I’ll be ever near, ready to kiss your tears away …
My vision blurred. I could never fulfill those words now. I shifted my gaze upward and struggled to keep my composure.
Rest easy now, dear one. For you alone I sing.
Your place in my heart is secure, come what may …
Finally, I came to the last line:
I will love you my whole life long.
I prayed for Bellini to understand—I would love him my whole life long. No matter that we’d never be together.
I slowed the tempo as I played the final chords. With an aching heart, I looked over at the portrait of the cerulean Madonna. A sad smile crossed my lips. I’m keeping my promise, Mamma.
The audience’s applause pulled me from my reverie. They were on their feet now, clapping vigorously. I stood and curtsied, brushing the tears from my cheeks.
When the applause died down, Governor von Traun waved me over as he had Maria. The governor remained standing while he congratulated me in his heavy German accent. “Your songs are among Archduchess Maria Teresa’s favorites,” he said, “especially that lullaby. She sings it to her children often. The archduchess asked me to tell you she looks forward to receiving more of your compositions.”
I curtsied low. “Thank you, Lord Governor.” His words eased some of my heartache. My one consolation at having to marry Lodovico Volpi was that I’d be able to continue composing for the archduchess. I said to the governor, “I hope to soon have some new pieces to send Her Royal Highness.”
Father appeared beside me. The governor said to him, “Thank you, Count Salvini, for a most enjoyable evening.”
“Thank you, Lord Governor, for gracing us with your presence.” Father bowed low. “But you are not leaving already?”
“I’m afraid so,” the governor said. “I must depart the city early in the morning to tend to an urgent matter.” To me, he said, “I hope to have the pleasure of hearing you perform again soon, Lady Emilia.”
I curtsied again. “I would be honored, Lord Governor.”
As Father escorted the governor out, old Marquis Volpi approached. He gave me a slight nod and said only, “Brava, Lady Emilia,” before hobbling over to the refreshment table.
His son, on the other hand, praised me effusively. “I have never witnessed such musical genius in one of the fairer sex. Such virtuosity, such style, such grace!”
I knew Lord Lodovico was just flattering me, but I couldn’t help smiling. After we were wed, I would remind him of his praise and the archduchess’s comments, if need be, to ensure I’d be allowed to continue making music.
Stroking the beauty patch on his cheek, Volpi went on and on while Count Cavalieri and Benedetto Bellini stood waiting nearby. When Lord Lodovico finally paused for a breath, Count Cavalieri said, “That’s enough now, Volpi. There are others here who also wish to congratulate Lady Emilia.”
Lord Lodovico’s eyes widened. Either he hadn’t noticed anyone was waiting, or he took offense at the interruption. He didn’t reply to the count. Instead, he bowed to me and said, “Forgive me if I have monopolized your attention, Lady Emilia.” He glanced about then headed toward Isabella.
I curtsied to Count Cavalieri. “I am in your debt, my lord.”
“Nonsense,” Count Cavalieri said. “I am the one indebted to you for your stupendous performance this evening. It is unfortunate my wife could not be here to enjoy it as well. Perhaps you can come to our home soon and give her a private concert.”
“That would be my great pleasure.”
Benedetto Bellini said, “I congratulate you, Lady Emilia. My son did not exaggerate your talents one iota. You are an outstanding composer, musician, and singer.” He smiled, and for a moment the sadness seemed to fade from his eyes.
“Grazie, Signor Bellini.” He bowed and stepped away. I’d expected his son to be behind him, but it was another guest. Then I realized it was best I not speak to Antonio in front of his father. I didn’t know what, if anything, Benedetto Bellini knew about our relationship.
I wore a polite mask as I accepted congratulations from one guest after another. Finally, I couldn’t take any more. I excused myself, grabbed a goblet from a passing servant’s tray, and escaped to the balcony.
The air outdoors felt almost as warm as in the harpsichord salon. I took a long drink of iced lemon water, but it did little to relieve the tightness in my throat. I pressed the cool goblet to my cheek. In a moment, I’d seek out Antonio Bellini for what would surely be our last private conversation.
