Lucianna (14 page)

Lucianna did as her serving woman had suggested, taking the opportunity while she waited to pull off her boots and her garments.

When Balia finally called her, Lucianna stepped naked into the dayroom and settled herself in the surprisingly hot water. Balia quickly scrubbed her golden red hair with the fresh water before she allowed her mistress to wash herself.

As the tub was not a large one, Lucianna washed quickly, and then climbed from the water to be wrapped in two warmed towels Balia had hung before the fire. When she shivered, Balia quickly dried her and saw her garbed in a fresh
camicia
, and a warm houserobe before she began to brush dry Lucianna’s now-damp hair. Once finished, she insisted her mistress get into the bed, tucking her beneath a down coverlet for extra warmth.

“Now you nap until I call you,” Balia said. “I will go and learn from Argel when the meal will be served so you will not be tardy.” She hurried from the bedchamber, closing the door behind her.

To Lucianna’s surprise, she fell asleep, awakening at the touch of her servant’s hand upon her shoulder. “I could remain here forever,” she told Balia.

“But you won’t,” her servant said. “The supper will be served shortly, and you must be dressed.”

“What will I wear?” Lucianna asked. “A country supper cannot be too formal.”

“A simple gown such as you would wear during the day will do, mistress. I asked Argel. Get up now. I have already taken a gown from our luggage, and seen to any wrinkles.”

It did not take long to dress Lucianna in a simple medium blue gown. Then Balia set to work doing her mistress’s hair. She brushed it thoroughly and then plaited it into a single thick braid. The serving woman lastly slipped a pair of simple house slippers on her mistress’s feet. “You’re ready,” she told her.

Lucianna went down to the hall, and a servant met her at the foot of the stairs. It was not a grand hall, but medium in size, with windows on either side and two large hearths that were now blazing. The earl came to meet her, and brought her to the high board, where he seated her in the chair reserved for the mistress of the house. He then sat next to her.

“Are you pleased with your quarters? Argel told me that Balia considered it suitable.”

“I am most comfortable,” she admitted. “I hope your steward had only good news for you, my lord.”

“He did. We have had at least half a dozen calves born this spring, and three more of my heifers will deliver shortly. A healthy herd must be constantly replaced.”

“And your orchards?”

“Still blooming, and giving every evidence of a good crop come the autumn,” he told her.

“Yours is a prosperous estate, then,” she said.

“Aye, but it is also well cared for; herds and apples do not flourish without constant attention.”

“How long will we remain?” she inquired. They had already been gone from London for several days, and she found now that they had arrived, she was concerned for her shop.

“We will remain as long as it takes me to convince you to agree to be my wife, Lucianna,” he surprised her by saying. “I want you to see and learn what your life as my countess would be like.”

“My lord! You cannot be serious! ’Tis not fair of you. I have a great responsibility to the Arte di Por Santa Maria here in England. Do you think my responsibilities are any less than yours because you are a man, a noble? They are not! Besides, you do not love me. Why tarnish your reputation marrying a foreign shopkeeper when I am certain the king’s mother would choose you a proper bride if you asked it of her?”

“Not love you? Of course I love you!”

“You have only said it once!” she shot back.

“I thought that you understood it,” he replied. “I do not introduce every girl I meet to Lady Margaret. I have never before brought any female to Wye Court. Of course I love you,
cara mia
.”

“How could I understand or know such things if you did not tell me?” Lucianna said. He loved her! He actually loved her. She had not ever been loved by a man before. Alfredo, of course, had been fond of her the way one would be fond of a young relation. But he had not loved her as a man loves a woman. How could her father have known if she didn’t? And was this why he had managed to send her to England? In hopes that the earl would declare himself?

“Do you love me?” he asked her. “Not that it matters, for I will have you anyway, Lucianna. The thought of any other man marrying you is, for me, untenable.”

“Oh my,” Lucianna said, very surprised by all of this. “I must think,” she said. “My responsibilities . . .”

“Marry me,” he repeated. “We will remain in London until your guild sends another representative, but then I would come home to Hereford. Would such an arrangement please you?”

Lucianna nodded. He loved her! And she had loved him from the moment he had walked into her little bookshop. Yet she had never dared to hope he would return her affections seriously. So she had pushed her tender emotions aside while accepting his friendship, but now . . . could she marry him? Never return to Florence again? Never see her family again? Yes! Yes she could! This was the way of all women—to marry and form a new family.

