The Contessa's Vendetta

by Sichirollo Patzer, Mirella

Liar! How dare he vilify my memory! Indifference was never in my nature, but now I wished that it had been. I should have been a block of ice incapable of thawing in the sunlight of his first smile. Had he forgotten all that I had done for him, all that I had given him? What a poor fool I was to have believed in his hypocritical caresses and feigned love. “It surprises me to hear you say that. The Mancini family may be noble, but every member was always kind and respectful of everyone. I know my friend always treated her family and dependants gently and kindly.”

  Giacomo coughed apologetically behind his hand. It was an old trick of his, which signified his desire to speak.

  Beatrice laughed, as she held out her glass for more wine. “Giacomo remembers both the Mancinis. Ask him his opinion of Carlotta. He worshiped his mistress.” She took a sip as if it could hide her sarcasm.

  I turned to address Giacomo. “I do not recognize you, my friend. Perhaps you were not here when I used to visit the elder Contessa Mancini?” This was an attempt on my part to dispel any suspicions he may have about my true identity.

  Giacomo rubbed his wrinkled hands nervously together. “I came into my lady’s service only a year before the mother of the young countess died.”

  “Ah, in that case, I missed making your acquaintance.” I pitied the gentle soul when I noticed his lips tremble and how he looked so forlorn. “You knew the last contessa from childhood, then?”

  “I most certainly did.” His watery eyes roamed over me inquisitively.

  “You loved her well?” I asked, watching him despite the hint of guilt I experienced at having to lie to this most caring, loyal servant.

  “She was decency itself—an extraordinary, kind-hearted, generous woman. May the saints cherish her soul! Sometimes I cannot believe she is gone. My heart broke when I heard she died and I have never been the same since. My master will verify this; he is often dissatisfied with me.” Uncomfortable, he turned his wistful gaze to Dario.

  My husband frowned. I once believed that he frowned whenever he became irritated, but now I believed it was much more; it was a sign of his temper. “Si, indeed, Giacomo,” he said harshly. “You are growing so forgetful that it is quite annoying. I have to repeat myself several times when one command ought to suffice.”

  Clearly troubled, Giacomo hung his head, sighed, and fell silent. Then, as if remembering his obligations, he refilled my glass, and retreated to his position behind my chair.

  The conversation turned to mundane topics. Dario had always been an excellent talker, but this evening he surpassed himself. He was determined to charm me and spared nothing to succeed in his ambition. Witty remarks coupled with sharp satire and humorous stories briskly told, all flowed effortlessly from his lips. Although I knew him well, he surprised me with his glibness. I once thought him charming, even godly. Now, for the first time, I saw him for what he was – a devil disguised as an angel.

  While he spoke, I noticed how Beatrice responded to his allure. The brighter and more amiable he became, the more she became silent and sullen. I pretended not to notice her mounting tension and I continued to draw her into the conversation, forcing her to give opinions on various subjects. She hesitated to speak at all; and when compelled to do so, responded with abrupt, snappish retorts.

  Dario finally laughed at her gruff behavior. “You are quite ill-tempered this evening, Beatrice!” When he noticed he had addressed her informally, he turned to me. “I always call her Beatrice. She has always been like a sister to me.”

  Beatrice glared at him and her eyes flashed dangerously, but she kept her jaw tightly clenched and did not utter a word.

  Dario seemed delighted in jabbing at her pride and vexing her.

  She stared at him in reproach and he burst out laughing.

  Rising from the table, Dario made us a gallant bow. “I will leave you two ladies to finish your wine together. I know women love to share a little gossip and talk a little scandal. Afterward, please join me for a coffee on the veranda.”

  I watched as he strode from the room grinning after he poured more wine in our glasses. Beatrice sullenly eyed her reflection in the polished rim of a silver fruit-dish on the table in front of her. Giacomo had left the room earlier and we found ourselves entirely alone.

  I pondered my vendetta for a moment or two. The game held me in its fascination as if I played a shrewd game of chess. With the thoughtfulness of a cautious player, I made my next move. “What a fascinating man!” I murmured before taking a sip of my wine. “Very intelligent too! I admire your taste in men, signorina!”

