Lucianna (12 page)

Instead of protesting her suggestion, he answered her wickedly. “Aye, my lady, that is just what I mean to do. You are clever to have divined it.”

“Oh, you are so difficult!” she told him, irritated.

He laughed at her. “I am merely giving you back what you have given me, Lucianna. If you mean to outwit me, you must do better.”

She wanted to shriek at such boldness, but instead she gave him a small smile. “Oh, I shall, my lord. You may trust that I shall.”

“Good!” he said, approving of her words. “If you didn’t, I should be disappointed,” the earl told her. “Will you allow me to escort you home?” he asked politely.

She hesitated, wanting to say no just to punish him, but instead she said, “Yes, you may.” Then she turned to her assistant. “Baram, please close up the shop for the day. It is already dark outside. See the guards have torches to light my bearers’ way. I believe the master of the cloth merchants will visit us on the morrow. Do we have enough wine?”

“Yes, mistress,” Baram answered. Then he hurried off to see to the torches so they might leave. He would report this little interlude between Lucianna and the earl to Yedda, who would be interested to know, if she did not already know.

“Is that why you came?” Lucianna asked the earl. “To escort me home this afternoon?”

“Yes, and so we might eat and talk together. I have been so busy at court with the king’s business, I have had no time to visit with you. I have missed you, Lucianna.”

“And I, you, to be honest,” she told him. “Other than my servants, and Baram, I have no one with whom to talk in the evenings. Sometimes I am lonely, but other times I am not.”

“I have the privilege of being considered a friend by the king’s mother, Lady Margaret,” he said. “She is curious to meet you, for I do not believe she has ever met anyone from Florence. And an independent woman who manages a commercial venture is very intriguing to her. Would you come with me one afternoon and meet her? Perhaps we will celebrate a small holiday with her, as December is almost upon us now,” he suggested.

“When I write to my mother that I have met the king of England’s mother, she will be beside herself with delight. She was not happy that I agreed to come to England,” Lucianna explained.

“Mistress, the bearers are ready,” Baram announced, having come to tell them. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” they both told him, and went outside to where her litter awaited, along with Robert’s horse and the two guards. They set off through the darkening streets. Some shops were still lit, which brightened the streets until they reached the more residential area, and then Lucianna was doubly glad of her torches, for the streets were very dark, it seemed. She did not like coming home in darkness. She must remember to leave her shop earlier so they might travel in the light.

They had not spoken during their journey. It was better not to be distracted by a conversation. It was better to keep one’s thoughts on the journey itself. To Lucianna’s relief, they reached her house quickly tonight. It seemed her people were eager to escape any difficulties too.

Balia had been watching for them and flung open the front door as the earl dismounted and helped Lucianna from her litter chair.

“Good! Good! You are safely home. I worry when it gets dark so early, mistress.”

“I think I shall come early until the light begins to return,” Lucianna agreed.

“Baram sent a boy to say the earl would be with you and remaining for the meal,” Balia said. “The food is hot and ready, if you will go into the hall.”

“Make certain the earl’s horse is stabled and fed,” Lucianna said.

“It will be done. Sam isn’t about to allow a fine animal to remain in the streets,” Balia replied, but she hurried off to be certain it was being done.

They walked into the little hall of the house. The large fireplace blazed, and the small size of the room allowed it to feel warm. A tapestry hung on the wall behind the high board. There were two high-backed tapestried chairs on either side of the hearth. But other than the high board and its seating, there was little else in the hall. They sat as Balia had directed them, and immediately her servants brought in the food. They ate, for they were hungry. Lucianna had had no food since her morning meal, and men, she knew, were always hungry.

Alvina had cooked a fine capon stuffed with bread, celery, and onions. First, however, there was fish, bought fresh this morning from a fishmonger by the river that her cook favored. There was a small vessel filled with a rabbit stew with carrots and onions, along with fresh warm bread, butter, and cheese. It was far more than Lucianna usually saw on her table in the evenings when she was alone. She was surprised it was ready so quickly, but Alvina had a magic about her. She could do amazing things, Lucianna had discovered, in a very short time.

