“His broker called him to Montevecchia again. I expect they may be nearing the end of their negotiations to acquire the feudal estate.”
“And then you’ll be one step closer to marrying Bellini.”
“But what of his lack of title?” I said. “Even if he succeeds in his plans, you said yourself Father won’t accept Bellini as my suitor if he isn’t a nobleman.”
“I told you to leave that to me.” Gabriella patted my hand. “A few days ago, I learned Marquis Bellini has finally left his sickbed. My husband has promised to call on the old marquis at the earliest opportunity.”
“Mille grazie, Gabriella.” I wanted to jump up and hug her. But given her new position, I thought it more appropriate to simply squeeze her hand.
***
In December, word reached Milan that Archduchess Maria Teresa, the eldest daughter of Emperor Charles VI, would soon be visiting Florence with her husband, Francis. Florence was the capital of Tuscany, which lay just south of our region, and the emperor had recently made Francis Grand Duke of Tuscany.
Father was in high spirits the evening he shared the news. He talked about it all through supper. This would be the archduchess’s first trip to Italy. Her father, the emperor, had no male heirs and had declared Archduchess Maria Teresa to be his successor. Father hoped that, as our future ruler, the archduchess might want to visit Milan before her return to Austria.
“The archduchess and grand duke should arrive in Florence by mid-January,” Father said as the kitchen maid cleared away the dinner plates. “I plan to take advantage of their proximity to send Her Royal Highness a token of our esteem.”
To Maria he said, “Daughter, you shall compile a summary of the lectures you have presented at my meetings, as well as a page dedicating the essays to the archduchess. I will have your work published as a booklet and send a copy to the archduchess.”
Maria’s eyes widened, but she said only, “As you wish, Signor Padre.”
Adriana asked, “Is there some greater purpose behind this plan of yours, Husband?”
“Indeed,” Father said. “My purchase of the feudal estate at Montevecchia has become mired in bureaucracy. By courting the archduchess’s favor, I hope to hasten the process and finally gain the title of ‘count.’”
“How clever of you!” Adriana raised her wine goblet.
“We must not toast my strategy until after it proves successful, my dear. And then we will do so with the bottle of Montevecchian wine I’ve been saving.” Father smiled, then said to Maria, “The booklet must be at the printer by January tenth.”
That was only a few weeks away. But Maria didn’t protest. She simply said, “Sì, Signor Padre.”
Father said to me, “Archduchess Maria Teresa is known to be a great lover of music. I’m told she especially enjoys singing. Have you written any songs recently?”
My cheeks flushed as I thought of the love songs I’d been working on. “Yes,” I said. “A few.”
“Good. Gather together your best ones, plus your newest sonatas, and ask Maestro Tomassini which would be most appropriate for a collection dedicated to the archduchess.”
“My lessons with the maestro are suspended while he prepares the opera company for carnevale,” I said.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Father said. “This can’t wait. Write out copies of your scores and give them to me. I’ll bring them to the maestro myself and explain the situation. I’m sure he can make time to look over your work and give us his advice.”
“As you wish, Signor Padre.”
***
In the following weeks, I dedicated myself to reworking my songs. This was my chance to contribute to my own future. If my music pleased the archduchess, she could help Father finally become a count. Then, as Gabriella said, I would be one step closer to marrying Antonio Bellini.
I modified several of my best songs to make them hymns of praise—the archduchess was known for her religious devotion. She was also the mother of two young daughters. So I revised my favorite love song into a lullaby Her Royal Highness could sing to her little girls.
When I was done, I carefully wrote out copies of the songs and my newest sonatas, as Father had instructed. There were fourteen scores in all. As I bundled them together, I said a prayer my work would win the archduchess’s favor.
I gave the packet to Father on the eve of Epiphany, the same day Maria completed her booklet. On his way to delivering Maria’s booklet to the printer’s, Father left my music with the maestro for his advice.
