Playing by Heart

by Carmela Martino

  Gabriella sat down beside me. “So how was your sojourn in the country?”

  “Too long.” I pointed toward the stage. “I missed the first week of performances.”

  “And a certain young man’s debut at second violin?” Gabriella nudged my elbow.

  I raised my fan to hide my suddenly hot cheeks.

  Gabriella leaned across me to look down at the orchestra. “Why, you can barely see him from here.” She grabbed my hand. “Come, you must sit in our box.”

  “But my father—”

  “If we hurry, your father will still be talking to my parents. I’m certain he’ll give you permission to sit with us if I do the asking.”

  I followed Gabriella. We found Father in the anteroom of her parents’ box, drinking champagne with the count and countess. Of course, Gabriella was right—Father granted permission for me to stay as soon as she asked.

  After Father left, Gabriella’s parents went to the gaming room to play faro. Gabriella and I had the box all to ourselves. She insisted I take the seat nearest the railing, facing the stage. She sat down beside me.

  “What a wonderful view,” I said as the second act began. “I can see the expressions on the singers’ faces.” I was also close enough to confirm that the violinist I’d been watching earlier was indeed Bellini, although his back was to me now.

  “Of which view do you speak my friend,” Gabriella said. “The stage or the orchestra?” Gabriella laughed her tinkling laugh. I couldn’t help laughing with her.

  “So tell me,” Gabriella whispered in my ear. “Do you miss your fellow student?”

  Just then, the soprano began a new aria. Her character’s father, the king, did not approve of her suitor and had banished him. The aria expressed her sorrow at losing the man she loved. Keeping my eyes on the soprano, I answered Gabriella. “I miss him more than I care to admit.”

  “I knew it!” Gabriella said. She lowered her voice again. “And are your feelings reciprocated?”

  I raised my finger to my lips for quiet. Finally, after the soprano had finished her aria, I answered Gabriella. “I don’t know how he feels. The last time we spoke, he’d been just about to ask a question when the maestro interrupted.”

  “How exciting,” Gabriella said. “Surely he was about to ask to court you.”

  “If you’re right, why haven’t I had any word since then? He could have written or even called on me.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be proper for him to write or call without your father’s consent.”

  “Then how will I learn what he intended to ask?”

  “Hmm.” Gabriella was quiet for a moment, then she said, “We’ll just have to find a way to get the two of you together. Perhaps at my wedding reception.”

  “Has your marriage date been set?”

  “Father won’t let me put it off any longer. We will wed on October 19. Just three weeks after my seventeenth birthday.” A strange look flickered over Gabriella’s face. I wasn’t sure if it was sadness or pain. “Have you heard?” she said. “Lord Lodovico is also betrothed.”

  “No, I hadn’t heard. To Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Yes,” Gabriella said. “Father says Duke von Hildebrandt is planning a lavish celebration at his castle.”

  “No doubt the food at your reception will be better,” I said. “I hear those Austrian chefs don’t know how to cook.”

  Gabriella laughed. “I think the music will be better, too.” She nodded toward the orchestra. “Especially if we can enlist the talents of a certain young violinist.”

  ***

  By the time the opera came to an end, Gabriella’s parents had rejoined us in their box. We all applauded together as the final curtain fell. I wanted to go down and congratulate the maestro, but Father had made me promise to stay with the Riccardis until Naldo came for me.

  Gabriella and I chatted in the box while the count and countess visited with friends in their anteroom. When the countess called for Gabriella to join them, I remained in the box and watched the musicians pack up their instruments. I stood, hoping Bellini might glance my way. After securing his violin in its case, he did just that. I waved. A smile lit up his face. I smiled back.

  I clapped my hands together to show my appreciation for his performance. Bellini bowed. He said something, but in all the noise I couldn’t make out his words. I shook my head and cupped my ears to indicate I couldn’t hear him.

