Francesca (9 page)

The fact that he would have to disappoint only the Comte du Barry was a relief. Genoa might be disappointed too, but with Terreno Boscoso sending Louisa back with a possible and eligible bridegroom, along with the lavish gifts she would bring from them for her trouble, it should certainly satisfy her father quite well. Tomorrow he would choose the gifts to be sent with each girl as she departed. The French girl must go first.

Aceline du Barry would not be happy, for he suspected she thought it impossible that anyone but her be chosen. She was too proud by far, and had no idea how many of her cutting and unkind remarks to the other girls he had heard spewing forth from those thin lips of hers. Pouring himself another splash of wine, he settled back in his chair. He would have to go shortly and dress for this evening’s entertainment.

Rafaello could not resist slipping into the corridor where the three girls had their apartments. The maidservants were running back and forth from one chamber to another. Footmen carried buckets of steaming water into the apartments. He heard the muffled chatter of the women as they prepared their mistresses for the evening, and he smiled. In just a few hours it would be settled. He would have Francesca, and Valiant would have Louisa. He gave no thought to Aceline du Barry before he walked away.

“The young lord was lingering in the hallway,” the little maidservant said to Terza as she came into the apartment, bearing a tray of light refreshments, which she placed upon a table in the dayroom.

Terza nodded her thanks for both the food and the information. Then she went into the bedchamber and woke Francesca. “It’s time for you to arise,” she said, gently shaking the girl’s shoulder. “I have a small meal for you, for I expect the evening will be long, and who knows when the young lord will make his announcement. Best your belly not growl loudly, which will only cause the French girl to make some remark drawing attention to it.” Terza helped Francesca from her bed.

Francesca did not protest. She walked into the dayroom, where she found a small repast consisting of a few slices of warm capon breast, bread, butter, honey, and a dish of stewed pears, along with a small goblet of sweet golden wine. She ate it slowly, then washed her face and hands in a basin of scented warm water that was brought to her.

“I am bathed, rested, and fed,” Francesca announced. “Have you chosen what I will wear this evening, Terza? If I do not like it, I will change it to suit myself.”

Terza chuckled. “I have not a doubt that you will,” she answered. Come and see what will dazzle the hall and fill Aceline du Barry with pure envy.”

Stepping back into her bedchamber Francesca gasped at the beautiful emerald green silk brocade gown that was laid out upon the bed. The underskirt was cloth of gold. She could see immediately that the square neckline was lower than she was used to wearing, and it was embroidered in gold braid that also edged the hem of the gown. The bodice was tightly fitted. The sleeves were flared and the cuffs turned back to show a cloth of gold lining. “My breasts will fall out of that neckline,” the girl said.

“No, they won’t,” Terza promised, and then she chuckled. “But they will certainly show to their best advantage, mistress.”

The little maid helping Terza giggled and nodded.

“It’s indecent. My mother would never allow me to wear a gown like this,” Francesca protested nervously. “I don’t remember being fitted for this garment.”

“Your
madre
chose the design herself,” Terza said. “And the materials. You were not fitted for the garment. The seamstress had your measurements. This gown arrived several weeks ago from Florence. I unpacked it and hung it away.”

A wicked little smile bloomed upon Francesca’s lips. “Aceline will die,” she said slowly. “She is certain to have nothing to rival this gown, Terza. Are there shoes to match? What jewelry do I have that will be suitable?”

“Your slippers are covered in the same brocade as the gown. Your silk stockings have a green vine embroidered up their length. And you have a red-gold crucifix decorated with a small diamond lily and hanging from a chain of red-gold, which is also set with emeralds,” Terza replied.

“I am ready to be dressed, then,” Francesca said, and stood quietly as the two servants completed the task. “How will you dress my hair?” she asked when they were done. “I think a golden caul.”

“Nay, you do not want to contain your beautiful hair,” Terza said, and the little maid shook her head vigorously in agreement. “I shall brush it out so that it is visible in all its glory, and decorate it with narrow green ribbons studded with tiny emeralds.”

When it was finished and she studied herself in the mirror, Francesca was astounded by how absolutely beautiful and sophisticated she appeared. “I am far fairer than my sister Bianca,” she said to Terza.

