Fruit of the Golden Vine (12 page)

“Intemperate is one way to put it.” Rafael gave a weak laugh as Silvana shifted to sit beside him. “Careful. You’re on the masculine side of the table now.”

“I’ll take a bath afterwards, and perhaps burn my clothes.”

“I just can’t understand…” Rafael stared into his palms, as if searching for something written in the lines there. “You’ve had so many lovers, Silvie. Why is this one so different that you’ll risk so much?”

“I wish I could express it to you.”

“Can’t you at least try?”

“My past love has always been furtive and fleeting. You may accept me and my passions, but most of this world refuses to, and even women who let me into their arms would balk at letting me into their homes. And so I have loved behind closed doors. I meet women in passing, know them for a single night, and often they refuse to give their true names…”

“Many men would envy that kind of existence.”

“But I’m no man!” Silvana slammed her fist to the table, and the cutlery bounced. “Lust is not enough, don’t you understand? Last night, I offered my wine to Ada, and she shared it. I only meant it as a bawdy jest, one I’ve performed countless times before. Every time previous, the woman has understood my message—I want to have carnal knowledge of you. But Adelina, Goddess help us both, understood it the way only an unashamed innocent would—that I intended to court her, just as you’re courting her sister. Such sentiment was written in her eyes that I shivered to read it. And that same night she wrote me a love poem…”

Silvana’s vision blurred, and she brushed the tears from her eyes. “Damn it. You see? This is what she has done to me.”

“But Silvie.” Rafael played with the handle of a spoon as he spoke. “It’s impossible. You can’t ever…I mean, you know I love you as you are, that I won’t question your tastes, the way in which you’ve been constituted to love, but you can’t…you can’t be with her, not that way. Her parents…I mean, can you imagine it?”

“I know this all perfectly well. Yet she hopes to convince me that it can happen—that she can take me from what I know to be true, to that for which I can only dream. And I long to see how she will attempt to woo me, because it excites me in ways I’ve never known. Don’t stand between us. I beg you.”

“Think of Irena. She’s already infatuated with me. If you get us kicked out of here, she’ll be heartbroken, and on top of that, Adelina will be disgraced. Not to mention we’ll miss our chance for the dowry.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t win Irena’s hand. We’ve lied to them, and if her father finds out…”

Rafael groaned. “Yes, yes. It’s a web already, and you’ve gone and tangled it further. We came here purely to obtain money by marriage. Now the elder daughter loves me, the middle daughter loves you, the father, who certainly has criminal connections, is suspicious of us, the mother watches our every move over the table…and we’re playing with more lives than our own. You may well destroy Ada if you let this continue.”

“Perhaps.” Silvana bit on her thumbnail. “Perhaps you’re right, and we ought to simply flee while we can.” Her throat tightened. “But I would never be the same afterwards, Rafael. Something vital would have left my world.”

Rafael turned the spoon, letting the light ripple over its bowl. “All I know is that you have to stop this courtship with her. You have to.”

“And if I don’t?”

Rafael tossed the spoon to the table. “Then our adventures may come to an unpleasant end.”

Light footsteps scampered in the distance, and Felise popped through the doorway. “It’s ready!” She clasped her hands. “I’ve drawn a picture, so you’d better come.”

Silvana and Rafael followed the capering Felise through the halls and into the drawing room. The harpsichord had been uncovered and the chairs turned to face it. Irena sat poised behind the instrument, Adelina lolled in an armchair, Sebastian sat on a divan beside Delfina, and Orfeo and the twitching man watched from the room’s corners, boredom already evident on their faces.

Silvana and Rafael crossed the carpeted floor and settled onto either side of a faded velvet couch. Felise curled herself at Adelina’s feet. Delfina frowned at her youngest daughter, but said nothing.

Irena smiled at Rafael, and a now-familiar pink glow spread across her cheeks. “This piece is called
Evening’s Bloom.
I hope you all enjoy it.” Her fingers stepped across the keys while a solemn tune rose from the instrument. She played well, as far as Silvana was any judge—her hands moved without hesitation, and her fingertips descended with elegant precision.

