by C. De Melo
Bruno presented their hosts with a small wooden box containing cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg.
“Thank you for this fine gift,” Vittorio said, holding out the box so that Allegra could examine its contents.
Inhaling the spicy scents, she added, “This is most generous.”
He smiled slightly. “I’m glad it pleases you.”
Vittorio and Domenico helped themselves to spiced wine and chestnuts while diving into a heated debate over which of the city’s quartiere would win next year’s calcio match. Rather than take the opportunity to speak with Allegra, Bruno joined the men. In fact, as the evening progressed, he barely spoke to her at all.
The conversation throughout the tasty meal of roasted venison and vegetables revolved around harmless court gossip. Domenico brought up Cesare Orsini’s upcoming marriage, and Bruno’s eyes slid to Allegra in order to gauge her reaction.
“I wish him and his bride much happiness,” she said. “Who is she?”
“A Roman girl from a noble family,” Domenico replied. “Apparently Ferdinando de’ Medici had a hand in arranging the marriage.”
Allegra had not seen Ferdinando since he left for Rome at the age of fourteen to become a cardinal. The mention of his name stirred childhood memories. “I wonder how Ferdinando is doing these days. Isabella rarely speaks of him.”
“That’s because he criticizes his sister’s marital arrangement,” Bruno interjected. “A married woman should be at her husband’s side.”
“True, but it was Cosimo who insisted she stay behind with her dowry,” Vittorio pointed out.
Domenico looked at Allegra. “Forgive the indelicacy of what I’m about to say, but it’s also common knowledge that Ferdinando does not approve of his brother’s affair with your friend.”
“Regardless of whatever gossip you may have heard, Signore Domenico, I can assure you that Bianca Cappello is a good-hearted woman,” Allegra asserted passionately in her friend’s defense. “The poor thing has suffered greatly in life.”
To her irritation, Bruno chuckled and said, “By her own choice.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Had she obeyed her father, her life would have been much better.”
“Would it, really?”
Bruno leaned back in his chair. “I believe so, yes.”
“Bianca’s father was negotiating her marriage with the Doge of Venice, a man old enough to be her grandfather.”
“All the more reason why she should have gone along with his wishes. She would have lived her life as a great lady and a respected member of the nobility, rich beyond her dreams. Besides, the doge was so old she would have outlived him in a matter of a few years.”
The servants cleared the dinner plates and brought out spiced cake.
Domenico bit into a piece and smiled. “This reminds me of the spiced cake my mother used to bake for me when I was a child.”
Vittorio and Bruno smiled at the old man. Allegra, who still had much to say on the topic of Bianca Cappello, remained silent.
Noticing his pretty host’s annoyed expression, Bruno inquired in a mocking tone, “Did I say something to offend you, Signorina?”
“Bianca did not love the doge,” Allegra stated firmly, ignoring his question. “So, although she would have been a great and wealthy lady, as you say, she would not have been a happy one.”
“Love led her to scandal and ruin. She and Pietro Bonaventuri lived in misery,” Vittorio reminded her.
“Yes, Papa, she did live poorly for a time due to Pietro’s treachery,” she conceded. “But look at her now. The future Grand Duke of Tuscany has bestowed favor, love, and riches upon her in abundance.”
Bruno leaned forward in his seat and pinned her with a cold stare. “The woman is known throughout the city as the Venetian trollop. The Florentines openly despise her. As for Francesco, he’s being mocked by his subjects for shamelessly flaunting his—and I quote—fat whore in public. Anyone who associates with Bianca does so at his or her own risk.”
Vittorio set down his knife and turned to look at his daughter with worrisome eyes. Domenico refilled his goblet and drank deeply.
“Are you insinuating that I should not be friends with Bianca?”
“Signorina Allegra, you are a grown woman and can associate with whomever you please. Be aware that some people may start turning their attention, along with their wagging tongues, on you.”
“I don’t care what other people think,” she snapped.
Bruno looked down at his plate and said nothing.
“Anyone up for a game of chess?” asked Vittorio, breaking the silence.
Domenico beamed. “A fine idea, my friend!”
As they retired to the library, a servant entered with a wrapped parcel. “This just arrived for Signorina Allegra.”
“Hand it to me,” Vittorio said. “There’s no card. Who sent this?”
“The messenger at the door said it’s from Signore Matteo Vanusi.”
Vittorio handed the parcel to his daughter. “Well, open it.”
Feeling the weight of Bruno’s hostile stare, Allegra quickly unwrapped the gift. It was a small jewelry box fashioned from copper and silver. Nestled inside was a single chestnut.
Seized by panic, she snapped the box shut and immediately handed it to the servant. “Place this in my bedchamber.”
Vittorio appeared puzzled. “Was there anything inside of it?”
“No,” she lied.
“Matteo Vanusi is one of our biggest competitors,” Bruno observed. “How peculiar that he’d send you a Christmas present, Signorina Allegra.”
“I remember when Matteo used to shower you with gifts,” Domenico said to Allegra. “Oh, how that young man tried to woo you. All in vain.”