A large moon several days short of full lit the night sky. How right that a misshapen moon, rather than a whole one, should mark this new beginning.
I thought of the squirrels I’d watched this morning. For so many years I’d chased after my sister, seeking to surpass her. Now, in my triumph, I would be undone.
Even though my jealousy was gone, I couldn’t help wondering if my life would have been different had I been born before Maria. Would I still have been envious of her? Or would I have sought to protect her from the start?
Strangely enough, I suddenly felt grateful for my destiny. Had I not been the second sister, I might never have studied music. Nor met Antonio Bellini. And I couldn’t imagine a life lacking either one.
Yet such a life was about to become my fate.
***
I heard footsteps then a voice behind me said, “I’ve been searching for you, hoping we might speak privately.”
My heart quickened.
“And so you’ve found me, Signor Bellini,” I said, facing him.
He bowed. “Lady Emilia, words cannot express my admiration for both your compositions and your performance this evening.” His formality belied the look in his eyes. The lullaby had touched him, just as I’d hoped. The accomplishment tasted bittersweet.
“Grazie.” Now that we were finally face-to-face, I didn’t know how to tell him all that was in my heart. “I selected the pieces with you in mind,” I said, “as a farewell.”
“A farewell? Are you going away? Was your stepmother unable to help?” The formality had disappeared from his voice.
“She did help.” I considered explaining how Adriana and I had worked together to get Father to let Maria take the veil. But I feared Bellini might think I wanted to marry Volpi. So I said only, “Adriana found out the reason behind my father’s lifelong quest to join the nobility. From what she told me, I’m certain he’d never allow me to wed someone who wasn’t a nobleman.”
“I feared as much.” Bellini took a step closer, though he was careful to maintain an appropriate distance between us. For a moment, I wished he were less honorable. But then I wouldn’t care for him as I did.
I resisted the urge to move toward him. “Father is determined to betroth one of his daughters to Lodovico Volpi. With Maria joining the convent, that responsibility will now fall to me.”
“I wish there were some way,” Bellini said. “But even if I could put aside my hatred of my great-uncle, I still couldn’t accept his inheritance for fear of what it would do to my father.”
I’d seen the profound sadness in Benedetto Bellini’s eyes. If Antonio accepted the marquis’s inheritance, his father would no doubt see it as a terrible betrayal. “Does your father know of his uncle’s desire to leave everything to you?”
“Yes, though I hadn’t planned to tell him. When the invitation for tonight’s meeting arrived, Father thought it had been addressed to him in error. I deduced otherwise. Your father’d obviously assumed I’d soon be an eligible suitor. He might even have intended to speak to my father tonight of our betrothal. So I had to explain everything to Father. If he’d returned the invitation as being sent in error, it would have caused us all a great deal of embarrassment.”
“I’m surprised your father didn’t simply decline the invitation.” New hope flickered in my heart. “You did tell him of your resolve to turn down the marquis’s inheritance?”
“Yes,” Bellini said, “and Father was visibly
relieved at the news. His reaction reinforced my resolve. I encouraged Father to send his regrets for tonight. However, he didn’t want to miss what might be his only opportunity to see you perform.”
“Oh. I understand.” My hope extinguished, I turned away. “Of course, you were correct—my father doesn’t know of your decision yet. He may indeed intend to discuss plans for our betrothal with your father this evening.”
“If so, Father’s determined to avoid the topic,” Bellini said. “At any mention of it, he’ll suggest they make an appointment to discuss it later. That will give you time to explain.”
I nodded. In the silence that followed, I gazed up once more at the misshapen moon. Could it really be God’s desire to part us now? If so, for what purpose had He brought us together in the first place?
My eyes still on the moon, I said, “I originally wrote it for you, you know. The lullaby.”
“So I guessed, or at least hoped,” Bellini said. “It’s a haunting melody. I’ll never forget it. Nor will I ever forget you.”
