by Speer, Flora
“He does not love me,” Rosalinda interrupted in a fierce whisper. “If he did, he would not be so polite and distant when we meet. He would talk to me and listen to what I have to say. He would put his arms around me and kiss me and hold me close. And then, when he did caress me, he would know why I have been so difficult and unhappy.”
“I am not sure about that,” said Bianca. “I have only been married for a little more than three weeks, yet already I understand that men must be told, and then told again, the simplest truths that women understand by intuition. Vanni is the most considerate of husbands, and I love him with all my heart, but on several occasions I have been forced to a most unladylike directness in dealing with him. And to unflinching persistence when he does not understand at once. Of course, when he does comprehend my exact desire, he always gives me what I want,” Bianca finished with a chuckle and a slight blush.
“I cannot simply walk up to Andrea and make an announcement,” Rosalinda said. “He is constantly surrounded by people. Just as you are. Here comes a man now, who looks eager to interrupt our conversation.”
“Madonna Bianca.” The approaching courtier bowed low. “The duke has asked me to inform you that the representatives of Venice are arriving at the palace gate. The duke requests your presence in the large audience chamber when he greets the delegation.”
“I will be there immediately. You may go, Vincenzo,” Bianca said in a firm voice when the man did not move. “I will first finish my conversation with my sister.”
“As you wish, madonna.” With a frowning glance at Rosalinda, the man backed away.
“I am keeping you from your duties,” Rosalinda said.
“Don’t worry. It will do the Venetians good to have to wait for a while. Everyone else caters to their wishes. We will not, and thus we will gain their respect.”
“You make a remarkable duchess. Mother’s stern training seems to be serving you well.” Rosalinda smiled, but quickly became serious again. “Don’t try to stop me from leaving, Bianca. I am going to take with me Lorenzo and Maria who, according to Maria, are both eager to go home, and one other man-at-arms who is also homesick. We will depart in early morning.”
“I don’t think you should be alone at Villa Serenita,” Bianca objected.
“I won’t be alone. Most of our men-at-arms and their families are still living there. Like me, they have no desire for city life.”
“Vanni says the ducal palace at Aullia is set in a large and very beautiful garden,” Bianca remarked with studied casualness.
“I don’t care if it is set in Paradise!” Rosalinda exclaimed. “I have no intention of going to Aullia, nor will I marry a man who regards me as nothing more than the prize for his military accomplishments, and who thinks he can ignore me whenever he pleases. His actions prove that Andrea does not love me.”
“I think you are wrong, Rosalinda. I can see you are overwrought, and I wish you would change your mind about leaving.”
“I won’t.”
“My dearest, you are more like our mother than you realize,” Bianca said. “You are every bit as stubborn as she is. Once an idea has fixed itself in your mind, you will not let it go. You may be as wrong about Andrea as Mother was about Andrea’s father. What will you do if, like Mother, it takes fifteen long years for you to learn the truth? And consider this, Rosalinda: Andrea will want to produce an heir. Whether it is you or another lady, he will marry soon.”
“Vanni’s man is still waiting for you, Bianca. Your husband requires your presence.” Rosalinda tried not to let Bianca see how that last verbal thrust had hurt her, and all the more because it was true. Andrea would have to marry before long. Rosalinda recalled the ache in her heart when she had observed him talking and laughing with a pretty woman. The thought of Andrea naked and clasped in another woman’s embrace nearly brought Rosalinda to her knees. But she would not be deterred from the course she had set for herself. If Andrea did not love her as she wanted to be loved, then she would live the rest of her life at Villa Serenita and never see him again. Bianca had insisted on a declaration of passionate love from Vanni before agreeing to wed him. Rosalinda would settle for no less.
“Good-bye, Bianca,” Rosalinda said. “Will you come to me when my baby is born?”
“Of course I will.” Bianca’s blue eyes were too bright, her smile too obviously forced as she fought against the tears she would not shed in public, before the courtiers. “I promised to be with you when your time comes, and I will keep my promise. The Duke and Duchess of Monteferro will spend Christmastide and Epiphany at Villa Serenita, enjoying a private celebration with their families. And if you still wish it when that time comes, I will swear Vanni to secrecy.”
