Francesca (6 page)

The dayroom was comfortably furnished. Its walls were paneled in a warm lightish wood. Windows gave view to the forest surrounding the castle and the high mountains beyond. The stone fireplace was flanked by two carved, seated lions. The furniture was a golden oak, old but well cared for. Tapestries hung on the paneled walls, and carpets adorned the stone floors.

Returning to the bedchamber, she admired the bucolic and romantic scenes painted upon the walls. Even the ceilings showed plump naked and seminaked gods, goddesses, and cupids enjoying a picnic within a summer meadow. Like the furniture in the dayroom, that within this room was golden oak. Her bed was hung with pale green velvet, and Terza had already made it up with Francesca’s scented sheets, pillows, and silk and down comforter. I am really looking forward to a good sleep tonight, Francesca thought.

Terza bustled out of the bathing room. “Let’s get you into your tub. Then you will have time for a short nap before I must dress you,” she said. She quickly undressed her mistress and led her quickly into the hot tub.

Francesca sank down into the water. She closed her eyes and a small smile touched her features. The little travel tub this morning had not been scented with exotic rose oil, nor held the heat as well as this wonderful tub did. Terza climbed the steps to the tub, and, kneeling, began to wash Francesca’s beautiful hair as her mistress rubbed a finely milled soap containing the rose fragrance over her body. She loved the sensation of luxury on her body and suddenly wondered if a man’s hands upon her would rouse those same feelings.

When she had finished bathing and her hair had been toweled and brushed dry, then rubbed with silk cloth to bring up its shine, Francesca donned a delicate silk chemise and lay down to rest. When she finally awoke she rose so Terza might dress her.

The gown chosen was elegant but reasonably simple. Softly pleated, its turquoise, light velvet skirts were neither fitted nor full, but hung gracefully over two silk petticoats and a sleeveless cloth of silver underdress. The bodice was tightly fitted with an open center panel that revealed the underdress. The neckline was square, not so low as to reveal her breasts, but low enough to show a bit of ripe cleavage. The turned-back cuffs on her sleeves were trimmed with exquisite cream-colored lace. She wore plain silk stockings and heelless leather slippers, but neither could be seen beneath her long skirts.

About her neck Francesca wore a red-gold chain from which hung a heart-shaped pink diamond that flashed and sparkled. Her long reddish-golden hair had been brushed into loose waves, and against all tradition she wore nothing in her hair or on her head.

Terza stepped back and smiled gleefully. “He cannot fail to be taken by you, and your rivals will have a bitter taste in their mouths this night.”

“But it’s so simple,” Francesca said.

“Precisely!” Terza crowed. “And your attitude must match your garments. Do not endeavor to deliberately attract his attention. Allow him to come to you, and then be nothing more than polite. Do not fawn over him like the others will do. Speak with his father instead. It will drive this boy wild with jealousy.” Then the maidservant escorted her mistress from her apartments to the Great Hall of the castle. “Remember my words,” she hissed softly, leaving her at the entrance.

Francesca entered the hall, her carriage tall and straight as she directed her feet towards the high board where she knew she would be seated tonight.

Duke Titus leaned over to his son and whispered into his ear. “Is she not glorious, Rafaello? What grace, what elegance and style, what hair! And a mother who has produced seven living children.”

“It is all as you point out,
Padre
, but I want more in a woman, as you well know,” the younger man responded. “I rode disguised with the huntsmen and Valiant this morning to welcome the Florentines. I found the girl arrogant. She did not smile or exclaim with delight at her forester escort. I would have thought her pleased and honored that your men came out to greet her.”

“She is a Florentine, Rafaello. She has been brought up to have elegant manners. I imagine had either of the other two been greeted in such an enthusiastic manner they would have been taken aback as well,” Duke Titus told his son. “Give her a chance.”

Farther down the high board Francesca’s two rivals attempted to study her as she came into the hall. She mounted the dais and was seated between Duke Titus and his heir.

Aceline du Barry narrowed her dark blue eyes. “She has a proud air about her for a silk merchant’s daughter,” the French girl observed.

“Her gown is lovely,” Louisa di Genoa said.

“She appears overproud,” Aceline replied.

“Don’t you recall how nervous you were the first night you arrived when the banquet was for you?”

“The du Barrys are never afraid or nervous,” Aceline answered her.

“Well, I certainly was,” Louisa admitted.

“Of course you were,” Aceline agreed. “You are, after all, only a duke’s
bastarda
.”

“I am rarely reminded of the low status I hold,” Louisa said quietly. “My family is far too polite to do so, and my father would have whipped anyone who dared to voice it. You are thoughtful to recollect it for me.” She smiled a sweet smile that did not extend to her amber eyes.