Something in his voice made me turn to him again. “I expect we’ll still see each other from time to time,” I said. “I look forward to one day watching you conduct your own opera at the Ducal Theatre.”
He shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of seeing you wed to someone else. I’d rather leave Milan.”
“Leave Milan? Where would you go?”
“To any city with an orchestra that will have me. I’ll apply to Padua, Bologna, even Rome if need be.”
“But what of your family? How will your father manage his business without you?”
“I’ve already saved enough for my sister’s dowry. And she’s found an admirable suitor who will be happy to take over the business. Father can choose whether to live with them here in Milan or join me in whatever city I make my new home.”
A new thought sprang to mind: Could this be God’s solution to my problem, for me to leave Milan with Bellini? I could pretend to agree to a betrothal to Volpi. Then, after Maria had made her religious vows, Bellini and I could elope.
Then I recalled Governor von Traun’s words. If I disgraced myself by running off with a poor violinist, the archduchess would have little interest in me or my music and neither would anyone else. Save for Bellini. Would that be enough?
I reached into my pocket and ran my fingers along the loop of twine, but I couldn’t find the tiny knot that held it together.
Finally, I said, “Then this really is farewell.”
“Yes, I suppose,” he replied. “I pray Volpi will prove a worthy husband.”
His voice gave no hint that he knew of Volpi’s true character. For that I was grateful.
Bellini bowed. “Addio, Lady Emilia.”
“Wait.” I pulled the twine from my pocket. “I have something of yours.” When my hand touched his, a familiar shiver went through me. His eyes met mine, and I knew he’d felt it too.
I pressed the twine into his palm. I blinked back tears. What more could I say to him?
“God be with you, Antonio Bellini.”
As he walked away, I braced myself against the balcony railing to keep from slumping to the floor.
My heart would never sing again.
Chapter Forty: News of Great Import
The following morning, I woke when Maria rose from bed, but I pretended to sleep on. I soon slept again in truth. When I next awoke, it was to the sound of the basilica bells chiming.
I lay staring at the ceiling, my whole body heavy, as though held down by a millstone. The mere thought of moving made me weary. Was this how I’d feel every morning for the rest of my life?
Someone knocked at the door. “Emilia, it’s Adriana. May I enter?”
“If you must.”
“Why aren’t you up yet?” Adriana said, shutting the door behind her. “Are you ill?” She hurried to my bedside and reached for my forehead.
I brushed away her hand. “My sickness is of the heart, not the body.”
“Then brace your heart,” Adriana said, “for I have news. Two visitors are here to speak with your father.”
“So?”
“They’re Count Cavalieri and Benedetto Bellini.”
I bolted upright. “What are they doing here? Have you told Father yet about Antonio Bellini disclaiming the marquis’s title?”
“No. I decided to wait until today,” Adriana said. “But the visitors arrived before I had a chance. They’re meeting with your father in his study right now.”
“Oh, no.” I leapt out of bed. “Quick! Help me dress.” I pulled off my nightclothes.
“I don’t understand,” Adriana said. “What’s this all about?”
While Adriana helped me, I told her of my conversation with Antonio Bellini the night before. “His father must have assumed I would have explained everything by now. Otherwise, Signor Bellini would never have agreed to an appointment so soon. I need to speak to Father immediately.”
“It’s too late,” Adriana said. “Your father would be furious if you interrupted their meeting.”
“Father’s going to be furious with me anyway.”
“Well, truth be told, this is all my fault,” Adriana said. “I was the one who suggested we wait until after the meeting to explain the situation. I’ll tell your father so.”
I fell into a chair. “Grazie, Signora Madre.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “He won’t stay angry long, especially when I remind him that Marquis Volpi is still waiting to arrange a betrothal. Since your father has made no promises, the daughter will be of his own choosing.”
“Well, at least that daughter will be me now, and not Maria.” Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. “Father is still planning to let Maria take the veil, isn’t he?”
