by Julie Matern
“I will think on it, Papa.”
Francesca kissed them both and went out into the gardens. She wandered around the tended area and then glided into the rows of vines. The grapes were immature; small and green, but the branches were loaded, which promised a good harvest.
Her mind churned like the bottom of a water mill. Papa was right; her heart wanted to run to her natural father, but she was not a child, and she could well understand the ramifications. A legal document that protected her might be the answer. She was not even entirely sure yet that she was wholly comfortable with the knowledge that her father was of low birth. She had been raised to believe that there were intellectual and social differences between the classes, as well as cultural ones. What if she was revolted by her natural father’s manners or way of speech? Did she feel that a relationship with a servant, though he be her father, was beneath her? If he sensed that she was ashamed of him, how would that make him feel? She honestly could not anticipate her reaction, though she hoped that she would behave well. She had felt such an instant kinship with Giorgio. Would she feel such a one with her natural father? The questions chased around and around in her head.
“Francesca!”
She looked up to see her grandfather sitting on a bench and smiling and rushed to his side, seeking comfort.
Though oral language was a barrier, the language of love was universal. He took her hand, placing her head on his shoulder and they sat together in a companionable silence, drinking in one another’s presence.
T
After they had eaten lunch and Francesca had talked about her thoughts and feelings on the matter, John presented the arguments to Mario so that he might translate for Giorgio.
After a short silence, Giorgio spoke and Mario’s expression became more serious.
“Giorgio say that he think Francesca’s birth father would take offense in beginning, if a contract like this come to him, but after some time he would see that it is wise. But he can see also could make a barrier between them. I Mario agree. It is how I would feel.”
Giorgio nodded and continued. “Francesca, it your decision. I met your father. He intelligent man. It is risk, but worth it.”
Francesca nodded. “After listening to everyone’s opinions and after much consideration on the topic myself, I believe that the legal document is the most prudent way forward, though I do agree with Papa, it is only fair to send him the document in advance.”
“Good!” replied John. “Then let us secure the services of a lawyer.”
T
ENGLAND
“My lady, we have rung the gong and his Lordship has not appeared. Shall we begin serving dinner or should we wait … ?” The butler pursed his lips in anticipation.
“Well, what could be keeping him?” said Lady Augusta, “Wait a while and I will go in search of him.”
A worrying train of thought was standing off the stage in the wings of her consciousness and she shooed it away until it turned tail and ran. She opened the door to her husband’s study but it was dark and smelled stale. She closed the door and moved on to the library. It was quiet and heavy.
Ascending the stairs to enter his changing room, she found it was empty as well, but as she swept her skirt behind her to exit the room, she thought she heard a primal, guttural sound. Her first thought was that an animal was trapped in the room. However, as she entered further, she realized that the sound was emanating from the other side of the door. She placed her hand on the cold door knob and turned it slowly, terrified of what might lay beyond. As the door cracked open, no light escaped, and on opening it fully, she could see that the room was entirely black. She felt her way over to the bed and as her eyes adjusted, became aware of a large shape on the bed that was shaking.
“John?” she ventured, in a strangled whisper.
The black shape groaned and she clasped her heart, the ugly fears inching back to the wings of her mind. Going to the window, she opened the curtain a fraction to let in a sliver of light but the figure on the bed moaned and raised an arm to block it.
“Are you ill, John?”
She desperately hoped this was the cause of his malaise as the alternative was too awful to contemplate. The unnerving sound of a grown man weeping shook her to her foundations.
“Oh, that I were only ill!” moaned the figure. “We are ruined, Augusta. Ruined!”
Twenty-Nine
UV
ITALY
The horse bucked, and Antonio apologized for being rough with the brush. As head groom, he was no longer obliged to brush the horses, but today he needed somewhere to exhaust his nervous energy.
Ever since receiving the message that his natural daughter desired to visit him, he had both dreaded and longed for the meeting. The letter had included a legal document, drawn up to protect the interests of the child. It had irritated him. He understood the way the world worked as well as anyone—perhaps better, having had his heart torn to shreds by it and having the knowledge of his child kept from him. His child. In spite of the provocation, a tenderness was working its way through his soul.
Tossing and turning in bed during the night, he had reviewed the short time he had had with Isabella, dragging out memories he usually kept deeply buried. Though it had been many years, he still easily conjured up the image of her in full riding habit at the stable doors, silhouetted by the morning sun. She’d had such spirit, so unlike other great ladies who simpered and twittered and did nothing more taxing than needlework.
The horse flicked its head and whinnied and he thought it better to drop the brush and leave the poor animal alone.
He went to his office and shut the door, something he rarely did. Sitting down roughly in his chair, he gazed out the window at nothing in particular, biding his time. A sharp knock on the door shot him from his reverie.
