“Have your brother’s inquiries revealed anything about Lord Lodovico?”
“Only that he’s partial to wine, women, and gambling,” Gabriella said with a laugh.
“Doesn’t that trouble you?”
“I’d be more worried if a rich, handsome nobleman like him had no such vices,” Gabriella said. “I’m confident marriage will reform him.”
As we walked on, the breeze stirred the tree branches. White pear blossoms drifted down like snow. Several landed on our hair and shoulders.
“When will your father decide?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Gabriella brushed the blossoms from her shoulder. “He can’t wait much longer. Count Cavalieri keeps pressing for an answer.”
“Do you think the count will tire of waiting and find someone else?”
Gabriella smiled. “That is my hope.”
“And what of Lord Lodovico? Is he anxious for an answer, too?”
“If he is, Father hasn’t mentioned it,” Gabriella said. “But I have a plan to spur Lord Lodovico to action.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and it involves you, my dear friend.”
“Me?” I said. “How?”
Gabriella took my arm in hers. “Lord Lodovico is attending your father’s next academic meeting, is he not? And Count Cavalieri, too?
“They’re both invited.”
“Well, thanks to your marvelous stepmother, I will be there as well,” Gabriella said. “And I intend to use the evening as an opportunity to make Lord Lodovico jealous. I will feign favoritism toward the count. Your task will be to urge Lord Lodovico to press his own case with my father so as not to lose me for himself.”
“Isn’t that risky, Gabriella? What if Lord Lodovico doesn’t rise to the challenge?”
Gabriella let go of my arm. “Well, then he would not be worthy of me.”
I did not relish the role Gabriella was asking me to play. But I had no choice.
Chapter Seventeen: Father’s Meeting
In the months following Father’s marriage to Adriana, the maestro received several new commissions. That meant our lessons together—and my opportunities to see Bellini—became less frequent.
I continued to watch for signs of Bellini’s feelings toward me. Some days, I’d look up from the harpsichord to find him staring at me. He’d blush and turn away immediately, convincing me he was indeed smitten with me, as Gabriella would say. But later, when I thought back on how little we actually said to each other, the idea that he cared for me seemed a foolish daydream.
Of one thing I was certain—Bellini’s music had blossomed like the flowers that now filled our garden. His compositions were no longer boring or trite. The energy he’d first expressed in his sonata for the harpsichord and viola d’amore had become his signature. But underneath that energy, his music was often imbued was a sense of tenderness and vulnerability that spoke directly to my heart. I wondered if my music ever touched him in the same way.
***
As the end of May drew near, new concerns distracted me from thoughts of Bellini. I had to prepare to perform at Father’s next meeting—the first since Mamma’s death. I’d never played my own compositions in public before, but that wasn’t all that worried me. Over a year had passed since I’d confessed my envy of Maria to Padre Gilberto. As part of my penance, I’d resolved not to repeat my sin. Until now, that resolve had been easy to keep, for I’d had little temptation. Father had been too preoccupied—first by his sorrow, then his remarriage, and finally his pursuit of a title—to take much notice of Maria or me. Now, with both of us performing at his meeting, I feared my envy would be rekindled.
At the last rehearsal before Father’s meeting, Maestro Tomassini said, “Forgive me, Signorina, but I must leave early today for an appointment.” The maestro quickly packed his things. “I will see you tomorrow evening. Rest easy tonight—your performance will surely be well-received.”
“Grazie, Maestro.”
To my surprise, Bellini didn’t hurry out after his uncle. Instead, he came over to where I sat at the harpsichord. “Is something wrong, Signorina? You seem troubled.”
He’d noticed. I stared at my hands in my lap. “I confess, I’m anxious about tomorrow evening. There will be many important dignitaries at the meeting, people my father especially wants to impress.”
“You’ve no need to worry,” Bellini said. “I have no doubt they’ll be awed by both your playing and your music.”
“You are too kind.”
“It isn’t kindness,” he said. “I speak only the truth.”
Something in his voice made me look up.
