new gadget for their use,” she explained in honest frustration. “They simply assumed a woman had not the brains for it.”
“Drivel!” Madelena declared. “A woman’s mind is every bit as keen as a man’s; she just seldom is afforded the opportunity to use it. My question, my dear,” she began turning toward Florentina, “is why you are here instead of joining a salon of intellectuals? The forward thinking humanists have begun to include women in their gatherings.”
“That is true, Donna Madelena,” Florentina agreed, first meeting the woman’s eyes, then dropping her gaze. “However, only women of means, nobility, and those not obliged to work for a living possess that luxury.” Returning her eyes to Madelena she continued. “Surely you have heard of one of my contemporaries, the Duchess Isabella d'Este, who is far more brilliant and accomplished than I. What a privilege it would be to discuss art and philosophy with her, but I am not independently wealthy; in fact, I am completely without funds.” She turned back to the lord of the House. “My father was a kind, talented, ingenious man, and a fine artisan, but he never developed any skill in financial matters. Therefore, the only options that I can see are marriage or domestic service. Since I have no arrangement and no potential suitors, I have come to you, Don Alessandro, and you,” she added, casting her gaze on the red-haired widow, “in hopes of finding a position.”
Alessandro nodded and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Your papers say that you are fluent in French, Latin, and Greek, accomplished in music, knowledgeable in history and the classics, philosophy, mathematics, and engineering, and the sciences; knowing you grew up under the watchful eye of Master da Vinci I have no doubt this is all true.”
“Ally,” Madelena said with a note of inspiration. “Matteo is certainly old enough to begin his formal education and Betta is not much younger, and very bright… Livia is not equipped to give them educational instruction. She can scarcely see to their physical needs,” she added in an aggravated tone under her breath. “May I suggest we employ Florentina as a tutor for the children? In their brief interaction earlier, she established a good rapport with them. I know most parents have male tutors for their children, but a woman would be acceptable in our circles until Matteo is older.”
Florentina turned an expectant gaze from Madelena to Alessandro. “I was actually thinking along other unconventional lines. Can you repair machinery found in a wool or silk factory?”
Her eyes brightened. “I have never encountered a machine or mechanism that I could not repair. I am familiar with all varieties of looms currently in use, and when I come upon any device with which I am unfamiliar, I simply take it apart, study how it works, replace or repair the offending part, and put it back together again.” She smiled in triumph, honey eyes glistening with pride.
For the first time the gaunt, ashen butler inched from behind his towering master to express his disapproval. “My lord,” he uttered in censure. “You cannot be considering employing a female tinker. It simply isn’t done.” He glowered at Florentina with a downward drooping mouth.
Alessandro raised his brow and glanced down at his chief servant. “Is that right, Iseppo? Is it written somewhere?”
“But, My lord!” Iseppo shook his head. “What will the other great Houses think of us?”
To Florentina’s estimation, Alessandro was unabashedly confident and completely unconcerned with the opinions of others. “A good businessman knows how to utilize every asset to his advantage, does he not? Do you know what I see, Iseppo?” He gestured to the young woman standing before him. “An asset. Why should I spend good money employing a tinker to repair equipment when we have a better one in-house, one who will be loyal to us because this would be her home and we become her family? An outside employee may spy on us for another House, spread rumors about us, or overcharge for their services. Then, you may say, why not hire a full-time engineer? I would reply, why waste the money when we can acquire two specialists for the price of one. That is what a good businessman would do!”
Florentina could feel her heart race. This is exactly what she had hoped for! Alessandro turned back to her and said, “Suppose, I offer you the full-time position of tutor for Madelena’s children, with the stipulation that you also act as our House’s tinker, to repair or even improve on the efficiency of any appliance or apparatus that requires attention? The servants’ quarters are on the upper floor with the kitchen; it will be often hot and you would need to share a room with Angela, the new maid from the countryside, but-”
“Oh, I don’t mind; that would be wonderful!” Florentina was brimming with excitement. She had intended to be lodged on the third floor (fourth if one counted the basement); that had been part of her research in choosing this House as well. The top floor granted her easier access to the roof and Casa de Torelli was situated in the right part of town. The roommate could pose a problem to her scheme, but she would figure out something where that was concerned. All plots aside, she beamed with genuine joy at being accepted. She thought the children were adorable and being their tutor would ensure daily contact with their beautiful mother. She knew nothing would come of it, but she would like to get to know the woman, and she could always dream.
Madelena’s smile lit her eyes as she hugged her brother enthusiastically. “Oh, Alessandro, I have a good feeling about this decision,” she gushed. “I think Florentina is precisely the right tutor for my children and you can obtain some use from her too, just like you said!” A warm sentiment filled her heart as she considered the intelligent young woman who had won her over in less than an hour. She recalled an incident that occurred before she married Vergilio and her father still ran the House. She had been infatuated with a comely maid only a few years her elder who was not unwilling to engage in a tryst. Never had she felt so stimulated, so alive! But it was an ill-fated romance for so many reasons. For an instant Madelena thought longingly, perhaps Florentina would be inclined to such a relationship. But no; I shan’t ruin what can be a very good arrangement. I don’t want Florentina to feel obligated to me in that way. No, I am her employer, although I do also wish to be her friend.
Alessandro caught his sister’s infectious smile and placed an arm around her shoulders giving her an affectionate squeeze. “Iseppo, call for Luca to come and help Florentina get her things moved in.”
“Yes, milord,” he replied dourly and turned to leave, but was almost bowled over by a stout man wearing a watchman’s uniform and hat.
“Don Alessandro,” the watchman addressed as he pulled the red cap from his head. “I am sorry to disturb you, but you will want to hear this news.”
Madelena knew Salvador Sfondrati, one of Milan’s city watchmen. Her father granted him an important favor, and he had remained grateful and loyal to the family all these years. She quickly noted the concern etched on his aging face as he wiped a hand across graying hair cut short
to obscure a receding and increasingly thin hairline.
“What has happened, Salvador?” All revelry faded from Alessandro’s countenance and voice.
“Last night Don Benetto Viscardi’s shipment of weapons was attacked!”
Alessandro frowned; while Madelena said nothing, inwardly she was glad. The unscrupulous fiend should be robbed, she thought.
“By whom?” Alessandro asked. “What did they take? Should I be concerned?”
“No one knows who, my lord, but the matter is being investigated. The strange thing is, they didn’t steal anything; the whole shipment was destroyed,” Salvador explained.
“Destroyed?” Alessandro’s expression turned to bewilderment. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, Viscardi’s people were bringing in three wagons full of weapons from one of his suppliers to the north. They were slated to be sold to one of his biggest buyers, but the caravan was attacked. Witnesses could not identify how many there were because of all the smoke everywhere. Then they heard booms, and the cargo went up in flames. When they got the fires out, there was nothing but mangled metal and charred wood. Several of Viscardi’s men were injured, though none were killed.” Salvador paused for a moment, worry etching deeper into his expression.
“And? What else?” Alessandro prodded.
“My lord, I fear–it’s been discussed–that Viscardi will blame you, being his chief rival and all. I assured the magistrate that surely you had nothing to do with the attack,” he added quickly.
“Indeed,” Alessandro confirmed. “Tell the magistrate that if I had attacked one of Viscardi’s shipments, he could rest assured the cargo would be safe in one of my warehouses with all the proper manifest papers in order. Why would anyone destroy perfectly good merchandise? You see, that makes no sense, and that is why Viscardi should know I had nothing to do with it.”