“I hope it was quick,” Jianna whispered. “I hope he didn’t suffer.”
“The explosion itself was the work of an instant. He saved us, and more important, he saved our endeavor. But for him, we should have failed at the very last instant, and all would have been lost.”
“And yet, so many say that Father was a traitor and a villain. He was hated—until I left Vitrisi, I hadn’t the smallest idea how greatly he was hated, and by so many. I never stopped loving him, but even I came to see that he had done much ill and caused much harm.”
“Ah, my dear, I’ve spent a lifetime trying not to see that. He was flawed, certainly, but in the end he performed a service that far outweighs all else. The world will hear little of it, and his name will be reviled. But those among us who practice the arcane arts, those who glimpse something of hidden truth, will never forget what Aureste did for us.”
Sonnetia Corvestri sat in the chamber that she had shared for so many years of married life. Now it was hers alone. Her late husband’s personal belongings still lay all about, but she scarcely saw them. Her eyes and mind focused on the open casket resting on the desk before her. It had reached her some two days earlier, accompanied by a gracious and graceful note from the Magnifico Innesq Belandor, expressing his conviction that the former owner Aureste would doubtless have desired to see the box and its contents placed in her hands.
The exterior of the casket was smoke-stained, and even charred in spots. It must somehow have been saved from the great fire at Belandor House. The contents had survived virtually undamaged; an odd assortment of mementos, including among other items, a bundle of old letters, a curl of chestnut hair tied with a green ribbon, a handkerchief, and a pair of grey kid gloves, cut and pierced to display a lining of emerald silk. She knew these articles; she knew them all. She had never dispatched the handkerchief or the gloves to Aureste. One of her servants must have stolen them. The other things were rich with personal history.
She unfolded one of the old letters and glanced briefly at the first line, then looked away. No further prompting was necessary. The written lines winged across her mind. For a time she lost herself in her memories, until a rap on the bedchamber door recalled her to the present.
“Come,” she invited mechanically.
The door opened, and Vinzille entered. Advancing to the desk, he halted before her. He was looking distinctly older and more adult these days, but the exact reason was unclear. He had gained something in height, but that did not entirely explain the effect. She thought it might have something to do with the expression in his eyes.
“Mother.” His voice was unpredictable, in the process of change. “Dinner’s about to be served. Aren’t you coming down?”
“Not tonight,” she returned tonelessly.
“But Cousin Fresquo and his family are back in town, and tonight’s their first night here. They’ll miss you.”
“I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“That’s not true. You’re always good company. Please come down.”
“Another evening, perhaps.” It occurred to her, for the first time, that her young son now possessed the power to command her presence, should he wish. He was, after all, the new Magnifico Corvestri.
“You’ve been holed up here in your room ever since we got back home. You never come out.” Vinzille hesitated, eyeing the casket, whose significance he seemed to recognize upon instinct. “Is it because of that—” He appeared to swallow some unpalatable descriptive term, and concluded civilly, “Because of the Magnifico Belandor?”
“Let’s not speak of him. We’ll only quarrel, and I don’t want that.”
“I don’t either. But I do want to understand you. You’re mourning that man?”
“Why plague yourself—and me—with such questions? You detested Aureste, and never could see a particle of good in him.”
“That was true once, but it’s not the whole truth anymore. I’ll never forget what he did to Father. And to the Magnifica Yvenza, as well. If I live to be a hundred years old, I’ll never forgive him. But there’s something else I can’t forget—he saved all of us, and died doing it. Even I can’t say that he was altogether evil. So if you must grieve for the Magnifico Belandor, Mother, you needn’t hide yourself away. I won’t be angry. I won’t accuse, or reproach you, or place blame where I shouldn’t. I don’t want to fight with you. I want things to be right between us again.”
“That’s what I want, too.” Sonnetia’s eyes filled. “More than anything in the world.”
He stretched forth his hand, and she took it in both of her own.
“And therefore, I have given my consent to the match,” Innesq Belandor concluded his brief explanatory statement. “No doubt we stand united in our desire to ensure the future happiness of our niece and Dr. Rione.”
“Impossible.” Nalio Belandor’s face purpled. “Completely absurd. Impossible. You see that, don’t you, brother?”
Jianna suppressed a sigh. Her younger uncle’s reaction to the news of her unorthodox betrothal only confirmed her expectations. The scene was certain to prove tiresome, but family duty obliged her to endure it. She sat with her two kinsmen and her future husband at a polished table in a chamber she had never seen before. It was new—a space carved out of the ruins of two small bedchambers, and now fitted out as a conference hall suited to private but significant Belandor discussions. The room, decorated in pale grey and silver blue, picked out with unexpected touches of deep cinnabar, was intimate in scale, yet formal in aspect; elegant, but entirely comfortable. Jianna observed her surroundings with grudging approval. Uncle Nalio possessed undeniably excellent taste; in design and interior decoration, at least. A pity that discerning judgment couldn’t extend to larger issues.
“The young people have made their choice,” Innesq returned. “I would not deny them.”