“Will you let me tend to the shop until the guild sends another?” she asked him.

He nodded in the affirmative.

Lucianna took a long deep breath. “Then I will marry you,” she told him. “I too love you, and I have since we first met.”

“Here,” he said. “Here at Wye Court. Tomorrow.”

Lucianna laughed. “Here,” she agreed. “And before we return to London, but give me a few days to accustom myself to the idea, my lord, if you will.”

He caught her hand and kissed it fervently. “Very well, I will restrain my eagerness. The contracts must be drawn up first. Tomorrow you will meet Father Paul, the estate priest. He will do them for us.”

“My property remains mine,” she said quickly.

“I agree,” he replied. He was not going to argue with her over the inheritance she received from her first husband.

They finished their meal, and then before he might protest, Lucianna excused herself and hurried upstairs to her apartment, where Balia was awaiting her. “Did you eat?” she asked her serving woman.

“Aye, in the kitchens,” Balia said. “Why did you not remain in the hall with the earl? You have returned from your meal quickly.”

“I have agreed to marry him, Balia. Before we return to London,” Lucianna said without preamble to her companion.

“Santa Anna!” Balia said, crossing herself. “Did he admit his love for you, mistress?” Then she grew serious. “But what of your mother? She will be overjoyed you are wedding a noble, but furious she cannot be with you.”

“She was with me when I was wed to Alfredo Allibatore,” Lucianna said. “I believe my father was aware that Robert loved me, which is why I was sent to England. He hoped for this very outcome.”

“Aye, your father is a quiet man, my lady, but he is clever. Still, what of your responsibility to the guild?”

“I shall return to London to send to Florence for a replacement, and once he has been sent, I shall return here to Hereford. Will you dislike it too greatly if we spend our lives in the countryside, Balia?”

“This is a pleasant place, mistress, and my position as personal servant to the countess will assure me of a proper ranking among the other servants here. Nay, where you go, I go,” Balia said to Lucianna.

Lucianna found Balia’s declaration a relief. It was one thing to never go back to Florence again, but to lose her only contact with her previous life would have been difficult indeed. “Thank you,” she said to Balia. “I am comforted to know you will remain with me.”

“What of the London house?” Balia wondered aloud.

“I will permit the new representative to live there,” Lucianna said. “And, I will charge the guild for his board.”

“Ah,” Balia said, “there is your mother speaking.”

“Why should the guild get for free what my father paid for?” Lucianna answered her. “I have done excellent business for them and kept Milan’s silk merchants in their place as well. Let them send someone else who will do the same.”

She slept restlessly, surprised she could even catch a few minutes of sleep, considering what had happened. She loved him, but was she doing the right thing marrying a foreign nobleman in a foreign land without her mother? Yet her father approved, and Lucianna realized that, like her two older sisters before her, she had done her duty by her family first. This time was for her—and for Robert.

Up early the next morning, she bathed and dressed carefully before going to the hall to break her fast. The earl was awaiting her, and his eyes lit with pleasure as she entered the hall.

He came quickly towards her. Smiling, and taking her hand in his, he said, “We will go to Mass in the chapel,
amore mia
. The priest is awaiting us. I have already spoken briefly with him, but we will speak at length afterwards.” Then he led her to a small chapel within the house itself.

The chapel had two long stained-glass windows. Lucianna had never before seen such windows other than in a large church. The walls were paneled, but there were several beautiful small paintings of saints, including one she recognized as Santa Anna with the girl Mary. Lucianna felt it was a sign that she was meant to be here. The altar was simple, fashioned of wood with a lace-edged white cloth, golden candlesticks, and a cross upon it. Her mother would surely be impressed that her new home had its own chapel.

Father Paul spoke the words of the morning prayer, aided by a young boy. The Mass was soon concluded, and several of the servants, including Balia, hurried out, leaving the priest to the lord and the lady. Father Paul was a large, tall man who looked one directly in the eye.

“So,” he said to Lucianna, “you wish to wed with my lord earl?”

“Nay, good Father, ’tis he who wishes to wed with me. As my father has given him permission to do so, as a good daughter, I must obey my parent’s wishes,” Lucianna replied.

The priest was surprised by her candid words, and then he burst out laughing. “Ah, Robbie, you’ve not chosen a meek one, have you?”

Robert Minton chuckled. “Nay, I have not,” he said. “Will she not make a fine mistress for Wye Court?” He grinned and put an arm about Lucianna’s shoulders.