“And, in truth,” he went on, “I must say it has been a privilege and an honor to be your fellow student. I’ve learned much from you.” He smiled and I caught sight of his elusive dimple. “I’ll be sad when our lessons together end.”
My heart quickened. “Why must they end? Has something happened?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But it’s inevitable. I’ll soon turn eighteen. I must think of the future.” His gaze met mine. The deep blue of his eyes reminded me again of Lake Como on a summer day. Today something new lay in their azure depths.
Surely, he was about to confess his feelings for me. I smiled my encouragement.
But when Bellini finally spoke, he said only, “I must be going, too. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
My disappointment stuck in my throat. I nodded without speaking.
After he left, I realized my hands were trembling. I pressed them to my bodice.
Bellini had spoken so calmly of quitting our lessons. Perhaps I’d misread his feelings. Perhaps Bellini didn’t care for me after all, or at least not in the way I’d hoped.
I looked at the portrait of the cerulean Madonna. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I raised my hands to the keyboard and began playing Mamma’s Sonata.
***
Adriana had ordered the harpsichord salon decorated with violets for Father’s meeting. Pots of the dainty purple flowers—Adriana’s favorite—stood scattered about the room. Their soft scent filled the air. Adriana even wore several sprigs in her black hair. Her hairdresser had arranged them in a way that made my tiny stepmother appear taller. And it was no coincidence that the color of Adriana’s silk gown matched the purple flowers.
Isabella, Maria, and I stood beside Adriana and Father to greet the guests. My stepmother had insisted my sisters and I dress in pale colors. Now I understood why. As the guests entered the salon, their eyes were immediately drawn to Adriana. How clever of her.
Maestro Tomassini and Antonio Bellini arrived before anyone else. While the maestro was dressed in formal attire, Bellini had on the same black suit he always wore to our lessons. But that didn’t keep my heart from leaping at the sight of him. His gaze held mine for a long moment as we exchanged greetings. Then he excused himself to tune his violin.
When the Riccardis arrived, Gabriella hurried past her parents to embrace me. “Is Lord Lodovico here yet?” she whispered.
“No, I’m not anxious at all,” I said to tease her. “How kind of you to ask.”
“Oh, I suppose that was rather thoughtless. Forgive me.” She pulled me aside. “I’ve been thinking of my plans so much I forgot about tonight being your debut as a composer. How do you feel, really?”
“Like a flock of butterflies are trapped in my belly.”
“I don’t understand why,” she said. “I have no doubt everyone will be awed by both your playing and your music.”
“Funny, those were Bellini’s exact words to me at our last rehearsal.”
“Well then, it must be true.” A familiar gleam appeared in her eyes as she said, “So tell me, how is your suitor? Is he here?”
“He’s there, tuning his violin.” I gestured toward Bellini, adding quickly, “And he’s not my suitor. He’s a fellow musician who will be performing with me this evening.” Bellini glanced up just as I spoke. He smiled, then went back to tuning his instrum
ent.
“Ah, he’s grown taller and handsomer since I last saw him,” Gabriella said. “But if he is only a ‘fellow musician,’ why does he have eyes for you and no one else.”
Oh, if only her words were true. “Stop being silly, Gabriella.” I scanned the room for something to distract her. “Oh, look. The man of your dreams has arrived.”
Gabriella watched with me as Lodovico Volpi entered the salon, alone.
“I wonder where his father is?” I said.
“The marquis is incredibly pompous,” Gabriella said. “He likely thinks this meeting is beneath him.”
“Beneath him? Why?”
“On account of your father not having a title. But I, for one, am glad the marquis isn’t here. His absence will make it easier to attract Lord Lodovico’s attention.” Gabriella glanced around the room. “Has Count Cavalieri arrived?”
“Yes. He’s there, by the fireplace.” I nodded toward him. “Your father appears to be headed in his direction.”
“Perfetto,” Gabriella said. “Let’s join them.”
“You go ahead,” I said. “I need to continue greeting the guests.”
“Oh, that’s even better,” Gabriella said. “When you speak to Lord Lodovico, make sure he notices where I am.” She strode toward the fireplace before I could ask how, exactly, she expected me to do that nonchalantly.
