Glittering Promises (14 page)

They climbed one winding flight of stairs after another. “The dome that we’re circumventing was a marvel at the time. A dome without external buttresses to keep it from collapsing under its own weight had not been built since antiquity. And this was to be even larger than the Pantheon’s in Rome.”

“What’d they have against buttresses?” Cora asked.

“They considered them ugly, and since their political enemies used them, the city’s fathers refused to do so. And it was a break with the Gothic pattern and the first of many of the Renaissance’s hallmarks. And yet no one could figure out how to raise such a massive dome without buttresses. At the time, even the mason’s mortar took several days to cure, and in that time, the weight put a tremendous amount of stress on the scaffolding, to say nothing of the stress to the structure long-term. So it remained unbuilt for more than a hundred years. Then came Brunelleschi and Ghiberti, competing architects, toward the end of the fourteenth century.

“Some say the two were given a test. Whomever could get an egg to stand on one end on a piece of marble would get the commission. Ghiberti tried and failed. Brunelleschi took a long look at the egg, then cracked one end, making it stand in place.”

“That’s cheating!” Cora said.

Will smiled. “In a way. The other architects grumbled, saying they could certainly have done the same, to which Brunelleschi said, ‘Well, yes, and if you could see my dome plans, you, too, could build a dome for Santa Maria del Fiore.’”

“He was so confident?”

Will shrugged. “Either confident or bluffing. But he managed to put more than four million bricks into this dome, and it’s obviously still standing today.”

“I can’t imagine building such a structure. But I imagine
you
could.”

“It must’ve been glorious to be an architect in such an era. Brunelleschi even invented a unique hoisting machine to get the bricks up to the masons. And he was granted one of the first patents ever in order to protect his idea.”

“He must’ve been brilliant.”

“Brilliant or simply willing to try.”

“Likely both,” Cora said. “I think I may have many willing-to-try moments ahead of me, working with my father. And Andrew Morgan.”

“Indeed you will.” Upward they went, single-file, hunched over in places in order to fit through. “I confess this was far easier as a child,” he huffed after turning a particularly tight corner.

“I would imagine,” Cora said, similarly out of breath. But her eyes shone with excitement, and he knew he’d made the right choice, bringing her. They climbed for another fifteen minutes before finally the stairs ended and they stood on a small platform. “Ready?” Will asked, his hand on the old brass doorknob as he looked down at Cora, who was only partially visible in the dark of the stairwell.

“Ready,” she said.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “I want to see your face the moment you see what I have to show you.”

“All right,” she said tentatively. He opened the door, took her by the shoulders, and guided her out of the stairwell, to the tiny cupola that served as the observation deck of the duomo. Here, the dome’s roof descended in a gentle curve of cascading tiles in every direction. And here, on Firenze’s highest building, there was a clear view in every direction. He looked about and then positioned Cora toward the last bits of the setting sun, now but a rose-hued glow on the horizon.

“Open your eyes, beloved,” he said in her ear, smelling her perfume of lemon verbena again. He left his hands on her shoulders.

She gazed in wonder and, for the second time that day, gasped. In terror, she backed in to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s all right. I have you.”

She stilled and stared out from the small cupola. “Oh, Will,” Cora said. “It’s so lovely! I feel as if we’re standing on top of the world!”

“It is, isn’t it?” he smiled, kissing her hair, then her temple, and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“You can see forever!” she said. “The closest I’ve been to this height was on the Eiffel Tower.”

“Can you imagine being one of the original builders up here? None of them had likely worked at such great heights either. Architects came from thousands of miles to study it. It’s the largest masonry dome ever built.”

“It’s marvelous. Astounding.”

“Come,” he said, dropping his arms and leading her to the other side of the platform so she could see the rest of the city and the mountains beyond it. The sunset’s light was heavy with dew, layering everything they saw in a deeper, saturated color—from the green of the hills to the red of the tile roofs.

“It’s so glorious,” she said. “I could stay up here forever.”