“She will indeed,” the priest agreed. “Come! We will go to the hall and discuss the terms of the marriage agreement. Toby!” he called to the altar boy. “Bring parchment, a quill, and ink.”

“Yes, Father Paul,” the boy said, and ran off to do as he had been bid.

“You are a brave lass,” the priest said to Lucianna, “to leave your homeland and come to England to wed this man.”

“But I did not come to wed him,” Lucianna told him. “My father is the head of the Arte di Por Santa Maria, the Silk Merchants’ Guild of Florence. He sent me to England to open a shop where I might display our fine silks. This way your cloth merchants do not have to go to Florence, but they can choose what they want in London. I met Robert when he came to Florence last year to purchase silk for Queen Elizabeth.”

“Ah,” the priest said. “I understand now. Your family obviously approves of my lord, else they should not have encouraged a liaison between you. Did your mother not wish you to remain in Florence?”

“My mother is the daughter of a Venetian prince,” Lucianna explained. “She wanted her daughters to wed men of wealth and position. One of my sisters is the Duchess of Terreno Boscoso.”

“You have just one sister?” he inquired of her.

“Nay, but because the eldest of us ran off with a Turkish prince, we rarely speak of her,” Lucianna said. “And there is still one more at home to be matched. My first husband was Florentine.”

“You are a widow, then,” the priest noted.

“I am,” Lucianna replied, crossing herself.

He nodded. “Then I can understand your family placing their trust in you, my daughter,” he said. Then he sniffed. “Do I smell bacon?” he said. “My weakness is bacon.”

The earl chuckled. “And cook does know it,” he said. “Come! Let us break our fast, and then get down to business. I would be wed to this woman as soon as possible.”

The priest raised an eyebrow. “Such unseemly haste, my son,” he chided. He looked to Lucianna. “And you, mistress?”

“I did not come to Wye Court with the intention of wedding this man,” Lucianna told the priest, “but I do love him, and if he is willing to make a silk merchant’s daughter his wife, I will not say nay. But a few days to prepare would be welcome. And I would send for my brother Luca, who is in London. If sent for today, he can be here quickly.”

Father Paul nodded. “So be it, then. I will marry you in five days’ time, not a moment before, and her brother must be here to approve it.”

The earl looked disappointed, but he nodded in agreement, seeing that Lucianna was pleased. “You are a stubborn woman,” he said to her. “But I will have you anyway.”

She laughed at him. “The dish is sweeter for the anticipation, my lord,” she replied to him.

Now it was the priest’s turn to laugh. “Ah, Robbie, you have picked yourself a good and practical woman. May God bless you both.”

Then, seeing a small platter of bacon set directly before him, Father Paul quickly mumbled the blessing and set to work breaking his fast, a pleased smile upon his face.

B
efore Robert Minton might even announce it to his servants, they all knew of his impending union. It was obvious when a messenger was sent off posthaste to London to fetch Mistress Pietro d’Angelo’s brother that a marriage was to be celebrated. Argel came to ask if they should prepare for guests, but her master told her no. Their marriage would be celebrated in private, surrounded by the folk of Wye Court.

“Have you no family you would have come?” Lucianna asked.

“My parents were both only children,” he explained. “I’m certain there is someone who can claim a blood tie with me somewhere, but if there is, I know them not. The king is my closest friend. As boys, we had much time together in Brittany, but now he has little time for anything other than ruling England. That is as it should be.”

“I have a large family,” she told him. “Not just my brothers and sisters, but my mother’s family in Venice. Her sisters always felt sorry for her because she was wed to a Florentine merchant, whereas they were married into noble Venetian families. Of course we were richer, but my mother was always generous to them, despite their looking down on her position as my father’s wife.”

“They were glad to accept her generosity, I am certain,” Robert said with a knowing smile.

Lucianna laughed. “Aye, they were, and they always behaved as if it were their due to do so. I remember one aunt who came with my cousin so they might receive the finest silk from my father for the girl’s wedding gown. My aunt would not trust us to send the best. She must come and see which was the more expensive. Bianca and Francesca were gone by then, and my aunt remarked that it was a shame I was not as beautiful as my eldest sister, for I would not find a titled husband. Gentlemen of wealth and position want extraordinary beauties for brides, she told my mother, who could not deny it, as they were then considering a marriage for me with my first husband. I recall my mother telling me to say nothing about the bookseller. She always became extremely aware of her position as Prince Venier’s daughter when she was with her siblings.”