“We should not be enemies,” Aceline murmured. “If we band together against the Florentine it makes our chances with Rafaello all the better.”

Louisa laughed low. “You can have the duke’s heir,” she said. “He scares me quite to death. He is so big and powerful. I want a gentler man for my husband.”

“How can you not want Rafaello? He is handsome and very rich,” the French girl responded. “Since girls have no choice in a husband I should just as soon have one like Rafaello than a poor, weak man.”

“I think his friend, Valiant, even more handsome, and he is so kind,” Louisa said.

“And poor. He is a third son, for goodness’s sake.” Aceline was shocked that any sensible girl would want a poor man, no matter his appearance.

“Keep your rivalry for
Signorina
Francesca, Aceline,” Louisa told the French girl.

The servers began arriving with a variety of dishes that were passed among the guests. There was local trout, sliced and served on a bed of bright green watercress, stewed eels in wine sauce, and creamed salted cod. There was a roasted wild boar and venison, along with roasted capons and ducks. There was pasta with butter and freshly grated cheese, and green salad. Several loaves of newly baked breads were scattered on each table, along with butter. And when the main meal had been cleared away, bowls of fresh fruit were offered, including individual little bowls of mixed berries that were for the high board alone. As the duke had promised it was a very simple meal.

The entertainment was quiet, just a few musicians playing softly in a small gallery above the hall itself. Francesca had been introduced to Rafaello upon being seated. She greeted him politely and even gave him a small smile. But following Terza’s advice it was the duke she engaged in conversation for much of the meal. Rafaello did not know whether to be amused or offended, but how could he take offense because she spoke with his father?

The diners descended from the dais, and now it was the duke who drew Francesca forward to introduce her to the two other girls. “This, my child, is Aceline Marie du Barry,” Duke Titus said. He reached for the French girl’s hand and brought her so that she stood before Francesca. “She is the daughter of the Comte du Barry, who makes his home in the Franche-Comté.”

Francesca curtsied politely to the French girl, noting that she was very pretty with her shiny deep brown hair and rosy complexion. “I am pleased to meet you, mademoiselle,” the silk merchant’s daughter said in perfect French.

“You may speak to me in your own language,” Aceline replied, surprised that Francesca spoke French and had been polite enough to use it. She curtsied back. What a bitch, she thought irritably as she stepped back so Duke Titus might bring the other girl forth for introductions.

“And this, my dear Francesca, is Louisa Maria di Genoa, of the Duke of Genoa’s family,” the old man said.

“I’m so glad to meet you at last,” Louisa said, curtsying. “I want to hear all about Florence. I’ve never been outside of Genoa until now.”

“I spent a bit over a year in Venice at my grandfather, Prince Venier’s, palazzo,” Francesca replied, curtsying back. “Florence is a bit dull for me, but Venice is all color!”

She had decided she already liked Louisa, with her lovely amber eyes and her black hair.

There was genuine warmth about the girl. Francesca was quite certain that they would be friends by the time they parted. Aceline du Barry was another matter altogether.

Duke Titus smiled. “I am pleased to see that you are all so amenable to one another,” he told them. “We will have a fine summer together and hopefully a very happy ending for one of you. But the two my son declines will not go unrewarded for their efforts, I promise you.”

Chapter 3

F
rancesca slept well her first night in Terreno Boscoso. The bed was more than comfortable. Terza had left the leaded, paned windows open just a crack before finding her rest in her own small chamber. She was extremely pleased to have it. The dawn came and Terza finally rose, washed, and dressed herself. Then she went to rouse her mistress, but seeing Francesca still sleeping soundly, she simply opened the windows wide to allow in the fresh summer air and left her. It had been a long journey from Florence, and while her mistress had held up well, a little extra sleep wouldn’t harm her.

Francesca agreed when she finally awoke in midmorning. She broke her fast with a dish of warm grain mixed with fresh fruit, bread, butter, and jam. Her cup was filled with a mixture of water and light wine. When she had satisfied her appetite she rose and was dressed. Then she descended to the hall to find Aceline and Louisa there.

“Ohh,” the French girl cooed, “you have missed our morning ride with Rafaello. He is like a magnificent centaur ahorse. Now you probably won’t see him until tonight. What a great pity.”

“If Duke Titus’s son wishes to further our acquaintance, I’m sure he will make time for me,” Francesca said. “And if he is too busy, then so be it.” She smiled.

Aceline was somewhat taken aback. “Do you not want to marry Rafaello?”

“Only if he wants to marry me, and I wish the same,” Francesca said casually.

Aceline was briefly speechless, but Louisa laughed. “Frankly,” she said, “he frightens me. He is so proud and fierce. But my father believes this is a wonderful opportunity for me. He will be very disappointed when I am sent home, I fear.”