Robert Minton ate heartily with a good appetite. He did not speak, concentrating all his attention upon the food. It was obvious that he was very hungry.

“Do they not feed you at court?” she finally asked him when she had finished her own plate.

“Except at state dinners, courtiers eat when they can, especially if, like me, they have other duties. The king, his mother, and the queen often eat together. They are served by their courtiers, who are served by the servants, but courtiers do not eat. Unless you are invited to eat with the king or his family, you do not,” he explained. “I think I ate last night, but I don’t really remember.”

Lucianna was horrified. “That is awful!” she said. “You must come and eat more evening meals with me then, Robert.”

“I will come when I can get away, and I thank you for your kind invitation, Lucianna.” He reached for the bread, butter, and cheese.

“Perhaps I should marry you right away,” she said. “Then we could go to your home where I might see you eat regular meals daily.”

He laughed. “So my well-being concerns you, does it?”

She considered his words and then said, “I suppose it does. I have been taught that the purpose of marriage is children, after all. If you are not strong enough to mount me, we will never have them. So you must be fed daily, and well.” She blushed at her own words.

Reaching out, the earl took her hand, which directed her to look into his face. “Lucianna, never fear I should be too weak to mount you,” he said, and the smouldering look in his eyes caused her blush to deepen. She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not let her go. He began to nibble upon each finger, his teeth gently grazing them.

The sudden intimacy between them was startling.

“If you are still hungry,” she half whispered, “I’m certain Alvina has made us a sweet. Bessie, her helper, is quite expert at sweets.”

“You are enough sweet for me,” he told her in a thick voice. He tightened his grip upon her hand, pulling her from her chair and into his lap. Releasing her hand, he kissed her, his mouth covering hers, and taking complete possession of it.

When Lucianna had a moment to breathe again, she could only say, “Oh my!” And then she felt his hand caressing her breasts through the heavy silk of her gown. “Robert!”

“I can’t not touch you,
amore mia
. You are simply too tempting.”

“But I’ve never before had my breasts touched,” she half whispered. “It is strange to me.”

“Your husband did not touch your breasts? How could he resist you, Lucianna? You are delicious,” the earl told her.

“The purpose of our marriage was not conjugal, but companionable,” she reminded him.

He considered her words carefully. “Are you telling me that even on your wedding night, there was no coming together?”

“Oh no! Alfredo had his own bedchamber, and I had mine,” and as she spoke, it suddenly dawned upon Lucianna what she was telling him in the most discreet, but direct way.

“You really are a virgin?”
He said it softly, low. The implications of it were astounding. She had told him before, yet until this moment, he had not considered the true impact of it. If she was still a virgin, then no man had ever possessed her, and no man ever would but him, he determined.

“Yes.” She said it low.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“It displeases you?” Why was he acting so oddly?

“Displeases me? Nay! How could such a thing displease any man? You have simply burnished your perfection with this unexpected gift. Nay, I am more than pleased to know you are untouched.”

“Why? You seemed to desire me before you knew it?” she said.

“I did, but it pleases my vanity to learn now that no man has ever had you, and no man ever will but me!” Then he was kissing her again, and Lucianna let herself be swept away by the passion of it until she realized they were still in the hall. She struggled from his embrace and his lap, jumping up and saying, “My lord! This is too public a place for such delights.”

His cock was swollen and tight against his garments. Propriety was the last thing on his mind right now, but when he looked up into her concerned little face, he had to laugh. Struggling to his feet he said, “You find my kisses delightful?”

Now she blushed even more deeply. “I did not say that!”

“You said the hall was too public a place for such delights. What else could you have meant?” he teased wickedly. “I find your kisses a delight as well, Lucianna.” His eyes were twinkling at her.

She was beginning to regain a hold of herself again. “I meant any intimacies between us should not be public for any to observe,” Lucianna told him.