  He gestured toward me and mouthed the word bellissima. Then he raised his hands and applauded. Apparently, he was complimenting the way I looked. I curtsied, trying to appear calm while my heart danced at his attentions.

  Bellini grinned. He seemed to be enjoying our little pantomime.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” Naldo’s voice said from behind me. “Are you ready to go?”

  I hated to leave so soon. “One moment.” I gestured to Bellini that I had to go. Then I curtsied again and waved goodbye.

  Bellini waved too, his face sad now. Somehow, I knew he was no longer playacting. He was genuinely disappointed at my departure.

  We hadn’t exchanged a word, yet I felt closer to Antonio Bellini than ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Cupid’s Arrows

  Gabriella looked like a duchess when she and Count Cavalieri opened the dancing at their wedding celebration. She wore a peach-colored satin gown adorned with silver lace and embroidery. As she glided across the floor, tiny jewels on her sleeves reflected the light of the ballroom’s chandeliers. Her hair held jewels, too, along with miniature cupids ready to shoot their arrows into the groom’s heart. Judging from the groom’s countenance, the arrows had already struck their mark. I’d never seen a happier man.

  I glanced over at the musicians. Antonio Bellini was not among them. For my sake, Gabriella had invited him as a guest, instead of hiring him to play. But he wasn’t here yet. I worried he might not come at all.

  I watched from my seat beside Maria as family members and guests joined in the dancing. Because of Count Cavalieri’s position, the guests included senators and other dignitaries. Even Governor von Traun was here. I saw no sign of Marquis Volpi, though. I wondered if he’d been invited.

  After a while, I grew restless and wandered over to the food table. As I placed a fruit tart on my plate, a familiar voice said, “I expected to find you on the dance floor.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I turned to see Antonio Bellini smiling at me. It hardly seemed possible, but he looked handsomer than ever. He’d filled out since I’d last seen him, so he no longer appeared lanky. He wore a chestnut-colored silk suit perfectly tailored to match his new proportions. My heart fluttered at the sight of him. Struggling to keep my voice light, I said, “No one’s asked me to dance.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said, “for you are even lovelier than the bride.”

  Heat rose to my face. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Forgive me,” Bellini said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He took a step closer. “There’s just so much I’ve been wanting to tell you, so much—.”

  He was interrupted when a man I recognized as one of the senators reached for a plate from the table. The music had stopped and others were making their way toward us for something to eat.

  I noticed then that Bellini carried a brown leather portfolio. “I have something to show you,” he said, raising the portfolio toward me. “Perhaps we can find a quiet corner?” He held out his arm.

  My pulse quickened as I took his arm. Bellini led the way to two empty chairs near a window. Sitting down, I realized I still had the plate in my hand. The cherry tart stared up at me.

  “I hardly know where to begin,” he said.

  “Perhaps you should begin where you left off,” I said, “with the question you were about to ask the day you told me of your position with the orchestra. The question the maestro interrupted.”

  “Ah, yes.” He looked down at the portfolio in his lap. “When the maestro interrupted, I took it as a sign from he
aven that the time was not yet right to ask my question.”

  “Is the time right now?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know I cannot go on without confessing my feelings.” He swallowed and met my gaze. His eyes were as blue as ever. “I have admired you for a long time, Signorina Salvini, not only as one musician admires another, but as a man admires a woman.”

  I clenched the plate in my hands to steady them. I thought my heart might burst. These were the words I’d so longed to hear!

  Bellini went on, “That day, I’d intended to ask if I might court you, with your father’s blessing, of course. After the maestro thwarted my plans, I realized it was too soon to speak of such things. I had yet to prove myself a worthy suitor. To that end, I’ve been working on this.”

  He held up the portfolio. “I’ve been composing a series of violin concertos. I finished the last one just today—that’s why I arrived late. If my compositions are a success, I’ll be able to use them to supplement my orchestra salary. The combined earnings will provide a comfortable living.” He set the portfolio back on his lap. “After I am confident of such success, with your consent, I’d like to approach your father.”