“That was a long time ago,” Vittorio said. “I’ve not seen or heard from him since my daughter rejected his marriage proposal.”
Allegra flushed to the roots of her hair as she went to stand by the window. Bruno’s eyes burned into her back, but she had a bigger problem to think about: Matteo Vanusi knew her secret.
When Vittorio and Domenico sat down to play a game of chess, Bruno approached Allegra and said quietly, “It’s becoming increasingly apparent that I’m a source of irritation to you.”
“We do seem to disagree quite frequently.”
“Fire and water,” he said. “Opposites, yet we’re very much alike.”
“How so?”
“Neither of us trusts the opposite sex.” Stunned at hearing this, Allegra looked away. He continued, “My reason is clear. As you well know, my adulterous wife caused the death of my son.”
“Signore Bruno…”
Undaunted, he continued, “But your reason is a mystery to me. Did some young man break your heart? Did you love him, but he only had eyes for another? What made you despise us so?”
“I do not despise men.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I love my father and Domenico, and...” She caught herself. “I admire you, too, Signore Bruno.” It took all of her courage to confess that to him.
“Do you, now? Well, I’m grateful to be in your good graces, my lady,” he teased. “Admiration from a woman like you is as precious as gold.”
“Perhaps admiration from a woman like Signora Paolina is more valuable. She admires all the men in the city.”
Bruno stared at her in shocked silence before bursting into laughter, drawing curious looks from the two older men.
Furious, Allegra clenched her fists and resisted the urge to slap him. “Do you find me amusing, Signore Bruno?”
“I find you more invigorating than the cold morning rain, Allegra.” Taking a step closer to her, he added, “Yes, I also find you amusing, intelligent and beautiful in every way. If I merited your affection, I would be a happy and fortunate man, indeed.”
Allegra’s heart beat out of control as he spoke these words. She placed her hand against the nearby wall to steady herself. “You mock me, sir.”
“I promise, I do not,” he said softly, his eyes dropping to her mouth.
As she gazed into his eyes, she fought the urge to trust him. “I’m feeling a bit weary. I should leave you gentlemen and—”
“No,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Please stay.”
“Signore Bruno, I don’t wish to argue with you.”
“That makes two of us,” he said, his expression sincere. “Come, let’s sit together. I’ll tell you about the time I came face to face with a tiger in India.”
Intrigued, Allegra allowed him to lead her to the chairs by the fire. They sat down and he regaled her with stories of his travels.
***
Allegra set out to see Bianca a few days after Christmas with a confection of honeyed hazelnuts. A servant led her into a bedchamber where Bianca sat at a dressing table in a gown of yellow and white striped satin. Around her neck was the stunning diamond necklace by La Castagna.
“My dearest friend!” Bianca cried when she saw Allegra reflected in the mirror. “How thoughtful of you to bring me a gift, thank you. I adore honeyed hazelnuts.”
“I know you do.” Dropping her gaze, Allegra added, “La Castagna has outdone himself.”
“Look at how it sparkles in the light. He is a genius!”
“And Francesco is a generous man.”
Bianca smiled wickedly. “I’ll wear it for him tonight with nothing else.”
“Bianca!”
“Stop being so prudish, dear.”
“I’m not prudish.”
“Oh no? Half the men at court lust after you, yet I’ve never seen you on the arm of any of them. Why is that?” Realization suddenly lit up her painted face. “Are you still a virgin?”
Allegra averted her eyes and said nothing.
Bianca shook her head in awe. “You can have any man of your choice.”
“I don’t want any of them.”
One of the servants stood in the corner, listening to their conversation. Bianca frowned at her. “What are you gawking at, girl? Go on, get out.” She waited for the young woman to leave before speaking again. “Forgive the indelicacy of this question. Do you prefer the company of women to men?”
“I’m not a lesbian.”
“Good. The less complications in life, the better. So what is it?”
“The thought of being a wife fills me with dread,” Allegra confessed. “One never knows how a man will act once the marriage ceremony is over.”
Bianca smiled wryly. “You’re referring to me.”
“It’s not only you. I know of others who have been led astray by love.”
“I agree that matrimony comes with certain risks and a fair amount of drudgery, but you’re not getting any younger, Allegra. The bloom of youth will fade from your face before you know it, and men won’t want you.”
“I don’t want them.”
“Fine. You don’t need to marry, but, at the very least, take on a lover before it’s too late,” Bianca advised. “Please know that I say this as your friend who cares for you. I don’t wish to see you grow old alone.”
***
Vittorio, who had been corresponding with Lavinia for a long time, finally mustered the courage to ask for her hand in marriage. The countess said yes. Eager to share the news with his daughter, he entered the workshop where Allegra was diligently working on a new commission.
She looked up from her task. “I thought you were out running errands.”
“I have something to tell you,” he said. “Lavinia and I are to be wed.”
Allegra stood to embrace him. “This is wonderful news, Papa. When?”
“We will marry in the spring.”
“Then we must plan a grand event to celebrate the auspicious occasion.”
Vittorio looked down at the workbench, which was full of precious metal strips, gemstones, and tools. “Why not take advantage of the afternoon? The sun shines brightly and it’s warmer than usual today.”