Maestro Tomassini returned the scores to me a few days later. In the accompanying letter, he wrote:
I am pleased to see that despite the lapse in our lessons, your composition skills continue to improve. These pieces, while on the surface joyful and pleasing to the ear, also express exquisite feelings of love and devotion. Well done!
Regarding the archduchess: I had the great privilege of meeting her when I was in Vienna several years ago. From what I know of her tastes, she will find all these pieces enchanting. My only suggestion is that you send an even dozen. Then, should the archduchess ask for more of your work, you will have two pieces at the ready.
I relayed the maestro’s suggestion to Father. He had me remove one song and one sonata. Then he dictated a letter of dedication for me to pen. When we were done, he said, “The archduchess and grand duke have left Verona and are currently en route to Florence. My messenger will have your music and your sister’s booklet there in time for Her Royal Highness’s arrival.”
“Sì, Signor Padre.”
As I left Father’s study, I couldn’t help hoping it would be my music, and not Maria’s booklet, that inspired the archduchess to assist Father. That way, I’d help bring about my own happiness.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Masquerade Ball
In early January, Gabriella and her husband sent an invitation for us to attend a masquerade ball in honor of carnevale. Maria, Isabella, and I were in Adriana’s sitting room working on our embroidery when our stepmother told us the news.
Adriana was so excited she set down her needlework and paced about. “We are requested to dress as characters from the commedia dell’arte.”
“I do not wish to attend,” Maria said.
Adriana swung around to face Maria. “Why on earth not?”
“I dislike both crowds and costumes,” Maria said. “Please don’t force me to go.”
“Of course I won’t force you,” Adriana said.
Isabella jumped up. “If Maria’s not going, may I take her place?”
“I’ll have to consult your father,” Adriana said. “What about you, Emilia? Would you like to attend?”
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” I’d still had no word from Gabriella about whether her husband had visited Marquis Bellini.
Adriana clapped her hands together. “Marvelous! What shall we dress as?”
I said, “I should like to go as Cantarina, the singer and musician.”
“Perfetto,” Adriana said. “Too bad there aren’t any kindly stepmothers in the commedia.”
“I think you should dress as La Servetta,” I said. “Her costume is simple. You need only borrow a dress and apron from one of the maidservants.” I refrained from pointing out how the character matched Adriana’s own chatty personality.
“Very well, I will,” Adriana said. “Isabella, if your father gives his permission, who would you dress as?”
“I should like to go as the character who bears my name—Isabella.” Leave it to my younger sister to pick the role of the leading lady. She would require a fine gown for the part.
“How appropriate,” Adriana said with a laugh. “And what of your father? Should he be a servant like me?”
This time, it was our turn to laugh.
Adriana looked puzzled. “Did I say something funny?”
“Father would never humble himself in such a way,” Maria said.
Isabella added, “Whenever there’s a masquerade, Father simply puts on his
best black suit and wears the mask of Il Dottore, the scholar.”
“I see,” Adriana said. “Hmm. I wonder how he’ll feel about my going as a servant then?”
“I’m sure Father will agree with whatever makes you happy,” I said. Ever since baby Alfonsino’s death, Father’d gone out of his way to please Adriana.
“Then I’ll have to tell him it would make me happy for Isabella to attend in Maria’s place.” She winked at Isabella then sat down and picked up her needlework.
To Isabella’s great joy, Father gave his permission. Adriana sent word to Gabriella that the four of us would be attending the event.
***
The night of the masquerade ball, rows of torches lit the exterior walls of Palazzo Cavalieri. Inside, the light was brighter still. Gabriella and her husband greeted us as we entered the grand ballroom. They were dressed as the innamorati—the two lovers, Lidia and Flavio. She wore a stunning royal blue gown with a low neckline that showed off her pearl necklace. Matching pearl earrings dangled from her ears. Count Cavalieri wore a feathered hat and a long cloak of dark blue. Neither of them wore masks, only matching heart-shaped beauty marks just under their left eyes.
