She found the housekeeper in the wine cellar at the rear of the villa, her back turned against the door and humming a tune while withdrawing a few bottles of wine from the wooden shelves.
“There you are! I have an errand for you.” Prudenza's voice echoed throughout the dark, cavernous room.
Startled, Rosina spun around. “Signora Benevento, I did not hear you come in.” Her tone bore an undisguised annoyance despite the false smile she presented.
Prudenza handed Rosina the note and two gold florins. “Deliver these to the Carmelite Cloister. You are to wait for a response.”
“Now, Signora? I am in the process of preparing the midday meal.”
Prudenza narrowed her eyes. “Now. I would not ask if it were not important.”
“Very well,” Rosina snapped with resignation. “It is not far.”
“I'll await your return in my bedchamber.” Prudenza followed Rosina out of the wine cellar and trailed her until she walked through the gates and disappeared from sight.
Prudenza returned to her room. While she waited for Rosina’s return, she occupied herself by packing some personal belongings into a smaller trunk. With Luca so defiant when it came to that woman and her child, she must do everything she could to keep Giustina from learning about it before the wedding. Hence her note to the Carmelites. She hoped they had room to house her and Giustina there until the wedding day. She did not know where Carlo was, but she would leave him a note to let him know.
Finally, she heard a knock at the door.
“Enter,” she called out.
Rosina pushed open the door and handed her a small note.
She unfolded it and quickly read its contents. The prioress responded that she would gladly accommodate mother and daughter for the time specified. Two rooms would be prepared.
“Will that be all, Signora?” Rosina asked.
“For now, but as soon as the midday meal is finished, you will assist Giustina and me in packing. We are leaving this afternoon.”
90
Prudenza's threats and heartless demands kept playing through Luca's mind, giving rise to a fury he could not quell. He had had enough of other people manipulating his life – Enrico and Carlo, who would not amend their cursed blood oath; the Church that made it near impossible to change a betrothal; and that scheming, vile Prudenza who could not see beyond her own greed. Well, no more. He was tired of waiting, tired of trying to set matters right, tired of trying to convince his father to aid him. No! It was time to set things right for himself, for Olivia, for his son. His son deserved his birthright, his rightful name, and by God, he would give it to him!
After retrieving a leather pouch of gold florins, Luca went in search of his brother. He found him at the rear of the villa walking between the damp rows of the herb garden, his shoulders slouched, his face a vision of despair.
Luca took a seat on the stone bench at the garden's edge. “I knew you’d be here in the garden. Even as a child, when something troubled you, I would find you with your hands in the dirt, rescuing some dying plant, or slaying some strange weed.”
Lorenzo's lips curled into a brief, half-hearted smile. He turned and joined Luca on the bench. “I have much to think about these days,” he said softly, as he rested his elbows on his lap and stared down at his hands.
Luca produced the leather pouch and handed it to Lorenzo.
“What is this for?" Lorenzo asked, brows raised.
“That, fratello mio, is the solution to all our problems.”
Lorenzo weighed the pouch he held in his grip. “I do not understand.”
“Gold florins. Enough for you to take Giustina to Pavia or Venezia or Milano or anywhere else you want to go. Marry her, buy yourselves a patch of land, start a new life together. Be happy.”
Lorenzo's mouth hung open, but he was speechless.
“You love Giustina, and she loves you. That is the way it has been ever since we were children. Your love should not be denied. This is my gift to you both.”
“And you?” Lorenzo asked.
“I will always be fond of Giustina, but she is like a sister to me. I love another. Her name is Olivia and she has given birth to our son. They are my family now.”
Hope filled Lorenzo's eyes. “We both know the trouble this will cause, all the repercussions from the Church and our families. Are you certain?”
Luca nodded. “With time, things will settle. Go to Giustina today and leave Siena. There are enough florins there to keep you comfortable for a long while.”