“Of course it is a wonderful opportunity for you,” Aceline said sharply. “For a bastard daughter to make a respectable marriage of such magnificence is unheard of, and you might even have a chance with him if you tried.”

“I do try, but I prefer his friend Valiant’s company,” Louisa responded.

“Who is he?” Francesca said.

“He’s always by Rafaello’s side,” Louisa explained. “Tall with light brown hair and those northern blue eyes,” she sighed. He speaks so gently to me and is kind. That is the kind of man I would have. Not one who growls and scowls all the time.”

“You are a simpleton,” Aceline told her. “If Rafaello chooses me, he will not look so dark all the time, for I shall keep him happy and smiling.”

“Because you are such a charming maiden, I have not a doubt,” Francesca said wickedly. “Who wants to show me the gardens? You have both been here over a week, and I am newly arrived and do not know my way.”

“I have more important things to do than waste my time in a garden,” Aceline said sourly. “I am already sewing a silk shirt for Rafaello.” She turned, and hurried off.

“I love gardens,” Louisa spoke up. “Walk with me. Duke Titus has a beautiful garden, Francesca, and the day is fair.”

Together the two young women found their way outside. The area was filled with both flowers and a small display of fruit trees. Gravel paths led the way through the planted area. Francesca was particularly intrigued to find that half of the fruit trees were growing heavy with peaches, and the other with half-formed apples that would be ready to pick in the early autumn.

“It must be beautiful in the springtime,” she remarked to Louisa.

“My father’s palazzo has peach trees in its gardens. Their blossoms are lovely and sometimes even faintly fragrant,” Louisa replied.

“Aceline made a great to-do about your circumstances,” Francesca said. “I think she is very rude and unkind.”

“She only seeks to make herself seem more important and therefore more worthy of Rafaello Cesare than either you or I are,” Louisa said shrewdly. “When you arrived last night with your great baggage train, your servants, horses, and dogs, she was very taken aback, for she considers you of little importance, being a merchant’s daughter. Yet the numerous men-at-arms accompanying your train were quite impressive. She isn’t certain now what to make of you.”

Francesca smiled wickedly. “I am sorry to have confused her.”

Louisa laughed. “No, you aren’t,” she replied. “My mother’s sire is a ship’s captain. He is very direct in his dealings, which is confusing to many who look for plots in the simplest matters. I know all the gossip that has emanated from Florence and Venice about you, for mariners hear everything. When my father told me you were one of the girls chosen to compete for Rafaello’s hand I was delighted, for I longed to meet you.”

Francesca was very surprised. “Why?” she asked.

“You are brave and daring,” Louisa said admiringly. “If I am chosen to be the bride I will be obedient, but the truth is I don’t want to be the bride. But if you are chosen you will rebel, and perhaps I will gain some of your courage. I am far too meek and mild, as you have probably already seen.”

“I am neither brave nor daring,” Francesca said. “I am just stubborn and say no. Your perfect obedience is what a man looks for in a wife. Even I know that.”

“I hope not,” came the reply. “Of course I would wed, but to a less-fierce man.”

“Well, we both know that Aceline wants the dark and brooding Rafaello,” Francesca said. “She has made no secret of it, has she?” And she laughed.

“She would make his life a misery,” Louisa answered. “All she wants is to be a
duchessa
and squander his wealth on herself.”

Francesca tucked her arm into Louisa’s. “Let us go pick a peach and eat it,” she suggested. “It is a shame to allow them to go to waste.”

They walked a short distance amid the trees, and then each picked a peach, which they began eating. The juice from the ripe fruits drizzled down their chins as they sat beneath the trees, and they giggled like children. Then suddenly looming up before them was Rafaello Cesare and his friend, Valiant.

“What is this?” Valiant said in a mock-serious tone. “Have we caught us a pair of pretty poachers in your father’s orchards?” he teased them.

“Alas, we are discovered!” Francesca cried. “What will you do with us,
signores
?” She feigned fright.

Louisa giggled.

Rafaello Cesare looked down at Francesca. “Stop eating,” he said. “I would walk with you so we may learn more about each other.”

“But the peach is delicious,
signore
,” Francesca protested.

Before he might complain, his companion, Valiant, bent and, capturing Louisa’s little hand, pulled her to her feet. “This lady has finished her fruit,” he said. “I shall take her for a walk. You remain here, Rafaello. It would be a great shame to waste that peach.” Then he turned to the startled Louisa. “Your fingers are very sticky,” he told her as he led her off.

Rafaello sat in the grass beneath the tree. “You are very stubborn,” he said to Francesca as he settled himself.