A sad melody trembled in the air, and Irena began to sing.

Rafael stirred from his apathetic slouch and leaned forward, his head in his hands. Silvana stared at him. Yes, the girl sang sweetly, but surely not so sweetly as to enchant a man as disaffected from romance as her brother.

Irena continued in her performance, her music sometimes lively and sometimes somber, her voice unfailingly clear and beautiful. It seemed as if in song she discovered a depth of character that she lacked in speech, and though her words were borrowed and her notes rehearsed, she infused both with a sincerity beyond question. At the end of the performance, the room applauded, and Rafael clapped with such vigor that Silvana worried he might injure himself. Irena looked at him and blushed.

“That was a good performance,” said Delfina. “Felise, your drawing now, please.”

Irena withdrew to a cushioned stool and nodded at Felise, who bounded to the front of the room and held a piece of paper before her. “Look, I drew it.” The image was recognizably that of a bird, its feathers detailed with care and attention. Felise had even attempted to add a branch beneath its feet with limited success.

“It’s spectacular,” said Sebastian, his voice warm. “What is it, a crow?”

“A large black raven.”

“It’s beautiful. I’ll put it on my wall beside your wonderful horse.” Sebastian beamed, his teeth shining behind his beard, and Silvana scratched her head. As far as she was any judge, he was entirely sincere in his praise of the uninspiring bird. How curious people were.

Felise giggled. “Truly?” She lifted the picture higher. “It squawked before it flew away. Tomorrow, I’m going to look out my window to see if it’s come back.”

“And what will you draw next?” said Irena.

“I would like to draw a puppy.” Felise peeked over the top of the page. “Father, may I have a puppy?”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “We’ll talk about that later, Lise. For now, we’re all in admiration of your gorgeous bird.”

Felise’s lower lip trembled. “Ira and Ada played with puppies today. May I play with one tomorrow?”

“We’ll see, girl, we’ll see.” Sebastian stood and applauded. “Come, let’s have her know how wonderfully she’s drawn.”

The room joined in the adulation, and Felise grinned, her little body inflated with pride. “Yes, it’s a good large black raven,” she said. She curled the drawing under her arm. “Ada, will you read us a poem now?”

“Yes, I will.” Adelina stood and took a piece of paper from her bodice. Even at a distance, the trembling of her hands was evident. “I’ve written this poem on a divine theme, as Mother keeps nagging me to.”

Several members of the audience chuckled—Sebastian, Rafael and the hulking Orfeo—while Irena covered her lips, not quite concealing a smile. Delfina remained stony.

“It’s a spiritual poem, so it speaks a great deal of personal feelings. It describes a relationship between a faithful soul and the Creator.” Adelina glanced at Silvana before lowering her eyes to the page.

As the final verse left her lips, Adelina kept her gaze on Silvana, who shivered as if touched by a cold but gentle hand. “That was my poem,” Adelina said. “It speaks of a love beyond all loves, a rapture beyond all raptures, a passion beyond all passions, an intoxicating surrender to the sublime that few of us will ever be lucky enough to know. I pray night and day that I will know that it too.”

The room applauded, Sebastian leading the enthusiasm. Delfina, however, turned to Silvana, and for a moment it seemed as if her eyes were stripping Silvana’s soul bare, searching for the thing she most feared.

“To bed, girls,” said Delfina. “I shall likely rest long tomorrow. The day has left me weary.”

Sebastian took her hand and kissed it. “Sleep well, my dear. Thank you again for the gift of three such talented beauties.” He walked to each of his daughters in turn, kissing their cheeks. “Ira, Ada, Lise, our gratitude for an evening of such marvels.” He ruffled Felise’s hair, and she wriggled while laughing.

“Yes, yes. Goodnight.” Delfina grasped Felise’s chubby fingers. “Come, Felise, and I shall tuck you in. Irena, Adelina, don’t dawdle long.” She strode from the room, pulling the grumbling Felise in her wake.

