Chapter Thirty-Five: Ticking Clock
Gabriella arranged for Antonio Bellini to perform a private concert at her home on the morning of July 15, two days before Father’s meeting. Meanwhile, I told no one of the scandal surrounding Lord Lodovico. After confirming Bellini’s intention to court me, I would speak to Adriana. She’d know how to approach Father about Volpi.
The night of the fourteenth, I could hardly sleep. Even so, I rose early the next morning and arrived at Palazzo Cavalieri well before the appointed time. The maidservant Betta greeted me at the door. “My lady asks that you wait for her in the harpsichord salon, Lady Emilia. She will join you shortly.”
“Grazie, Betta.” It still felt odd to be called “Lady Emilia.” I was the same person as before, yet I’d noticed people did indeed treat me differently.
In the harpsichord salon, I was too anxious to sit. I strolled about studying the paintings on the walls. When the brass mantel clock chimed the hour, I walked over to it. Two fat-cheeked cherubs framed the clock’s face, one on each side. I tried to focus my attention on the clock’s steady tick-tick-tock, tick-tick-tock, hoping the rhythmic sound would calm me. I’d had no word from Bellini since his letter last fall following the death of Adriana’s baby. What if he’d lost interest in me after all these months? What if he’d found someone else? The questions created a discordant melody that played over and over in my mind. Finally, I moved from the mantel and sat down at the harpsichord. Perhaps I could chase away the tune with a more pleasant one.
Instinctively, I began playing my most calming composition, the lullaby I’d sent the archduchess. I sang softly:
“I am so blessed to have you as my own,
my precious, precious one.
I will love you my whole life long.
My love will be the sun that shines on you by day
and the moon that caresses your cheek at night.
For your health and happiness, daily I will pray
and that you’ll always walk in God’s light.
No matter what pain or hardship life may bring
I’ll be ever near, ready to kiss your tears away.
Rest easy now, dear one. For you alone I sing.
Your place in my heart is secure, come what may.
“I am so blessed to have you as my own,
my precious, precious one.
I will love you my whole life long.
When I finished, I looked up to see Bellini standing beside the harpsichord, his violin case in hand.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He bowed. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I didn’t want to interrupt.” He gestured toward the keyboard. “That was lovely.”
My cheeks flushed at his words. “Grazie. It was one of the pieces I wrote for Archduchess Maria Teresa.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I’d originally composed it as a love song to him.
He nodded. “I didn’t know you would be here today.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “It seems an eternity since we last spoke. Much has happened in that time.”
Bellini’s eyes were the same deep blue I remembered. I tried to read his thoughts in them, but he averted his gaze.
“You must forgive me, Lady Emilia.” He bowed low before me. “I’m not used to your new station.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “There’s no need for you to be so formal. Unless …” My heart tightened. Was the formality his way of freeing himself from his promise to me?
His eyes met mine. “Unless what?”
“Unless your feelings have changed and you no longer wish to court me.”
“My feelings have changed.”
“Oh.” I clutched the harpsichord bench for support. “I see.”
“No, I don’t believe you do. These past months, I’ve thrown myself into my work, writing cantatas, sonatas, and even a symphony, to earn enough to feel worthy of approaching your father. Then, just as my goal was in sight, I learned from Maestro Tomassini that your father was made a count.” Bellini fell into a chair and laid his violin case across his knees. “It’s all been for nothing.”
My head was swimming. “I don’t understand. If you still care for me, how can it all be for nothing? My feelings haven’t changed.”
“Your feelings may not have changed,” he said, “but your social station has. You’re the daughter of a count now.” Bellini’s shoulders sagged. “Yet I’m still the son of a wine merchant. Your father’d never accept me as your suitor.”
“I expressed the same concern to Gabriella months ago,” I said, “but she has discovered a solution.”
He sat up. “She has?”
Gabriella appeared in the doorway. “Here she is now,” I said. “I’ll let her explain.”