“I have just begun this commission.”
Vittorio waved his hand. “You work too hard and deserve a day of rest. On my way to the bottega this morning I noticed a new vendor at the market selling trinkets form the Far East.
Allegra set down her tools. “I’ll fetch my cloak.”
She left the house with Gianna in tow. Her thoughts had been heavy for days ever since receiving the jewelry box from Matteo. How had he discovered her secret? What was his objective? Blackmail? She only realized that she was approaching the Mercato Nuovo when she glimpsed the twinkle of gold from the windows.
“I had a feeling we would end up here,” Gianna commented smugly.
Allegra admired the gleam of the golden chestnut in the sunshine. Gianna urged her toward the Spinelli-Castagna bottega and they went inside. The apprentices could be seen in the back room, busily working on her pieces.
If they only knew…
Bruno appeared in the doorway. “Signorina Allegra,” he said, surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
His cool demeanor caught her off guard. “I was…I mean, I came by…”
“We picked up a few things at the market and stopped by to say hello,” Gianna replied on behalf of her stuttering mistress.
Bruno smiled. “How thoughtful. Would you like to see the adjustments I’ve made to some of your designs?”
He motioned for them to follow him into a small antechamber, which served as the office. Rather than accompany her mistress, Gianna stayed behind, pretending to admire a tray of pendants on display. Two ledgers sat open on a wooden desk, and off to the side was a small bookshelf with several leather-bound volumes. An armillary sphere and an astrolabe were positioned on a shelf, and she paused to admire them.
“From my seafaring days,” Bruno commented while unrolling a sheet with two different styles of rings sketched out in charcoal. “These are variations on your original design. Which do you prefer?”
She studied the images before inquiring, “What stone do you plan on using here in the center?”
“Ruby.”
“Gold or silver?”
“Gold.”
“I prefer the design on the right.”
Bruno reached across her for a quill to make some notes. Overwhelmed by his nearness, Allegra’s breath hitched. When his eyes dropped to her mouth, her heart raced uncontrollably. Slowly, he lifted his finger and caressed her cheek before resting his fingertip on her bottom lip.
“I’m pleased that you came to see me today,” he said huskily.
Allegra did not trust herself to speak under his smoldering gaze. Slowly, he closed the gap between them. She did not move, she did not breathe. For a brief, blissful moment she was engulfed in the scents of spice and leather as he pressed his lips against her own. The chaste kiss ended much too soon.
“I should go,” she said, flustered.
“Have I offended you?”
“No, I…I shouldn’t have come. I’m sure you have work to do.”
The flame which burned so brightly in his eyes went out abruptly, leaving only cold ash in its wake. “Thank you for your opinion, Signorina. Please send my warmest regards to your father.”
Gianna followed her mistress out of the shop, then said quietly, “Signore Bruno is in love with you…I know you love him, too.”
“Love is a luxury I can’t afford.”
“My dear child, you’re depriving yourself of happiness.”
“You never married.”
Gianna smiled without mirth. “No, but my reasons for abstaining from men are far different from yours.” When Allegra stared at her askance, she added, “My father was nothing like your father. I eventually ran away and learned how to be a lady’s maid. Fate smiled on me the day I met your mother.” She paused, sheepish. “I’ve spoken out of turn. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Giving Gianna’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she added, “I’m grateful that you’re part of our family.”
“As am I.”
�
��There’s something I haven’t told anyone. The box Matteo Vanusi sent me for Christmas contained a chestnut inside of it.”
“Santa Madonna! Do you think he knows?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
They stopped at Matteo Vanusi’s bottega on Via Roma on their way home. He smiled at the sight of Allegra.
“Buongiorno,” he said.
Allegra placed both hands on the counter that stood between them. “I came to thank you for the gift, Signore Matteo.”
“I’m flattered that you came in person when a note would have sufficed,” he said. “Do you like the jewelry box?”
“It’s lovely, yes.”
“Did you notice what was inside?”
“A chestnut.”
“Yes!” He smiled expectantly.
Was this a game? Allegra glanced warily at Gianna.
He continued, “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Allegra Castagno,” he said. “I thought it would be humorous to place a castagna in the box. It’s a play on your name, you see.”
Matteo’s face was guileless, his eyes sincere.
The corners of Allegra’s lips finally lifted. “How clever.”
“I’m to wed soon and the jewelry box was meant as a parting gift,” he explained. “It’s my hope that you foster the same good will toward me that I foster toward you.”
“Rest assured that I do, Signore Matteo,” she said honestly, the years of resentment dissolving in that instant. “Felicitations to you and your future bride.”
Chapter 21
Bruno arrived at the Palazzo Castagno the next day, intent on speaking with Vittorio. Hearing his voice, Allegra crept out of the workshop and tiptoed down the hallway. She listened from the top of the stairs as the men retreated into the library. Luckily, her father did not bother to close the door.
“Signore Vittorio, I’ve come to discuss a delicate matter.”
“You may speak freely.”
“It involves your daughter.”