They rose to their feet simultaneously. For a moment, they looked hard into each other's eyes. Twins, they had always understood each other without the need for words.
Luca pulled Lorenzo to him in a manly embrace. When they pulled away, Luca noticed his brother held himself a little taller, a smile replacing his tense features.
“Go find your bride, Lorenzo,” Luca said. “You have my blessing. I’ll deal with matters here.”
91
When Luca entered the dining hall for the midday meal, he dreaded having to sit with that cobra, Prudenza, unsure how long he could control himself in her presence. He had never struck a woman, but he would enjoy making an exception in her case. Although he had known her all his life, until now, he had never noticed how wretched she truly was.
Fate was on his side, however, because only his parents were in the room. His mother gave him a warm, reassuring smile. He frowned at his father, who had already imbibed enough wine to put him well on the way to drunkenness.
Just as Luca was about to greet them, Lorenzo entered and gave him an odd look and a small shake of his head.
So, Lorenzo had not yet spoken to Giustina, Luca thought.
“I thought I was late,” Lorenzo said as he pulled out his chair, “but I see we are still waiting for Giustina and Prudenza.”
“I have been waiting all morning to speak with Prudenza,” Felicia grumbled.
“You'll have to wait longer still,” Carlo interjected as he strode into the room. “They are both gone.”
“Gone?” Lorenzo and Luca asked at once.
“Didn't anyone tell you?” Carlo shook his head and looked directly at Luca. “Prudenza left me a note. Apparently, she has decided it is best for you and your bride not to reside under the same roof until after you are married. They departed for the Carmelite Cloister where they will remain until the morning of the wedding."
“She never said a word to me.” Felicia grasped her napkin. “Prudenza said she had much to prepare, but never mentioned leaving the villa.”
Luca glanced over at his brother. Above Lorenzo's clenched teeth, his expression was one of outrage.
Enrico caught their exchange, drained his goblet, and shrugged. “Ah, don’t bother trying to make sense of it, my sons. Right or wrong, women get the last word in everything they do, in every argument. Anything a man does or says after that only starts a new argument. Better let them have their way and keep the peace. Safer that way.” He let out an inebriated burp, refilled his cup, and then downed the contents.
92
The renovations to the cottage were complete and now, somewhat recovered from childbirth, Olivia was eager to see her future home. While she waited for Rosina to come and help her move her things into it, she glanced around the cozy room where she had spent these last few months. It was much grander than her austere cell at the abbey, with plenty of room for the cradle, trunks, small writing desk, and bedside tables. The cottage would be even larger.
At last, she heard a gentle knock before Rosina pushed the door open and hurried into the room. “I apologize for having made you wait. I thought they’d never stop talking and take their seats so I could serve the meal.” She scooped up a basket of linens from the foot of the bed. “I’ll carry what I can now, and have the rest of your belongings moved later.”
Olivia bent over the cradle and lifted Giuda into her arms. His little arms waved aimlessly and his eyes opened briefly, but as soon as she straighte
ned, he settled and fell back asleep.
Olivia followed Rosina out the villa to the stone cottage at the rear of the property. Rose bushes in full bloom decorated either side of the front door. Rosina swung it open, and then stepped aside to permit Olivia to enter first.
A vision of quaint homeliness greeted her. Twilight hues of gold and rose streamed in from the open casement, lighting the one-room abode with a merry glow. Her glance fell first upon an ornately carved cradle, complete with gossamer draperies at its head. Her son’s bed rested next to her own, laden with rich covers and countless plump pillows in all shapes and materials. A wooden chest, carved with tiny horses and roses, rested at the foot of the bed. Its raised lid revealed an array of infant gowns and blankets. Beside the table set to the right of the window was a padded chair with pillowed armrests, an ideal location to nurse her son. A tapestry hung on one wall, and a fresco with children covered another.
A lump of emotion lodged in her throat at the sight of the charming interior. She opened her mouth to say something but could form no words.
