Francesca (8 page)

“He knows all he needs know about her,” Aceline responded. “She is the daughter of a low tradesman. Whatever you do, he will pick me in the end because I am of noble blood as he is.”

“Her father is head of the silk merchants’ guild in Florence, an important position in the second most important guild in that city. His wealth is great. Her mother is the daughter of one of the noblest houses in Venice, the Veniers. She is hardly low.”

Aceline was actually surprised. She had not realized that Francesca’s family was so important or that she had noble blood in her veins. Her parents both had noble blood, but their wealth was sparse. It was important that she make this marriage to Rafaello Cesare. It would add to the prestige of the du Barry family, and they could find a suitable heiress for her brother to wed. She said nothing more to Valiant and rode by his side without complaint. Making a scene would not aid her cause.

She already had a plan to entrap Rafaello, should he appear to be becoming interested in choosing anyone but her. Her maidservant, Oriel, had suggested it. It was a foolproof strategy that would leave him no other choice than to wed her. Aceline smiled.

Ahead of her Rafaello and Francesca were bickering over something.

“Why do you want to know?” Aceline heard Francesca say.

“Why do you want to keep it secret?” Rafaello demanded.

“What mischief can I get into with a priest and two nuns by my side?” Francesca said. “You are ridiculous.”

“I hear riotous laughter when you are closed up in your apartments. Asking what you do that causes you to laugh so is no intrusion,” he responded.

“Oh, very well,” Francesca replied, sounding irritated. “We gamble. Annunziata just took her final vows, and Benigna soon will. They are not so far from the world yet that they have forgotten how to have fun, but as you surely know gambling is not allowed in the convent. We play cards and throw the dice for ridiculous wagers, like the Holy Father’s undergarments or the King of Naples’ throne. Sometimes
Padre
Silvio joins us, but his wagers are so innocent we laugh at him. Mostly he attempts to keep us honest in our play. There! Now you know my dark secret.”

He was very surprised by what she had told him. He had not thought of her as a girl with a particularly active sense of humor. Her choice of activities was, however, very amusing. “I hope the good priest gives you all a proper penance for your unholy behavior,” he told her. “Are you good with the bones?”

“I never lose,” Francesca said. “My brothers taught me well.”

“It is but a game of chance,” he told her.

“For some who do not know how to throw dice properly, perhaps, but not for me. I know how to control those little ivory squares.”

“Then we shall dice together tonight, you and I. What shall we play for?” he asked her wickedly.

“Kisses,” she answered him. “Since I shall win, you will get none, so I do not endanger my virtue by offering them.”

Rafaello laughed heartily. “By evening’s end you will have been kissed most thoroughly,” he promised her. Then he set his stallion into a gallop, and Francesca, taken unawares by his actions, quickly galloped after him.

She was surprised to find her heart pounding at his words. She had never been kissed but for one time in Venice when Enzo Ziani had angered her and she had flung herself at him and kissed him. He had not really kissed her back. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Rafaello Cesare. Well, she had to begin with someone who was at least interested in kissing her back.

The day was warm, and a fine sheen of moisture formed on her face and neck. The air caused by the motion of her horse dried it, but when they came to a halt in a lovely forest clearing it bloomed again. He lifted her from her animal and, taking her hand, began to walk with her. At first he spoke not a word. Then he said, “I am taking you to one of my favorite places. No one will find us for a while. Valiant will know where we have gone, but he will keep Aceline away.”

“Don’t you like her?” Francesca asked.

“She has noble blood, but there is something that tells me it is the prospect of being my
duchessa
that pleases her more than being a wife to me. I expect if I were ugly and crippled she would still pay me court. Do I like her? I think not, and certainly not enough to wed her.”

“Then it is Louisa you will choose. She is a fine choice, Rafaello. Gentle, loving, obedient. Everything a good wife should be. I have grown quite fond of her these past summer months. Aceline will be disappointed, I expect.”

“Will you be disappointed, Francesca?” he queried her.

“I did not expect you to choose me, Rafaello. I know what I am. Stubborn. Outspoken and quite determined to have my own way. I shall probably, as my mother predicts, end up as the family spinster.” But even as she said the words, Francesca realized that she found them distasteful. And yet did she really want to wed at all?

“You are far too beautiful to remain a spinster,” he told her.

“Is that all men look for in a woman?” she replied. “Someone beautiful? And after you have taken your pleasure is there nothing more a woman can offer to you? And if the chamber is dark, what matter if she is beautiful or ugly as long as the parts fit properly? And if a man demands beauty in his wife, should not a woman be permitted to request the same?”