“I agree,” he said. “So where shall we retreat to, sweetheart, for I admit I do not feel ready yet to stop kissing you.”

“You are . . .” she began, and he finished the sentence for her.

“So bold,” he said. “I know. It is the English way.” He grinned. “Are not Florentine gentlemen enamored of certain ladies eager to kiss them and cuddle them?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My experience has not been great. An elderly husband who quickly kissed me on the lips once at our marriage, and never again touched his lips to mine. Females of my station do not kiss gentlemen at random. And certainly not if they are not married to them,” Lucianna explained. “That is what a man’s mistress is for, my lord. His pleasure. His wife is for giving him children, should he want children, and for keeping his house in order. Nothing more.”

“But she can also be for his pleasure and delight,” the earl told her, much to Lucianna’s surprise.

Then she recalled that her mother would occasionally spend the night in her father’s bedchamber, and in the morning they would both be smiling. But while she had seen her parents share a quick kiss now and again, she did not ever remember them in a passionate embrace publicly.

“Do the English treat their wives so formally, my lord?”

“Sometimes, and sometimes not,” he told her. “My wife will always know that she is loved, for I shall not hesitate to kiss her regularly in public and in private.”

“My lady, my lord.” Balia was suddenly by their side. “I think the earl must remain the night,” the serving woman said. “The weather has turned most foul outside. It is raining heavily, and the winds are fierce. It is not a night for riding within the city.”

The two women saw him consider, and then he said, “I will not despoil your reputation, Lucianna. If I remain and it becomes known . . .” He left it for her to decide.

“If the weather is that dreadful, then I would prefer you remain,” she said. “Remember that I am a widow. Whatever anyone else may believe or choose to think, it is not as bad as it would be if I were a maiden with my virginity to protect, my lord. Yes. Remain.”

“I’ll see a room is prepared for the earl,” Balia said.

“As far away from your mistress as possible,” the earl suggested.

“I will sleep upon the trundle in her room tonight,” Balia told him. “Unless, of course . . .”

But Lucianna quickly said, “No, that will be enough to preserve my reputation from any who would think otherwise, Balia.”

“Yes, my lady,” and Balia hurried off to direct Cleva and Welsa.

“You are generous, and I thank you,” he said. “At home, if I ride in a heavy rain, I can return home to a hot tub, warm clothes, and my bed. Here at court, I have not those luxuries and would sleep wet.”

“Court hardly sounds like the place for a simple lordling,” Lucianna observed.

“It isn’t,” he said. “Those few who are always by the king and queen have small accommodations where such things are available. If not, they sleep where they can find a place that is dry and warm. Some of the more important nobles attending the king have homes of their own in London, and travel with their own pavilions and servants. The rest of us do the best we can. I do not have a home in London.”

“You may stay in my house, my lord, whenever you are in the city,” Lucianna offered. “If the meal is over, you can always go to the kitchen, and Alvina or Bessie will feed you.”

He was astounded by the generous offer. “I do not believe your most proper mother would approve of such an arrangement,” he said.

Lucianna did not demur. “No,” she agreed, “she would not, but this is London, not Florence, and we are friends.”

“Ah,” he said with a smile, “you have decided we are friends?”

Lucianna smiled, unphased by him now. “Yes, I believe we are friends, my lord.”

“We are friends,” he agreed. “It is a good way for us to begin.”

H
e was gone by the time Lucianna came down to go to her shop the next morning. He had obviously departed early, for the servants had not seen him go. She was touched that he had a care for her reputation. Without the gaggle of young men in the street, her shop was now open to the various cloth merchants in London. Several came each day to inspect the quality of the Florentine silks. She was even given some orders, which she dispatched to Florence via pigeon.

Her days fell into a regular pattern. November ended, and December passed. It had been a very lonely holiday season. She and Balia celebrated together, and Lucianna saw that each of her English servants was given a small gift including sweets and nuts, which were a real treat for them. They were at first surprised by her generosity, and then grateful for it. She told them when God had gifted them with his only son, it set an example for them to gift others on that feast day. She did not see Robert Minton until the middle of January.