“Well, go on in,” Rosina urged with a grin. “If you stand at the threshold a moment longer, the baby will become ill from the draft.”
Olivia crossed the room and laid her sleeping son in the cradle. She caressed his head, planted a delicate kiss on his cheek, and sat on the edge of the bed. She ran her hand across the luxurious bedding. “It is all so lovely.”
“Signore Luca will be glad to know you like it. He is a man with many connections in Siena.” Rosina turned down the bed and plumped a few pillows, gesturing for Olivia to lie down. “The tapestry was purchased at market. When we removed the old tapestry of Cain and Abel, we discovered this beautiful fresco. And the cradle, well, he purchased that some months ago and stored it at the rear of the stable.”
Olivia ran her palm over the cool, fresh linen sheets. Rosina reached into the open chest and took out a baby gown. “He charged me with purchasing an item or two each time I went to market, and I can assure you, he spared no expense.”
“Then you both have my gratitude.”
“Signore Luca is a good man. I know he wants to see you happy.” Although Rosina smiled, her expression held tinges of sadness.
Olivia was well aware of Rosina’s fondness for her and knew she secretly wished to see her and Luca together.
Rosina glanced into the cradle and smiled. “He sleeps like an angel. You should rest a while. Signore Luca said he will come to see you after the evening meal.” She crossed the room to the door. “I’d better get back. I’m sure they’ve finished eating by now and will be looking for someone to clear the trestle. I’ll have a tray sent for you. You must keep up your strength to ensure your milk continues to flow.”
With the same speed in which she had appeared, Rosina swept from the room, leaving silence in her wake. Tranquility filled the room. Olivia got up and strode to the window. The sun cast a golden light as it descended behind the villa’s walls.
The world seemed normal, unchanged, moving to its own daily rhythm. Yet everything in her life had changed. She was a mother now. Her son depended upon her to sustain and care for him until adulthood. A sense of trepidation swept through her. She had come to Luca’s home with the desire to enjoy a secure future for herself and their child. Now, with the arrival of Luca's family and his bride, she felt the first sting of exclusion, and there would likely be many more to come. All her life she had yearned to belong to a family, to understand why hers had discarded her. She sighed. Luca would care for her and their son, but they would always be outsiders, never truly belonging. Could she become used to living within reach of the man she loved, yet alone like a solitary olive tree apart from the grove?
Olivia moved away from the window and removed her outer garments. She glanced down at her sleeping son then slipped beneath the covers of her bed. With these doubts, and the exhaustion of nursing her son throughout the night, sleep soon overtook her.
93
Lorenzo waited beneath a stone arch at the iron gates of the Carmelite Cloister. He tugged on the bell rope set into the stone wall and waited. The toll rang clear and sharp. He peered through the scroll of black iron vines to the abbey beyond. The large, three-storey structure stood like an enigma before him. A narrow balcony where the sisters could take in fresh air or view the outside world surrounded the structure. Two wooden benches rested on either side of a rounded doorway. Thick canes of climbing roses covered the entire length of the building’s length. All appeared serene and idyllic. He suspected Giustina hated it here, for she was a child of the earth and sun and wind, just as he was.
The front door of the abbey opened. A nun stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. A scapular made of two strips of dark cloth, worn on the breast and back and fastened at the shoulders of her brown tunic, dangled to her knees. The Carmelite black veil and readily-identifiable brown and white striped mantle billowed in the breeze as she approached. Someone had once told him the stripes symbolized the scorch marks Elijah’s mantle received from the fiery chariot. When she stopped on the other side of the gate, Lorenzo saw she was of middling years, with a pleasant countenance and piercing blue eyes lighter than the sky’s delicate hue.
“Dio vi benedica, Suora,” he said in greeting.
“May God bless you too,” she responded, her raspy voice a contrast to her unruffled, tranquil demeanor. “Have you some need, my son?”
