Lucianna (11 page)

“Addio, cara mia,”
he said. Then, releasing her hand, he departed.

As the door closed, Lucianna put her hand out to steady herself.

Balia appeared by her side. “So he has gone. Will he be back?”

“He will be back,” Lucianna said with a small smile.

H
enry VII, first of the Tudors, was a careful man. His claim to the throne was fragile. The son of Edmund Tudor, who was the son of Henry V’s widow, Katherine of France, he had no real claim to England but through his mother, Margaret Beaufort, who was a great-great-granddaughter of King Edward III. Margaret was the great-granddaughter of Edward III’s son, John of Gaunt. Her grandfather was the first John Beaufort, Gaunt’s son by his mistress and later third wife, Katherine Swynford, whose four children were legitimized. Her father, the second John Beaufort, was Duke of Somerset. Margaret was his only child, and had inherited great wealth.

Her first marriage was dissolved when she was twelve. Her second husband was Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond. She wed him at twelve and a half, and by the time she was fourteen was widowed, and had delivered her husband’s only child, his son Henry, who was considered the son of an unimportant lordling. The death of several close male relations changed all that, and suddenly this boy who never expected to be important found himself the male heir to the Lancasters.

With the Yorkists ruling, he was put in the charge of Lord Herbert, who saw to his education. When the Lancasters regained authority briefly, Henry’s wardship was overseen by his uncle, Jasper Tudor, the Earl of Pembroke. When the Yorkists managed to regain power, Jasper took his nephew and fled to Brittany, for the boy was now the Lancastrian heir. For the next twelve years, he lived under the protection of Brittany’s duke while Edward IV attempted to regain his custody.

In England, Henry’s mother worked for his cause, and came close to losing her life when she irritated Edward IV’s brother, Richard III, who claimed the throne on his brother’s death. Her family managed to get her spared, although such behavior was a trial to her third and fourth husbands. A clever woman, she always remarried, because she knew a woman needed a man to represent or stand behind her.

Finally, after several attempts, Henry, now twenty-eight, won his kingship with the death of Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth. His mother became one of his closest advisers privately, never publicly. Once firmly upon the throne, Henry permitted her to sign her name as Margaret R. And to see that her son’s throne was firmly protected, she arranged with Edward IV’s widow the marriage between Edward’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth, and her son. With the mysterious disappearance and presumed death of Elizabeth’s two younger brothers, Elizabeth was now the Yorkist heiress. Lancaster and York united; the war between them was finally resolved. With the birth of Henry and Elizabeth’s first son, Prince Arthur, the succession was secured.

Robert Minton, Earl of Lisle, was the king’s own age. His family had supported the Lancasters quietly, and his father, Richard Minton, had managed to secure a place for his only son in Henry VII’s train when he escaped to Brittany. He didn’t know what would come of it, but he advised the young Robert to try to make friends with the boy who would be king.

“Do not be like the others, seeking his friendship for what you may gain for yourself or your family. Seek that friendship just so you two may become friends, and if you obtain it, maintain it. One day it may prove invaluable to you,” Richard Minton said. “Leave power to the others. It will, in the end, mean more to this lad who will be our king one day, my son, to have a friend in you.”

The boy had followed his father’s advice and found it correct. Henry of Lancaster had been besieged by the other boys in his train, but Robert Minton simply became his best friend. Once, when they were in their late teens, Henry had asked him why he did not seek for himself as the others did.

“My lord, I have all that I need in this life. A title, wealth, an estate, and most important of all, your friendship. One day, as you will, I will choose a wife and have heirs. What more could I possibly want?”

Henry Lancaster had laughed. “I think you are cleverer than all the others put together, Rob,” he told his friend. “I have written to my mother about you, and she has said so. My mother is a wise woman.”

The friendship had grown, and never again did the king question Robert Minton’s motives. Robert was the friend who did discreet errands for his king such as going to Florence to obtain silks for his young queen, who loved beautiful things. While not generous by nature with others, Henry was very generous with his wife, and Elizabeth never tried his nature, understanding what it was like to grow up without quite enough coin. And Henry let his wife follow the generous example of his beloved mother, who was adding colleges to the university at Cambridge, was a patron of the arts, and was most benevolent to the church and to others who needed her aid.

Robert Minton had never shown any interest in a woman, but now that Lucianna was in England, he could no longer hide his interest.

He knew eventually he would request permission of the king’s mother to bring Lucianna to meet her. It would prove interesting, for while Margaret Beaufort valued her position and heritage, she was not a snob by nature. And she was curious about a woman from a foreign country who had been given a position of importance from an important guild.

Lucianna’s shop was now open to the London cloth merchants seeking fine silks to offer their own customers, who were from the nobility. Hearing of Lucianna’s beauty, however, certain young lords had taken to visiting the shop in an effort to make her acquaintance. She was charming but laughed at them, and sent them away each day. They would return the next day, good-natured for the most part, and once again attempt an aquaintance.

It was sometimes difficult to do business with the legitimate merchants. Lucianna was finally forced to hire two burly fellows whose job it was to see that their mistress’s admirers did not impede the business she had come to England to do. Not all of the young men were discouraged, and some waited in the street for her to go home. As she did not wish her dwelling known if she could avoid it, Lucianna took to exiting from the rear alley of her business and leaving her assistant, Baram Kira, to lock up.