Bellini stood. We all exchanged greetings as etiquette demanded. Then Gabriella eased herself into a chair near the harpsichord. It seemed to take a moment for her to catch her breath. Finally, she said to Bellini, “Won’t you sit down?”
He pulled up a chair to face her and sat with his violin case again on his lap. I remained at the harpsichord.
“Gabriella,” I said, “please tell Signor Bellini what you told me about how we can resolve our …” I paused, trying to think of the right word. “Our predicament.”
“With pleasure,” Gabriella said. She began by saying that her husband had visited Antonio Bellini’s great-uncle a few months earlier. Bellini stiffened at the news but said nothing.
Gabriella explained how Marquis don Vittore Bellini’s health was failing and he was in a quandary regarding his successor. She looked directly at Antonio Bellini as she said, “When my husband told him you, his great-nephew, wished to wed a noblewoman, the old marquis was relieved. He said that upon confirmation of such a betrothal he would gladly change his will to make you his heir.” Gabriella smiled. “So you see, Emilia’s new status as a noblewoman solves everything.”
Covering his face with his hands, Bellini shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Of course it does,” Gabriella said. “Emilia has already explained the situation to her father. Count Salvini is quite pleased at the prospect of having a marquis as his son-in-law.”
Bellini jumped to his feet. “You don’t understand, Lady Cavalieri. I cannot be the next marquis. To accept such an inheritance …” His voice trailed off.
“I know of the quarrel between your father and his uncle,” Gabriella said. “But surely your father would not begrudge your happiness.”
“You don’t know the whole story,” Bellini said to Gabriella. He came over and stood beside the harpsichord. “And neither do you, Lady Emilia.”
I cringed at the way he said “Lady.”
Bellini continued, “Do you recall my telling you that Father never spoke to the marquis again after my parents wed?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Father did write to him, though.” Bellini looked down at the violin case in his hands. “Once. After my mother took ill. About four years ago.” Bellini rubbed the neck of the case as he went on. “The physician had prescribed an extended stay at the hot springs of San Giuliano as a remedy for my mother. We couldn’t afford the journey, let alone the accommodations. Faced with no other recourse, my father swallowed his pride and wrote to his uncle for a loan. Father hoped that even if the marquis refused, he might at least offer the use of a carriage for the trip. Lord knows, the marquis has plenty of carriages to spare.”
“And his response?” I asked.
“The marquis not only refused the loan request,” Bellini’s voice rose as he spoke, “he berated Father again for marrying my mother in the first place. The marquis wrote in his reply, ‘He who makes his bed must lie in it.’”
I’d never seen Bellini like this. He gripped the violin case so tightly his knuckles turned white.
When he finally spoke again, his words were slow and measured. “The waters of San Giuliano might not have healed my mother, but they could have eased her passing.
Instead, I watched her suffer a slow, painful death.”
A tiny gasp escaped my lips. Bellini’s eyes met mine. I saw hurt and sorrow and anger in them. Any sign of love was gone, or at least buried.
“So, you see now why I can never forgive the marquis,” Bellini said. “Or accept his inheritance?”
I swallowed the cry that rose in my throat. I wanted to shout, “No, this can’t be!” I turned to Gabriella and opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Well,” Gabriella began then fell silent. The mantel clock’s tick-tick-tock, tick-tick-tock filled the room.
No one spoke for several long moments. Suddenly, Gabriella said, “Oh, my!” She clutched her abdomen.
I hurried to her side. “Are you all right?”
She took a long breath. “I think so, but perhaps I should go lie down.”
As I helped Gabriella to her feet she said, “Emilia, your father might still consider a marriage between you and Bellini. After all, he is a respected musician and—”
I cut her off. “I doubt it matters to Father how respected Bellini is if he doesn’t possess a title.”
“Perhaps your stepmother can help you,” Gabriella said. “After all, her father allowed her to choose her own husband.”
“Adriana? What could she do?”
