by C. De Melo
Hearing this, Allegra’s heart fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest.
Bruno continued, “Is she promised to another man?”
Vittorio hesitated. “No.”
“I’d like your permission to court her.”
“I see…”
“I assure you that my intentions are serious, and I can provide Allegra with the lifestyle to which she is accustomed. My navigational exploits with the Portuguese have enabled me to amass a considerable fortune.”
“I’ve known you since birth and hold you in the highest esteem. I made a promise to my late wife that our daughter would marry a man of her own choosing, and I intend on honoring that vow. If Allegra will have you, then you have my permission to court and wed her.”
“Thank you, Signore Vittorio. May I speak with her now?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll have the servants offer you refreshment while I go and fetch her.”
Allegra fled into the workshop and frantically paced the room. She could barely breathe from the combination of anxiety and excitement. The moment Vittorio entered the room, she confessed, “I heard everything.”
Vittorio didn’t know what shocked him more, the fact that she had eavesdropped on him or her reaction to Bruno’s request of courtship. Up until now his daughter had treated every suitor with disdain, sometimes contempt. Could it be possible…?
“Oh, Papa…”
“Do you care for him?”
“I do,” she admitted.
“Signore Bruno is a mature man of the world, not some foolish young courtier.” Vittorio paused to let his words sink into his daughter’s head. “He wants you to be his wife.”
“What if I told him the truth?”
“No. Domenico and I are in accord on this issue.” At her crestfallen face, he added, “There is a way you can marry him without hurting anyone in the process.”
“I cannot give up my craft. My need to create is like my need to breathe. I’ll never stop being La Castagna.”
Vittorio felt a mixture of respect and frustration. “Very well. He’s waiting to speak with you in the library. The choice is yours to make.”
“I’m not being offered a choice,” she countered bitterly. “This is an ultimatum.”
“Don’t look at it that way.”
“As I see it, I can either continue being La Castagna and spurn Bruno, or marry him and give up everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. Tell me, Papa, how is this fair?”
“Life is not fair, Allegra.”
“Especially if you are cursed with womanhood,” she retorted before storming out of the room.
She found Bruno staring out the window. “Buongiorno, Signore Bruno. You asked to see me?”
He turned around and walked to where she stood. “Signorina Allegra, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. You and your father are well?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here.” Taking hold of her hands, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Allegra, I foster deep admiration for you, and that sentiment has grown into something more substantial. Your father has given me permission to court you, and it would please me greatly if you would allow me to do so.”
Allegra wanted nothing more than to be held in his arms and taste his lips, but La Castagna chastised her heart. She witnessed Bruno’s silent inner struggle as he awaited her response.
“I’m flattered, Signore Bruno,” she said, gently retracting her hands. “Regretfully…”
Stricken, he took a step back. “I was under the impression that you were fond of me.”
More than I care to admit. “I am fond of you. My father and I consider you a close family friend.”
His mouth hardened. “Ah.”
“As I’ve told you before, my father is a widower with no sons,” she said, hoping to soften the blow. “I aid him greatly in his work, and have little time to myself.”
An awkward silence followed. Bruno frowned pensively, then suddenly gripped her wrist. “I know you care for me. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. Tell me who did this to you. Who hurt you?”
Allegra shook her head quietly.
“Is it Paolina?” he pressed. “She means nothing to me, she never did. I admit, I used her only as a diversion after being alone for so long.”
“Please, stop.”
“I broke off with her soon after I met you. You haunted my thoughts day and night. You’re the only woman I want.”
“My answer is no,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Smiling without humor, he retorted, “Not as sorry as I am.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I won’t take up any more of your time. I bid you good day.”
Defeated, Allegra watched his retreat with tears in her eyes.
Vittorio entered the library a moment later. “Is La Castagna truly worth this much sacrifice?”
“Yes,” she replied before bursting into tears.
Vittorio left for Arezzo the following week. Allegra remained in Florence during her father’s absence in order to finish her commissions. She dispatched a messenger to Domenico to let him know the pieces were ready for delivery, and instructed him to pick them up the following morning. Oddly, he never showed. She sent another message at midday. Nothing. By late afternoon, one of his servants arrived at the Palazzo Castagno.
“Signorina Allegra, I was sent here by my master.”
Alarmed, Allegra demanded, “Where is he?”
“He woke up feeling ill and is still in bed,” the young woman replied, wringing her hands. “My master told me to come here and fetch your maid, Gianna, because she’s well versed in flower lore.”
“Why didn’t you come sooner? Have you informed Signore Bruno?”
“He had business in Fiesole and Careggi, and departed at dawn. He’s not expected back until this evening.”
Allegra ushered the girl out the door. “Go home, put a cold compress on your master’s head and sit with him. We’ll be along shortly.”
Gianna, who heard the exchange from the doorway, said, “I’ll gather my herbs and roots.”
Allegra donned a cloak, grabbed the leather pouch full of jewelry, and hesitated at the sight of the setting sun outside her window. Should she risk delivering the pieces herself? Although it wasn’t the normal protocol, she tucked the pouch in the inner pocket of her cloak and left the palazzo.