“You are glorious,” he said, turning her to face him and tipping up her chin to give her a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled her closer, and their kiss deepened. Then he reluctantly pulled away, forcing himself to be content holding her.

But oh, how he longed to kiss her more.

“It’s like we’re the bride and groom atop a wedding cake,” she said, leaning her cheek against his chest.

He laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

Her words echoed through his mind; he could hardly think of anything else. She was saying something, turning to him, a question in her eyes, but he was moving before he knew what he was doing.

Down to one knee.

Her hand in both of his.

“Cora Diehl Kensington,” he began, his voice wavering at first, then gaining strength. “I have loved you from the moment we met. At every turn, I find myself deeper in love,” he said, shaking his head and looking up at her. She was so utterly wonderful. And this was too… “I promise to forever love you and honor you and cherish you. I know this is sudden. But would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh,” she breathed, bringing her other hand up to her chest, and he grinned up at her. “Oh, Will,” she said.

It was then that he felt his first cold shiver of doubt.

He forced himself to wait where he was. For her to face him and say what she had to.

“Will, there’s been so much.” Her hand moved to her forehead. “So much these last weeks, months. I do love you,” she said, reaching down to cover his hands with hers. “I do,” she insisted, her eyes pleading. “But this step? Do you think it wise?”

That brought him to his feet.

He dropped her hands. “Wise? I suppose there are some who consider marriage a folly. But not I.” His mind spun. His stomach roiled. Was it Pierre? It had to be—

“Will, come—” she said, reaching out but then letting her hand drop. “Of course I don’t think… It’s only that this is so soon…” She turned away and went to the rail of the cupola, looking out, while Will berated himself for acting on impulse. For not waiting. And inwardly, he crumbled that she wasn’t immediately willing to say yes. That she wasn’t as sure as he was that they were meant to be together forever.

She looked over her shoulder. “There has been so much that has happened these last months,” she said. “I feel as Hugh does about seeing one more piece of artwork. One more thing, atop all the rest…”

“Well,” he said stiffly, “I most certainly did not intend to burden you.”

“Will,” she said, her thin eyebrows furrowing in a frown. “Please. Don’t do that,” she said. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” he asked. Even though he did, his anger, his humiliation was building. If Hugh and Felix found out about his proposal, he’d never hear the end of it… And Mr. Kensington?
What have I done?

But overriding those emotions was a terrific sorrow, a sense of separation. Had he been wrong about her all along? Or had her change of station transformed how she saw him, after all?

“
Will
,” she said, turning toward him and taking his hand, then looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I’m not saying no. All I’m saying is that perhaps this isn’t the right time. Can we not simply enjoy each other’s company through the remainder of the tour and discover where that leads us?”

He looked down at her, unable to summon the compassion to override his hurt. “Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything,” she said, desperation lacing her tone.

“Is it because I am below you in station now? Because I cannot buy you expensive gifts in return?”

She dropped his hand and took a step away. “We’ve returned to the subject of the
watch
again? And how can you ask such a thing of me?” She shook her head, fury bringing fire to her beautiful eyes. “How?”

“How can I not?” he asked, throwing his hands up.

“Clearly you and I do not know each other as well as I thought we did,” she said stiffly.

“Clearly,” he snapped back, but inside, misery washed through him. What was he doing? Driving her away on purpose?

She folded her arms and shivered. “It’s chilly out here now that the sun’s down. Perhaps we should get to the station and back to Siena. The others will be worried. Father will be worried.”

He walked to the door and opened it, staring straight ahead as she passed by him and into the dark stairwell. She waited for him to go first, and he reached back for her hand. She reluctantly took it, and they made their way down the serpentine, oddly spaced stairs into the depths of the church, not another word shared between them. Here and there, light from outside spilled inward, giving them moments of respite from the dark. But even as they approached the final hundred steps, fully illuminated by gas lights, Will had never experienced a greater darkness. With each step, his mind screamed,
What have you done? Will McCabe, what have you done?