He was astounded by her once more, and he laughed aloud again. “You have been told, I am certain, that you are a most outrageous maiden,” he said. “I have never before heard a female voice such thoughts aloud, if indeed she even had such thoughts,” he admitted.

“Oh, all women have such thoughts at one time or another in their lives,” Francesca told him. “I really believe that most do not voice them aloud, but there is another of my thoughts. I seem to speak whatever I am thinking, Rafaello.”

“I find it charming,” he surprised her by saying.

“Then you are unique among men,” she answered. “In most households I should be beaten for speaking my mind, and I should be admonished severely by the priest.”

“You will make an interesting wife,” he told her. “Ahh, here we are.”

They came out of the woodland trail and there before them was a beautiful small pond fed by a stony brook. The ground around the pool was moss covered. In the center of the water a heart-shaped rock. There were two large willow trees, one on the far side of the pond and the other at its end.

“It’s called Heart’s Wish Pond,” Rafaello said. “It’s believed that a faerie with the ability to grant your dearest wishes lives in the pond. She has been seen sitting on the rock, combing her long silver hair in the light of a full moon. If you whisper your desire to her, seen or unseen, she may sometime grant you your wish if she considers it worthy.”

“Have you whispered a wish to her, Rafaello?”

“Many times,” he admitted.

“And were they granted?” Francesca wanted to know.

“Sometimes,” he said with a small smile. “Today I shall ask the faerie to help me choose the right wife, and that my bride may come to love me.”

“I have no wish to make,” Francesca told him. “Make yours!”

He did silently.

Behind them there came the sound of voices as they moved through the forest.

“Quickly!” Francesca said. “Let us go back before Aceline can see this pond. I do not want her to view it.”

He agreed and, taking her hand again, they turned back and walked away from the magical little area. Around a bend they met Valiant coming along, Aceline behind him, complaining that he walked too fast and that the briars were pulling at her hair and gown.

“There is nothing ahead but more woods, and I can see that your companion has had enough of nature this day.”

“I certainly have!” Aceline said sharply, looking at Francesca to see if she was showing any signs of having been kissed.

Francesca smiled a wicked little smile back, convincing Aceline that she had been the little slut the French girl thought. Rafaello had not kissed her at any time during their stay. Now Aceline wondered if he had possibly kissed Louisa and Valiant’s interest in the girl had been a ruse to keep people guessing. She ground her teeth. She needed to win this contest. If she was sent home, her father intended to marry her off to a neighboring nobleman. The man was twenty years older than she was, had bad breath, and wanted an heir desperately. He had offered to take her with half the dowry her father was willing to pay the Duke of Terreno Boscoso for his son. The man had already attempted to take liberties with her, Aceline recalled with a shudder.

“Wear your most beautiful gowns tonight,” Rafaello said when they had returned to the
castello
. “I would make it a special occasion,” he told them. And when he was alone again with Valiant he said, “Tonight I will choose.”

“Which one?” his friend asked.

“You must wait and be surprised with all the rest,” Rafaello said, “but I will keep my promise to you, Valiant. You shall have your Louisa.”

Chapter 4

T
erza looked at Oriel, Aceline’s maidservant, and said, “You have monopolized the women servants long enough. Elda and I need help with the preparations for tonight’s announcement. Our mistresses are part of this too.”

“But it is my beautiful mistress who this duke’s son will choose,” Oriel said smugly. “Be careful, girl, with that undergown!” she called out sharply to a little maid. Do you wish to iron it again?”

“Put the undergown there across the chair,” Terza instructed the nervous girl. “Then go help Elda with
Signorina
Louisa.”

When Oriel began to protest, Terza silenced the older Frenchwoman with a hard look and a sharp word. “Enough! I do not care which of them is chosen, but the other two will have the opportunity to look their best.”

“Your mistress has the finest clothes,” Oriel whined. “And the little Genoese may be born on the wrong side of the blanket, but her mother is loved and respected by her duke. They will have other chances for marriage. This may be my mistress’s only opportunity.”

“I have heard it said among the other servants that you bragged a wealthy nobleman awaits your mistress’s return, and her father has promised him the girl if the duke’s son does not choose her.”

Oriel flushed at this reminder of her indiscretion. “But the Comte du Lyonnais is not a duke with his own kingdom,” she said.

“How unfortunate for your mistress,” Terza said sarcastically.

Her confident attitude made Oriel afraid. “What do you know?” she demanded of Terza. “You must tell me what you know!”

“No more than you,” Terza replied, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I know nothing. We shall all learn the young lord’s decision together. Perhaps he finds none of the candidates worthy or compatible to his hand.” Terza then walked away, leaving the older woman in a quandary.