“Ah, Cantarina,” Gabriella said when she saw me. “I’m glad you brought your lute. I hope you’ll play for us this evening.”
“My performance will be brief,” I said. “for my repertoire is small.” I plucked a simple do-re-mi in several different keys.
Count Cavalieri laughed. “Then perhaps it’s good we have hired an orchestra.” He gestured toward the far end of the ballroom where several musicians were playing a lively sonata. They were all dressed in black, with black masks. “The dancing will commence shortly,” the count said. “Until then, please enjoy some refreshments.”
Gabriella would be too busy greeting guests to talk for a while, so I followed Father, Adriana, and Isabella into the ballroom.
“Look at all the wonderful costumes,” Adriana said. The most conspicuous were the men dressed as Arlecchino. With their costumes of multi-colored, diamond-shaped patches, they reminded me of the narrator of the puppet show we saw in Masciago. At least one man was dressed as Brighella, the conniving shopkeeper, who wore a white suit trimmed with green stripes. A corpulent man in the military uniform and sword of a Capitano bowed to Adriana and said, “Buonasera, Signora Salvini.” He lifted his hat to me. “Signorina.” A mask obscured his face, but I recognized his voice easily enough.
I curtsied and said, “Buonasera, Count Riccardi.”
“Ah, forgive me, your Lordship,” Adriana said as she curtsied. “I didn’t know it was you. This will be a fine game, tonight, trying to guess the faces behind all the masks.”
“Fortunately for me, you did not choose to hide behind a mask, Signora Salvini,” Count Riccardi said.
“It is just like at the commedia,” Adriana said, “where only the men wear masks. I wonder why that is.”
Father said, “Perhaps it is because the men of the commedia are embarrassed to appear in the role of buffoons.”
“No,” Count Riccardi said, “I think it is because the women don’t want to hide their beauty. And I am glad for it.”
“Come, come, Capitano,” Countess Riccardi said as she approached from behind him. From her simple gown and red shawl, I guessed she was Columbina, another servant character. “Are you flirting already?” Countess Riccardi said to her husband.
“Isn’t that what carnevale is all about,” Count Riccardi said, “deception and flirtation?”
“I thought it was about eating and dancing our fill before the season of abstinence begins,” Adriana said.
“Let us eat, then,” Father said, “for Count Cavalieri has laid out a feast.” Father gestured to the food table.
Everything at the banquet table looked delicious, but I was too anxious to eat. “Come, you must try something,” Adriana said, holding out her plate.
“Very well.” I took a chiacchiera from her plate and nibbled the sweet fritter while I watched Gabriella. When the stream of guests finally slowed, I hurried to her side.
“I’ve been waiting for a chance to speak with you,” I said. “Do you have any news for me?”
“Indeed,” she said. “Come quickly, before the dancing begins.”
Gabriella led me down the hall to a small parlor. “My husband finally saw Marquis Bellini,” she said, shutting the door behind us. “The old man is in failing health. He may not be long for this world.”
“Oh, my.” I leaned against the door.
“Marquis Bellini confessed that his poor health has him worrying about his legacy. He despises the idea of his estate going to someone who is not Milanese. So my husband asked whether the marquis would consider leaving the property to his great-nephew, especially in light of the young man’s accomplishments as a musician and composer.”
“And what did he say?”
“Marquis Bellini admitted the thought had crossed his mind. But he wanted proof the young man would not repeat his father’s mistake. According to my husband, the marquis’s exact words were, ‘I am willing to leave my estate and title to my great-nephew on one condition. He must first be formally betrothed to a woman of noble rank.’”
My skin broke out in gooseflesh. I stepped away from the door. “He really said that?”
Gabriella grinned and took my hands in hers. “Isn’t it wonderful! Once your father acquires his title and gives his consent for your betrothal, Marquis Bellini will change his will. Your handsome violinist will become the next Marquis don Bellini.”
My heart rejoiced, but my mind feared the news was too good to be true. “What if the old marquis dies before then? I have no idea how long it will take for Father to finalize his purchase of the Montevecchia property.”
