Francesca (11 page)

Francesca joined her friend, and together they walked downstairs and out into the castle yard to the stables. Adon was standing, holding her horse, which was saddled and bridled in red leather. She swung herself up into the saddle. Louisa’s gentle mare, Bella, was waiting. She ascended the small set of steps that had been placed by the animal’s side and settled into the sidesaddle. Then, to Francesca’s surprise, they were joined by Rafaello and Valiant. There had been no talk of the men joining them.

She said nothing, but as the four horses clumped across the drawbridge she turned her head slightly and saw Aceline du Barry glaring down from a window in her apartment, and she could have sworn she heard a shriek. No one else seemed to have heard it, however. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers, and warm. As they rode into the forest Francesca was caught up by its beauty, the sunlight playing among the green trees highlighting branches in shades of dark and light.

“Do you know when you will depart?” Francesca finally asked.

Valiant answered her. “Louisa and I will leave tomorrow. We have decided to not be burdened by her baggage train but ride ahead, giving Elda and her staff time to pack up and follow us. I wish to reach Genoa as quickly as we can so I may gain that duke’s permission to marry his daughter. Since Louisa has been born on the other side of the blanket there is not likely to be a gala celebrating our union. We can do it either in Genoa, so both the duke and Louisa’s mother may observe the formalities, or if they do not care, come back to Terreno Boscoso for the ceremony.”

“The
duchessa
does not acknowledge Mama or me,” Louisa explained. “If Mama will come with us, I would bring her back when we return. She and Papa are more friends than lovers nowadays. She has no real influence in Genoa and little family left. My grandfather died last year.”

“Then why go to the difficulty of bringing all your possessions back to Genoa?” Francesca wanted to know. “Assume the best outcome with your
padre
. Perhaps your belongings could be sent to Valiant’s home to await your arrival.”

“My betrothed makes an excellent suggestion!” Rafaello approved. He turned to Louisa. “Your mama will be most welcome to Terreno Boscoso,
cara
,” he said.

“Oh, thank you!” Louisa responded with tears of happiness in her eyes. “I was so worried about leaving her behind.”

“I should not want
madre mia
living with me,” Francesca told them. “Orianna Pietro d’Angelo is a law unto herself. She is beautiful as well, and absolutely convinced that she is always correct. She rarely raises her voice. Just looks at you.”

Her companions laughed.

Francesca and Rafaello found themselves riding ahead as the two lovers dropped back to talk privately. For a time they did not speak directly to one another. Then he said, “Did you sleep well,
cara mia
?” he asked.

“Oddly I did,” she answered him. “I had not expected to, but I was suddenly overcome by an enormous wave of fatigue.” Then, unable to contain herself, she said, “Do you disapprove that I ride astride,
signore
?”

“You may ride as you please,” he told her. “But when you are with child you will not ride at all, for I would wish no harm to either you or our infant.”

“You are the most irritating man!” she responded.

“I am relieved to see that I am able to engender some emotion in you, Francesca,” he surprised her by saying. “Is it not time for you to relieve us both of this petulance? It is no insult that you are to be my wife,
cara
. I shall endeavor to spend the time between now and our wedding day attempting to convince you of your good fortune, but if I cannot it will make no difference. We will still marry on the first day of December.”

“My
padre
must give his approval first,” she told him.

“He gave his approval when he agreed to send you to Terreno Boscoso as one of the candidates for my hand,” Rafaello said. “Messengers are already speeding towards Florence with the news that you are the chosen one. Your priest will sign the contracts in your father’s place. They are being drawn up and will be ready in a few days for his signature. He carries one of your father’s seals to make it official.”

“Well,” Francesca said quietly, “if I did not feel like a trapped animal before, I certainly do now.” I shall have to steal the seal from
Padre
Silvio, she thought. Without the seal the contract will not be legal.

“Yes, I am the hunter, and I have trapped a little wildcat,” he answered her, and she heard the humor in his voice.

“You don’t have me yet,” she taunted him.

“You will come to love me,” he said with irritating certainty.

“I will not!” she retorted.

“You liked my kisses,” he teased.