I returned to my post beside Maria just as Adriana said to Lodovico Volpi, “Welcome to our humble home. We’re so happy you could join us. But the marquis isn’t with you?”
“I am afraid not, Signora.” Volpi bowed. “He instructed me to express his deepest regrets.”
Father’s brow furrowed, but he kept his lips pressed together.
Volpi said to Maria, “I wouldn’t have missed your presentation for the world, Signorina. I understand you will be discussing the theories of that Englishman, Sir Isaac Newton?”
“I fear my talk will only bore you, Sir,” Maria said. “The real treat tonight will be my sister’s music.” She put her hand on my arm.
Lord Lodovico tilted his head and smiled. “I doubt you could ever bore me, Signorina. However, I trust I will enjoy your sister’s performance as well.” Lord Lodovico bowed to me.
I curtsied. “I hope not to disappoint you, Lord Lodovico.”
“And whom have we here?” Upon seeing Isabella, Volpi began stroking the black beauty patch on his left cheek.
“Forgive my poor manners,” I said. “May I present my younger sister, Isabella.”
“How enchanting.” Volpi bowed. “Will you be performing as well this evening, Signorina Isabella?”
“No, Lord Lodovico,” Isabella replied. “I am not as talented as my sisters.”
“Whatever you may lack in talent, Signorina, you more than make up for in beauty.”
Isabella blushed, covering her face with her fan. Was he flirting with my little sister?
I had to steer Volpi’s attention to Gabriella. “I hope you’ll enjoy visiting with the other guests until it’s time for Maria’s performance, Sir. Count Riccardi and Lady Gabriella are there, by the fireplace.” I gestured toward them.
“Yes,” Lord Lodovico said. “I see they’re with Old Bulldog.” Gabriella’s eyes were fixed on Count Cavalieri, who was speaking directly to her. Gabriella laughed, but the sound lacked its usual bell-like tinkle, a sure sign it was forced. Apparently, Count Cavalieri couldn’t tell, for he smiled broadly at her.
“Lady Gabriella is obviously enjoying herself.” Lord Lodovico seemed unperturbed. Gabriella’s plan to make him jealous wasn’t working.
Before I could say anything more, Father said, “Excuse me, Daughters.” He motioned to two guests who had just arrived. “I would like to present you to Duke von Hildebrandt and his daughter, Lady Elizabeth. They are visiting from Vienna.”
The duke was an extraordinarily large man—taller than the maestro and almost as round as Count Riccardi. In comparison, his golden-haired daughter seemed slender. She too was tall, but that didn’t keep her from wearing her hair piled high atop her head. The green and red jewels studded throughout her coiffure twinkled in the candlelight as she nodded toward us. Lady Elizabeth quite overshadowed my tiny stepmother. Perhaps that was why Adriana remained uncharacteristically silent.
Maria and I curtsied deeply as we exchanged greetings with the duke and his daughter.
Then Father said, “Your Excellency, do you know Lord Lodovico?”
“Yes, indeed,” Duke von Hildebrandt said. “We met during his visit to Austria last fall.” The duke spoke perfect Italian, though with a heavy German accent.
Lord Lodovico bowed to Duke von Hildebrandt. “What a pleasant surprise to see you and your lovely daughter here in Milan.”
The duke said, “As I recall, Volpi, you were embarking on a hunting trip the day after I last saw you. How did the hunt go?”
“You have an extraordinary memory, Your Excellency. Yes, I did go on the hunt. However, it was a most disappointing outing. I let my prey slip away.”
Lord Lodovico fixed his eyes on Lady Elizabeth. “I hope to have better fortune here in my homeland.” He tilted his head at the duke’s daughter and smiled.
Father said, “My lady, is this your first trip to Lombardy?”
“Yes, it is,” Lady Elizabeth answered. “And I am pleased to be able to attend your meeting this evening.” Her accent was much less pronounced than the duke’s. “I have heard remarkable things about your two daughters. I hope to learn much from them.”