“Your mother will be pleased, then, that you are marrying a rich, titled man,” the earl remarked.

“Are you rich?” she asked. “Having my own wealth, I was not considering yours,” Lucianna told him candidly.

“It is wise not to brag of wealth,” he told her.

“In Florence, everyone knew Alfredo had left me almost everything,” she said. “Families with wealth always want more, and they obtain more by wedding their sons to young women with large dower portions.”

He thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I suppose it is that way everywhere, but I neither need nor want your wealth. I want you, Lucianna,
amore mia
.”

She believed him. When their marriage contract had been drawn up, Father Paul was somewhat shocked, and he protested at the earl’s insistence that Lucianna’s possessions remain hers alone. Robert Minton had no claim upon them, nor would he take advantage of the traditional way of doing things. He knew that Luca would approve the arrangement. It would assure him the earl was not marrying his sister for her wealth.

The priest insisted that whatever Lucianna brought to the marriage should become his, even as she would become his, but Robert Minton refused. “Make certain this contract reads that what she brings to the marriage remains hers alone,” he said.

Lucianna knew her mother would be very shocked by this, but she also knew that if accident or war cost her her husband, she did not wish to be at the mercy of whoever would gain the earldom. She wanted to be able to control her own fate. So the marriage contract was drawn up as she and the earl desired.

“We shall be married in five days,” she told Balia. “We but wait for my brother to come from London.”

“Your mother will be disturbed not to be able to be here and direct it all,” Balia said, with a chuckle. “I think you are like her in that you would have your own way in this matter.”

Lucianna laughed. “I suppose I am, but I know my father would be very pleased to know that I have engineered the marriage contract to say that my wealth remains with me.”

“Will you sell the house in Florence?” Balia asked her.

“Eventually,” she said, “but not quite yet. To sell it means to cut all my ties with Florence, and I am not yet ready to do so.”

Balia nodded. Then she said, “What are you to wear, mistress, on your wedding day? You have no wedding gown.”

“There must be something among the gowns we brought that will do for a widow,” Lucianna said. “Let us look now.”

As they laid the gowns out, Balia suddenly crowed with delight. “Here is that new gown you have not yet worn,” she said, drawing forth one of pale blue-green silk brocade. “It is perfect for you, and most flattering,” she noted.

“Ah, yes! I remember seeing the fabric among my father’s samples, and had the gown made just before we left Florence. Why have I never worn it, Balia?”

“It was not warm enough for winter wear,” her serving woman said. “When I was packing for you, I remembered it, and thought it would be perfect for a late-spring day.”

“I recall my mother thought the fabric especially beautiful and unique. She will be pleased I wore it on my wedding day. Robert will not wait for her to come from Florence. It would take too long.”

“Best you wed him quickly before another lass lays eyes on him and snatches him up.”

Lucianna laughed again. “You are as bad as my mother,” she teased Balia. “But at least Luca will be here to represent the family.”

The next few days were busy ones for the servants, although the bride-to-be spent much of her time riding with the earl about the estate.

She saw how proud he was to declare to each cottage that the lady with him would be his wife in another four days, in another two days, tomorrow. He declared a holiday for the estate folk.

Lucianna was amazed at the size of the earl’s holding. His lands seemed to stretch on forever. She wondered if the Medici, for all their wealth, had so much land. She doubted it. They were not much for the countryside, but true city folk.

Luca arrived from London, surprised to have been sent for, as no explanation had been given him, although Baram Kira had smiled and nodded when told he would be responsible for the shop for the next few days. Unlike the young Florentine, Baram saw the earl’s deep interest in Lucianna, and he rightly guessed marriage was in the offing.

The earl’s cook came to her, asking how many guests would be coming and what her ladyship would like for the meal.

“The earl has said we will have a morning wedding, but there will be no guests to my knowledge, other than my brother and Father Paul. I understand he has no family left,” Lucianna told her. “What would you suggest for a wedding breakfast?”

“Eggs poached in marsala wine, rashers of bacon, and I shall bake a special cake for the occasion, my lady.”

“I think since the earl has declared a holiday, we might feed everyone on tables outside? What think you? Is such hospitality allowed? I know so few of your English customs,” Lucianna said.

“I wouldn’t have enough eggs to feed them, my lady, but yes, the estate folk would appreciate a meal. What say you to ham, fresh bread, and cheese, along with several casks of ale? They would enjoy that, I know,” the cook told her.

