“Maria,” I said, “Father hasn’t mentioned anything to you about finding suitors for us, has he?”
“No, thank heaven.”
“Is it still your intention to join a convent?”
“Yes, but not as a cloistered nun. I believe it is my calling to help the poor. I must find an order that will allow me to do so.”
I thought again of the conversation I’d overheard between our parents. I never told Maria what Father had said about not letting her waste her talents.
“Does Father know?” I asked.
“I have left it in God’s hands.”
My sister’s faith was so much stronger than mine. If only I could have her confidence in God’s plans.
For years, I’d prayed Father wouldn’t force me to take the veil. As that possibility had grown less likely, my prayers had changed. Now I beseeched God for a kind husband who would truly love me. In my mind, that husband was Antonio Bellini. But I had no way of knowing if God agreed.
Or even if Bellini did.
Chapter Twenty: Playthings
A few weeks after Father’s academic meeting, Adriana took ill. She vomited so violently Father sent for the physician immediately. As it turned out, she wasn’t ill. She was with child. Father was overjoyed. Of course, Adriana was, too.
She called Maria and me to her room to give us the news. Adriana was sitting up in her huge bed—she’d refused to sleep in the one Mamma had died in and had ordered this one shipped from Florence. Adriana looked like a porcelain doll propped up in a sea of pillows, her skin strangely pale next to the bright pink of her dressing gown.
“Come,” she said, waving us over. “Sit.” She patted the bed.
Maria and I sat on either side of her.
“Isn’t it wonderful, girls?” Adriana said. “I’ll finally have a child of my own.” She caressed her belly. Then she must have realized what she’d said, because she quickly added, “Of course, I already love Paola and Vincenzo as my own. It’s just not exactly the same.”
Maria smiled and said, “We understand.”
We understand all too well. Once this baby was born, it would become the center of Adriana’s life. I cared not if she ignored me, but I did worry about the little ones, especially Vincenzo. My five-year-old brother barely remembered Mamma, and he had already grown quite attached to our stepmother. I prayed to the Blessed Virgin that no matter what happened, Adriana would not abandon Vincenzo or Paola.
***
A few days later, Nina announced an unexpected visitor—Gabriella. “Show her to the parlor,” I said.
The early summer heat had already made the parlor uncomfortably warm. I opened the balcony doors for some fresh air. On seeing Gabriella, I said, “What a lovely surprise,” then paused. The strained expression on my friend’s face told me something was wrong.
To Nina, I said, “Please bring us some cold refreshments.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Gabriella, won’t you sit down?” She moved to the high-backed chair near the balcony doors but didn’t sit. As soon as Nina shut the parlor door, Gabriella exclaimed, “The nerve of that woman!”
“What woman?”
“Lady Elizabeth.” Gabriella stiffened her posture and feigned a haughty air. “The future Duchess von Hildebrandt.”
“What has she done?”
“She’s gone back to Austria.”
I still didn’t understand why Gabriella was upset. “Isn’t that good news?”
“It would be if Lodovico Volpi hadn’t gone after her.”
“What?” I sat down on the sofa across from Gabriella. “Why would he do that? I thought he was one of your suitors.”
“I thought so, too, until today.” Gabriella clutched the top of the chair. “This morning my brother heard a rumor that Volpi was planning to pursue Lady Elizabeth instead. Rather than bother Father with what might be idle gossip, Raffaele went to see Volpi himself. Well, when Raffaele arrived, Volpi was climbing into his carriage. The scoundrel admitted to my brother that he was headed for Austria. Raffaele asked him what his intentions were regarding me. And Volpi said he had none!” Gabriella slapped the top of the chair. “Can you believe it?”
Unfortunately, I could. But I didn’t want to remind Gabriella of how she’d ignored my warnings at Father’s meeting. Instead, I said only, “Oh.”
“My life is in ruin, and all you can say is, ‘oh’?” Gabriella slapped the chair again then whipped around and stormed out onto the balcony.