  She seemed startled. “What do you mean?”

  I gave her my most benevolent smile. “Ah, young blood,” I sighed. “Do not be ashamed of your feelings. Anyone who fails to appreciate the affections of so ardent an admirer is truly a fool. Not every woman is lucky enough to have such a good chance at happiness.”

  “Do you think...you believe that...that I—”

  “That you are in love with him?” I said. “Most certainly I do. And why should you not love him? I am sure that the late contessa would be pleased to see her handsome widower wed her best friend. Permit me to congratulate you and wish you all the success in your love.” I took another sip of my wine. Pathetic fool! I had completely disarmed her and I could see any suspicions she harboured against me melted away like night’s mist in morning light.

  Her expression turned more cheerful. She took my hand and pressed it warmly. “Forgive me, contessa. I fear I have been impolite and distant this evening. You have made me feel better. You may think of me as envious and silly, but I truly believed you were attracted to him. In fact, please forgive me, but I was daydreaming about how to...to kill you.”

  I burst laughing. “How very interesting, but you know the saying: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

  “Ah, contessa, how kind of you to accept my confession and not resent me, but truly, for the last hour I have been utterly inconsolable!”

  “Like all lovers, torturing themselves for no good reason. Well, I find it most amusing! When you reach my age, carissima, you will prefer the clink of gold and silver to the kiss and embrace of a man. How many times must I assure you that I care nothing for men.” I raised my goblet. “Believe it or not, it is true.” I took a long sip.

  Beatrice drank her wine in one gulp. “In that case, I feel comfortable in confiding in you. I am in love with Signore Gismondi. In love! It is too weak a description for what I feel for him. The touch of his hand thrills me. His voice shakes me to my soul. His eyes ignite a fire inside me that I cannot extinguish. You cannot understand the joy, the pain—”

  “You must keep calm,” I said frostily as I listened to my victim reveal her true feelings. “You must keep your mind cool when your blood burns. Do you think he loves you?”

  “Think! He has...” She paused and her face flushed. “I know he never cared for his wife.”

  “I know that too!” I answered in a steady voice. “One cannot fail to notice it. It was evident in the dreariness of his voice when he speaks about her.”

  “It is no surprise. Carlotta was a restrained fool! She had no business marrying such a spirited, exceptional man like him.”

  My heart leaped with fury, but I controlled my voice, “It is best to let poor Carlotta rest in peace. She is dead. Whatever her faults were, her husband was true to her while she lived. He was faithful to her was he not?”

  She glanced away then lowered her eyes. “Oh, certainly!” she muttered.

  “And you were a loyal and truthful friend to her, despite the appeal of her desirable husband?”

  Again she answered huskily, “Why, of course!”

  I saw her hand tremble.

  “Well, then, I believe the love you now bear for her widower is something she would approve of. Because you have both behaved appropriately and beyond reproach, I hope that you and Dario receive the reward you both so richly deserve.”

  While I spoke, she fidgeted and I saw her glance up at my fat
her’s portrait with agitation. I suppose she could see her dead friend’s likeness there. Silence befell us for a few moments and then she turned to me with a forced smile. “And so you hold no interest in Signore Gismondi for yourself?”

  “Oh, that is not true. I do have a very strong interest and admiration for him, but not in the way you think. If it will put you at ease, I can promise you that I shall never try to attract his attentions unless—”

  “Unless what?” she asked, her face tense once more.

  “Unless he happens to show an interest in me first, in which case it would be great fun to seduce him!” And I laughed harshly.

  She stared at me, her eyes wide. “Show an interest in you? Seduce him? Surely you jest. You would never consider such a thing.”

  “Of course not, cara,” I answered, rising and patting her gently on the shoulder. “Women like me rarely pursue men like him, it is quite absurd. You are perfectly safe, my friend. Come, let us drink coffee with the handsome man awaiting us on the veranda.”

