Elias, Jonathan, and Kit, along with other members of the household and crew from the Calliope, played cricket on the lawn as they had done twelve months earlier. Nearby, Gina and Donato, along with Pasquale, Angelo and Serafina played bocce.
How much had changed in a year.
Laura put her paints away. She didn’t feel like painting for now. Instead, she would savor this moment. Besides, she had nearly finished a full suite of works for the August art exhibition sponsored by the Florio family.
She closed her eyes for a moment to say a prayer of gratitude. She had so much to be thankful for, a wellspring which replenished her joy every morning.
Today, with Jonathan and Morwena’s arrival from Palermo, came a letter from her brother, and another from the Royal Academy. The latter announced that two of her three paintings – the studies of the African concubine and the eunuch – had been selected for display. It asked if she would be so kind as to advise how she wished to be remitted should the paintings sell at the end of the exhibition.
The accomplishment pleased her, yet, its attainment brought none of the elation she might have expected. It was just one of many things to be appreciative for.
If only Samuel would be so happy for her. His letter was a remonstration about all the things she had lost – lost opportunities, lost ambition, lost prestige.
What does it profit a man to gain the world and to lose his soul?
The revenge of the corsairs had been thwarted. With the passage of time, Laura had become able to think of Rabia without murderous rage. Now, she felt only pity that the scheming and plots to hang on to status and power had come to nothing.
What if Rabia had taken her own son and lived quietly away from the machinations of palace politics? She tried to imagine it, but couldn’t. Rabia was ambitious. Ambition without a higher purpose, power for its own sake, was dangerous. Deadly.
Laura watched her husband, her beloved, confer with Jonathan and Kit, his two closest friends, men who had become like brothers to her also.
She had one piece of news to share with him. Something she had only recently become certain of herself. Laura brushed a hand over her stomach and rose to join them.
That news could wait for now.
True contentment depends not upon what we have;
a tub was large enough for Diogenes, but a world was too little for Alexander.
—Charles Caleb Colton
THE END
Dont’t forget to read Book One,
Captive of the Corsairs
Revenge of the Corsairs Page 36