“If your father is anything like my husband, he is most anxious to keep your stepmother happy right now.” Gabriella rubbed her abdomen as if to remind me that Adriana was also with child. “She might be able to convince your father to permit you to marry Bellini despite his lack of title.”
“I suppose I could ask her,” I said. But my heart held little hope.
Chapter Thirty-Six: Bubbling Fountain
As soon as I returned home, I went in search of Adriana. I found her on the balcony of her sitting room, embroidering a gown for her baby.
“Ah, Emilia,” she said. “How is Lady Gabriella today?”
“She is well, though she has little tolerance for the summer heat.”
“I understand that’s normal for women close to childbirth. I suppose I should be grateful my baby isn’t due until winter.” Adriana pointed at the chair beside her. “Please, sit down and tell me the latest gossip.”
The request seemed a sign from Heaven that I should indeed confide in Adriana. “What I have to tell you isn’t mere gossip,” I said as I sat down. “Have you heard the reason for Lord Lodovico’s broken engagement?”
“Only that there was some misunderstanding between him and Lady Elizabeth.”
“It was much more than a misunderstanding.” I told Adriana about Lord Lodovico’s gambling, his love affairs, and his cowardice when challenged to a duel.
“Oh, my!” Adriana set her needlework on the table. “Are you certain this is all true? You know how rumors can be.”
“They aren’t just rumors. Lady Gabriella’s brother witnessed the scene between Volpi and Duke von Hildebrandt. When Lord Raffaele returned to Milan, he told his father to count it a blessing that Lord Lodovico was not his son-in-law.”
“Santo cielo!” Adriana raised her hand to her cheek. “We must tell your father right away.” She started to get up.
“Wait,” I said, placing my hand on her arm. “There’s more.”
“About Lord Lodovico?”
“No, about Antonio Bellini.”
“Don’t tell me he’s a scoundrel, too!”
“No, not at all.” I told Adriana of Bellini’s refusal to accept his great-uncle’s inheritance as a matter of pride. While sharing Bellini’s story, I thought of how terrible it must have been for him to watch his mother die so painfully knowing the marquis could have helped. I didn’t blame Bellini for his feelings—were I in his shoes, I’d hate the marquis, too.
“In spite of everything, Bellini’s become a respected musician and composer,” I said. “He’s worked hard to prove himself a worthy suitor. But all will be for naught if Father insists I marry a nobleman.”
“You still wish to wed Bellini despite his lack of a title?”
“With all my heart.”
Adriana patted my hand. “Perhaps I can convince your father to give his consent if we find some other high-ranking nobleman to replace Lord Lodovico as a suitor for Isabella. However, I haven’t yet spoken to your father of her wish to exchange places with Maria.”
“Do you really think Father would allow Maria to take the veil if I married Bellini without a title? Wouldn’t that make Father even more determined to have her wed a nobleman?”
“I don’t know.” Adriana was quiet for a moment. Finally, she said, “Your father returns from Montevecchia tomorrow. Let me see what he says when I tell him the real reason behind Lord Lodovico’s broken engagement. Perhaps he himself will suggest someone to replace Lord Lodovico. Then you and I can discuss how to proceed. For now, though, we best not say anything to your father about Bellini’s situation, or of Isabella’s wishes.”
“Very well,” I said.
***
The next morning, I received a note from Count Cavalieri with surprising news. Gabriella had gone into labor during the night and given birth to a healthy baby boy. The baby had arrived earlier than expected, but both he and Gabriella were doing well. Praise be to heaven! Not only was I thrilled and relieved for them, I hoped the news might be a good omen for me. The count wrote that Gabriella was anxious for an update regarding my situation. I responded with my congratulations and promised to send more information soon.
I went to the harpsichord salon to distract myself by playing while I waited for Father’s return. After an hour or more had passed, Nina brought word that Adriana wanted me to meet her in the garden.
“Has Father returned?” I asked Nina.