“I am a woman. Of course I enjoyed being kissed by a handsome man. It meant nothing, however,” she told him scornfully.

That stung, he had to admit, but he didn’t believe her. “You are a maid, and my kisses were the first you ever received,” he said.

“And if I marry you I shall never have anything to compare them to, for once the priest has pronounced us man and wife I must, for my own honor’s sake, be faithful.”

“You are the most outrageous girl!” he said, amused.

“Do you think if I asked Louisa’s permission Valiant would kiss me so I might at least have some comparison?” she wondered aloud.

“He will certainly not kiss you, for our friendship’s sake, if I tell him no,” Rafaello replied, not quite so amused now. “You must be satisfied with my kisses, I fear.”

“I shall certainly not be placated until I have a broader knowledge,” she said. She kicked her horse into a smooth canter.

His humor suddenly restored by the thought of a dozen young men lined up to kiss Francesca, he followed after her, laughing.

They returned to the
castello
in late afternoon hungry and not just a little tired. Aceline du Barry was not in the Great Hall when it was time for the meal. It was a far simpler repast than the wonderful feast of yesterday. Sliced broiled trout on a bed of cress, a roasted capon stuffed with fruit, a salad of lettuces, bread, butter, cheese and a platter of fresh fruits—grapes, pears, apples, melon. Even Louisa’s usually delicate appetite was hearty. The wine was dark and fragrant.

They spent time in the hall that evening, dancing simple country dances together. Then the following morning Francesca and Rafaello bid farewell to their friends as they began their journey to Genoa, surrounded by the men-at-arms wearing the badge of the Pietro d’Angelo family. The di Medici men-at-arms had already departed earlier, at dawn.

Francesca and Louisa hugged one another while Rafaello and Valiant shook hands.

“I wish you good luck,” his childhood friend told Rafaello.

“Why do I need luck?” Rafaello asked, laughing. “I have the maid.”

“Precisely!” Valiant said with a chuckle. “Charming the Duke of Genoa into marrying his daughter will be far easier for me than you charming the beautiful Francesca to the altar without a fuss.”

Rafaello’s hearty laughter died and his handsome face grew serious. “I believe you may be right,” he responded, “but you know that I never give up, Valiant.”

“And so I wish you good fortune,” Valiant repeated. “We’ll return as quickly as we can,” he promised as he mounted his stallion.

The last of the duke’s guests to depart was Aceline du Barry. Duke Titus himself saw her off, but he had insisted that Rafaello and Francesca also bid her farewell.

“Is it wise for me to be there?” she asked the old man. “Does it not simply rub salt into her open wounds? I do not wish to be unkind.”

“She will never accept my son’s choice in a bride if it is not made clear to her,” Duke Titus responded. “Certainly the three of us bidding her Godspeed will help.”

Francesca didn’t think it would. If she had had her heart set on Rafaello and he had chosen someone else, seeing them together would just infuriate her. And she knew it would imply to Aceline that something was wrong with her, and Francesca knew that the French girl believed herself far superior to the Genoese duke’s bastard daughter and the daughter of a Florentine silk merchant. “Of course,
signore
,” she dutifully replied.

Rafaello listened to the brief exchange between his sire and his betrothed. He thought that Francesca was correct, but was impressed that she was able to accept his father’s decision graciously. He gave the dainty hand in his a small squeeze. Their eyes met briefly, but she said nothing.

Aceline swooped into the courtyard. Her baggage train had already departed. Her female servants but for Oriel, who would also ride, were now in the cart that would transport them across the nearby border between France and Terreno Boscoso, back to the Comte du Barry’s chateau. Aceline wore a deep blue velvet riding dress trimmed lavishly in lace. A peregrine falcon was perched upon her leather glove. “I am ready,” she announced as if they could not see it. She looked angrily at Francesca and Rafaello.

“I thank you for coming,
signorina
. Your presence has enlivened my house these past weeks,” Duke Titus said politely. “I am sending your noble father some gifts as my thanks for permitting you to come.” He waved his hand languidly towards the gift train.

