Silk Merchant's Daughters: Francesca Part 12

"You gave us quite a fright, daughter." He greeted her with a smile. "But all is well now and you shall shortly be wed, to your madre's relief."

"I realize what a fool I've been," Francesca admitted to him. "I am fortunate to have this second chance, Padre."

"You are," he agreed. Then he offered her his hand. "Come and I will escort you to the church."

"Wait!" Francesca said suddenly. "I need just a moment alone, and then we will go." She turned quickly and hurried back into her bedchamber, shutting the door behind her. What was happening to her? Was this a dream? From the moment she had awakened this morning in Barbetta's cottage until now, the time had raced by. Her appearance after several months' absence seemed to have surprised no one except possibly Francesca herself. They all behaved as if she had gone for a prenuptial retreat and nothing more.

Everyone except her mother had behaved as if she had hardly been gone at all. If it had not been for Orianna's sharp tongue reminding her of her faults and the condition of her own hands, Francesca might have believed she had dreamed the past seven months.

And what of her betrothed, Rafaello? She had not seen him yet. Was he going to behave as if her disappearance was nothing? Why hadn't they found another bride for him? Why did it have to be her?

A gentle rap sounded upon the door. "Francesca," her father's voice called.

"I am coming, Padre," she answered. Aye, why her? And could she ever love this man they insisted on marrying her to today? Would she ever feel for Rafaello the longing that Carlo had engendered within her maiden breast? She silently thanked her huntsman now for leaving her virginity intact. Rafaello would have no complaints about that, nor could there be any doubt as to the legitimacy of any heir she produced. Her mother's practical nature was suddenly blooming within her. Reaching out, Francesca turned the handle on her bedchamber door and opened it. "I am ready, Padre," she told her father.

Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo escorted his daughter through the corridor and down the wide staircase outside to the courtyard, where the two horses awaited them. Francesca was carefully boosted onto a snow-white palfrey; the lead line was handed to her father, who had quickly mounted a fine roan-colored gelding as his daughter was a.s.sisted. It was but a short distance to the little cathedral in the town. As they rode surrounded by guardsmen in deep blue and gold uniforms, the silk merchant spoke to his daughter.

"You were obviously not mistreated during your time away from us," he said carefully. He knew little of what had transpired.

"I was fortunate to come upon the duke's inn," Francesca explained. "He keeps it for his huntsmen to shelter in during the winter months. The innkeeper took me in, and I was her servant."

Her father looked briefly incredulous. "You? A serving wench? I cannot believe it. Surely you told her who you were, daughter."

"Look at my hands, Padre," Francesca said, holding one out. "Beneath these delicate lace coverings Terza has put on me are the hands of a serving girl. Rough and able. I will never again treat a servant with scorn, Padre. I know now how hard they toil." Then she laughed. "Only a few days ago I was scrubbing the garments of a huntsman who was shortly returning to his post in the duke's forest. His name was Pippino, and he was most grateful to go back to his part of the forest with garments no longer infested with fleas. I learned to cook too, and nurse ailments less delicate than those I was taught by my madre."

Giovanni laughed in spite of himself. It was unthinkable that his beautiful daughter had done the things she was telling him, and yet he knew she did not lie. "What can you cook?" he asked her, very curious.

"I make an excellent rabbit stew," she told him proudly, "and I can boil pasta without overcooking it."

The silk merchant shook his head, half-surprised, half-proud at this little list of her accomplishments. "I think we will keep this knowledge from your madre, who would be horrified to learn you are able to cook such hearty fare, but one day I should like to taste your pasta if you will prepare it for me with oil and cheese. I do not like these new sauces that are becoming so fas.h.i.+onable in Florence and Rome."

Francesca smiled warmly at her parent. "One day, Padre, I promise," she said, but she wondered if she would ever again help to prepare a meal as she had with Alonza.

Suddenly the sides of the roadway were filled with cheering citizens, more and more of them as they drew closer to the cathedral itself. The flowerboxes of the buildings lining their way were overflowing with June blooms that actually scented the air about them. People hung from the windows and leaned from rooftops to get a glimpse of the bride they had waited so long to see.

Francesca wondered as she rode slowly towards the cathedral what they would think of their new d.u.c.h.essa. Did they know she had run away after having been chosen as Rafaello's bride late last summer? Or had her escapade been kept secret? Didn't they wonder why it had taken so long for the wedding to take place? Or perhaps nothing had been said at all, and the citizens of Terreno Boscoso had only been informed recently of the wedding to take place.