“Thank you. I love you, dearest sister,” Rosalinda whispered.
Bianca kissed Rosalinda lightly, as if they were parting for no more than the afternoon and evening, and then she went away with Vanni’s waiting courtier.
* * * * *
“Where is she?” Andrea strode into Bianca’s private reception room like a warrior charging into battle, scattering ladies in waiting, serving women, and astonished male courtiers to left and right.
“Where is who, my lord?” Bianca faced him calmly, hands folded in tranquil grace at the high waist of her dark blue silk gown. Pearls were wound through the braids piled high on her head, more pearls hung from her earlobes, and a heavy gold cross served as the pendant on her pearl necklace. With the composure of a woman secure in her position, Bianca regarded the angry man before her as if he were a peculiar but fascinating animal.
“Where is Rosalinda?” Andrea demanded.
“Can’t you find her?” Bianca smiled at him, hoping to infuriate him still more. If Andrea became angry enough, he might begin to comprehend just how deeply he cared for Rosalinda, and how badly he had neglected her over the past few weeks. It was clear to Bianca that her brother-in-law needed to admit to himself that he loved her sister with all the fire and passion of which the Sotani brothers were capable. Only then would Andrea be able to convince Rosalinda of his love.
“You know I can’t find her,” Andrea said. “No one has seen her for three days.”
“And you are only now discovering that she is missing?” Poor, foolish man, Bianca thought with the wisdom of a new and well-loved wife. I can see that I will have to take a hand in this affair, whether Rosalinda wants me to, or not. I do believe she will thank me for it in end.
“What is this unseemly noise about?” Eleonora had been standing near a long window, talking to a group of older women whom she knew from her own days as duchess. Now she left her friends to join Bianca and Andrea. Stopping next to her daughter, she took up a pose identical to Bianca’s, hands folded at her waist, face calm and expressionless.
“Do either of you know where Rosalinda is?” Andrea felt like strangling both Bianca and Eleonora out of sheer impatience with their undisturbed composure. They had not been so devoid of emotion while they lived at Villa Serenita. It occurred to him that they were deliberately hiding their feelings from him. He glared at Eleonora. “You must know where your daughter is.”
“I do confess, I have been greatly preoccupied in recent days, and thus I have not paid much attention to Rosalinda. It is a lapse for which Bianca has rightly chided me. As I now chide you, Andrea.” Eleonora assumed a sweet smile to match the one on her daughter’s face. “Bianca tells me that Rosalinda has decided to go into retirement.”
“Retirement?” Andrea almost shouted the word. “Do you mean, she has entered a convent?”
“Hardly,” Bianca said, meeting the fury in Andrea’s eyes with an expression of cold annoyance. Deliberately, she let Andrea wait through a few agonizing heartbeats before she divulged any more information. “Rosalinda found court life tedious. She has returned to Villa Serenita.”
“What?” Andrea exclaimed. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“I have just told you why,” Bianca said.
Andrea was bewil
dered by Bianca’s manner toward him. This was not her usual gentle, yet slightly reserved way of treating those whom she met in a public setting. Bianca did not raise her voice to him, nor did her sweet, smiling expression change, yet to Andrea she conveyed the distinct impression that she did not approve of him. Bianca did not disapprove of Rosalinda for foolishly running away before Andrea could find an appropriate time to talk to her and insist on an answer to his proposal. No, Bianca’s disapproval was directed at him.
“Thank you for the information, Madonna Bianca.” With a bow so brief it was almost an insult, Andrea turned to leave.
“Andrea!” Bianca’s voice was so commanding that for an instant Andrea imagined it was her mother who had spoken. But Eleonora remained silent and perfectly still at her daughter’s side. It was Bianca whose brows were drawn together in a frown.