“Indeed,” Adriana said. “He spoke with Padre Gilberto at last night’s meeting, after Maria’s presentation. Your father was none too pleased with Maria’s desire to join the Blue Nuns, of all orders, but Padre Gilberto convinced him God would reward him well for such a sacrifice.” Adriana placed a hand on my shoulder. “I trust God will reward you even more, for you are making a true sacrifice. Now come, you need to finish dressing. Then I’ll fix your hair.”
Adriana was still arranging my hair when Nina came to the door. “Pardon the interruption, my lady,” she said to Adriana. “Lord Salvini would like to see you and Lady Emilia in his study right away.”
“Grazie, Nina.” Adriana quickly finished my hair. “Andiamo,” she said. “We mustn’t make your father wait.”
We found the door to Father’s study wide open. He sat writing at his desk.
I hung back as Adriana entered the room. Despite my stepmother’s assurances, I still feared Father’s wrath.
Adriana said, “You sent for us, my lord?”
“Yes, indeed.” Father set down his quill and waved us in. “I have news of great import.” His smile puzzled me. He wasn’t angry?
“Please, sit down.” Father got up to shut the door then returned to stand between us and the desk.
Adriana and I seated ourselves in the two chairs facing him.
“I have just met with Signor Benedetto Bellini and Count Cavalieri.” Father addressed his words to Adriana, his voice filled with excitement. “They have confirmed what Emilia told me: Marquis don Vittore Bellini wishes to leave his estate and title to his great-nephew, provided the young man is betrothed to a noblewoman.” Father turned to me. “And I have agreed to such a betrothal between you and young Bellini.” He gestured to the letter on the desk behind him. “I am writing to the notary now, asking him to draft the necessary documents immediately.”
Adriana clapped her hands and jumped up. “This is marvelous!”
I was still confused. “But I thought … How can this be? Last night, Antonio Bellini told me his father could not abide his accepting the inheritance.”
Father’s smile widened. “So I learned this morning. Signor Bellini did not explain what brought about his change of h
eart. Perhaps it was Count Cavalieri’s offer to act as intermediary, thus sparing Bellini and his son any contact with the marquis.” Father leaned against his desk. “I am not surprised by Cavalieri’s success in this matter, given the Old Bulldog’s reputation as a diplomat. However, I have no idea why he should take any interest in it.”
Of course, I knew the reason. It was Gabriella’s doing.
“In any case,” Father said, “the marquis’s ill health requires swift action. Unfortunately, since tomorrow is Sunday, we must wait an extra day. Count Cavalieri and Signor Bellini will return Monday morning. I’ll have the notary bring the nuptial agreement here and serve as official witness to its signing. Then Count Cavalieri will take the documents with post-haste to the marquis, who has promised to sign his revised will immediately upon sight of the contract.” Father rubbed his hands together. “By Monday evening you, Daughter, shall be officially betrothed to the future Marquis don Antonio Bellini.”
“I can scarcely believe it,” I said.
Adriana clapped her hands again. “We must give praise and thanks to God.” She put her hand out for mine. “Let’s go to the chapel together, Emilia.”
“Oh yes, Signora Madre.” I took her hand.
“Be quick about it,” Father said. “I will not allow the midday meal to be delayed. I have an appointment at the Convent of the Turchine this afternoon to discuss the arrangements for Maria.”
“Rest assured, my lord,” Adriana said, “we will be punctual.”
We hurried downstairs. Outside the chapel door, I said, “I fear I am sleepwalking, and this is all a dream.”
Adriana pinched my arm.
“Ouch! What did I do to deserve that?”
Adriana laughed her cricket laugh. “Nothing. I was simply proving you are indeed awake.”
I rubbed the spot where she’d pinched me, smiling despite the pain. “You didn’t have to be quite so convincing.”
“Forgive me,” she said. “I wanted to be expedient. There’s no time to waste. Now come.” She opened the chapel door, and we stepped inside.
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