“You will excuse us, then,” Father said. “It is time to make our preparations. I will leave you in my wife’s care.” Father gestured to Adriana. Then he signaled for Maria and me to follow him.
As we left the room, I glanced over at Gabriella. She’d moved away from Count Cavalieri and was watching Lord Lodovico. His attention was entirely focused on Lady Elizabeth.
If anyone was jealous, it wasn’t Lord Lodovico.
Chapter Eighteen: Colors of the Rainbow
The presence of women in the audience wasn’t the only thing that made this meeting unusual. It was also the first time I’d be performing after Maria. I’d suggested the change to Father for Maria’s sake. She was even more anxious than usual because her presentation tonight included a demonstration. And afterward, she’d be tested in her first public debate.
Maria took her place beside the harpsichord and forced a smile as Father described the evening’s program to his guests. Maria would be discussing Sir Isaac Newton’s theories on Optics—the study of the nature of light. She would speak in Italian instead of Latin, for the benefit of the women present.
Maria began hesitantly but was soon swept up in her passion for the topic. Her enthusiasm was contagious. The audience sat in rapt attention, especially the women. Newton’s theories were all the rage, thanks to the popularity of Francesco Algarotti’s book Newtonianism for the Ladies.
At the end of her talk, Maria said, “I will now demonstrate one of the experiments that led Sir Isaac Newton to his conclusions. Please come with me.”
Maria signaled to Naldo, who stood in a corner. He picked up a candelabrum bearing five lit candles and led us into the adjacent parlor. The drapes had been drawn tight so the room was completely dark except for the light of the candelabrum. Naldo set the candelabrum on a table in the center of the parlor.
When she reached the table, Maria said, “Come close, everyone.” She waved the guests toward her. “So you will have a clear view.”
Maria reached into her pocket and pulled out a large triangular crystal. “I have here a prism.” She lifted the crystal prism above her head for everyone to see. A murmur went through the guests. “Now, observe.”
Maria signaled to Naldo to raise the candelabrum. She then held the prism before the lit candles. Suddenly, a rainbow appeared high on the far wall.
The guests gasped in astonishment. Someone said, “Amazing.”
Next to me, Gabriella said, “How pretty.”
“W
hat magic is this?” someone asked.
“It’s not magic.” The prism trembled slightly in Maria’s hand as she spoke, making the rainbow dance on the wall. “Newton deduced the crystal separates the light into its constituent colors. What the human eye sees as white light is actually made up of all the colors of the rainbow.”
“May I try?” Count Riccardi asked.
“Of course,” Maria said.
The count and several other guests took turns with the crystal. All produced the same results. “Fascinating,” Lord Lodovico said.
When the demonstration was over, we returned to the harpsichord salon. There Maria debated some of Newton’s other ideas with her tutor. As they argued away, my thoughts wandered to Gabriella. She was now seated between Lord Lodovico and Count Cavalieri. She showed little interest in either the debate or the count. Instead, she kept trying to catch Lord Lodovico’s attention. But he was focused on Lady Elizabeth, who was seated on his other side. At first, Lady Elizabeth waved him away and tried to listen to the debate. Eventually, though, he said something that made her cover her mouth to keep from laughing. They were soon deep in conversation.
Gabriella’s back stiffened. She raised her chin and rested a hand on Count Cavalieri’s forearm. When he looked at her, she smiled sweetly. His face beamed.
The debate came to a close. Everyone applauded enthusiastically. Maria sighed, obviously relieved. Father said something in her ear, no doubt a compliment. I averted my eyes to avoid the sin of envy.
I had to prepare for my own performance now. Watching Gabriella had distracted me from my anxiety. As I made my way to the harpsichord, the butterflies in my stomach resumed their fluttering with full force. I worried at how the guests would respond to my music. Would they consider it impudent for a woman (in truth, a girl, for I was not yet fifteen) to consider herself a composer?
When I reached the harpsichord, Bellini bent down and whispered, “You have nothing to fear, Signorina. Everyone will be touched by the beauty of your music.” The reassurance in his eyes melted my anxiety.
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