“I have refused some very generous bribes to reveal your secrets,” he told her seriously one day.

Lucianna laughed. “I imagine that you have,” she said, “but it is very irritating to be importuned so by these men.”

“Their motives are not . . .” Baram trailed off, searching a moment for the right words. “They are not pure where you are concerned. I have told Mistress Yedda of these men, and she says you are managing the situation very well.”

“You must understand,” Lucianna explained to him, “until I was thirteen, I never left my father’s house. When I reached that age, my mother began to take me with her across the piazza each day to Mass. In my oldest sister’s day, the young men would come to the square just to see her cross it when she went to Mass. It did not please my mother at all.

“I never met anyone outside of my family in those years. It was our parents and siblings, the servants, and, if I was considered old enough to be put on display with my brother and little sister, an occasional visitor. When I was old enough to marry, then I was allowed with my mother, or a servant, to visit a market or shop. I was taken by my parents to the Medici household for receptions so I might be seen by families with eligible sons. But, alas, my dower had shrunk in the poor economy, and while my two elder sisters, who had very large dowers, were sought after, I was not, even though my sister Francesca is the ruling duchess of a small principality. People still whisper about my eldest sister’s runaway marriage to a Turkish prince.”

“But you did wed, didn’t you?” he asked her.

“Yes, to a kind old man who sought a companion in his last years. He left me a wealthy woman in my own right,” Lucianna told him.

“Ah,” Baram said. “And a wealthy woman is a sought-after woman. Is that not so, mistress?”

“Indeed,” Lucianna agreed. “I wanted no man in Florence, for most sought me for that wealth. For the interim, I prefer to remain my own mistress, which I realize is shocking to most.”

“I think you very wise,” Baram said, nodding.

At that moment, the door opened, and one of her guards stuck his head through. “Mistress, there is some lord out here who says you are friends, and you will let him in. He says his name is Robert Minton, Earl of Lisle. Shall I allow him to pass?”

“Yes, and always,” Lucianna answered him, smoothing imagined wrinkles from her gown as she went forward to greet her visitor.

He came past her burly guard, smiling. “So it has come to this, my lady of Florence? You must post guards at the door of your shop?”

“Before I did,” she told him as he kissed her hand, “I had a shop full of young courtiers impeding my business. How bold you English are, Robert. The legitimate merchants couldn’t get in. The guild will not be pleased should they learn the interest these young men have in me prevents me from doing what I was sent here to do.”

“Your beauty draws them,” he said.

“Surely there are prettier women in England, and the true motive of these men is seduction, nothing more,” Lucianna said candidly. “You know that as well as I do. I represent the Arte di Por Santa Maria, the Silk Merchants’ Guild of Florence. I will not bring shame upon them with lascivious behavior. Believe me, when the Milanese representative of their silk merchants arrives, he will be quick to report any unseemly behavior believed on my part back to both Milan and Florence.”

“I will see these fellows no longer disturb you,” he told her.

Then he walked to the door of the shop and stepped outside past her guards. The young courtiers lingering in the street could not help but stop and look at the Earl of Lisle; most of them recognized him. “I am the Earl of Lisle as many of you here know. Looking about, I know most of you.

“Cease disturbing this street with your foolish behavior over a pretty woman. Do not come back here again. Your quest to meet with Mistress Pietro d’Angelo is futile. She will not receive you. She is a respectable woman. Get you gone now!”

They stared at him silently for a long moment, and then one bolder than the others spoke up. “Why should we?” he demanded.

A slow, amused smile lit Robert Minton’s face. “Because,” he said, “I am the Earl of Lisle and your elder, and I outrank you. But most important, you audacious gamecock, because from the moment I met Mistress Pietro d’Angelo in Florence some months ago, I determined to make her mine. Are you foolish enough to believe you can come up against me, and win, Sir Edmund?”

The young man bowed in a half-polite, half-reluctant manner. “I give over, Lord Lisle,” he said, “and wish you good fortune with the lovely lady.”

Robert Minton returned the bow courteously and turned to the others. “And the rest of you?” he asked.

But they were already withdrawing down the small street. He returned to the shop past the two now-admiring guards at the door.

“So, from the moment you met me, you decided to make me yours,” Lucianna said. She didn’t know whether to be amused or offended. “You are a very bold man, Robert.”

“You knew it,” he answered quietly. “Do not demur. You are too intelligent a woman, Lucianna.”

“Aye, I knew it,” she told him. “The difficulty, however, is that I do not know if I mean to be any man’s. I will certainly be no plaything, my lord. And I do not believe my birth is enough for a man of your stature. So, for now, might you be content just to be my friend?”

“For now,” he agreed. “Remember that I spoke with your father, Lucianna. And yes, my ancestors hold a higher rank than did yours, but I will not allow our ancestors to dictate our fates. This age of Tudor is a new age. I don’t want a plaything. I want a wife.”

He was blunt, she thought. “I am not quite ready to re-wed, though your
offer
is gracious.”

“I have not offered yet,” he told her. “When I do, I shall get down on my knee and request your hand properly, Lucianna, as a gentleman should do. I simply want you to understand that I do not mean to take you as a mistress.”

She had the good grace to blush at his gentle rebuke. “I understand now,” she told him, then added wickedly, “You wish to prevent others from pressing their suits, respectable or not, until you have made up your mind about me. Is that correct, my lord?”