As I stood to follow her, Nina arrived. She set a tray containing two glasses of iced lemon water on a table. “Anything else, Miss?”
“No, thank you, Nina.”
I carried the glasses to the balcony. Gabriella was leaning over the railing, looking onto the courtyard below.
The day was unusually warm, even for June. “Here, drink this. It will help calm you.” I handed her a glass.
She took a sip then gazed back down at the courtyard.
“I’m sorry, Gabriella. I can imagine how devastating this must be for you. But after the way Volpi behaved at Father’s meeting, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be either,” Gabriella said. “I underestimated that woman. She must be toying with him. She can’t seriously be thinking of marrying him.”
I sat down on one of the balcony chairs. “And why not?” I sipped some water. The coolness eased my parched throat.
“Because she could marry an archduke or even a prince if she wanted.” Gabriella sat down in the other chair. “Why would she want Lodovico Volpi?”
“Isn’t it possible she cares for him?”
“I don’t know.” Gabriella’s shoulders sagged. “All I know is I care for him.” She took a large swallow of water then clutched the glass in both her hands. “And now I shall never marry him.” Gabriella blinked quickly as though fighting tears.
I set my glass down on the little table between us and dried the condensation from my glass on my handkerchief. “Doesn’t this prove what you said yourself, Gabriella?” I patted her arm. “He isn’t worthy of you.”
She didn’t answer.
Finally, Gabriella sighed. “I suppose I must resign myself to marrying Old Bulldog. He is the most acceptable alternative.”
“Count Cavalieri is a respected statesman,” I said. “You will be the envy of many.”
“Yes, I suppose there is some consolation in being the wife of a senator. I just wish he wasn’t so old.”
“At least his daughters are young. They may come to love you as much as Vincenzo and Paola love Adriana.”
“Oh, forgive me.” Gabriella straightened her shoulders. “I forgot to ask. How is your stepmother?”
“Not well at all,” I said. “She can barely eat. The slightest smell makes her feel ill. She has confined herself to her room. Mamma never did that when she was with child.”
Gabriella shook her head. “I am in no hurry to be in your stepmother’s position. I will postpone my marriage as long as possible.”
***
Adriana’s nausea lasted weeks. The only sustenance she could tolerate was a light soup containing bits of bread in broth. Instead of gaining weight, she grew thinner. Still, the midwife assured her the stomach upset would eventually pass.
Finally, around mid-July it did. Adriana began to tolerate more solid food, and her strength gradually returned. By the end of the month, she was taking her meals with the rest of us again.
“Oh, how I’ve missed dining with all of you,” she said the first time she joined us. We weren’t “all” present, though. Father was away on business.
“We’ve missed you, too, Signora Madre,” Paola said.
“Me, too,” Vincenzo said.
Adriana smiled. “Really, my little puppet?” She stroked his cheek. “Tell me, how did you spend the morning?”
Vincenzo told of how he and Paola had played hide-and-go-seek in the garden. “I hid so well the last time,” he said with a grin, “she al
most didn’t find me.”
“I knew where you were,” Paola said. “I just wanted to make the game last longer.”
Adriana laughed her high-pitched cricket laugh. “You two are lucky to have each other. When I was your age, I had only my dolls.” She prattled on about her five dolls, describing each of their outfits in detail, right down to the hair ribbons.
“Did you give them names?” Paola asked.
“Now, Paola,” I said, hoping to cut short some of Adriana’s chatter. “We don’t want to overtire our stepmother on her first day out of bed.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Adriana said. She not only told us the dolls’ names, she went on to tell us of the various other childhood toys she’d owned.
“I just thought of something!” Adriana clapped her hands together. “My father must still have my playthings packed away somewhere. We’ll have to send for them.”
“For us to play with?” Vincenzo asked.
I held my breath. This was the first test. Would she allow Vincenzo and Paola to play with the toys, or would she lock them away for the baby?
Adriana grinned at Vincenzo. “Well, of course,” she said. “But you’ll have to share them.” She paused for a moment, then added, “with me.” She laughed.