T
If it were possible, Francesca was even more nervous to meet her natural father than she had been to meet her natural grandfather. She had skipped breakfast and eaten a very light lunch. The lawyer had written up a legal agreement to everyone’s satisfaction, and it had been sent ahead a few days before. Giorgio’s doctor had not given permission for the journey, which would take several days, so they were making the trip with Mario as an attendant.
T
At last the traveling came to an end in the forecourt of a fashionable villa, set among a large park. Mario went ahead to determine the lay of the land. A stable boy took Mario to an office and he knocked sharply at the door. It quickly opened to reveal a man close to his own age, with curly dark hair that was graying at the temples. He was of an athletic build and appeared more refined than Mario had expected. It was a promising beginning.
Mario introduced himself, and Antonio moved aside to allow him entrance while calling to someone and asking them to go in search of a third party. Antonio then settled himself behind his desk. “I have read the document, though I do not pretend to be conversant with the legal language and have secured the services of a legal clerk from the town who has read it and explained the details to me. I will sign it with him present as a witness. I have just sent a boy to retrieve him from the town. It will take no more than twenty minutes. I must confess, I found its tone quite offensive, but I have accepted the terms.”
Mario nodded, impressed by the groom’s forethought and intelligence. He, himself, would never sign a legal document he did not understand.
T
What could be taking so long? The sun was at its zenith and though the carriage was stationed under a large tree it began to be very hot. The harsh bite of blood filled Francesca’s mouth, and she realized that she had chewed the inside of her cheek to pieces. Her mother and father were sleeping gently, due to the heat and the long drive. How they could sleep she did not know! The anticipation was about to undo her.
She looked out of the window yet again for signs of Mario and sank back in utter despair of him ever returning. She harbored real fears that she might find her natural father uncou
th and rough and be very disappointed. She despised herself for the thought.
She took out a little mirror from her reticule, pinched her cheeks and bit her lips so that she might look her best, and twirled a curl around her finger. The crunch of gravel signaled the long-awaited return of Mario with the signed document, and she gently shook her parents awake. The time had finally arrived.
T
Every nerve was standing to attention as Antonio heard the footsteps of several people approach his office. His neck was so tight that it began to give him a headache, and he breathed in deeply to relax. As the party entered the open door, he gasped and put his hand on the desk to steady himself; he was looking at a ghost.
T
As Francesca rounded the door she inhaled deeply to muster her courage. There were two men in the room, one rather aged with white hair and a beard and the other middle-aged with dark curls and a handsome face. She looked around in some confusion.
“Buongiorno, Senorita Haversham. I am Antonio.”
She moved toward him with a hesitant step. He did not reach out to embrace her as Giorgio had. In fact, she could not read the expression on his face at all, so she lifted her hand for him to kiss in the formal manner. After a beat, he took her gloved hand, kissed it, and then bowed. It was all very formal and awkward.
Sensing this, John Haversham stepped boldly forward and shook hands with the man warmly, the effect of which was to crack the eggshell atmosphere. Antonio’s tense shoulders dropped in relief, and his face broke into an engaging smile.
“I trust you are not offended by the legalities,” said John. “English society is very unforgiving, and I know that you would not wish to harm Francesca’s chance at a suitable marriage.” He looked to Mario to translate.
Antonio replied through Mario, “I understand. Now I see her, I not want to hurt her future. Please to sit.”
Antonio could not take his eyes from his newly discovered daughter. She was her mother’s very image, and only the shape of her eyes could he attribute to himself. He was aware that her adoptive mother was valiantly keeping up a polite conversation, but for Antonio it was background, for the room was slowly spinning as the surreal nature of the situation broke over him like a welcome shower of rain in the heat. He felt dazed and a little as though he had had too much wine; pleasantly joyful and feeling that all was well in the world. It was a sensation he was unaccustomed to.
He eventually became aware that the background noise had stopped, and as he dragged his eyes away from Francesca’s lovely face, he noticed that all eyes in the room were on him, expectantly.
“I apologize. It is a beautiful dream. I not want to wake.” Mario translated.
“Of course,” said Emily kindly. “We can appreciate how this changes everything. She certainly changed our world for the better!”
T
The next hour was spent in asking and answering questions as though Antonio and Francesca were the only people in the room. He wanted to know every detail of her life in England, her passions, and her heartaches. She in turn wanted to hear of his feelings for her mother and his life since they parted.
Realizing, at length, that this might not be of interest to the whole party, he suggested that they all take a stroll around the grounds of the villa, enabling him to continue his friendly interrogation.
Antonio had never felt such emotions before. His heart, which had hardened over the years of self-imposed solitude, had been softened in just one afternoon in the company of his daughter and the invisible thread of paternal love was thickening to a sturdy rope that would bind him willingly to this young woman for the rest of his life. As she spoke, a part of him mourned missing her childhood, but this was no time for remorse, and he swept the feelings aside. He watched in wonder at her beauty, elegance, and good humor.
As she approached the horses and petted their noses, he noticed that there was a natural affinity between them; something else from him, then.
“You like to ride, yes?”