As the two women hastily made their way to Domenico’s house, Gianna said, “You should convince the old man to tell his son the truth about you.”
“Neither he nor my father want that.”
“I know about Bruno’s visit and his proposal of marriage. That man loves you. End this charade for the sake of your happiness.”
“Do not concern yourself with this matter, Gianna.”
Gianna stopped in her tracks. “Do not concern myself, you say? Me—who has known and cared for you since birth, who loves you like a daughter?” She shook her head, her expression sad. “I’ve always known my place, but enough is enough, Allegra. You hardly eat, you hardly sleep. I will not stand by and watch you waste away. It would be an affront to your dear mother’s memory, God rest her soul.”
Gianna crossed herself and Allegra followed suit. “You’re right, Gianna. Forgive me. Now come, we must hurry!”
***
Bruno stared at the ledger until the letters and numbers blurred before his eyes. He had met with clients in Fiesole and Careggi earlier, and returned to Florence much earlier than he had anticipated. For over an hour he’d been poring over the books, unable to concentrate. The late afternoon light was fading, so he lit a candle. His head ached from lack of sleep, causing him to rub his temples. Lately, his nights consisted of tossing and turning in his bed. During the day, all he could think of was Allegra Castagno.
He was certain that her desire and affection matched his own, yet she had rejected him. Why? Her excuse, although reasonable, rang hollow to his ears. Something—or someone—held her
back.
Matteo Vanusi?
Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself away from the desk, grabbed his cloak from the peg, and stormed out of the office. “I shall return shortly,” he said to the apprentices before exiting the bottega.
He’d stopped trusting women after Anabella’s treachery, keeping his heart under lock and key. He had spent the last decade sailing to various ports throughout Europe, Asia, and twice to the sandy coast of the New World. He bedded many women, enjoying their bodies while cautiously avoiding any emotional commitments. The mere mention of the word love had him running in the opposite direction. Perhaps that explained why he preferred the company of whores who expected nothing from him except money.
While his mind wandered, his feet betrayed him. Without realizing it, he headed for the Palazzo Castagno. Would Allegra turn him away at the door?
He strode briskly along Via Roma, cutting through the crowds of laymen and merchants trying to sell the last of their wares. Two prostitutes lurked in a gloomy alley attempting to convince a drunkard to part with his coin. He turned right onto the Piazza del Duomo, casting an appreciative glance at the majestic edifices that brought glory to Florence. As he veered in the direction of the Palazzo Castagno, he spotted Allegra and Gianna heading toward him. The two women walked arm in arm, deeply engrossed in what appeared to be a serious conversation.
Bruno ducked into a narrow alley so that neither woman noticed his presence. Where were they going so late in the day? Without a second thought, he followed them. To his surprise, they walked straight to his father’s door.
***
A cat hovered on the stoop, waiting for a chance to dart inside the house. The opportunity presented itself when one of the servants opened the door. Allegra and Gianna were led straight to Domenico’s bedchamber, which stank of vomit.
“I’ll be quick about it,” Gianna said as she set about preparing a curative.
“These stupid girls are trying to kill me,” Domenico said weakly from his bed. “Thank you for coming.”
Allegra set the leather pouch containing the jewelry on the bedside table and went to Domenico’s side. Pointing to the bucket containing the vomit, she said to the servants, “Make yourselves useful. Fetch me an empty bucket and clean out this one. Fill a basin with water and bring me a cloth. Hurry!”
“Yes, my lady.”
The old man put his face into the empty bucket and dry heaved several times. Allegra leaned forward to place an arm around his frail shoulders, unwittingly causing the chestnut charm to escape from the confines of her bodice. Bruno entered the room at that moment, surprising everyone.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Your father’s been sick all day and his servants only waited until now to fetch me,” Allegra replied. “Gianna is mixing a curative for him.”
Bruno’s face suddenly contorted into an expression of shock. Following his gaze, Allegra noticed the exposed chestnut charm dangling from her neck. Quickly, she tucked it back inside of her bodice.
Gianna hurried into the room at the sound of the old man’s cough. “Here, Signore Domenico, drink this.”
Domenico initially recoiled at the smell of the herbaceous elixir, but he forced it down by sipping it slowly.
“I should fetch the physician,” Bruno said.
“I would wait,” Gianna advised. “These days they resort to bloodletting for the slightest ailment. Your father cannot afford to lose any blood in his weakened state.” Turning to the servants, she asked, “How long has he been vomiting?”
“Since midday,” one of the girls replied.
Gianna sighed. “He needs a good broth, some bread, and an invigorating tonic to restore his stamina.”
“Gianna has a healing touch,” Allegra said softly. “If she can’t make him better, then we’ll call the physician.”
Bruno nodded in agreement and Gianna got to work. Allegra helped as much as she could while Bruno sat with his father, applying cold compresses to the old man’s forehead. Before long, Domenico’s breathing grew even and he fell asleep.
“Thank you,” Bruno said to Allegra and Gianna. “I can take over now.”
