Jones, again hazarding a guess at the trend of the captain’s thoughts, said persuasively, “Lady Hamilton is clamoring to put together the wedding. She cannot do enough for the English in this way. Fremantle testifies to that.”
The use of Captain Fremantle’s name had the effect that Jones had hoped. Duncannon said slowly, “Considering the circumstances, I see little reason to make a spectacle.”
“Then it becomes the simpler,” Jones said, bowing. “We’ll have it at Ludovisi’s bedside, as he requested. Shall I carry your assent to Nelson, then?”
“I condition only for assurance that the lady understands what is going forward, and freely consents.”
“I will put a discreet inquiry in motion at once.”
o0o
Signorina Anna Maria Ludovisi sat in the strange courtyard of Palazzo Palagonia, which had been the only palace large enough that could house King Ferdinand, Queen Maria Carolina, the English legate Sir William Hamilton and his lady, and their court. They had taken up the principal suites, leaving the musicians and servants to find what quarters they could.
It was this scramble for a place to stay, under the hot Sicilian sun, that had struck Anna’s father down.
Though he had been considered old when he married, Anna had never thought her smiling father aged until quite suddenly, the year before, when her mother had died soon after her little brother’s birth. Since then Papa had been ailing, and soon after they reached this horrible palace, he had collapsed.
She looked around, trying to fight the ever-present tears. The riot of statuary had seemed so pretty from a distance, but once she’d stepped close enough to see it, she’d found the statues of human-faced monsters unsettling. The entire palace was like that, a strange, even unpleasant place, making her feel as if she had somehow stepped from her own life with Mama and Papa into one of the darker operas.
She shut her eyes, relieved when she heard the whisper of men’s voices stop, and their footsteps fade away. Numb with exhaustion, and aware of the ache of grief pressing at the edges of her consciousness, she comforted herself with a mental review of one of Guglielmi’s more cheerful melodies, one taught to the royal children as part of their musical education. She could not bear to think about her father, slipping inexorably beyond even her and her maid’s most devoted nursing.
Presently she spied the approach of one of Lady Hamilton’s Neapolitan servants.
Anna liked and admired Lady Hamilton, who was beloved by everybody who knew her. She made no pretense of hiding her humble beginnings as Miss Emma Hart before her marriage to the legate. Anna had admired Lady Hamilton as a child, seeing her weekly at the English church services at the legation, before she was old enough to be invited to sing when Lady Hamilton performed her Attitudes.
So her heavy heart lifted when the maid crossed the courtyard to say, “Her ladyship wishes to speak to you, Signorina Anna.”
Anna followed the maid through the fantastical hallways to a room full of marble inset. At least there were no monsters or satyrs here.
Lady Hamilton was alone, was gowned in the filmy draperies that she preferred, a style that had changed decades of fashion. No one in court now wore broad panniers or tight-waisted satin or brocade gowns.
She had carefully rehearsed what she was going to say to the violinist’s girl. She felt sorry for the child, but uppermost in her mind was her desire to please dear Nelson.
“There you are, my child,” Lady Hamilton said, greeting Anna with a warm embrace against her soft, generous flesh. As always, she smelled delicious, her diaphanous draperies rustling as she drew Anna to sit on the couch beside her. “Now, dry your tears, have a comfit, and listen to me.” Lady Hamilton’s round cheeks dimpled, and her glorious smile invited Anna to intimacy.
Anna glanced at the silver trays full of delicacies, but her stomach had closed. Lady Hamilton took no notice; her mind was taken up with her purpose.
Lady Hamilton waited until Anna had pocketed her soggy handkerchief, then said, “I am so very sorry, dear Anna, but the medical men are all agreed that your good papa is not likely to rise from his sickbed. And, like a good father, his last thoughts are of you, his beloved daughter. Our honored Admiral Lord Nelson has taken a personal interest in the case himself. He wishes to see you comfortably placed in marriage to Captain Duncannon, one of his most respected young officers.”
Anna sank her teeth into her lower lip. ‘Comfortably placed’ would be a pension so that she might continue her singing. Not marriage to a total stranger.
Lady Hamilton, studying her tear-blotched face, said shrewdly, “It is no different than any other young lady of birth could expect. Why, our own dear Queen Maria Carolina was sent to Naples from Austria, after her sister died of the smallpox, not knowing the language, and scarcely sixteen years of age.”
She was also sent to marry a king, Anna was thinking—but having no wish to marry a king (least of all a king like King Ferdinand IV) she managed the words, “If my father asks it of me, then I shall obey.”