“You are,” Terza agreed. “Her beauty is in her face, which you cannot rival, but you wear your clothing better, and combined with a beautiful face you are spectacular.”

She handed her mistress a beautiful peacock feather fan.

Suddenly a look of concern touched Francesca’s face. “What if he chooses me? Perhaps I should not look quite so wonderful.”

Terza laughed. “When he chooses you, you will accept with charm and make a marriage that will please your family greatly. You don’t particularly care for Florence, my child. Terreno Boscoso is a lovely place to live. The old duke has already shown his fondness for you and will welcome you warmly into his family. There is no mother-in-law alive to plague you. You have been happy here these past months. Louisa will wed Valiant, and you will have her as a friend.”

“No! No! I don’t want to wed. I don’t want to be constrained by a man’s wishes and thoughts, Terza. I would be free!”

“Well, you won’t be in Florence,” Terza said. “You return a second time to your
padre’
s
house, and your
madre
will have you married off to the first well-to-do man she can find. You will end up being the second or third wife of some old man. Is that what you want? Rafaello Cesare is juicy and young. He is filled with passion and he is kind.”

Francesca now looked as if she wanted to run. She couldn’t, of course. “I would speak with the priest,” she said.

Padre
Silvio was sent for and came immediately, for he knew how important this evening was. Like Terza, he knew the true lay of the land and that it was most likely that Rafaello Cesare would choose Francesca. He found the dayroom empty but for Francesca. “What is it, my child?” he inquired of her, seeing her face.

“I don’t want to be part of this anymore,” she said. “I want to go home tonight!”

“My daughter,” the priest replied, taking the panicked girl’s two hands in his. They were as cold as ice. “I see that you are afraid, but there is nothing to fear.” Then the priest lied smoothly as he continued, “You are distressing yourself needlessly. We will return home as soon as the French girl is chosen to be the bride. Now, remember who you are, and draw yourself together so you may enter the hall with the others and enjoy your evening with the rest of us. I understand there are to be dancing dogs.” He rose and drew Francesca up with him. “Are you all right now?” he asked her.

Francesca drew a deep breath. She had no choice, and the priest was probably right. Rafaello wasn’t going to choose her. She had certainly made her disdain for this whole situation quite plain to him. Certainly he had come to understand that she didn’t appreciate being the possible prize in a contest. He did seem a reasonable man. “It was just a fit of nerves, good
Padre
. I am sorry to have troubled you with my foolishness.”

He smiled even as he felt the guilt associated with lying to her. Almost everyone in the
castello
suspected Francesca Pietro d’Angelo, the silk merchant’s daughter from Florence, had gained Rafaello Cesare’s favor even if she hadn’t. “Our dear Lord Jesu and his blessed Mother Maria be by your side, my daughter,” the priest said, giving her his blessing as he led her from her apartments, followed by Terza, through the hallways, downstairs, and to the door of the Great Hall. There he left her.

Francesca stood a moment in the opening to the hall. Then she stepped past the entry and walked slowly to the high board. She saw Valiant and Louisa by one of the large hearths, speaking quietly. Louisa was gowned in lavender silk, a color that flattered her very well. Her eyes widened at the sight of her friend. She imperceptibly nodded her head to her right. Francesca’s eyes followed, only to see Aceline du Barry dressed in deep rose silk trimmed with exquisite cream-colored lace. A fair choice, she thought. The French girl was clinging to Rafaello as if she would never let him go. Well, shortly she wouldn’t have to, Francesca thought.

It was at that moment that Rafaello sensed her presence. He turned, and she was everything that she should be. He saw his father join her before he could rid himself of Aceline. His father’s eyes met his, and they were filled with humor at the situation.

“You look ravishing, my dear,” Duke Titus said to Francesca. “Your poise and your elegance are to be commended, along with your exquisite taste.” He bowed low to her and kissed her elegant little hand, noting she wore no rings at all when the fashion was for several rings on each finger, even the thumbs.

“My gown, I fear, is a bit bold, but Terza says my mother sent it to me recently. If she sent it, I imagine I am expected to wear it,
signore
,” Francesca told him with a laugh.