  My head was spinning now. It could take months, or even years, for his plan to come to fruition. I didn’t want to wait that long. “I cannot think of a worthier suitor,” I said. “You need not prove yourself to me.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say so.” He smiled wide enough to expose his dimple. My own smile grew to match his.

  “However,” he went on, “I fear your father might not agree.”

  “Well, he doesn’t know you as I do.” I pointed at his portfolio. “May I see?”

  “I’ve made a copy just for you.” He held the portfolio out to me. “I’m hoping you’ll give me your opinion before I show them to Maestro Tomassini.”

  “I would be honored.” Reaching for the portfolio, I wasn’t sure what to do with the plate in my other hand. “Would you like some pastry?”

  He laughed. “I’ve no appetite at the moment, but I’ll relieve you of your burden.” Bellini’s hand touched mine as he reached for the plate. A tingle went through me, an echo of the shiver I’d felt when he’d tried to remove the twine from my wrist so many months ago. This time, he let his fingers linger for a moment before taking the plate away. My heart thumped wildly. Our gazes met. The sorrow I’d always seen in his eyes had disappeared.

  Clutching the portfolio with my right hand, I pressed my left hand to my bodice, but it did nothing to slow my heart.

  “Ah, there you are, Bellini,” Maestro Tomassini said. By heaven, he had a knack for intruding at the worst moments!

  The maestro bowed to me. “Buonasera, Signorina. Forgive me, but there’s someone here I’d very much like my nephew to meet.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Bellini stood and bowed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  When they were gone, I rubbed the soft leather portfolio in my lap. If the concertos were good enough, perhaps it wouldn’t be that long before Bellini approached Father. But what would Father say?

  In all the months of waiting and hoping, I’d never allowed myself to truly believe Bellini reciprocated my feelings. I’d feared tempting il malocchio—the evil eye that curses those who take happiness for granted. Now that Bellini’d finally declared his intentions, I considered how Father might respond. Although the negotiations for the purchase of the feudal estate in Montevecchia dragged, Father was still confident he would soon be made a don. Gabriella had said Father would wait until after he’d acquired his title to arrange betrothals for Maria and me, so he could marry us to noblemen.

  Fear clutched my heart. Bellini wasn’t nobility. And from what he’d told me, he’d likely never be.

  Gabriella’s tinkling laughter pulled me from my reverie. She stood beside her new husband in a small group on the other side of the room. She glanced in my direction and waved.

  Gabriella whispered something into the groom’s ear. A moment later, she was seated before me in the chair Bellini had vacated. “I saw you speaking with your azure-eyed violinist,” she said. “So tell me quickly; was I right?”

  “Yes.” I held up the portfolio. “He’s been working to prove himself a worthy suitor. He’s written a series of violin concertos he hopes will establish him as a serious composer.”

  “I knew it!” Gabriella leaned over and grabbed me with both hands. “I told you all along he was smitten with you. I’m so happy for you.” She squeezed my forearms. “But you don’t look pleased. This is what you wanted, is it not?”

  “Oh yes,” I said. “I’m just worried about Father.”

  “Because Bellini doesn’t have a title?”

  I nodded. “I’ve just been thinking about what you said at your ball, about Father wanting to marry Maria and me into the nobility. Do you think it’s enough that Bellini’s great-uncle is a marquis?”

  “Not from what I know of your father.”

  “Then what am I to do?”

  “There is hope yet, Emilia.” Gabriella released my arms. “Marquis don Vittore Bellini is an old man, and his wife died without leaving him an heir. His quarrel with your suitor’s father might actually work in your favor.”

  “You know about the falling out between the marquis and Bellini’s father?”

  “I asked my husband about your suitor’s family.” Gabriella giggled. “It still feels odd to call Count Cavalieri my husband.” She shook her head. “Anyway, he happens to be well-acquainted with Marquis Bellini. We even invited the marquis to our wedding celebration.”