Lady Hamilton leaned forward to kiss Anna’s cheek. “I shall set everything in train. You need do nothing but present yourself like the good girl I know you to be. You have always served as the model of a dutiful daughter, and your dear mama I know would applaud, for time and again she said how often she prayed you would marry an English gentleman.”
“She did indeed.”
It was all true. Anna’s mother was used to discuss every English ship that came in, gleaning news of any eligible gentlemen, even when Anna was small; when they were alone together, Anna’s mother had longingly described the cool, verdant English summers in spectacular gardens, and how much better life was in England, in an effort to transfer her love for England to her daughter.
It was also true that Anna was dutiful. ‘Deference’ was inculcated into all the palace children who dealt with the many princes and princesses.
Anna’s mother had said once, after coming back to their rooms tired and worn from teaching willful royal children, “You must learn how to defer and deflect, the way my father taught his pupils with their swords. Then deference is a defense. But only if you learn to deflect and stand your ground; giving way until they overwhelm you will leave you with no retreat, and helpless. Never,” she said seriously, as the entire palace buzzed with the news that one of the spoilt young princesses had caused her father to cast an old servant into prison, “never let them get you helpless.”
I am helpless now, Anna thought, wiping her eyes. But she said out loud, “Thank you, my lady,” and curtseyed.
Lady Hamilton smiled, embraced her, then briskly sent her away. Anna understood then that she was a problem that Lady Hamilton now regarded as solved.
Her father lay in a small room in the far wing. Lady Hamilton had seen to it that he had a window, even if the chamber was scarcely wide enough for the bed, small table, and chair. Stable smells wafted in, and the great noise and clatter as King Ferdinand and his entourage prepared to go out hunting, as they did every day, in all weathers.
Anna’s maid, Parrette Duflot, stood on guard outside the door, as fierce as she was small. “He’s awake, Mademoiselle. With him by.” Parrette tossed her head on the ‘him’, which Anna understood to mean Beppe, who was as loyal to the Signor as Parrette was to her mistress.
Anna thanked Parrette and noiselessly let herself into the chamber. She found her father just as she’d left him, his head looking incongruously small on the great pillow the Hamiltons had sent especially. Beppe sat in attendance, a rough-looking article indeed as he gave Anna a short nod of respect. Most people did not get that much.
“Has he woken at all?” Anna whispered.
“He opened his eyes long enough for me to get some watered wine into him,” Beppe replied, his weather-beaten, scarred face sober. “So. You will do as he asks, Signorina Anna Maria?”
As always, he pronounced her second name the Italian way, the ‘i’ pronounced with a hard E, instead of the ‘eye’ tha
t Anna’s mother had insisted on. The English pronunciation. But Anna never corrected him, which annoyed Parrette.
“Lady Hamilton says that she sees it as my duty . . .”
“But?” Beppe prompted. “I hear it, ‘but’?” He lifted his shoulder. “You will be an English lady, as la Signora wished.”
Her father’s voice startled her, husky and low. “You will do as I asked, my treasure?” He spoke English with difficulty, but there was less chance of being understood if they were overheard from below the open window. “You will marry a well-born Englishman. You shall have a fine house, and a gentlewoman’s rank. This, your beloved mother also wished for you.”
“Why cannot we go to your home, Papa? You might recover, if you need not work, and I take up no space at all.”
“No, and no.” Papa struggled up on his pillow, sweat breaking out on his forehead from the effort. “My cousin is a buffoon, in spite of his grand title, and his wife a viper. She despised my beloved Eugenia for being English, and would use you as a drudge. I vowed I would only return to be buried. You will never go near them. Promise me!”
“If this is what you wish, Papa,” Anna said, slightly giddy, as if the ground heaved under her feet.
Papa lay back, his breath shuddering. Beppe moved swiftly to help him. “Your medicine?”
“I do not need it,” Papa said, pushing away Beppe’s hand. “Now that I know my little Anna will be provided for. Mr. Jones promises this English captain is from a good family. That was important to my dear Eugenia. Brave—he won his promotion at the Battle of the Nile. That is important to me. I can face mia Eugenia dolce in Heaven, knowing that you will be well established.”
“Papa—”
Her father’s brow contracted and he made a weary move with his hand. “Beppe, fetch the priest. And the English divine. We’ll have it right. There is little time. I feel death sitting on my chest, heavier than stone.”
Parrette was waiting for Anna when she left her father’s room, her thin brows a line and her vivid black eyes assessing. “So.” The maid gave a short nod. “There is to be a wedding.” She sighed, and spoke more to herself, “I believe it falls to me to instruct you in what that means.”
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Fair Winds and Homeward Sail: Sophy Croft's Story Page 19