“I love to ride! It is my favorite pastime. Mama says it is unbecoming to ride so much.”
“Like Isabella, then. She would rather ride than do anything else.”
“Did she? That explains so much!”
Her parents smiled back as she bestowed a look of triumph on them.
She excused herself from Antonio and went to whisper to her parents, returning to declare that her parents had agreed to stay in the area for the next few days. His heart leaped at the thought that she was not ashamed of him and that her affection for him was growing. A life that had been satisfying but gray was blossoming into many colors.
T
“He is a fine and worthy man, is he not, Papa?”
The carriage lurched and dipped as it traveled back to the pensionne.
“I confess that I am pleasantly surprised at how well he presents himself. It is no small feat to rise from a stable boy with no education to head groom for an establishment of considerable size. He has used his talents and time wisely.”
“I am so happy that you approve of him, Papa! For myself, I like him very much. It almost seems an insult to have asked him to sign the document.”
“And that is why a young girl needs parents to guide her through this perilous world. You cannot know a man’s true character after one afternoon! To his credit, he saw the wisdom of the protection such a document afforded you and was willing to sign it as an act of good faith. Imagine if he had been some ignorant fool who saw in you a chance to make his fortune!”
“I suppose if you put it like that! However, he is not a fool and is very pleasant company. I think it is requisite that I begin to learn Italian, do you not, Mama?”
“I believe it would be a very good idea for all of us, now that we have added an Italian contingent to our family!”
T
Over the next few days, Antonio took them to many attractions in the area, and he and Francesca established a solid foundation for a lasting relationship.
As the Havershams readied to depart, Antonio stepped forward to kiss Francesca’s hand. Instead, Francesca gave him a sudden hug which he returned without hesitation.
“As per the agreement, we will return next year,” said John.
Antonio bowed and quickly turned before his face betrayed the sudden sadness that engulfed him. Francesca was left to watch him depart with a quivering lip and a deep void in her soul.
Thirty
UV
ITALY
The journey back to the vineyard estate seemed much quicker without the anticipation, though on the return she did notice the beauties of the countryside. She was fast falling in love with Italy and was joyful that her new future would include regular visits.
On the second day, the entire party had dropped off to sleep due to the hypnotic bouncing of the carriage when they were awakened by loud, fast hooves approaching and the subsequent braking of their vehicle. John pulled up the blind to ascertain what was happening.
Mario, who rode beside the carriage, was deep in conversation with another man on horseback who was handing him a letter. All three Havershams pressed their faces to the tiny window to learn the reason for the delay. Their question was soon answered as Mario approached and John opened the carriage door.
“It is Signore Giaccopazzi. He is very ill! I must go.”
“Of course, of course,” replied John.
“Do not delay, Signore. The doctor say he may not last the week.”
Emily looked at her daughter, whose eyes had grown as round as an owl’s and whose face was tight with anguish. John closed the door as Mario sped off.
“But I have only just met him! It is cruel for him to be taken away just as we were making each other’s acquaintance! Oh, I cannot bear it!” cried Francesca.
Emily pulled her daughter’s head onto her own shoulder and gently placed a soothing arm around her. Life truly was merciless at times.
T
Mario rode hard trying, without success, to keep
his concern for Giorgio at bay. Dawn was hardly breaking as he raced into the forecourt of the villa and handed off the horse to a groom. He raced up the stairs without ceremony and made his way hastily to the door of Giorgio’s bedchamber. After knocking gently, he was admitted by the doctor whose solemn expression was less than encouraging. The room was dark and stuffy and reeked of death. His throat ached and he swallowed hard. “Is he … ?”
“He clings to life, my friend. He is fighting to keep the reaper at bay until Francesca returns, I believe, but I fear he is losing the battle. He suffered another heart attack in the night. His heart is very weak.”
Mario went to the bedside and knelt, taking Giorgio’s hand in his own. There was a faint flicker of the eyelids but no other recognition.
“We must prepare for the end,” ventured the doctor. Mario nodded.
“Did you know that he has written a new will?” asked the doctor. Mario turned his head sharply.
“He called for the attorney after you all left. He was very happy when it was completed and smiled in his sleep. I know only that he has provided for the young woman and yourself, but I have no knowledge of the details.”
Mario nodded again and realized that his life was about to change dramatically.
T
The Havershams rode all through the night and changed horses twice over the next two days. There was little quality sleep, and everyone’s nerves were over exercised. Francesca was unusually terse, but her parents did not condemn it and she was quick to apologize. They ate small amounts and did so hurriedly, merely eating to keep the hunger pangs at bay.
At last they arrived, some three days after Mario had left them. The household staff rushed to welcome them and usher them into the somber house. The day was bright and sunny and filled with the smell of flowers, but the atmosphere inside spoke of sadness.
Mario came down to greet them with a falsely bright expression that duped no one. Francesca grasped her mother’s hand.
“He lives,” he said. “But the end is near. He asks for you, Francesca.”