A clever woman who best knows how to display the merchandise she has to offer, he thought. “I shall look forward to meeting your
madre
one day,” the duke said.

“Ah yes, you must come and visit Florence once you have entered into your retirement,” Francesca said.

How charming. She believes the French girl will be chosen, Duke Titus considered to himself. She is proud yet has a sense of honesty, but she is not overbearing at all. She will make Rafaello an excellent wife and Terreno Boscoso a good
duchessa
.

His son now joined them, Aceline still clinging to Rafaello’s arm. “How beautiful you look, Francesca,” he told her.

“I hope you have said the same to the others,” she answered him.

“Oh yes! He was quite extravagant in his praise of my gown,” Aceline said.

“The color is most suitable and your lace exquisite,” Francesca said pleasantly.

“Well, I should hope so,” Aceline responded. “My father consulted with a cloistered convent in Burgundy. The nuns made my lace. I see you have gained a bit of weight since your arrival in Terreno Boscoso. Your bodice is extremely tight. My mama would not approve at all, I fear, but I suppose a merchant’s wife has different standards than a nobleman’s noble wife.”

“We do indeed have different standards, Aceline. We believe in good manners at all times. For instance, right now it would give me great pleasure to smack that look of smug superiority off of your face. I shall not, however, for my mother taught me a lady does not display public anger, except on very rare occasions. You are not a rare occurrence, but an annoying one,” Francesca told the French girl.

“Aha!” Rafaello exclaimed with a grin. “I have discovered something else about you, Francesca. The kitten has claws.”

Aceline, however, grew red with her embarrassment. When she was
duchessa
of Terreno Boscoso she would see that the Pietro d’Angelos were never allowed to cross her borders. And when Rafaello announced her as his choice this evening she would see that Francesca Pietro d’Angelo was sent packing quickly. “Come!” she said, tugging at Rafaello’s arm. “I will not remain here and be insulted.” Then she pulled him away.

Duke Titus chuckled. “What a sour wench,” he remarked, “and so eager to fault her rivals. I wonder why she believes that my son finds such an attitude attractive.”

“She is obviously used to having her own way,” Francesca responded.

“As I do not doubt you are too,” Duke Titus replied.

“I tried very hard growing up to get my way, but, alas, my mother is the one in my father’s house who must have her own way.
Padre
and my siblings danced to her tune. And then my elder sister, Bianca, rebelled, and when widowed ran off with her lover. I do not believe
Madre
will ever recover from the shock.”

“Would she not eventually forgive the lovers?” Duke Titus inquired.

Francesca shook her head. “Bianca’s lover was the grandson of the Turkish sultan.
Madre
could not forgive the daughter she adored for running away with an infidel, and, believe me, she did all she could to prevent it. It was the first time any of her children stood against her, but Bianca loved Prince Amir and would not be dissuaded.”

“True love, my dear, is the strongest of emotions,” Duke Titus said. Then seeing the servants were beginning to bring the meal to table, he led Francesca to her place at the high board.

Tonight she found herself seated on the old duke’s left while Rafaello was on his right. On her other side was Valiant and then Louisa. Aceline du Barry had been placed next to
Padre
Silvio, who sat on Rafaello’s right. Below the high board the trestles nearest were filled with officials from the duchy’s capital and important officials from the duke’s personal coterie. Beyond them were the men-at-arms.

They were too far from any coast for the safe transport of oysters, prawns, clams, and other seafood, but the fish course, while small, was delicious. There were both salmon and trout from the icy streams that ran through the surrounding forests. There were freshwater mussels in a delicious mustard sauce. Next came a beautiful roasted boar with an apple in its mouth, and haunches of venison. There were waterfowl: juicy ducks in an orange sauce filled with big black cherries; and geese stuffed with smaller ducks stuffed with capons stuffed with onion, sage, and bread. There were roasted lamb, pies filled with larks in wine sauce, and a large kettle of rabbit stew. There were braised lettuces, onions in cream sauce, and green peas. There was but a small amount of pasta in butter and garlic, for pasta was not eaten as much in the north as it was farther south. The array of desserts included pears poached in marsala wine, baked apples, custards, and several cakes, including a small tiered one topped with three female figures fashioned quite clearly in marzipan to resemble the three candidates.