“Madonna?” Andrea paused in mid-step, marveling at the transformation in his formerly timid sister-in-law. Bianca was fully aware of her power and very beautiful in her newfound confidence. Andrea could understand why Vanni was half mad with love for her.
“I never thought you were a stupid man, Andrea,” Bianca said. “Do not disappoint me by acting the fool now.”
“What do you mean?” Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Andrea took a step back toward Bianca. “What is it I should know, that you haven’t told me?”
“You will have to ask Rosalinda about that,” Bianca said, “after you have told her everything that is in your heart.”
“Rosalinda knows what is in my heart,” Andrea said.
“Do you really think so?” Bianca said no more. She just looked at Andrea with that strange little smile on her lips until he bowed again, more properly this time, and left the room.
“How very difficult it is to remain here and do nothing,” Eleonora said, looking after him.
“I pray that I have done the right thing,” Bianca said. “And that Rosalinda will forgive me.”
“I am glad you confided in me,” Eleonora murmured. “If you had not, I would be even more concerned over Rosalinda’s future than I am.”
As he ran down the stairs leading to the palace courtyard, Andrea’s mind was in turmoil. Just an hour before his appearance in Bianca’s reception room, he and Vanni had agreed on the final details of the treaty between Monteferro and Aullia, which the brothers believed would ensure peaceful relations between their cities so long as the Sotani family ruled both places. On the advice of Luca Nardi, taxes were to be lowered as soon as the treaty was signed.
“This one paragraph,” Luca had promised, “will result in the devotion to their respective dukes of businessmen, bankers, and ordinary folk alike. No one wants to pay taxes, though most men will pay them if they see some benefit to themselves in doing so. During the years of Marco Guidi’s rule, the people of Monteferro were taxed into near bankruptcy and, during the year since your father’s death, a similar process was begun in Aullia. Men who once feared what the future would bring will be pleased by a decrease in taxes. I need not remind you, my lords, that contented citizens do not plot to overthrow their governments.”
“Unless there is a Niccolo Stregone lurking about to drip venom into the thoughts of some too-willing man,” Andrea had noted.
“We will take care that a creature like Stregone never again infests either city,” Vanni had said with firm assurance.
With the terms agreed upon, the treaty was turned over to the secretaries, who would make several neat and careful copies of it. Until those copies were completed and ready for signing, Andrea had little to do. For the first time since leaving Villa Serenita, he was not concerned with arrangements for his brother’s arrival at Monteferro or with matters of state. Now, at last, he was free to seek out Rosalinda, to overcome any lingering objections she might have and convince her to accept his proposal of marriage.
Because she was Eleonora’s daughter, Andrea had expected Rosalinda to understand why he had been so busy of late, and why he had taken care not to single her out for special attention. Courts were veritable jungles of gossip and intrigue, and many of the retainers and officials at Vanni’s court were folk who had once been loyal -or who had claimed to be loyal – to Marco Guidi. In such surroundings, it was best to walk carefully until true fidelity could be separated from devious intentions. Andrea had no wish to place Rosalinda in a difficult situation by subjecting her to gossip. He was sure she would realize all of this without an explanation from him.
He had not expected to discover that she was gone. Nor had he expected the cool disdain he encountered in Bianca’s manner. Eleonora’s coldness was easier for Andrea to comprehend. It would take Eleonora some time to forgive him for his initial deceit in not revealing his identity to her when he first arrived at Villa Serenita. But Bianca had always been friendly toward him, and her present attitude gave Andrea serious pause. The sisters had obviously discussed his reticent conduct toward Rosalinda. It seemed that Rosalinda was not as understanding as he had thought she would be, and she had told her sister so. The sooner he spoke with Rosalinda, the better.
Within an hour of his interview with Bianca and Eleonora, Andrea was on the road to Villa Serenita. He took with him only two men-at-arms, and he spared neither men nor horses in his eagerness to reach the villa.
Chapter 25
“My lord duke, wait.” Lorenzo tried to prevent Andrea from leaving the stable yard. “Maria says that Rosalinda is very angry with you. I think you should let me announce your arrival at Villa Serenita and then allow Rosalinda to decide if she wants to see you.”
