A sour look crossed the woman's face, and Prudenza reconsidered her words. With so little time left, she could not risk provoking the woman, lest she perform her task grudgingly and produce shoddy work. She stifled her frustration and composed herself. “You are very creative and surely can find a way to lengthen the sleeves. Of course, you shall be amply rewarded for this additional inconvenience.”
The gown maker gave her a nod. “Very well, Signora. Please remove the gown, Signorina. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow evening.” She and her assistant gathered their sewing supplies and carefully wrapped the wedding gown in a thick linen shroud.
Prudenza waited for them to leave then embraced her daughter.
“Do not touch me!” Giustina gave her a fierce look.
“What is the matter with you? You’ve been sullen and cross since we arrived here.”
“I hope the sleeves never get finished to your liking. In fact, I pray that they drop the entire gown into the mud. I do not want to be married to Luca. It is Lorenzo whom I love, and always will.”
“But cara,” Prudenza reached for her hand.
Giustina snatched it away and stepped back. “If you truly love me, you would help me to get out of this marriage, but you don’t care about me, about how I feel or what I think. All you care about is your ambition to raise our family to greater wealth and prosperity and you let nothing stand in your way!”
Prudenza shook her head, “Giustina, it is for the best…”
“Save your words. I have heard them all before.” She turned her back to Prudenza and stared out the window. “Please leave. I wish to be alone.”
“Giustina, you cannot mean that.”
“I do mean it.”
Prudenza hesitated.
Giustina swung suddenly around, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wet with tears. “Get out! I do not wish to speak to you now, or in the future.”
“Cara,” Prudenza implored.
“Get out!” Giustina shrieked. “Get out now!” She grabbed a nearby candlestick from the small writing table near the window and hurled it.
A flash of silver flew over Prudenza’s head and crashed against the tapestry on the wall, toppling the heavy cloth from the hooks that held it in place.
Prudenza stiffened. “It is not unusual for a bride to be emotional, and because of that, I will forget what just happened. We can talk in the morning when your anger has settled.”
“Get out! I will never speak to you again,” Giustina shrieked, her fists clenched, her face crimson with ire.
Prudenza slowly turned. Straight-backed, head held high, she left the room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door. Her breath came with difficulty as she fought back the hurt her daughter’s words had inflicted.
When she looked up, a nun hurried down the corridor toward her. “I have a message for Signorina Giustina,” she said, removing the note from her sleeve.
Prudenza snatched it from her hand. “I am her mother. I will take it to her.”
Annoyance flitted briefly across the nun's features.
Prudenza chastised herself for being so abrupt. “Grazie, Suora.”
With a delicate nod, the sister turned around and disappeared down the corridor.
When she was out of sight, Prudenza unfolded the note.
Carissima,
With Luca's blessing, I have found a way for us to marry. Between the hours of Matins and Lauds, I shall be waiting with a ladder behind the rear abbey walls. Bring riding clothes and enough garments for a three-day journey.
Lorenzo
Fury rose up, almost choking her. She had been gone for no more than one day and already they schemed against her. With unsteady hands, she tore the note into shreds then pocketed them in her pouch. Turning to the stairs, she headed to the garden, nearly blind with anger. She needed fresh air to clear her head and think.
Outside, grey clouds darkened the sky, matching her mood. Giustina’s words had stabbed deep into her heart. Throughout their lives, they had barely spoken a harsh word to each other. Clearly, Giustina wanted Lorenzo. In her generation, children did not argue with a parent’s wisdom to find a suitable spouse. Of the two brothers, Luca was the eldest, the wealthier. He would inherit much more than his younger brother would. Who could blame a mother for wanting the best for a daughter? Obviously, Giustina did.
No, she must press forward on the path chosen. Giustina would one day settle into her new life. Then she would look back and thank her. In the meantime, Prudenza knew what she must do. She glanced up at the early evening sky. It was too late to return to the villa today. She must wait until morning. Then she would check on Carlo and make sure Luca had rid himself of that whore. As long as she breathed, she would see that absolutely nothing stood in the way of Giustina's marriage to Luca.
95
In the darkness, Lorenzo paced behind the ladder he had rested against the convent’s wall. Two horses were tied and grazing in a copse of trees behind him. A dense, dark cloud moving in with a cool wind cast a pall over the sky, rendering the world nearly black. Tension charged the air as the wind swirled his cloak upward and around his legs. He stopped pacing and held the ladder steady as he waited patiently for the bells to toll Matins.
A fresh scent in the chill air promised rain. Fortunately, he had packed two mantles in the saddlebags to protect them against inclement weather. As soon as he could help Giustina over the wall, they would ride swiftly north. With luck, they would arrive in Poggibonsi by morning. There they would seek accommodation at a nearby monastery and rest for one day. The following morning they would depart for San Casciano. After that, it was a one-day ride to Florence. There he and Giustina could lose themselves in the crowded city and make the necessary arrangements to wed. His palms sweated with anticipation as he paced again. Although the moments passed with excruciating slowness, the knowledge that Giustina would soon be his wife fortified him.