“Yes,” she agreed, “I am.”
Madre di Dios
, he was hardly the child she had believed him to be. Exhausted from her journey, she had barely looked at him last night. He was a man, not a boy. And he was handsome in a very rugged and masculine way.

“Did no one ever tell you that you cannot always have your own way?”

“They did,” she admitted. His eyes were a deep foresty green.

“But you paid them no mind,” he said.

“Sometimes I do if the reasoning is sound,” Francesca told him.

He laughed at that and his face was transformed from stern and fierce into something else entirely. His eyes crinkled with his amusement. “You are a woman of logic, then,” he said to her.

“I am not an obedient little simpleton who will agree with your every thought,” she told him.

“No, you are not,” he replied, intrigued. “The other two, however, are.

“Louisa is sweet and kind,” Rafaello said. “I see that. I’m certain she would make me an admirable wife if she weren’t scared to death of me. She is pretty. Obedient. And she seems to possess all the proper virtues a good wife should have,” Rafaello noted. “So does Aceline, though I find her tongue far too sharp—although I suspect she would be a tigress in the marital bed. You, however, are a puzzle.”

“Not really,” Francesca responded. “I simply do not like being called forth from Florence to partake in this horse fair where the three nubile mares are paraded before the young stallion so he may choose which one he will mount to breed with.”

He laughed at her analogy, but said, “Is that not a bit harsh?”

“How old are you?” Francesca asked him.

She is maddening, Rafaello thought. “Twenty-nine. How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” she replied. “I am told I am almost too old now to make a young man a wife, but you are not so young. Why have you not married before?” She had finished her peach and tossed away the pit. Then she began to lick and suck on her fingers to remove the stickiness from them.

His breath caught in his throat. Her actions were incredibly sensuous and he actually felt a tightening in his groin. Was she even aware of what she was doing and the effect it was having on him? No, he didn’t believe she was. She was, he could see, spoiled and outspoken, but she was not a flirt. He swallowed and made an attempt at another topic with her. “Tell me about your life in Florence. Terreno Boscoso is a very different place if you have lived in a large city most of your life.”

“We live in our father’s palazzo. I have two older brothers and a younger one. I have three sisters, an older one and two little ones. Our days are regulated by the church and our lessons. In the summers we go to our villa in the Tuscan hills. There is nothing unusual about my life. It is the same as any girl’s.”

“So you have never left Florence before, and yet were brave enough to make this journey,” he said.

“Oh no,
signore
, this is not my first voyage from Florence. I lived in Venice with my grandfather for a year,” Francesca admitted.

“Here you are! Here you are!” Aceline du Barry came to where they were seated and joined them. “When I saw your companion, Valiant, walking with Louisa, I thought you might be here in the gardens.” Then she paused and clapped her hand over her mouth. “You did know Louisa was with Valiant. Didn’t you?” she finally said.

The bitch! Francesca thought. She would put Louisa in a bad light to further her own cause. Well, she could play this game better than the French girl. Florentines were noted for their deviousness. “Louisa is with Valiant?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Did you know that, Rafaello?”

“Well, given her background, the child of a courtesan, what can one expect of her behavior?” Aceline said quickly before he might reply.

Rafaello almost laughed at Francesca’s response to Aceline du Barry. Well, the wench deserved to be taken down a peg or two, especially as Valiant and Louisa were now approaching them. He stood and, reaching out, pulled Francesca up from the grass. Then he hailed his best friend and the charming Louisa.

Aceline now realized the precariousness of her situation.
“You knew!”
she hissed at Francesca.

“We knew,”
Francesca replied, implying there was something deeper between her and Rafaello Cesare.

The French girl’s face flushed with her anger. “You are nothing more than a vile Florentine tradesman’s daughter,” she snarled.

“And you a lying and conniving wench who believes she can win a bridegroom by vilifying another’s reputation. I have been here but a day, yet I can tell you that Louisa di Genoa is a sweet, kind girl. How dare you attempt to tarnish her good name? Do you think Rafaello is a fool? Are you not even aware of how you make yourself look?” Francesca demanded. She kept her voice low, so as to not involve the others. Now she turned away from Aceline du Barry and, putting her hand through Rafaello’s arm, said, “Will you walk us back to the
castello
? The sun is becoming quite hot.”

“Now I have learned something else about you,” Rafaello said as they strolled.

“That I have a temper?” Francesca said, realizing he had heard her outburst.

“Yes, but I learned another thing as well. You are loyal to friends. It is a trait I find admirable in a man or a woman,” Rafaello responded.

“Louisa is a sweet person. The circumstances of her birth are not her fault. I will tell you that they certainly neither offend nor distress my sensibilities,” Francesca said.