They reached the cathedral square. The church was not, by Florentine standards, particularly large. Francesca thought Santa Anna's was larger, but the stone building had impressive wide steps leading up to the open cathedral doors. She sat quietly as her father dismounted. Then a guardsman lifted the bride carefully from her saddle. Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo escorted Francesca up the stairs into the cathedral, where Terza was already awaiting them.

The serving woman quickly brushed her mistress's hair so that the red-gold curls flowed in ripples down the bride's back. Then, to Francesca's surprise, Terza set a circlet of pearls and small sparkling diamonds upon her head. "The old duke wanted you to have it," the servant said. "His late wife wore it at their wedding."

Francesca's eyes filled a moment with bright tears, which Terza quickly brushed away. "How kind he is," the girl said.

"Aye," Terza agreed, "and very fond of you despite your behavior."

There was a flourish of trumpets, and Master Pietro d'Angelo took his daughter by the hand, leading her down the cathedral's center aisle to where the duke and his son awaited her. Francesca swallowed hard as she focused her eyes on the two men. The older was smiling warmly, his eyes twinkling with his pleasure. The younger, standing by his father's side, was solemn. Not a hint of a smile touched his handsome face. Oddly Francesca understood his demeanor. Her flight last autumn had been a rejection of sorts of his decision to wed her. And obviously his father had forced him to await her return.

It was obvious he was not pleased, although he would do the old duke's bidding because he was a dutiful son.

As Francesca walked slowly towards Rafaello Cesare, past the church filled with the small n.o.bility of Terreno Boscoso, and perhaps some near neighbors, she wondered what her life would have been like if she had wed Carlo, her beloved huntsman, and gone to live with him deep in the forest. His face would not have been grim with a duty to be done if she had walked up a church aisle towards him. He would have been smiling at her, and her heart would have soared with happiness, knowing she would soon be his wife and they would be together forever.

Francesca knew now she could have left her old life behind as her older sister, Bianca, had so easily done. Left it behind for love. But it was too late for love. She had a duty to do, and she would do it. As she pa.s.sed her mother she could see Orianna was delicately dabbing at her eyes with a dainty linen and lace handkerchief. But when their gazes met Francesca saw the triumph in her maternal parent's fine eyes. Orianna had finally gotten her way, and her second daughter would shortly become the new d.u.c.h.essa of Terreno Boscoso. Lucianna and Giulia would not be undervalued in the marriage market now. She nodded slightly at her mother in acknowledgment.

They had now reached the marble steps below the beautiful altar where the duke and Rafaello awaited them. Without a word Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo placed his daughter's hand in that of her bridegroom's, then stepped back to join his spouse. The old bishop of Terreno Boscoso, with the a.s.sistance of Father Silvio, performed the marriage ceremony. Rafaello's strong voice answered the holy queries. Francesca's voice was as firm. She was not going to whisper her vows like some simpering fool. If she was to wed him, then let the whole world hear her replies. It pleased her to see the brief surprise upon his handsome face as she spoke in a sure voice.

Finally, to her relief, the ceremony was completed. Bride and groom rose from the gilded prie-dieu with their red velvet kneelers. The cathedral bells began to ring out a joyful peal, to be joined by the few churches in the town and the nearby vicinity. The bishop had unwrapped their two hands after the blessing, and now Rafaello led Francesca back down the aisle. He had not yet spoken a word to her, and she had no intention of speaking to him until he did so.

They descended the steps of the cathedral to where the troupe of guardsmen waited with their horses. He mounted his own animal, leaving the surprised captain of the guard to lift Francesca back onto her white palfrey. She thanked him softly, and the captain flushed shyly. Their horses moved off surrounded by their ceremonial guard, which wended its way through the town and the deliriously happy crowds, who called out their good wishes to the young man about to become their new duke and his bride. Francesca could not help but smile and wave her acknowledgment in return.

Now and again the crowds pressed them so closely they were stopped momentarily in their pa.s.sage. Several small children pressed flowers upon Francesca, their small grubby hands touching hers. She smiled at them, patted their heads, and blew kisses to them, which set the crowds about her to cheering louder. It seemed to her that there were more people in the streets now than there had been earlier. They filled the road right up to the castle's drawbridge, where their horses finally came to a stop.