Wife. The word conjured visions of a vibrant future together. Giustina working by his side as they harvested olives. Giustina as she brought his midday meal to him in the orchard. Giustina with the sun on her shoulders and the gentle breeze lifting her hair in a sensual dance around her beautiful face. Giustina lying beneath him in the heat of their passion. Giustina with a baby at her breast. Those were the visions that drove him forward, the ample reward for his anxious wait.
Finally, the bells of Matins sliced through the silent night. It would not be long now before he would hear Giustina's voice call out to him from the other side of the wall, and he could hold her in his arms. Lorenzo clutched his mantle tight around him and leaned against the wall. He waited.
The first raindrops spilled from the sky, but he dared not leave the wall to retrieve the oilcloths, lest he miss hearing her call out to him. He raised the hood of his mantle and wrapped it tighter around him, and still he waited.
Gentle rain soon transformed itself into a downpour. His boots sank into the muddied earth. Soon the rain penetrated his mantle and soaked his under-tunic and shirt. He kicked a small rock away. Despite growing discomfort, he was certain she would come soon. He clutched his mantle tighter around him as he waited.
Lightning flashed, and a strong gust of wind flung the ladder to the ground. Thunderclaps boomed out a loud din. His wet clothes made him cold and his body shook. He bent to raise the ladder and held tightly to it as the wind and unrelenting rain cleansed the earth. He wished Giustina would hurry. What could be keeping her? He had been a fool to assume it would be easy to escape from a religious house in the middle of the night, but he knew Giustina and trusted in her love for him. He lost track of time, but knew he must endure; he must wait.
Gradually, the rainstorm abated to a light drizzle, though the sky remained just as black and ominous. He was drenched. His teeth chattered and his legs grew fatigued from standing in the mud. Where could she be?
Finally, the rain stopped. The storm-darkened sky began to lighten into the dark grey of a dismal morning. A lump forme
d in his throat and a sense of desperation swept through him. Something must have prevented her from getting away.
It was then he heard the bells of Lauds. He grabbed hold of the ladder and swung it against the abbey until it splintered. Swinging around, he hurled what remained of the ladder into the trees. Why had she not come? Had the nun not given her the note? Impossible, for the nun would not break a vow. Then what or who? Prudenza! Somehow she must have intercepted his note and concocted some intrigue to keep her daughter confined. Damn Prudenza and her self-serving ambitions!
Lorenzo stomped a clod of mud into nothingness before grabbing the reins of both horses and mounting. As he rode away, the knot in his chest tightened and his disappointment turned to determination. Two days remained before the wedding. He glanced back at the cloister then looked ahead, resolute to have Giustina for his bride.
96
Prudenza refused to rest until Giustina was married and the union consummated. Before dawn the next morning, she left the abbey and made her way through the deserted streets to the villa. She entered the rear garden through a rickety wooden gate. A coppice of trees and hazelnut bushes provided a brief cover as she glanced around to make sure no one was about. The stable doors were shut tight, and the horses had not begun to nicker for their food, a sign the repulsive dwarf had not yet risen to begin his morning work. Presumably, everyone else was also asleep.
With a mere two days before the wedding, a morose pall hung over the villa. It seemed too quiet and restrained as if someone had died, instead of the excitement that should portend a forthcoming wedding celebration.
Up until now, she had spent every moment tending to last minute details, ensuring Giustina’s dowry gifts of silver tableware were polished, the linens carefully folded and scented for display. No less than five chests, their lids open to receive any last minute additions, lined the chamber Giustina had occupied in this house.
She wondered how that vacca, Felicia, was managing. Since there would be very few guests in attendance, Prudenza had left her in charge of the wedding feast. Felicia could surely not make a disaster of that. Although Prudenza would have preferred a much more elaborate affair, as befitting the wedding of her daughter to one of the land’s most successful horse racers, she respected Giustina’s wish to keep all festivities reserved for family and friends alone. Confident it was safe to proceed, she scurried through the rear garden, past fragrant rose bushes in lustrous hues of red and pink. With each footstep, she grew calmer. Passing by the herb garden, she inhaled the heady aroma of greenery wet with the fresh dewy smell of the fading night’s air.
As she reached the villa’s rear door, she heard a baby cry. Prudenza glanced behind her. It seemed to be coming from the cottage. From behind a partially open shutter, Prudenza saw the young woman pace, her bastard screeching in her arms.
Luca had failed to get rid of that slut, as she had demanded. If he lacked the mettle, she did not. Governed by wrath, she strode to the cottage. The sound of a woman’s soothing tones emanated from inside. Prudenza opened the door, stepped over the threshold, and gently closed the door behind her.
97
Olivia came to a halt at the sound of the door crashing open. A woman, one of Luca’s guests, stood on the threshold, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. The color of her cheeks rivaled the deep wine of her burgundy gown.
Guessing this woman must be the bride’s mother, Olivia went cold all over. She tried to remember what Luca had told her about his future mother-in-law.
“Who are you?” Olivia’s voice carried a mixture of apprehension and annoyance. The sudden, violent intrusion had disturbed her son. Before he could cry, she sat and returned his mouth to her breast to quiet him, then stared at her intruder.