“Then we must both pray for the marquis’s good health,” Gabriella said.
“And for Father to soon obtain his title,” I said. “He’s had word the archduchess is in possession of our gifts and is hoping they’ll please her enough to want to help him.”
“We should pray for that too then,” Gabriella said.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Nivola
Lent seemed to last forever. I kept a strict fast and prayed daily for both Marquis Bellini’s health and for Archduchess Maria Teresa to like my music. Father said nothing more of our gifts to the archduchess or of the status of his negotiations for the Montevecchia estate.
I filled the long hours by composing more new music. One afternoon in late April, I was at the keyboard working on my first violin concerto when Adriana rushed into the harpsichord salon. “They’re coming to Milan, Emilia!”
“Who’s coming?”
“The archduchess and grand duke,” Adriana said. “They’re stopping here on their way back to Vienna. Isn’t it marvelous!”
“Really?” I stood up. “When will they arrive?”
“The first week of May,” Adriana said. “Your father’s hoping to arrange for an audience with the archduchess while she’s here. You and Maria and I are to have new gowns made especially for the occasion, in the Mantua style worn at court.” Adriana clapped her hands. “The Montevecchia estate may soon be ours and the noble rank associated with it!”
And then, God willing, I would be betrothed to Antonio Bellini.
Unable to contain my joy, I stood and hugged my tiny stepmother.
***
On the second day of May, over 2,000 of the city’s soldiers and countless citizens lined the streets of Milan waiting to greet Archduchess Maria Teresa. Father, Adriana, Maria, Isabella, and I sat in our carriage amid the throng near Porta Romana—the southern gate that led to Rome. I was filled with nervous excitement. Although I knew there’d be no chance to speak privately to the archduchess today, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much my future depended upon her.
As time passed, the sky grew dark with clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain, which began with a gentle ping-pang against the sides of our carriage, gradually crescen
doed to a pounding roar.
Crack. The thunder was so close it made me jump. A burst of lightning lit the murky darkness. Bystanders scattered. Even the troops dispersed.
“The storm must have delayed the archduchess’s party,” Father said, raising his voice to be heard. “She may not arrive until tomorrow now.” Father called out to the carriage driver to take us home.
“Oh, what a shame,” Adriana said.
I sighed in disappointment.
“We should pray for their safe travels,” Maria said.
I immediately began a silent rosary.
***
The heavy rain continued into the evening. Around ten, a loud boom rang out. At first, I thought the thunder had started again. Then more booms shook our palazzo and I realized it was gunfire—an artillery salute in honor of the archduchess’s arrival. Count Visconti, the emperor’s majordomo, had planned a grand welcoming ceremony for all to witness on the steps of the Royal Palace. He was to present the archduchess with the keys to the city’s gates. The Gazette reported later that the unceasing deluge forced the ceremony indoors. Some high-ranking officials were the only onlookers.
My first glimpse of the archduchess came the next day, which happened to be the Feast of the Cross. Our family joined the crowd inside the Duomo to participate in the twice-yearly ritual of the Holy Nail, a relic believed to be one of the nails from the cross of Christ. The Nail is stored in a crystal case set in the center of an enormous gold cross suspended high inside the cathedral’s dome. The cross can only be reached via the Nivola—a mechanical, cloud-shaped lift said to have been designed by Leonardo da Vinci himself. The lift sits behind the Duomo’s main altar. From where we stood, I could see neither the Nivola nor the three cathedral priests who climbed into it.
Bing-bong-bang, bing-bong-bang, bing-bong-bang. The cathedral bells tolled over and over as the Nivola floated slowly upward. When it came into view above the altar, I could just make out the statues of the two angels seated atop the man-made cloud. I leaned my head back to watch the Nivola continue its ascent. Bing-bong-bang, bing-bong-bang, bing-bong-bang. Finally, the Nivola came to rest before the gold cross, 120 feet in the air.
Playing by Heart Page 17