“Yes, my lady,” Nina said. “He was just leaving Lady Salvini’s sitting room as I entered.”
Outside, I found my stepmother admiring our hedge of blooming red oleander. “What did Father say?” I asked immediately.
She took my arm. “Come, let’s find a spot far from any ears.”
Adriana didn’t speak again until we’d passed the end of the hedge. “I told your father the information about you-know-who. He admitted he’d heard rumors, but your father said he was certain the events had been greatly exaggerated. To which I replied, ‘Even if that’s the case, wouldn’t you rather have Maria wed a worthier suitor?’”
“And Father’s response?”
“Let’s sit first.” Adriana pointed to a nearby bench.
We sat facing the fountain at the center of our garden. Two winged cherubs stood on opposite sides of the fountain, one holding a lute, the other a violin. Water gurgled up from a spout at the center of the pool separating them. The cherubs reminded me of the pair on the mantel clock in Gabriella’s harpsichord salon. It was hard to believe less than a day had passed since I’d seen that clock.
I asked again, “So what was Father’s response?”
“He said he has a most specific reason for wanting a marriage between the Salvinis and the Volpis.” Adriana glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. “Your father didn’t want to divulge it, but I persisted until he finally confessed. He told me that years ago, when he was a boy of only four or five, he spent much time in his father’s silk shop.”
“The shop on Via Pantano?”
“Yes,” Adriana said. “Your grandfather was known for providing the finest silks in the city, and so he attracted the richest clients. One day, Marquis Volpi came into the shop.”
I could hardly believe her words. “Marquis Volpi?”
“Himself. He was a young man then, preparing to wed. He came to select the fabric for a new wardrobe. Your grandfather was occupied when Volpi entered the shop. Having to wait for service must have irritated the marquis, for when your grandfather finally greeted him, Volpi reprimanded him for not bowing low enough. The marquis placed his walking stick on your grandfather’s back and pushed down until his head practically touched the ground. Volpi rebuked your grandfather, saying, ‘Thi
s is the posture you must bear before nobility. Take care to never forget it.’”
“Goodness!” I sat up straighter, as though the gesture might somehow restore my grandfather’s dignity after all these years. “Nonno often says his rudest customers were noblemen. Now I understand why.”
Adriana went on. “Unbeknownst to your grandfather, your father was a witness to this scene. He vowed then and there to raise his station in life so no one would ever treat him in the manner Marquis Volpi had treated your grandfather.”
“That’s why Father was so determined to become a nobleman all these years.”
“Precisely,” Adriana said. “And when he learned Lord Lodovico was an eligible bachelor after all, your father took it as an act of Providence. What sweeter revenge could he have than for Maria to wed Marquis Volpi’s only son and for her children to be born into the house of Volpi?”
I slumped back against the bench. “Then, short of getting hauled off to prison, there’s probably nothing Lord Lodovico could do that would break Father’s resolve to have him as a son-in-law.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Adriana said. “And given Bellini’s lack of title, your father would never agree to allow Isabella to marry before you.” Adriana put her hand on mine. “I don’t see any way to spare Maria.”
We sat in silence as the fountain gurgled a sad melody. My thoughts bubbled and foamed like the water. I recalled Father’s words to me in his study: If Maria refuses to marry Volpi, the obligation shall fall to you.
I considered telling my sister of Father’s ultimatum. Knowing Maria, she would willingly sacrifice herself to save me from such a scoundrel. But I knew in my heart that was wrong. Maria had a calling from God. She shouldn’t have to marry at all, let alone to marry someone as despicable as Lodovico Volpi.
As I turned away from the fountain, the red oleander blooms in the distance caught my eye. I’d hidden behind that very hedge the day of Maria’s first speech. Thanks to her success that evening, Maria was able to convince Father to hire a music tutor for me. If not for her, I’d never have become a musician and composer. I’d never have played for the archduchess. And I’d never have won Father’s favor.
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