Rafaello dismounted, leaving the captain of the guard to once again help Francesca from her animal. She was beginning to be angry. Why was he being so d.a.m.ned rude to her? But then he was offering her his hand to lead her inside to the Great Hall, where the wedding guests were now crowding about, waiting for the bride and bridegroom to come and begin the feast. Francesca heard a squeal of delight, and turned to be embraced by her old friend, Louisa di Genoa, now married to Rafaello's best friend, Valiant.

"Francesca! Ohh, I am so glad you are back and safe!" Louisa cried happily.

The bride stepped back apace. "Look at you, Louisa!" she exclaimed, staring at her friend's enormous belly. "When is the child due?"

"Any minute," Louisa said laughing. "Valiant wanted his heir born on his estates at Sponda di Fiume, but I refused to leave the ducal castle until you were back and wed. Now I can't go until the child is born, but that is all right, since I want you to be his G.o.dmother. Will you? Oh, please say you will!"

"Of course," Francesca replied. "I am honored that you would ask me."

"You will introduce me to your friend, Francesca," Orianna Pietro d'Angelo said, coming up to stand next to her daughter.

"Madre, this is Louisa Maria di Genoa. She is married to my husband's best friend, Valiant. That is why Rafaello chose me. He would not take the maiden his dearest companion had fallen in love with, and the French girl was a perfect b.i.t.c.h. He had no other choice but me," Francesca told her mother bluntly. "So be careful when you boast on my marriage once you have returned to Florence. Rafaello did not choose me for my beauty or my wealth or even my charm. He had no other choice."

Orianna flushed, embarra.s.sed at her daughter's words. "Francesca!" was all she could think of to say.

"Mama is very proud of this marriage I have made, Louisa," the bride continued.

"You see, when my older sister was widowed she ran off with a very unsuitable man, a Turk. We no longer speak of Bianca. Do we, Madre? So my marriage today to Duke t.i.tus's son is quite a coup for her. Isn't it, now, Madre?"

"Do not be cruel, Francesca," Orianna replied, startled by her daughter's boldness. "It does not suit you at all, and especially on such a happy day."

"Happy for whom?" Francesca persisted. "Have you seen Rafaello smile once yet?"

"Oh, he is just nervous," Louisa said cheerfully. "You should have seen Valiant on our wedding day, with my papa looking so sternly at him and threatening him with all manner of punishment if he made me the least bit unhappy." She laughed at the memory.

"You hope for a son, of course," Orianna said, attempting to add to the change of subject. "Marco was easy to birth. All my sons were. It was the girls who gave me difficulty," the older woman said. "Even when I had the twins. There was Luca born before I barely had time to reach the birthing chamber, but his sister, Lucianna? It was hours before she finally came, but she has proven the most obedient of all my daughters."

"We'll see what happens when you attempt to wed her off, Madre," Francesca said with a knowing chuckle.

Orianna paled slightly, but then recovering, said, "Lucianna is too young yet to even consider marrying off. It is to be hoped in a few years, when she is ready, any memories she may have of you and the other one will have gone from her head."

Rafaello was suddenly by her side. He led her to the high board, seating her between himself and his father.

Duke t.i.tus greeted her warmly, saying, "Did you enjoy your winter in the forest, my dear?" His eyes were twinkling at her.

Francesca laughed. "Actually I did," she admitted. "Alonza was very good to me, my lord. Did she know who I was?"

He chortled, but then said, "No, she did not. All she was told was that you were of importance to us and to keep you safe until spring, when I would tell her when to bring you to the castle. She is here in the hall today with her family to help us celebrate your marriage to my son. I have known Alonza for many a year. I knew I could entrust her with your safety. I am sorry you felt it necessary to run away, Francesca. If your parents' decision upset you, you might have come to me. Whatever happens in the future, remember that t.i.tus Cesare is your friend. I will help you solve your problems, for I knew the moment I set eyes upon you that you were the one for Rafaello."

"You are kind, my lord," Francesca answered him, "but we both know Rafaello chose me to be his wife because Louisa was obviously in love with Valiant, and the du Barry girl was a shrew. I was all he had left."

"You are wrong, my dear," her father-in-law told her, "but I will allow you and Rafaello to discover the error of your ways," he chuckled. "Old men have sharper eyes than do the young." He patted her hand, then said, "Ah, I see Alonza did not spare you any hard work, did she? No matter, a few months and those beautiful hands will heal."

"I found I did not mind the work," Francesca admitted to him. "For the first time in all of my life I felt useful and very happy."