Francesca was just exiting her bath when Terza reached her apartments. She had been helped by two little maidservants and the two young nuns. There was much laughter coming from the bedchamber when she entered it. “You have time to take a brief nap before you must dress,” she said to her mistress, who was being thoroughly toweled dry by the maidservants.

“Is it true he will make his decision tonight?” Sister Annunziata asked Terza.

“That is the rumor going about,” Terza answered her. “It’s time. They have had two and a half months to become acquainted. Autumn is almost upon us, and if we are to return home to Florence, we will have to depart soon.”

“We are returning home to Florence,” Francesca broke in.

“But what if the duke’s son chooses you?” the trusting Sister Benigna wondered.

“He won’t,” Francesca said. “Louisa is in love with Valiant, and Rafaello knows it. He will pick the French girl. Her pedigree matches his, and she is beautiful. She’ll quickly do her duty, give him several heirs, grow a bit thicker in the waist, and in five years settle down to spend his money quite happily. He’ll find a mistress to keep him happy and satisfied. A perfect ending, eh?”

All the women laughed at her analysis of the situation. There was nothing outrageous about it. It was how many marriages were begun and eventually settled.

“But what will happen to you?” Sister Benigna asked.

“Well,” Francesca said, “I shall not join you at Santa Maria della Fiore.”

There was more laughter when Sister Annunziata said, “To be honest, I believe the good Reverend Mother Baptista will find that a mighty relief.”

“But what will you do?” Sister Benigna persisted.

“I shall become the daughter who remains at home to care for her parents in their old age. Perhaps I shall learn something of the silk trade. I shall do as I please and as long as I cause no scandal I shall be allowed to do it,” Francesca said.

“But what of love?” one of the little maids, a girl who looked no older than twelve, asked softly. “Don’t you want to be loved,
signorina
?”

“I don’t know if what is called love actually exists. And what exactly is love?” Francesca inquired of her companions. “I surely do not know.”

“Too much serious thought,” Terza said. “Your chances with the duke’s son are as good as the other two. I think I will wait until he announces his choice tonight before I begin packing for our return journey.”

“We are going home,” Francesca said stubbornly. “My father promised me if this man did not suit I could come home.”

“Get into bed. Tonight, whatever happens, will be an exciting night,” Terza replied. “I will choose a gown for you, and when you awaken all will be in readiness.” She slipped a clean silk chemise over Francesca, and firmly led her to the bed, helped her into it, and drew the goose-down coverlet over her. “Now rest,” she said. Ushering the other women out of the room, she thanked the little maids for their aid and sent them off. Then she sat down by the dayroom fireplace with the two nuns. For a few moments they sat in silence. The sunset filled the blue sky of the September evening.

It was Sister Annunziata who finally spoke up. “You think he will choose her. Don’t you, Terza?”

Terza nodded. “
Signore
Valiant is openly in love with the little Louisa, and she with him. Rafaello knows it, and would not steal the maiden his best friend loves away from him. He is wise enough to know she would not be a good choice for him. She is gentle and soft-spoken. He’s already bored with her.”

“But what of the French girl?” Sister Benigna asked. “Her bloodline is an excellent one, there is no denying.”

“But her avid quest to be his
duchessa
first and her sharp tongue put him off. There is no sweetness in her at all. She has virtually ignored the duke these past weeks. If she were wise, she would know it is he who will actually make the decision, but she is not a wise woman. She is greedy and selfish. She does not hide it, and I doubt she would be surprised to be told she is,” Terza concluded.

“So it must of necessity be Francesca,” Annunziata replied.

“Or none of the trio,” Terza answered, “but from what I have observed I believe that he will choose my mistress.”

“What of her father’s promise?” Benigna asked softly.

“I was hidden behind a tapestry during that conversation that day,” Terza said. “I wanted to know exactly where
Signore
Pietro d’Angelo stood in this matter. Although my mistress does not realize it, she is much like her mother in temperament. She only hears what she wants to hear. What the
signore
said that day was if the young man didn’t suit, she might come home. He did not say if the young man didn’t suit Francesca, she could come home. If Rafaello Cesare picks Francesca to be his bride, she will be. He is attractive, good-natured, respectful, and respectable. Father Silvio informed our master of that weeks back, after he had gotten to know the young man. The master wrote back that if Francesca pleased the duke and his son, he would give his blessing to the union.”

“Oh, my,” Sister Annunziata said softly. “But will she cooperate?”