“Then do so. And while I would have you bake a small cake for us, bake a large one so each of the cottagers may have a bit of sweet,” Lucianna instructed the cook.

“’Tis most generous, my lady. A cake with raisins will please all.” And with a curtsy, she left her new mistress.

Lucianna knew how to direct a small household, but the earl’s staff was even larger than her mother’s. She realized that she would be expected to manage the servants, to choose menus, to oversee it all. She wondered to herself if she was capable, but if not, she would have to learn quickly. They did not celebrate as many saints’ days and holidays here in England as they did in Florence. She must learn when and how. But who was to teach her? Her knowledge of English customs was meager, and she could not shame Robert by running an inefficient household. There would be none but cottagers at their wedding, but that would all change once her earl had a wife.

Luca was concerned and did not hesitate to voice his doubts. “Are you certain you are doing the right thing marrying this foreigner? Why does he insist on such a hurry? Why cannot he wait for our parents to come from Florence?”

“Have you never been in love?” Lucianna asked him.

Luca looked at his twin sister as if she were a madwoman. “In love? Love is for dreamers, Sister. I always thought you a practical woman, like our mother. Besides, love is nothing more than romantic lust, Lucianna.”

She laughed at him. “Our mother loved the wrong man, a married man, before Grandfather saw her wed to our father for expediency’s sake. My marriage to Alfredo was a similar union.”

“Mother has been a good wife to Father, as you were to the bookseller. This union seems hurried to me. I cannot help but wonder why, Lucianna. I am a cautious man.”

“When did my brother, the soldier, become cautious?” she mocked him. “There is nothing unseemly in my impending union to Roberto. He loves me. He lusts after me. As for me, Brother mine, I feel the same way. Our parents will be pleased with this union. Our mother, because I have wed a noble, a close friend of a king. Our father, because I have kept my fortune to myself.” Reaching out, she patted her brother’s hand. “I am happy, Luca. For the first time in my life I am truly happy for the choices I have made. They are mine alone. No one made them for me. I did not make them because they were expected of me. I made them because it pleased me. Be happy for me.”

He sighed. “I was sent to watch over you,” he said. “I wonder if our parents will consider I did a good job.”

Lucianna laughed softly at him. “When will you learn to please yourself, Luca, and not our parents? You are a man now.”

Her brother made a face at himself. “How did you become the wiser of us?” he asked her, and she smiled lovingly at him.

Tomorrow was her wedding day, and she realized that her affianced husband had hardly touched or kissed her in the past few weeks. He knew she was a virgin, so she could take hope that he would be gentle with her. For the first time in her life, Lucianna felt shy.

When Balia brought up the subject of the wedding night, Lucianna put her off saying, “I am twenty-two and know what is expected of me.”

Balia dropped the subject. She wondered if Lucianna did indeed know, for she knew Alfredo Allibatore had never coupled with the girl. Had her mother spoken to her? Or had Orianna found it unnecessary, knowing the celibate marriage her daughter was entering into six years ago? She would pray for her mistress. It was the best she could do. The earl, however, seemed a kind man.

Lucianna took the time to bathe on her wedding day, arising very early to find a tub of hot water already before her dayroom hearth. Balia took her time, not rushing her mistress, for she could see that Lucianna was nervous. The serving woman washed the long gold-red hair using a soap that was scented with the fragrance of the night lily. It was Lucianna’s personal favorite, and Balia thought the familiar smell of it would be comforting to her. Afterwards, she brushed the lovely soft hair until it was dry.

“What style have you decided upon?” Lucianna asked.

“You will wear it unbound, as you should,” Balia said sternly. “You are a virgin, my lady.”

“But what will people think?” Lucianna said, concerned.

“I will see the house servants understand your first marriage was to an elderly gentleman who was not able to perform his duties, and that you are therefore untouched.”

“I do not know if . . .” Lucianna began, for she doubted that even Luca knew, but Balia was going to have her own way in this matter.

“Your mother would be pleased I maintained proper tradition, my lady. I will hear no more about it.” Balia’s voice was determined.

The serving woman dressed her mistress in the blue-green gown. It had a modest V-neckline, and about the neck, running down the gown itself, was beautiful gold-and-blue embroidery that also edged the hemline. A low hip belt of the same fabric fell from her waistline. The sleeves were narrow to the elbow, then widened into large embroidered cuffs dripping fine Venetian lace.