The duke nodded, smiling. "Having a purpose in life other than one's self will do that to a person," he told her. "Now, I know you will make Terreno Boscoso a fine d.u.c.h.essa, Francesca. There is much to be done."

"Will you guide me, my lord?" she asked shyly.

"Gladly!" he answered her. "Gladly!"

A fine feast was served to all in the hall. Roasted boar, fish from the waters of the forest streams and lakes, venison, stuffed geese, roasted ducks, and capons. There were salads with lettuces and new peas; pastas in many shapes with olive oil, black olives, and the fresh grated Parmesan that was made in a town just outside of Terreno Boscoso. Within the town, bread, meat, pasta, wine, and ale were offered to every citizen. There were marzipan sweets for everyone, and in the hall cakes soaked in wine with fresh strawberries and fresh cream. The duke did not stint his guests, and served them only the finest wines from his own cellars and vineyards. Those who preferred ale could fill their mugs from the casks scattered about the hall.

There was a musicians' gallery above the entry to the hall, and soft music was played throughout the meal. The men got up and danced for the entertainment of everyone. And while they were thus engaged, Francesca and several women quietly departed the hall. Led by Terza, the bride was taken not back to her maiden chamber, but to the apartment she would now share with her new husband. Once there Francesca sent all of them but Terza away. She was tired, and not in the mood for the usual loud and slightly vulgar merriment that could be part of a bride's bedding.

Orianna protested. "I must tell you what to expect from your bridegroom," she said to her daughter.

"Madre, I think I should prefer to have my husband instruct me in these matters," Francesca answered.

Orianna would have protested further, but she saw immediately that her daughter's speech had found favor with several of the older n.o.blewomen of the court who had accompanied them. They nodded in agreement, and one of them said aloud, "The young d.u.c.h.essa shows great wisdom in her decision." Then the women all curtsied to Francesca and backed from the bedchamber. Orianna had no choice but to kiss her daughter and bid her happiness before joining them and departing the apartment.

"That old biddy was the chancellor's wife. She'll be an important ally to have here at court," Terza said as she and Roza undressed Francesca.

When the bride was naked she bathed in a basin of lightly scented warm water, and then clothed herself in a clean light silk chemise. Terza took the pins and jeweled decor from Francesca's beautiful hair. She brushed the girl's tresses, asking, "Will you leave it loose, or will you have me braid it?"

"Leave it loose," Francesca said.

They helped her into the large bridal bed, and then both servants bid their mistress good night. Terza had made certain there was a nice fire in the little fireplace, for though it was June the evening was still chilly. They had drawn the curtains for privacy's sake.

Francesca lay quietly in the big bed. She could hear the faint murmur of sound from the hall below. Outside a nightingale began to sing. But her bridegroom did not come. She tried hard to remain awake, but she could not. Sleep overtook her, and her heavy eyelids closed. She attempted to force them open, but they only closed again. Whatever fault she had committed that had kept Rafaello silent this day would surely be compounded by his finding her asleep on their wedding night instead of waiting for him. But, d.a.m.n him, it had to be at least an hour since she had left the hall. If he found the company of his guests and the wine more inviting than his bride, then it served him right if she sought her rest. Francesca gave herself up to sleep.

Chapter 9.

She awoke suddenly, realizing as she did that there was someone else within her bedchamber. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and darkness surrounded her. But there was someone here. Was it Rafaello? Would he continue to remain silent as he had this past day? "Who is here?" she asked in a slightly shaky voice.

The curtain from one of the windows moved and the shadow of a large man revealed itself. "Cara, my love," the deep rough voice said.

Her heart almost exploded within her chest. "No! It cannot be you! It cannot!"

"Have you forgotten me so quickly, then, my love?" he murmured as he came and sat upon the bed.

"Carlo! Carlo! Is it really you?" she half whispered. She reached out to him.

"It is me, my love," he told her. "Surely you didn't believe I could desert you."

"You cannot be here!" she told him, sitting up in her bed. "I am a married woman. Wed this day to Duke t.i.tus's son, Rafaello. You must go! Go quickly! Even now I am awaiting my bridegroom."

"He is drunk in his father's hall, my love," Carlo said. "He will not come to you."

"But I am his wife, no matter," Francesca said, and she began to cry. "Why did you not come this morning, before the guardsmen came and brought me to the castle? If you had come then I should have gone with you, no matter what. But you did not come. When they came to get me I was afraid. I thought surely Rafaello was to wed another. I had no idea the old duke had known all along where I was. That I was still meant to be his son's bride." She gave a little sob. "If only you had come first," she repeated.