“The young people! What lunacy is this? Who are they to choose? A reckless, ungovernable, empty-headed girl, and a—a—what is this fellow, again? Oh yes, an ambitious physician eager to exploit her foolishness.”
He’s the best man in the entire world, and worth about a thousand of you, dungbrain, thought Jianna, but kept the words scrupulously contained. There was no point in quarreling with Nalio, and no need. His opinion hardly counted.
“Come, brother, I am certain that you wrong Dr. Rione. He is a young man of immense talent and fine character. He is a welcome addition to our family.”
“He might be a welcome addition to the family of our steward or our cook. He is not an addition of any description to our own.”
“Sir, we hope to wed with your consent and approval.” Rione spoke evenly. “But we shall marry without either, if need be.”
“Hold your tongue, fellow,” Nalio commanded. “Remember your place. My brother may brook your impudence, if he so desires. Be assured that I will not.”
“Whose impudence?” Jianna’s temper was slipping its bonds.
“And you be quiet, too.” Nalio’s pointing finger jabbed air at her. “No more of your—your—your deviltry. Sit still, and behave.”
“Behave? Would you like to know exactly what I think of—” On the verge of rising from her chair, Jianna caught Innesq’s eye, and subsided. His unspoken message was clear. There was no need to quarrel with Nalio. Expelling her breath, she assumed an expression of meek humility suitable to the occasion.
“Brother, I understand your misgivings, and I appreciate your concern for the welfare of our House,” Innesq declared. “In this case, however, I see little cause for alarm. In any event, I have given my consent.” His tone was quiet and easy, his expression cordial, but he spoke with the authority of the Magnifico Belandor, possessing strength of will at least equal to if not exceeding that of his dead brother Aureste.
“Madness. Madness.” Nalio appeared to have swallowed spoiled fish.
“Take heart. We shall do very well,” Innesq soothed. Turning to Jianna and Rione, he remarked, “And now, youngsters, we confront var
ious decisions. To begin with, how do you propose to live? It is my dearest wish that you take up permanent residence here at Belandor House, but as to that, you must follow your own inclination.”
“To live here in deepest seclusion,” Nalio suggested. He brightened. “There’s a room in the north wing, very agreeable, at the extreme rear of the building. There’s a private entrance, and nobody need see you coming or going. Perhaps you needn’t come and go at all. You might simply remain indoors.”
“We’ve discussed the matter, Magnifico,” Rione addressed Innesq. “We can’t speak for the future. Someday, we may go elsewhere. At present, however, we accept your offer with gratitude. We shall be very happy to live here beneath your roof.”
“I am delighted to hear it. There are many suites empty and available. You may wish to look them over and decide which best suits your taste. If you wish, a corridor or gallery shall be set aside for your use. You will decorate and adorn your space as you see fit.”
“Oh. Oh.” Nalio’s sharp intake of breath bespoke a sudden wound.
“I’m certain that my uncle Nalio’s work allows for no improvement.” Jianna decided to present a peace offering. “His taste is impeccable.”
Nalio threw her a glance of narrow-eyed suspicion.
“Another question of some importance,” Innesq continued. “I believe I already know the answer, but will ask all the same. Falaste, my dear lad, do you intend to continue your medical practice? I need hardly point out that my niece’s dowry will free you of all future need to earn a living.”
“If there’s a dowry, it will be placed in Jianna’s hands,” Rione returned. “It will be hers to do with as she wishes. As for me, I’m a physician, and mean to continue as such.”
“As I expected. Many years ago, your father was personal physician to our family. I still recall his face—yours is not unlike. Do you wish to assume your father’s position?”
“And then our niece in blood is yoked to a family retainer?” Nalio pressed a clenched fist to his brow. “Innesq. I urge you to consider. The Belandor name, our stature in the world … We’ll be held up to ridicule. Think!”
“As to that, you needn’t fear,” Rione informed him. “I thank you for the offer, Magnifico. You’re most generous, but I don’t wish to confine myself to a single House. I prefer to serve a broader range of patients, and will either accept a position at the Avorno Hospital or else, if feasible, set up my own practice.”
“Excellent, my boy.” Innesq nodded.
“Avorno Hospital?” Nalio’s apparent dyspepsia intensified. “Am I mistaken, or is that not a charitable institution?”
“It is, sir,” Rione replied.
“Crammed to the rafters, is it not, with unwashed, diseased, malodorous indigents?”
“It could be described as such.”
“I knew it! Surely you now see reason!” Nalio entreated his brother. “You see how it will be. This—this—this fellow will spend his days among the human dregs, wallowing in tainted blood and filth, then carry the contagion back to Belandor House. All the foul spew of the city will be funneled into our home. You cannot allow it!”
“Come, you overstate matters,” Innesq returned. “I believe it well within Dr. Rione’s power to avoid infection. And if perchance he proves unlucky, then it is well within my power to assist him.”
“Oh, I’m sure it pleases you to think so. But you might be wrong! What then, Innesq—what then? No, it’s as unsafe as it is unseemly and unsanitary! We can’t have it!”
“You distress yourself needlessly. Trust in my judgment if you can. Neither our lives nor our family reputation stand in danger.”