“You will find a stallion bred from my own horses, two greyhounds, a silk bag of rare tulip bulbs I purchased from a passing merchant this summer, as well as several bolts of rare materials, a dozen silver goblets etched in gold, six gold forks, a silver and gold crucifix blessed by the Holy Father himself, and, finally, a ruby necklace and ring I thought might suit you, Aceline.”

“He will give it all to his slut wife,” Aceline said meanly. “She will gain the fruits of my failure,
signore
.” Turning her head she looked at Rafaello and Francesca. “You have made a mistake,” she told him. “Did she sleep with you? Is that how she won your favor, by opening her legs for you? Well, what can you expect from a tradesman’s brat? I hope any children she gives you are at least your own.”

Francesca gasped, shocked at the vicious words. “I have not slept with him!” she denied, blushing furiously. “I am a virgin! How dare you say such a thing? And I will be faithful to any husband I wed. To say otherwise only shows you do not know my character. Nonetheless I will wish you Godspeed and a safe journey.
Addio!
I hope never to see your face again.”

“Then we have found something we can agree on,” Aceline responded, “for I never hope to see yours!” Without another word to anyone she turned angrily and mounted her horse and, lashing the beast with her crop, cantered from the courtyard.

Startled, Oriel and the passenger cart followed at a much slower pace.

“Thank God you did not choose that virago,” Duke Titus said.

“For all her noble blood,” Francesca said, “she had no manners at all. I can understand her disappointment, but there was no excuse for her vile words. I do not envy the man who wants her.”

“If her sire is wise he will marry her off to the man quickly,” Duke Titus noted. Then he smiled at Francesca. “I have the daughter I want,” he told her.

She smiled warmly at him. If she could only bring herself to accept this fate that was thrust upon her, he would be a good father-in-law and, Francesca expected, a very good ally.

“I suspect there will be a number of beatings in Aceline’s future. Her temper will not be tolerated by any husband,” Rafaello said.

“Would you beat her if she was your wife?” Francesca asked him.

“I’d strangle her,” he answered, to her surprise.

The next few weeks seemed to pass very quickly, and the first of October came. The trees in the forest were beginning to change color, splashing their bright hues against the green pines. Duke Titus, along with his majordomo, Piero, began to plan the wedding feast to which all the citizens of Terreno Boscoso would be invited. A calligrapher was brought to the
castello
to write the hundred or so personal invitations for the duchy’s officials and important citizens. Larger invitations would be posted in public places for the citizens of Terreno Boscoso.

The wedding gown arrived from Florence on the tenth of the month, along with the Pietro d’Angelo family’s personal seamstress, who would remain until after the wedding. If the snows were not heavy by then she would return to Florence and recount everything that had happened during her stay. Greeting
Signora
Sophia, Francesca knew that was the real purpose of her visit. Terza was more than capable of making any alterations on the gown. But Terza would not be returning to Florence.

“Your
madre
is unhappy she cannot attend your wedding,” the seamstress told Francesca, then smiled. “But I shall report every detail to her and with enough repeating she will believe she was here.”
Signora
Sophia laughed. “I have a memory that forgets nothing. Nothing!”

Duke Titus insisted on seeing Francesca in her gown as it was fitted exactly to her form. “You are outrageously beautiful, my daughter,” he said. “After you have delivered your first child, I shall call for one of your famous Florentine painters to come and paint you and my grandson in the manner of the blessed Virgin and her son, our lord Jesu,” he told her. “It shall hang in the family gallery.”

I can’t do this, Francesca thought. I cannot! But what could she do? The invitations were being delivered, the feast was set, the wedding gown was here, and
Padre
Silvio had signed the betrothal agreements. Now the dear old duke was seeing her as the Holy Mother with her child. Panic was filling her, and, worse, Rafaello was paying her proper court. Last night he had drawn her down onto his lap when they found themselves alone in the hall.

She stiffened, but when his lips found hers her body relaxed, unbidden. Francesca found herself kissing him back. After what seemed an eternity, she drew away. His mouth was intoxicating. He pulled her back, shocking her by finding her tongue with his. She made a tiny squeak of protest, but the foraging tongue refused to cease its caresses. Unable to help herself she followed his tutoring softly, stroking his tongue with hers.