Sebastian winked at Irena. “I do believe my friends and I might retire to a game of cards. Orfeo will cheat me, as usual.”

“Cheat you?” Orfeo raised his reddish eyebrows. “What do you take me for?”

Chuckling, Sebastian ushered Orfeo and the still-unannounced twitchy guest into the corridor. He paused in the doorway and grinned at Silvana. “Make sure that brother of yours doesn’t act inappropriately in the presence of my daughters, won’t you?”

“Act inappropriately?” Rafael executed a perfect imitation of Orfeo’s mock surprise. “What do you take me for?”

Sebastian laughed. “Ah, ever the rascal.” The door shut softly behind him. No doubt the affectionate old spider was allowing his daughter the exciting chance to bid her suitor goodnight—in the respectable presence of two other women, of course. His seemed a peculiar mind, a mixture of guile and sentimentality.

Rafael stood and took Irena’s hand. “That was an angelic performance, dear Ira. You stirred my soul.”

“Oh, it wasn’t my best.” Irena flushed. “But I’m so glad that you liked it.”

“I will dream of it.” Rafael kissed Irena’s knuckles. “And of the too-distant morning, when we shall see each other again.”

Adelina groaned, and Silvana managed not to laugh. “Goodnight to you too, Ada,” Rafael said. “Rest well. Silvie, shall we retire?”

“I suppose so.” Silvana glanced at the ornate grandfather clock that swung its heavy pendulum beside the window. Ten of the clock. “Goodnight, beauties. You have given us enchanting song and enthralling verse.”

“Goodnight,” said the sisters, and giggled at their identical timing.

Silvana inspected Adelina’s composed face. If there was some suggestive farewell hidden there, she was unable to decipher it. “Rafael, come along. You’ve held Irena’s hand long enough.”

Rafael chuckled. “Thank God for chaperones.” He patted Irena’s hand before releasing it. “Slumber, here I come.”

Silvana and Rafael left the drawing room, crossed the moonlit lobby and ascended to the second floor. As they walked toward the end of the corridor and neared the window admitting silver light at its far end, Rafael remained silent, his eyes set on some distant thought.

“Usually by this point, you’d have made fun of the harpsichord playing,” said Silvana.

“But she can actually play. Sing too. And she’s really very pretty.”

Silvana stood, arms folded, before the doorway to her room. “I’d say so.”

“She seems caring as well. You should have seen her terror when Ada ran off this morning.”

“Many of the women you’ve courted have been pretty and caring, Rafael, and you laughed at them all behind their backs. In any case, it seems unwise for you to become too sentimental toward her. She’ll despise you once she realizes your deceit.”

“That’s true, but…” Rafael scratched the back of his neck, his eyes averted. “Perhaps I’m affected by your own words earlier. You looked so passionate as you spoke of Adelina.”

“But you still want me to leave her alone?”

“Yes, I do. For my part, I understand that Ira will hate me if our plan comes to fruition, but I can’t deny that seeing her tonight lightened my heart. She has talent, gentleness and grace. I’d expected a wife who did nothing but stare at me and blush.”

A shadow shifted upon the silhouette of a distant branch, which obscured the gibbous moon with its crooked lines. An owl, perhaps.

“Imagine if we had come here for love, not wealth, and in honesty, not deception,” Silvana said. “How different things might feel. How happy we might be.”

“Truth be told, it’s hard to picture you in love.”

“This girl faced her family and read me a poem about orgasm, all while pretending as if it were some flight of divine mysticism, and she got away with it. How can I not be in love with a woman who combines her innocence with such daring?”

Rafael sighed. “I’ll return to arguing with you tomorrow. At present, I’m exhausted. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

After Rafael had closed the door of his bedroom, Silvana waited for a time by the window, wondering at the workings of the night. The vineyard had taken on a sinister aspect beneath the moon, a gathering of crooked and broken devils all praying to an immense altar that rose above them—or, as it was called by daylight, the winery. How could the world beyond this window, evoked in black and haunting white, not be sympathetic toward her plight? It was beautiful yet melancholy, just as was her love for Adelina.