Vincenzo and Paola laughed, too. I couldn’t help smiling at their joy. Yet I still worried. Would Adriana abandon them after the baby arrived, just as she had discarded her old playthings?
Chapter Twenty-One: Puppets on a String
Father had originally planned for us to spend the summer at our country house in Masciago. He changed those plans when the midwife advised Adriana against travel, at least until after her nausea ceased.
I was glad. Staying home meant I could continue my lessons with Maestro Tomassini. The lessons weren’t the same without Bellini, but they were a welcome distraction from my thoughts of him.
Then one day at the end of July the maestro announced, “I’m afraid I must suspend our lessons after all, Signorina. The preparations for the opening of my opera are not going well.”
“I understand, Maestro.” His announcement did not come as a surprise. He’d told me of his difficulties with the singers. I couldn’t resist asking, “Is Bellini playing for the opera?”
“Indeed,” the maestro said. “He already knows his part well. If the singers had one-tenth his dedication, we could open next week.”
“I’m sure that under your direction all will be ready in time.” I tried to sound nonchalant as I added, “Perhaps I’ll be allowed to attend.” In truth, I could hardly wait to see Bellini again. I’d hoped he might send a letter, or even call on me, to ask the question the maestro had interrupted two months ago, but I’d had no word. With each passing day, my hope diminished. If Bellini had intended to ask permission to court me, he would surely have done so by now.
“I will suggest your father bring you to the opera,” the maestro said, “as part of your music education.”
“Grazie, Maestro.”
***
The sweltering heat of August made us all short-tempered. When the midwife announced Adriana fit to travel (with caution), Father renewed his plans for our retreat to the country. He sent word to Nonno Giuseppe that we would be arriving soon. My grandfather had taken to living in our family’s country house year-round after Nonna’s death. He still visited Milan occasionally, but I hadn’t seen him in ages.
We left for Masciago early in the morning. It took two carriages to transport all of us—Father, Adriana, Maria, and me in one, and Isabella, Paola, Vincenzo, Mademoiselle Duval, and Nina in the other. With the windows screened to shield us from dust, the air in the carriage was stifling. I was soon drenched in perspiration. Thankfully, clouds blocked out the sun’s fierce rays for much of the journey.
As we climbed higher into the countryside, our carriage passed vineyards, orchards, and fields of grain. I dozed awhile. When I opened my eyes again, we were crossing the bridge over the Seveso River, which bordered the southern end of our property.
By the time the horses clip-clopped through the gates of the estate, the air felt markedly cooler. The green, earthy scent of the breeze contrasted sharply with the sour, dusty odors we’d left behind in Milan.
Tall poplars lined the road leading to the house, their triangular leaves clattering a greeting. Our carriage stopped in front of the house.
Nonno came out to meet us. “Welcome, welcome,” he said. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Neither did I,” Adriana said. “But I can tell already it was worth the trip. It’s so much cooler here.” She inhaled deeply. “I can finally breathe again!”
For once, I agreed with my stepmother.
“Isn’t the country air wonderful?” Nonno smiled. He was shorter and thinner than Father, but they had the same dark eyes. Nonno gestured toward the house. “Come, come inside. I’ve had the servants prepare a magnificent meal.”
***
The next morning, Adriana wanted to visit the village for the annual summer fair. Paola and Vincenzo were eager to go along. Father had no interest in the fair, nor did Maria.
“You’ll join us, Emilia, won’t you?” Adriana said.
“Yes, do come with us,” Paola said. “Please.”
I had no desire for Adriana’s company, but I couldn’t resist Paola. Besides, there would no doubt be music at the fair.
Naldo took us in the carriage—Adriana, Isabella, Paola, Vincenzo, Mademoiselle Duval, and me. Nina rode outside with Naldo.
As soon as we’d stepped from the carriage, Nina insisted Adriana open her parasol against the sun. “You must take every precaution, Mistress,” Nina said. “We don’t want you overheating.” Then Nina said to me, “You should open yours, too, Miss, to protect your complexion.” The morning sun was still low in the sky, but I acquiesced, as did Isabella.