“It is not your place to announce me,” Andrea reminded his former comrade of the practice yard. “You are a man-at-arms, not a damned majordomo.”
“Do not scoff at Bartolomeo’s position, my lord. If he were here, he would tell you what I have just said. Andrea, stop!” Lorenzo shouted, forgetting the difference in their social positions in his agitation as Andrea pushed past him and headed for the garden. “Come back here!”
“I have ridden until I am sore and weary.” Andrea flung the words over his shoulder. “Having finally reached the villa, I will not stop until I see Rosalinda.”
“She may not want to see you. My lord duke, please wait.”
Rosalinda was in the garden, where she was cutting herbs to be hung in the stillroom to dry. Turning around in surprise at the sound of Lorenzo’s raised voice, she looked toward the garden entrance, still holding a sprig of lavender in one hand and a pair of shears in the other. The handle of a flat basket filled with herbs was slung over her left arm, and her face was shaded by her mother’s old, broad-brimmed hat. She went very still when she saw who was the object of Lorenzo’s futile orders to halt.
“I am sorry, Rosalinda,” Lorenzo called. “He would not listen to me.”
“It’s all right, Lorenzo. I will deal with this intruder.” Rosalinda eyed Andrea warily as he approached her. When she spoke to him, her voice dripped icy scorn. “How dare you come here to annoy me? And how dared Bianca tell you where I had gone? It was my sister who sent you after me, wasn’t it?”
“Bianca understands, as you clearly do not, what the demands of high office are,” Andrea said. He moved closer to her on the gravel path, until Rosalinda put up her right hand to stop him. Since she still held the shears in a tight grasp, Andrea came to a halt at arm’s length from her. It was not the shears alone that gave him pause. There was something different about Rosalinda. Beneath the shadow cast by the brim of the straw hat, her eyes were hard and her mouth was pulled into a tight, angry line. Her gray gown flowed loosely around her, making her look as if she had gained weight, yet her face was gaunt. Andrea stared at her, puzzled by her altered appearance.
“If your duties are so onerous, my lord duke,” Rosalinda said, “then you ought to have stayed in Monteferro to fulfill them. Or, alternatively, you might go home to Aullia to see to your affairs there.”
“I am not leaving Villa Serenita until you and I have settled this ridiculous dispu
te that you seem to think lies between us,” Andrea said.
“Ridiculous?” Rosalinda took a menacing step toward him. “You colossal knave! You thick-witted, uncaring brute!”
“The last time we quarreled in this same spot,” Andrea said, trying his best to remain calm in the face of Rosalinda’s rising anger, “your complaint against me had something to do with our fathers. Since that night, I believe you have also felt that I have been neglecting you.”
“You ignored me every day that I was in Monteferro,” she cried. “You have made it clear that you want nothing more to do with me. Day after day, I watched you flirting with other women, laughing and talking, sitting with them at those interminable banquets. While I grow heavy and—”
“Flirting?” Andrea interrupted, laughing at her. “Rosalinda, I was trying to protect you from gossip. You have no experience of courtly life and, therefore, no idea just how nasty courtiers can be once their curiosity is aroused. If anyone at Monteferro thought that you and I—”
“There is no need for you to protect me.” It was Rosalinda’s turn to interrupt and she did so by brandishing the shears at him as if to prove her point. “I am well able to protect myself.”
“Rosalinda, I came here to ask you again to marry me.”
“No!” she yelled at him. “Leave me alone, Andrea. You bedded me, you had what you wanted from me, and now you no longer care about me. Go away, before I call out the men-at-arms to throw you off this property.”
Andrea glanced from his furious love to Lorenzo, who had followed him into the garden and remained there, perhaps with the notion of coming to Rosalinda’s aid if she should need a champion. Having overheard Rosalinda’s last, loudly spoken words, Lorenzo was wearing a scandalized expression. A motion from Rosalinda brought Andrea’s attention back to her. She had taken a step away from him and toward the house.