Lorenzo withdrew a sealed note from the leather pouch at his waist. “I am told there is a young woman staying here by the name of Giustina Benevento.”
“I am not at liberty to confirm or deny who is here and who is not,” the nun responded, her face without expression.
Lorenzo slid the note through the iron bars. “Please, it is a matter of urgency. All I ask is that you deliver this to her.”
The sister scrutinized him. He held her gaze and gave her a pleasant, sincere smile.
“Do I have your vow that you will see the note safely to her?”
She hesitated at first. He breathed out a sigh of relief when she finally reached out, accepted the note, and slid it into her sleeve.
She nodded. “You have my word.”
“Grazie, Suora.” Lorenzo reached into his leather pouch again and retrieved a gold florin. “A donation in gratitude for all the good works performed by your Order.”
She accepted the offering and rewarded him with a grand smile. “May God send you light.” With that final blessing, she turned swiftly away and returned to the abbey.
Lorenzo watched her every step. When she entered and closed the door behind her, he rested his head against the cool metal bars. The knowledge that the days of their separation would soon be over gave him a burst of strength. Come to me tonight, Giustina.
He hurried toward the market to purchase the food, clothing, and supplies they would need to make their escape.
94
In the abbey’s receiving room, Giustina stood atop a stool while a gown-maker flitted around the hem of her wedding garment, making final adjustments. Prudenza watched, noting Giustina's pale, sullen countenance. This was not the face of a bride eager for her wedding day. No smile graced her daughter’s lips. No blush colored her round cheeks. Much to Prudenza’s displeasure, glum, and withdrawn best described Giustina’s demeanor.
The luxury of this gown would have made any bride ecstatic, but Giustina barely looked down at its beautiful flow of silk around her body, or how the material shimmered against the sunlight in hues of cerise, peach, and pink. A gown fit for a queen, Carlo had spared no expense. An embroidered floral motif trimmed its sleeves and hem. From the matching girdle hung a tasseled purse made from the same silk. A woolen mantle and matching linen veil, both embroidered in gold and silver thread that coordinated perfectly with the gown's embroidery, rested over a long bench against the wall.
The gown-maker made a final adjustment to the hem, billowed it out to settle gracefully around Giustina’s feet, and then took a step back to study her ha
ndiwork. “What do you think, Signorina?” she asked. Small wrinkles lined the edges of her blue eyes and a brown mole grew beneath one nostril.
Giustina shrugged. In a bland voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Yes.”
Brushing away a few wisps of grey hair that had fallen over her eyes, the gown-maker frowned. “You are not happy, Signorina?”
Before Giustina could answer, Prudenza stepped forward. “The sleeves are too short.”
The gown-maker’s lips puckered and her brows came together as she reached out to adjust each sleeve. Taking another step back, she cocked her head to one side. “I do not understand, Signora, they seem the perfect length to me.”
Giustina raised and lowered her arms and shrugged.
“They look wrong.” Prudenza cast the dressmaker an icy look. “My daughter’s marriage is to be blessed by the bishop himself. The sleeves are far too short. They are not modest enough for a virgin bride entering a church. They must cover her entire arm from shoulder to the start of her thumb.”
Giustina shifted uncomfortably and turned away towards the window.
“But, Signora, to change the length now would require me to remove the sleeves altogether and cut and sew new ones. There is not enough material or time to accomplish it. The wedding is in three days, and the gown must be ready by tomorrow’s eve.”
Prudenza seethed at the foolishness of this woman who had made the sleeves too short. Now she dared show reluctance to rip them out and begin again!
Prudenza studied Giustina. If she expected any support from her daughter, she doubted it would be forthcoming. Giustina’s obstinate refusal to accept her marriage rendered her aloof. She cared not a bit for any of the wedding preparations, leaving Prudenza to make all the decisions on her own. So be it. She turned to the gown maker. “Must I remind you of the generous payment you will receive upon the gown’s completion?”
Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga Page 30