Allegra gently touched his arm. “Please let me know if you need anything else.” She was about to reach for the leather pouch on the bedside table, but he snatched it away from her. Appalled at his boldness, she put out her hand. “Signore Bruno, that pouch is mine.”
Bouncing it on his palm, he demanded, “What’s this?”
“Please give it back.”
Ignoring the request, he emptied the pouch’s contents onto the table before fixing her with an accusatory glare. “You personally deliver La Castagna’s jewelry to my father’s house?”
The ensuing silence was broken by Domenico’s loud snore. Gianna slipped out of the bedchamber to await her mistress in the adjoining room.
Allegra’s mind raced to construct a convincing lie. “The courier who normally delivers La Castagna’s pieces to the bottega is sick today, so a new courier delivered it to my father’s address by mistake.”
Unconvinced, Bruno demanded, “Did he also deliver the chestnut charm hanging from the chain around your neck?”
“Another commission that we never received payment for,” she replied, amazed at her propensity for fabricating untruths.
He looked at her incredulously. “Someone commissioned a chestnut?”
“We’re not the only Castagno family in Tuscany.”
“Do you know what I think? Not only do you know La Castagna’s identity, you’re enamored of him.”
Allegra blinked in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“That love token around your neck is proof. Perhaps Matteo Vanusi made it for you. Is he La Castagna?”
“My life is not nearly as intriguing as you think, I assure you.”
He cursed himself for speaking like a lovesick fool as she walked out of the room without saying a word.
Later, Allegra paced the floor of the workshop. Keeping busy was the surest way to get Bruno off her mind. Feeling inspired, she took charcoal to vellum and implemented arabesques into a few sketches. She then set out to obtain the opinion of the only person who would wear such fanciful jewelry.
Bianca received Allegra in her sitting room. “What a pleasant surprise! I love it when you visit me.” To the maid hovering in the corner, she said, “I told you to wash my linens.”
The girl looked at her mistress askance. “I washed them yesterday.”
“You did a poor job of it,” Bianca snapped. “Every piece must be rewashed. Fetch some sweet wine for us, then set your hand to the task.” Turning to Allegra, she whispered, “Francesco expects my undergarments to be pristine. It’s so hard to find good help these days. Tell me, what brings you here, my best and dearest friend?”
Allegra removed the sketches from a satchel. “La Castagna drew these and Maestro Domenico asked for my opinion on them. Since I don’t possess half of your sophistication, I thought I’d show them to you.”
Flattered, Bianca put on her most serious face as she studied the designs. “These are unusual,” she commented, peering closely at one in particular.
“Do you like them?”
“Unique and bold, like many of his other pieces.”
“Yes, but are they any good?”
Bianca looked up. “Good? They’re wonderful! The man never ceases to amaze me. Is he accepting commissions for these?”
Trying to hide her excitement, Allegra replied, “I’m certain Maestro Domenico can convince him to create a few of them.”
Bianca indicated two sketches. “I simply must have these in gold.”
“Don’t you wish to consult with Francesco first?”
“He’ll approve, I’m sure.”
“How is he these days? It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”
Bianca smiled a bit too sweetly. “Our love grows daily.”
Chapter 22
“Mio figlio!”
&nb
sp; The anguished cry was immediately followed by screams. Allegra ran to the window as Gianna burst into the workshop.
Allegra hastily removed her leather work apron. “What happened?”
“Something bad by the sound of it.”
They flew downstairs and pounded on the outer gate of the palazzo across the street until a stricken servant opened the door.
“We heard Donna Luisa’s screams. Is everything all right?”
“Young Master Osvaldo is dead,” the girl explained.
Allegra and Gianna shoved past the girl, closing the door on the curious onlookers gathered in the street. The servant led them upstairs to the boy’s bedchamber where the lady of the house was being revived from a swoon in the arms of her maid. Young Osvaldo stared up at the ceiling from his bed with lifeless eyes and bluish lips.
“How did this happen?” Allegra demanded of the maid.
“We have no idea, Signorina,” the woman replied. “He was as fit as a bull yesterday…”
“Where is your master?”
“In Calabria.” Donna Luisa stirred and, when she opened her eyes, she began screaming again. “I must prepare something to calm her.”
“Stay and comfort your mistress,” Allegra said. “My maid will do it.”
The woman looked at Gianna and inquired, “Do you know how to make a strong draught?”
After years of administering draughts to Stefania Rossi, Gianna knew how to make them potent enough to send a horse into oblivion. “I do,” she replied. “I’ll return shortly.”
Donna Luisa freed herself from the arms of her servant and threw herself over her son’s body. “My son!”
Allegra patted the grieving mother’s back while staring at young Osvaldo’s face. She had glimpsed the healthy adolescent through the window less than a week ago.
As if reading her thoughts, the maid whispered, “Yesterday was his thirteenth birthday.”
It was late afternoon by the time Allegra reentered the workshop. She donned her apron, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything after seeing young Osvaldo’s lifeless body. Thirteen years old. Unknown cause of death. Could she, too, simply die for no apparent reason? The possibility made her suddenly and uncomfortably aware of her own mortality.