  Arm-in-arm we wandered out to the veranda. Beatrice’s good spirits were restored and Dario seemed relieved. Apparently, he was wary of Beatrice – something I would be wise to remember. He smiled a welcome to us as we approached and Giacomo poured the fragrant coffee.

  The moon had already risen and nightingales trilled their song in the nearby woods. I took my seat next to Dario and as I adjusted my gown around me, I heard a long mournful howl that soon turned into restless whines.

  “What is that sound?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

  “Oh, it’s that irritating dog, Tito, droning on again.” Dario’s face wrinkled with aversion. “The creature belonged to Carlotta. His whining can be very annoying at times.”

  “Where do you keep him?”

  “After my wife died, he wandered about the house howling for days. I could not stand the relentless sound, so I had no choice but to chain him up outside.”

  My poor Tito, callously treated because he grieved for me. “I adore dogs, and I would love to see the poor animal. May I?”

  “If you wish,” he said without enthusiasm. “Beatrice, would you mind fetching the dog for the contessa?”

  Beatrice did not move; she leaned back in her chair and sipped her coffee. “Me? I hope you will not mind if I refuse. The last time I went near the creature, it attempted to bite me. Perhaps you could ask Giacomo to unfasten the dog and bring it here.”

  Dario faced me with raised brows. “For some strange reason, Tito has taken a dislike to Signorina Cardano, even though he is loving and loyal to Chiara. Perhaps it is best if we leave the dog chained up for tonight. I would not wish to see either one of you harmed in any way.”

  I narrowed my gaze at Beatrice and wondered what she had done to merit such a reaction from Tito who had never behaved in such a way before. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I would still dearly love to see the poor creature, if only to give it a bit of comfort since it seems he misses his mistress.”

  Dario looked at Giacomo. “Please untie Tito and bring him to me.”

  Giacomo gave a slight bow and departed to attend to the task.

  In a few moments, Tito’s howling ceased and the nimble, whitish-brown creature came bounding across the moonlit lawn toward me at full speed. He yelped with joy, tail wagging and panting as he cavorted around me, licking my hands as I patted him.

  Beatrice and Dario watched Tito’s frenetic affection with unreserved amazement.

  “See, I told you I have a special affinity with dogs. No matter the dog, I always receive the same reaction.” With a touch of my hand on Tito’s neck, he lay down quietly at my feet, tail still wagging, brown eyes never leaving my face. I had no doubt my loyal dog recognized me.

  Meantime, Dario watched me with a look of confusion, his pallor lighter than moments before.

  “You do not like this dog?” I asked, watching him closely.

  He laughed, a little forcedly. “Oh, no, I like dogs, but I have never seen Tito react so strongly to anyone other than Carlotta. How very strange!”

  Beatrice, too, looked uneasy. “Very strange indeed,” she said. “For once, Tito is completely ignoring me. Usually, he never fails to snarl or bare his teeth at me.”

  At the sound of her voice, Tito turned and gave her a discontented growl, which I immediately silenced by touching his head. My pet’s animosity towards Beatrice surprised me. Prior to my burial, Tito had always been friendly towards her.

  “I have owned many dogs over the years,” I said. “And dogs can sense when someone likes them. No doubt Tito is responding to my love for canines.” My air of indifference seemed to reassure my betrayers and after a few brief moments, the incident was forgotten.

  It was getting late and I rose to leave. “I would be happy to chain up the dog before I go home so that he will not disturb your sleep by his howling.”

  Beatrice looked relieved and she walked with me to the kennel. I chained Tito and patted him affectionately. He wagged his tail and lay down on his straw bed with no resistance except for a brief, pleading look as I turned and walked away from him.

  When we returned to the veranda, I thanked Dario for an entertaining evening and announced my departure.

  “Please allow me to accompany you home in your carriage,” Beatrice offered.

  “That is very kind of you, but there is no need. I am fond of late night rides and I do not have far to go.” Thus, I bade them goodnight and coldly kissed Dario on both cheeks. He beamed with pleasure. I wanted to shudder with aversion.