“You—you—you say so. But I tell you this. If you insist on following this abominable course that exposes us to ridicule and dishonor, not to mention pestilence and scrofula, then precautions must—must be taken. This fellow must never mingle freely with us, or sit at the family table. He must live apart, take his meals in his own room, and never enter Belandor House before he has been thoroughly doused with suitable cleansing agents and exfoliators.”
For all his conscientious courtesy, Rione could not suppress an amused quirk of the lips.
Jianna did not share his amusement. Her younger uncle still possessed the power to infuriate her.
“That’s the most insulting, asinine thing I’ve ever heard!” she burst out. “When you’re busy scrubbing Falaste down with exfoliators, you’d best plan on doing the same to me, because I’ll be right beside him, working in that hospital among all those unwashed, diseased, malodorous indigents. And don’t expect either one of us to take meals in our room!”
“There’s the proof! The final, conclusive proof! You see it now, don’t you, Innesq?” Nalio’s air of assumed sorrow barely masked triumph. “Our hapless niece has fallen into madness. Only madness explains her wild notions and wilder deeds. I wonder that I didn’t recognize it long ago. But now that we finally comprehend the nature of her malady, her family can take the necessary steps. The pitiful maidenlady must be sequestered and confined, for her own protection. We can see to it that she’s shielded from her own folly, and lovingly restrained from harming herself or others.”
“Oh, you repulsive little rodent—” Jianna commenced, with feeling.
“Come, let us not lose sight of our purpose,” Innesq cut in gently. “There is nothing wrong with Jianna’s mind. But I must confess, my dear, that your aim to work at Falaste’s side, in the hospital or elsewhere, takes me quite by surprise.”
“It surprises me, too,” observed Rione.
“It does?” Jianna looked from one to the other. Both beloved faces were filled with a doubt and uneasiness that she had not expected to encounter. “But I did it for a long time, and thought my assistance useful and welcome.”
“It was splendid, and welcome indeed, but circumstances were very different.” Rione frowned. “Noro Penzia was free to work—indeed, obliged to do so. But Jianna Belandor, a physician’s assistant?”
“Jianna Rione,” she corrected.
“Nevertheless, it’s a strange notion.”
“It’s a lunatic notion!” Nalio interjected. “Even this fellow can see it! Brother, do something!”
“Uncle Innesq—Falaste—is it so very wrong of me to put my best talents to highest use?” Jianna contrived to ignore her junior uncle’s existence. “And in doing so, to help those in need? Should I be cowed by the fear of what people might think, and what they might say?”
“She cares only for her own satisfaction,” Nalio complained. “She hasn’t a thought for the rest of us! Typical.”
“There is a certain measure of truth in that,” Innesq conceded, to Jianna’s amazement. “My dear, your determination to wed the man of your choice is unusual, but hardly the first instance of its kind. The reputation and stature of House Belandor will suffer little—they have sustained far worse. But for a lady of our House to seek employment that many in the world would deem menial—well, to the best of my knowledge, such a thing has never happened before.”
“Well, and what if it hasn’t?” Jianna shrugged. “I can be the first, then. I care nothing for gossip and censure. People may say what they please.”
“You may care nothing, my dear, but not all of us are so fortunate. I hope you will not forget that you are a member of a great House, all of us bound by ties of blood and loyalty. The actions of one affect all. Thus, a daringly unconventional move on your part could well damage the matrimonial prospects of dozens of your young cousins, greatly diminishing their prospects of future happiness and security.”
Jianna was silent.
“Professional advancement within our family—army careers, diplomatic posts, rewards, offices, grants, and benefits of every kind—all of these things might be lost by reason of your freaks and fooleries,” Nalio elaborated. “Never thought of that, did you?”
Stung, she fired back, “Unlike you, I don’t believe that the actions of one harmless maidenlady are apt to bring all o
f House Belandor crashing in ruins.”
“House Belandor will survive, my dear,” Innesq assured her. “But make no mistake, there will be repercussions.”
“Then you don’t believe that any woman of our family should ever turn her hand to legitimate employment of any kind outside the home?”
“I have not said so. Indeed, I think it just and fitting that gentlewomen enjoy such liberty. But the time is not yet ripe.”
“How will anyone know when it’s ripe? Somebody has to be the first to do it. She’ll bring trouble upon herself, perhaps, and her House may see her as an embarrassment—or even cast her off—and yet somebody must be first.”
“And must that somebody be you, my dear?”
“Save your breath, brother. There’s no reasoning with this abandoned creature. Happily, the choice doesn’t belong to her.” Nalio turned to Rione. “So, then. Here’s your chance to prove yourself a man. Tell this self-willed hussy that she’s to stay at home. You might have her barred from the hospital.”
“I might,” Rione agreed with a slight smile. “That thought has occurred to me. But I’ll leave the choice to Jianna, on condition that she consider the matter for not less than the space of a fortnight.”
“She consider! As if she possessed a mind capable of such a function! She should have stayed in prison, there’s no place more fitting!”
He knew I was in prison? thought Jianna. Suspicion dawned.
The Wanderers Page 39