Paola ignored the parasol Nina extended toward her. She ran off with Vincenzo instead. Mademoiselle Duval hurried after them. “Careful, children. You’ll get lost in these crowds.” The “crowd” consisted of thirty to forty people strolling among the vendor booths. Masciago was tiny compared to Milan.
Adriana laughed. “They’ll be fine.”
Our skirts stirred the dust as Adriana, Isabella, and I walked from booth to booth. Nina followed close behind with a basket ready to carry any purchases we might make.
We sampled cheeses, nuts, and sweetmeats. “Delizioso,” Adriana said after tasting a peach sorbetto. “And so refreshing.” She asked the vendor, “How do you keep it cold?”
“We pack it in ice from the mountains, Signora,” the vendor said.
Adriana paid an extravagant price for a tiny cup of the sorbetto. At least she let me have a taste.
The sorbetto was indeed cold and sweet but not very creamy. “Nonno’s cook makes an even better version,” I said.
“She makes this, too? I’ll have to request some as soon as we return.”
“Signora Madre,” Paola called as she and Vincenzo hurried toward us. “There’s to be a marionette show in the square. Mademoiselle Duval says we need your permission to watch.”
“A marionette show?” Adriana said. “How marvelous!” She clapped her hands together. “Of course you may watch.”
Mademoiselle Duval walked up behind them. “It may be a story of war, Madame,” she said. “I was not sure if you would approve.”
“But there are important lessons to be learned in stories of battle,” Adriana said. “And it may well turn out to be a fairy tale or a religious story in honor of Our Lady’s Feast Day this week.” She asked Paola. “Where is it?”
“This way,” Vincenzo replied before Paola could. He took Adriana by the hand. Isabella and I followed.
Vincenzo led us to the far end of the piazza where someone had set up a puppet stage. A tall, thin man in a harlequin costume of red, green, and blue patches climbed onto the stage. He called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, come witness the most talented marionette troupe to ever
visit the Duchy.”
We joined the gathering crowd. The harlequin stood center stage, in front of a large black velvet curtain. “Today’s tale is ‘Filadora and the Prince,’” he said. “A story that proves again the Latin maxim Amor vincit omnia—Love conquers all.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Isabella said.
“It’s not a battle story,” Vincenzo said, disappointed.
“But it is about a prince,” Paola said. “That’s even better.”
The harlequin took off his hat and bowed. “I, Arlecchino, will be your narrator.”
Arlecchino moved to the far end of the stage. He motioned for us to direct our attention back to center stage. We stared at the black velvet curtain. Suddenly, a small slit opened about halfway up the curtain, and a marionette dressed in a suit of dark purple descended onto the stage.
We all applauded his entrance. The puppet, which stood about two feet tall, bowed gracefully, his strings invisible against the black backdrop.
“Ahh!” a cry went up from the audience. Adriana clapped her hands in delight, as did Paola and Vincenzo.
Arlecchino’s voice boomed out, “One day, our fine prince was out hunting with his friends. He somehow lost his way and ended up alone in the woods.” Two large planks cut and painted to represent trees were lowered onto the ends of the stage. The prince marionette walked from one tree to the other, shaking his head in confusion. His movements were surprisingly lifelike.
“Unbeknownst to the prince,” Arlecchino went on, “the woods belonged to a mean ogress who despised trespassers. But Heaven was smiling down on him this day, for instead of the ogress, he encountered her lovely daughter, Filadora.”
A female marionette appeared dressed in a gown of rose-colored silk. Someone in the audience called out, “Bellissima!” With her long blond hair and sky-blue eyes, the puppet really did look “beautiful.”
Arlecchino continued, “Immediately upon seeing Filadora, the prince fell in love. And she, in turn, fell in love with him.” I couldn’t help thinking of my feelings for Antonio Bellini. But I still didn’t know if he felt the same toward me.
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