  Beatrice walked me to the villa gates and watched me enter my carriage. With a quick flick of the reins, Paolo set the horses to a walk. I waved at Beatrice as I rode away, but the instant I saw her turn away and heard the villa gates clang shut behind her, I asked Paolo to halt the carriage. I descended and went back to the villa, moving along the outer wall to the rear of the residence to a thicket of laurel that extended almost up to the house. I swept the branches softly aside and pushed my way through until I came within hearing distance of the veranda.

  Beatrice sat with Dario on the settee I had just vacated. She leaned her head against his chest. He tilted her chin up and gave her a long kiss.

  “You can be very cruel, Dario!” Beatrice said when they separated. “For a while, you had me fooled into thinking you truly liked that rich old contessa.”

  He laughed. “Ah, but I do, carissima. I believe that beneath those grotesque spectacles hides a striking woman. And did you see all the jewels she wore? They were of the finest quality and very rare. I’ll bet there are plenty more and I hope she gives some to me so that I can add them to my collection.”

  “And if she were to give you more gifts, would you care for her, Dario?” A tinge of jealously echoed in Beatrice’s voice.

  “I sincerely doubt it.”

  “She is very conceited, you know. She told me she would never make love unless a man showed interest in her first, and then she would initiate it. How shocking. What do you think of that?”

  He laughed. “How original and charming!” He stood, pulled her to her feet, and embraced her. “Come, let’s go inside.”

  “You are shameless, Dario. You would flirt with your own grandmother!” Beatrice laid her head against his chest tenderly. “Tell me the truth, Dario, do you not think she looks a little bit like Carlotta?”

  “I confess I do think there is a resemblance. In fact, I think it is possible she might be a long-lost relative, perhaps even Carlotta’s aunt, and wants to keep it a secret for some reason. Overall, I believe she is a good woman, and disgustingly, gloriously wealthy. I think it would be wise to treat her as a valuable friend, don’t you? Come, sposina mia, it is time for us to go to bed.” They disappeared inside and shut the veranda windows after them.

  Sposina mia. His little bride. I left my hiding-place and returned to my carriage. I felt confident they did not suspect my identity. It would be unusual if they did, for who would believe it possible for a de
ad woman to come back to life? Stupid fools! In this game of vendetta, it was I who held all the power and I resolved to play it out to the bitter end and with all due haste.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two months passed and during that time, I spent my time wisely, establishing myself as a great noblewoman within Vicenza’s society. My wealth garnered many invitations from the city’s most affluent families who eagerly sought my acquaintance. No one cared whether I was intelligent, witty, or beautiful. My popularity rose when I appeared in my satin-lined, ornate carriage drawn by four Arabian mares as white as polished ivory, my luxurious box at the opera, my beaded silk gowns, and the never-ending display of jewels I wore.

  I soon came to know everyone of importance in Vicenza. People spoke about me in the most opulent salons. Newspapers chronicled my lavish generosity. Rumours about my immense revenues spread from mouth to mouth on every cafe and street corner. Jewellers, dressmakers, shoemakers, and furniture makers stopped Santina and Paolo with small trinkets to solicit my attention or obtain my custom. They both discreetly tucked away these bribes, but told me about each one, providing the name and address of the person who made the request.

  Even more startling were all the matchmaking mothers seeking to marry me to their sons. My garish spectacles did not seem to deter these politically inclined social climbers. On the contrary, they assured me how fetching I looked while wearing them, so eager were they to add me to their families as a daughter-in-law.

  Stiff and insincere widowers thrust themselves forward as potential suitors eager to get their hands on my wealth and then dupe the old black-spectacled wife to their heart’s content. I played along with their ogling glances and false compliments about my beautiful white hair, and forged laughs at my horrendous attempts at humour, as they tried to trap me into marriage.

  At the many social events I attended, I saw to it that my husband and Beatrice were included as a matter of course. At first, Dario retreated from all invitations, citing his recent bereavement, but I persuaded him otherwise. I convinced several male acquaintances to implore him to attend and tell him it was not good for so young a man to waste his time grieving. Thankfully, Dario listened to their advice and accepted the invitations he received, despite the fact that he did it only to please me.