“What other choice does she have?” Terza responded. “She is not aware that as soon as the decision is made Lorenzo di Medici’s men-at-arms will either escort us back to Florence in the company of our own men-at-arms, or the di Medici men will depart immediately, except for the captain and six of his men, who will remain to be witnesses to the union so they may report it to the great Lorenzo himself upon their return.”

“When are we to return to Florence?” Annunziata asked.

“You two and the good priest must remain until after the wedding,” Terza replied.

“When will it be celebrated?” Benigna inquired. “I have never seen a royal wedding before.”

“Probably not until next spring,” Terza answered. “
Signora
Pietro d’Angelo will want to have the wedding gown made for her daughter, and she will want to come to see her daughter made a
duchessa
.”

“This is so exciting!” Benigna said.

“It is not a reality yet,” Terza warned. “We shall know soon enough, however.”

And while Terza and the two nuns chatted on quietly before the cozy hearth in the dayroom, Rafaello Cesare was ensconced with his father in the duke’s library.

“I have made a decision,” he told the older man. “I want the Florentine girl to wife.”

“Why?” Duke Titus asked his son quietly. “What is it about the fair Francesca that stands out for you? That makes her more desirable than Aceline or Louisa?” And he was indeed curious to learn why.

Rafaello laughed. “I know. A common merchant’s daughter who has taken every opportunity to avoid me and prefers to sit by my ancient father’s side.”

“Not so ancient that I cannot attract a pretty girl,” the duke teased back. “Now, tell me why Francesca.”

“I like her independence and her outspoken way. Yet she knows when to be mannerly and charming. Her beauty is extraordinary, of course. She has an inborn elegance that suits a
duchessa
.”

“That comes from her mother, who was born a Venetian princess and brought her ways to Florence when she wed the silk merchant,” the duke noted. “But I hope perhaps that you feel a small attraction to her. It is better to have love for one’s mate than just duty, my son.”

“I am attracted by her, yes. I believe that she is sincere in her prayers when we are in church. I like that she traveled with her priest and the two young nuns, although I realize it was probably her mother who made these arrangements. I have seen her with her priest and two nuns, and I see the respect and friendship she has for them. I believe she will make an excellent mother.”

“Have you kissed her yet?” the duke wanted to know.

“Nay. She is not a girl a gentleman should disrespect,
Padre
,” Rafaello answered.

The duke chuckled, then grew serious again. Rafaello might not realize it but he was falling in love with Francesca. It was just as well he choose her tonight and they return the other two girls to their families, so he might begin to discover it. Hopefully she would too. “Tell me why you decline the other two.”

“Aceline du Barry is not to my taste. I find her venal and greedy. In church she appears inattentive and bored. Her eagerness for me stems from her desire to be a
duchessa
more than it does to be my wife or the mother of my children.”

Duke Titus nodded. “I cannot argue with your reasoning,” he said. “But what of the sweet and fair Louisa, my son?”

“Aye, she is charming,
Padre
, but, alas, the moment she laid eyes on Valiant and he upon her they were wildly in love. There is no loss there for me. Louisa is too fragile to be my wife. But if you would intervene with the Duke of Genoa on Valiant’s behalf I know that they would both be very happy. She and Francesca have become great friends.”

The duke smiled warmly at his only child. “Your heart is good and you are wise. I have no fears turning over my ducal crown to you once you are wed, Rafaello. Louisa must, however, return home. Valiant will escort her and she will carry my personal recommendation in Valiant’s favor. In my opinion he would be an excellent match for her. He is
Signore
di Sponda di Fiume. He possesses both land and wealth. It is an excellent match for a duke’s bastard daughter. But it will be up to Louisa and Valiant to convince Genoa, and he’s a very wily man. Still, he has the right to meet the man his child would wed, which is why they must both go to Genoa.”

“I believe Valiant would go into hell if he could bring her back as his bride,” Rafaello said sincerely.

“So you will choose Francesca and announce your choice this evening?” Duke Titus asked. “Good! Good! The others will then have time to return to their own homes before the winter months set in, and you will have time to know Francesca better before the wedding. A December wedding would be excellent. You can spend the snowy month getting her with child. I will see my grandchildren before I die.”

“You will not die that soon, you old fraud,” his son replied laughing. Then he stood up from the tapestried chair where he had been seated. “I must go bathe and dress for this evening.”

“I am certain the young ladies are busy doing the same thing,” Duke Titus remarked with a small smile. Rafaello had made him happy. As for his choice of a bride, his son would be quite surprised to learn how very pleased his father was with it. He would have chosen Francesca had he himself been seeking a bride. The girl was stronger in more ways than Rafaello knew. She would not be her husband’s cipher.