"Does he want you as I want you?" Carlo demanded of her. "If he did he would already be here, so now I must do what he has not." He pulled her up from the bed, his arms wrapping about her as he bent to kiss her.

At first Francesca melted into his arms, her lips eagerly accepting his pa.s.sionate kiss. Yes! This was what she wanted. The man she loved and who loved her. Carlo. Her beloved huntsman. His kiss deepened. Her response equaled his. And then the reality of her situation slammed into her. With a little cry she pushed him away. "No!" she said in a shaking voice. "No!"

"My love . . ." he began, reaching for her again.

She ducked away from him, scooting to put her marriage bed between them. "I should not have allowed you to kiss me now," she began.

"I love you," he told her.

"I know," Francesca answered him, "and I love you. But I will not sully the vows I took today in the cathedral to be a good and faithful wife to Rafaello Cesare. Tomorrow we shall again go to the cathedral, where Duke t.i.tus will turn over his authority to my husband. The bishop will then make Rafaello the new Duke of Terreno Boscoso, and I, as his wife, will be designated the new d.u.c.h.essa. I will not soil the honor of the Cesare or the Pietro d'Angelo families by any dishonest behavior. The time for us is past, Carlo."

"You are sending me away?" he said softly.

"Reluctantly, but aye," Francesca answered him.

"Can you really live without love, cara mia?" he queried her closely.

"If I must, I will," she told him. "It would seem I am my mother's daughter after all," Francesca said with a wry smile. "She left the man she loved in Venice and made the marriage to my father that her parents wished her to make. Hopefully Rafaello and I will become fond of one another as she and my father have. I will bear my husband's children without complaint, as she did hers. I will teach my offspring honor and respect as my mother taught me." Reaching out she put a hand on his arm. "My mother never forgot the man she loved in Venice. I will always love you, my beloved huntsman. Now go before we are discovered. I cannot allow my reputation to be challenged, and if you were caught here they would kill you without hesitation."

"Kiss me farewell at least, Cara," he said, but she shook her head.

"Go," she said, turning her back on him. Then she waited wordlessly until she sensed he was gone, and, turning, saw she was again alone. Francesca climbed back into her bed, where she lay restlessly for several hours before finally falling asleep once again.

She felt drained of all emotion and could not even cry, with the mixture of anger and frustration that she was feeling that she must send away the man she loved while the man she had married but several hours back could not be bothered to come to her bed.

Terza woke her an hour after the dawn had broken. Puzzled, she looked at the unsullied bridal bed, as neat as it had been the night before but for the side where her young mistress had obviously slept undisturbed.

"No, he did not come," Francesca answered her servant's unspoken question. "He obviously remained in the hall, drinking himself into oblivion. Keep my mother away from me, if you can, for she will certainly have questions that any mother would ask her daughter the morning after her wedding. What can I possibly say to her that will not set her into a fury, should she learn I spent my wedding night alone?"

"Madre di Dios!" Terza groaned. "You are correct."

"And I cannot have my father-in-law distressed by his son's lack of action," Francesca said. "He has been so good to me and so patient with my behavior."

Terza nodded. "'Tis true. He is a kind man, Duke t.i.tus." Then she clapped her hand to her mouth. "The bedsheet! They will want to fly the bedsheet to prove that your husband did his duty."

"We'll strip the bed and burn the sheet in the hearth. I will tell them I consider such a thing undignified. Certainly Rafaello will not disagree with my attempt to hide his neglect of me, and the old duke will go along for my sake," Francesca said.

Before even little Roza arrived with her mistress's breakfast tray, Terza and Francesca tore the sheet from the bed and saw it devoured by the flames of the newly revived fire in the hearth. Rafaello Cesare's lapse was now their secret. The bride bathed quickly in a basin and began to dress for the ceremony at the cathedral, which would be held in late morning. She ate her meal in her chemise before being dressed. The gown she would wear to be crowned the new d.u.c.h.essa of Terreno Boscoso was the sea blue and gold colors of the duchy flag. The underskirt that showed between the two panels of the divided overskirt was cloth of gold. The rest of the gown was sea blue. The low square neckline was heavily embroidered with gold, diamonds, and pearls, as was the hem of the skirt. The sleeves were close-fitted to the wrists but had deep turned-back cuffs with embroidered edges.