  “He’s here then?” I craned my neck to look about the room.

  “No, he sent his regrets. He’s been ill,” Gabriella said. “However, his illness may be a blessing for you. My husband says the marquis has been pondering his situation. As things stand now, his estate will go to a distant cousin in Padua. Marquis Bellini is quite displeased at the prospect. He has no great love for this cousin, and he’d rather his inheritance went to a Milanese.”

  “What are you saying, Gabriella?”

  “I’m saying that, despite the family feud, it wouldn’t take much to persuade the old marquis to leave everything to his great-nephew, especially if that nephew plans to marry into a noble family, which yours will soon be.”

  “So then Father becoming a nobleman would be a good thing?”

  “Most definitely,” Gabriella said, “especially with a little help from me.” The twinkle in her eyes suggested she already had a plan in mind.

  “How can you help?”

  “As soon as Marquis Bellini is well enough, I’ll ask my husband to call on him to speak on your suitor’s behalf. Given the count’s powers of persuasion, he should have no trouble convincing the marquis to leave everything to his great-nephew.”

  “Grazie, Gabriella.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

  “My payment will be seeing you married to the man of your dreams.”

  A hint of sadness flickered in Gabriella’s eyes. I wondered if she still wished cupid’s arrows had pierced Lodovico Volpi’s heart instead of Count Cavalieri’s.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Bellini’s Portfolio

  On the carriage ride home from Gabriella’s wedding celebration, I kept the portfolio hidden under my cloak. I didn’t want to have to explain how I’d come to have it. Fortunately, Adriana’s chatter kept Father distracted.

  I’d told Maria of the portfolio and its significance right after speaking with Gabriella. My sister understood, then, why I stayed up late poring over Bellini’s music scores.

  As I studied the music, I heard the instruments in my mind—the solo violin, the other strings, and the harpsichord playing basso continuo. Some of the concertos reminded me of Vivaldi’s work. Bellini’s music withstood the comparison well. His skill as a composer had continued to blossom in the nearly five months since we’d stopped studying together. His music filled me wit
h pride, and hope, too, especially when I discovered the letter he’d enclosed.

  October 19, 1738

  Dear Signorina Salvini,

  I placed this letter here, behind my music scores, because I did not want its contents to bias your appraisal of my work. By now you have seen the three violin concertos. I trust you to give me your honest reaction to them. I’m hoping you are well-pleased, for I dedicate these concertos to you. You have been my inspiration. It was only after studying your touching composition, Mamma’s Sonata, that I dared express my own emotions in my music. I have learned much from you.

  With the income from these and other compositions, I hope to have sufficient funds to provide for my sister’s dowry within six to eight months. Then I can begin saving for our future together, assuming such a future is agreeable to you. I pray no other suitor will supplant me in the meantime.

  For now, I ask your help and advice. Please write to me as soon as possible regarding how I might improve these compositions.

  Your faithful servant,

  Antonio Carlo Bellini

  I clutched the letter to my chest. I’d been his inspiration. He was planning for our future together. And that future, or at least our courtship, might begin in little more than six months. My heart sang for joy at the thought.

  I pulled open the desk drawer and took out the twine Bellini had used to ensnare my wrist. I had untangled it so the twine was now a smooth loop. The knot holding the ends together seemed small, insignificant. I slipped my hands into the loop, stretching it taut. The tiny knot held tight. I smiled. Up until now, I’d thought of the twine as a token of my feelings for Bellini. Now it also represented how we would soon be bound to each other forever.

  ***

  The candles had burned low by the time I began writing my response to Bellini’s letter. After listing a few suggestions for how he might make his wonderful music even better, I wrote:

  Please know that these suggestions are minor. I believe your concertos are already engaging, innovative works. I feel most honored that you have dedicated them to me, and I look forward to hearing them performed one day, with you as the soloist.