CHAPTER 11

~Cora~

In all my traveling over the summer, I’d never done so in such utter silence. Someone had always engaged me, every single day. But our trip from Firenze to Siena that night was as dismally cold and silent as an abandoned cemetery.

Will and I sat across from each other for a while, each staring at the silhouette of the dark landscape outside as well as our own dim reflections. Over and over again, I tried to come up with the right words, the right rationale, something to help him see. But over and over again, I only heard my Lord say,
Wait and trust.
I hadn’t been wrong in thinking it was too soon. I loved Will, but marriage was simply too great a consideration for me yet. I wanted him to come home with me. Meet my parents. For us to settle into our new lives, responsibilities, free of debt, and see where God led us. I formed one sentence of explanation after another in my head, but each time, I stopped myself from speaking. Everything I thought of would only add further insult or injury. I knew that all he could think was that I wasn’t certain, that I didn’t love him enough…

And was I certain? Would I have responded any differently if it had been Pierre who proposed? Most assuredly not. I loved Will. I had chosen the right man. It was merely that I was as I had said to Will…completely overwhelmed. Agreeing to marriage at that moment felt like it might very well break me. Could he not see that?

It wasn’t until we reached the train station and saw Pascal waiting for us on the platform that Will looked me in the eye. “Cora,” he said, my very name sounding like it pained him.

“Oh, Will,” I said. I shook my head. “Clearly, what happened tonight was not what either of us desired, but can we not go on from here?”

“I’d like to,” he said. He tried to quirk a smile, but somehow, it just made him look more hurt, which nearly twisted my heart in two. “At least you know my intentions.”

I smiled gently in return. “Your intentions have been made most clear. And you’ve honored me. I only need more…time.”

He nodded, then rose and offered me his hand. I took it, then his elbow as we made our way out of the car and down the steep stairs to the ramp. But even though we’d at least spoken, there was still a rift between us.
Please, Lord
,
I prayed, even as I smiled and nodded at Pascal and he opened the door to the motorcar for us.
Help us find our way through.

Because, I realized as we sped through the night to join my family and the Morgans, the only time Will and I’d been separated this summer was from Vienna to Venice, and every one of those days had felt like weeks to me. Whatever I had to do to mend this, I had to figure it out.

And soon.

~William~

Eleonora Masoni’s villa was perfectly situated for their tour of Toscana, poised as it was on the crest of a hill between Pienza and Montepulciano, but even as they wound their way up to it, Will could see it was not as large of an accommodation as many they’d enjoyed on the tour. Instead of one massive building, it was a stately yet modest villa with several cottages about it. Would there be room enough for all of them?

They reached the turn into Villa Masoni, and the five motorcars slowed, trying to keep from stirring up dust that would lift on the steady breeze over what looked like about twelve workers in the vineyard beside the road. All of them had been hunched over, pruning the vines, until they heard the cars, which made them all rise and stare. One woman in a broad-brimmed hat smiled and lifted an arm in greeting, and Will did a double-take, realizing it was the elegant Eleonora Masoni herself out with her field hands. He smiled in delight.

She pointed toward the villa, and the drivers moved on, taking their charges to the top of the hill. They were all yet assembling when Signora Masoni entered their circle, calling “
Benvenuti
!”—welcoming them in with a broad, sunny smile. In a slightly tattered brown work dress that did nothing to diminish her beauty, she was even lovelier than Will had remembered. It took only seconds for Hugh and Felix to angle their way forward, eager to be first to be introduced by Antonio. Each kissed her hand and vied to be most gallant. Will inwardly groaned. By her title and yet lack of ring, he knew she’d been married but was now either divorced or a young widow. Was she yet ready for such flirtation?

When she reached him, he shook her hand as he offered a single nod of his head. “
E’ cosi’ generoso da parte tua averci invitato a casa tua
,” he said.
It is most gracious of you to welcome us into your home.