“Who are you?” the woman asked; undisguised viciousness in her tone.
“It is you, Signora, who barged into my home. So, pray tell me who you are.”
The woman flinched as if in surprise.
Olivia was glad to see her in shock after such a rude entrance.
“How dare you ask me who I am? I have more right to be here than you!” Hands on her hips, she cast Olivia a rancorous look.
Despite the anger roiling within her, Olivia maintained a neutral expression, her outward appearance calm as she waited through the uncomfortable silence that steadily lengthened between them. She reached for the glass of fruit juice next to her on the small table and took a sip to ease her tension.
The woman stepped farther into the room. “Tell me who you are.”
“My name is Olivia.” She offered nothing more but clasped her son tighter.
“What is your family name, Olivia? Where do you come from?” The woman demanded in a tone as icy as her eyes.
“My name is Olivia. Nothing else concerns you.”
“You refuse to answer my question?”
“I do not know who you are or why you are in my cottage.”
The stranger inhaled a deep breath. “I am the mother of the woman who will soon be mistress here."
So she had guessed correctly – Giustina’s mother. “Then you are a guest of Signore Ventura.”
Signora Benevento scowled. “Do not dare to make light of this situation.”
“I meant no offence. I merely stated the obvious,” Olivia said.
“Whether you tell me who you are or not matters little to me.” She took a step closer. “I know you are Luca’s mistress and that brat in your arms is his bastard.”
Olivia clenched her teeth at the crude assessment and kept her eyes on the intruder. “Get out!”
“So you do not deny it?”
“I asked you to leave.”
Signora Benevento took measure of her. “Your presence here is unwarranted and harmful. Surely you can see that.”
The woman’s malicious spite washed over Olivia. She covered her breast and laid her son in his cradle. Then she faced her uninvited guest. “What do you want from me?”
“I want very little, Signorina, very little indeed.”
Olivia folded her arms and deliberately stood between the woman and the cradle. “Then tell me what it is.”
Signora Benevento sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Then she reached into the purse that hung from her belt and pulled out a leather bag, tossing it at Olivia's feet. Olivia did not pick it up.
“There are enough florins for you to return to wherever you came from and to keep you and your son in humble comfort for a year or more. I want you gone before the wedding.” The woman turned on her heel and strode to the door, her hand on the latch.
“And if I do not go?”
Signora Benevento stiffened. She slowly turned, her face filled with malice. “I shall see to it that life for you and your son here will be most uncomfortable, perhaps even unfortunate.”
The mother of the bride’s cold appraisal chilled Olivia to the bone.
Signora Benevento left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Olivia shuddered. Her heart raced. The woman had spoken to her as if she were no better than dirt beneath her feet. The veiled threat against her and Giuda sent shocks of fear through her. Olivia felt she had looked into the very face of evil. She noticed the pouch on the floor, and picked it up. The leather felt soft in her palm, the coins inside heavy.
The distress she had so carefully guarded during the confrontation rose within her and she shrieked. She raised her arm and flung the pouch against the door with all her might. Coins scattered and rolled in all directions. She would not allow anyone to harm her son. She would fight this woman with every shred of her strength and will.
98
Ignoring Olivia’s outburst Prudenza hurried into the villa and up the stairs to the second floor. Her work was far from over; one last task remained. Lest the wooden heels of her shoes make a sound on the tiles, she walked on the balls of her feet until she came to Lorenzo’s bedchamber. She pulled out the note she had forged.
Lorenzo,
Come to t
he abbey this afternoon after Sext. The abbess has granted permission for you to visit. It is urgent that we speak.
Giustina
Prudenza carefully refolded the note and slipped it under the door. Then she hurried down the stairs and out through the back door before anyone could see her. Only when she found herself outside the villa’s perimeter, did she slow her pace.
The treetops stirred in the morning breeze. The rising sun had started to turn the streets and houses golden. It seemed as if the loveliness of the world worked against her. Even Giustina was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day. Fools! All of them! To think they could best her. That would never happen, not with her talent for casting the evil eye. She would soon have Luca and his guileless brother Lorenzo cowering like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. Their parents may have failed to teach them their duty, but she would not.
As for Olivia, she hoped the slut was smart enough to heed her advice and leave the villa.
As she walked in the cool morning air her anger gradually eased, restored by confidence from having finalized her plan. A few loose ends to attend to, and then everything would fall into place.
99
A nun led Lorenzo through a silent stone-lined passage to a sparsely decorated receiving room.
“Please wait here. It will not be long,” the sister said, in a voice barely above a whisper. She turned and slipped out of the room, the only sound the click of the door closing.
Golden sunlight streamed in from a barred window to his left. Directly before him an ornamental iron grating set with scrolls, swirls, and diamond patterns, ran through the center of the room. Beyond it, he saw a rounded oak door set into a stone arch. Two chairs faced each other on either side of the grating. Although the screen disturbed him, he understood the need for its presence. At least he could speak to Giustina directly, touch her hand, so together they could plan their escape.
Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga Page 31