When he finally came to her home one Sunday afternoon, he looked exhausted, and Lucianna could not help but comment upon it.

The king’s forte, it seemed, was finance, and Henry knew a rich king was a powerful king. He had spent little time with the court enjoying the Christmas season with his wife, infant son, and mother. Instead, he had closeted himself with Robert Minton to discuss new ways of raising revenue. Robert, it seemed, was his sounding board before he would bring his thoughts to the public.

“He has decided to manage everything himself, for he believes the Exchequer has been careless. They had little to do, as his treasury was empty when he became king, but he now checks his accounts daily, and then has a group of accountants double-check him. He will be raising taxes, expanding trade, whatever he must do to fill his treasury.”

“And so you sat and listened to him, advised him,” Lucianna said.

“I do little but agree,” the earl admitted. “He has been considering this for weeks now and knows what he means to do. But first he would say it aloud to me to see if I can offer any strong objection to his ideas before he tells the Lord Chancellor and others.

“I did suggest we needed a standing army to protect England. It would thwart challengers to the throne, for the king is not yet entirely secure. He actually agreed. Said he would choose several of the more martial of his lords to do so, as well as build a navy for England. I pointed out we must control our seas if we are to discourage foreign invasion.”

“All very wise,” Lucianna said, “but that should not account for the exhaustion I see upon your face, my lord.”

“I had to go home to my estates briefly, for I had not been there in months. I am the local magistrate, among other things. My bailiff and my steward can do only so much without my authority. Hereford is some distance from London, so they cannot send to ask my permission or opinion on every little issue that nonetheless requires my approval or disapproval. I rode alone, stopping only long enough to rest my horse in the dark hours. More times than not, we were in the open at night.”

“And you hurried back the same way so as not to leave the king without your counsel for too long?” Lucianna finished for him as she sat him down by the hearth in her little hall. Then she put a goblet of strong red wine in his hand. “Can you remain?”

He drank deeply, and then sitting back, sighed deeply. “Aye. May I take advantage of your kind offer from the last time we were together? To sleep here tonight?”

“I told you, my lord, that you might make free to consider my little home yours when you are in London,” Lucianna said quietly. “I do not make offers lightly, Robert. Where is this Hereford of yours?”

She sat down opposite him, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“North and west. It borders Wales, which pleases the king. He is not ashamed of his Welsh heritage. Most of those surrounding him are English, but like the Tudors, my family is mixed with English and French,” the earl explained to her.

“I understand,” she said. She wondered if she was gushing. She could not say it to him, of course, but she had missed his company. She had missed him. But despite his past kisses, she did not really understand his attentions. He suggested marriage, and yet Lucianna was not a fool. Would an English nobleman of an old family want a merchant’s daughter, a shopkeeper, for a wife? Lucianna somehow could not believe it.

The color was beginning to come back into his face. “Lady Margaret would very much like to meet you,” he told her. “She has requested I bring you to her midmorning tomorrow. You must send to Baram to open the shop and manage your business. I believe he is capable, is he not?”

“He is,” Lucianna agreed. “I will send one of my lads in the morning with a message for him to do so. Why does Lady Margaret wish to meet me? I am just a shopkeeper.”

“Do not be modest, Lucianna,” he said to her. “You are far more than
just
a shopkeeper. The king’s mother is curious to learn if you can be of any use to her, or to the young queen. She asks to meet no one without a purpose, but I would have no idea what, for she does not often share her thoughts with anyone, wisely keeping her own counsel.”

“I have never been to any royal court, Robert. What should I wear to meet a king’s mother?” she asked him.

He chuckled. It was such a feminine question. “I would imagine your best day gown would suffice. This is not a formal occasion.”

“Will the young queen be there?” Lucianna wondered aloud. “When I write to my mother, she would be thrilled to learn I had met a queen.”

“I have no idea. Lady Margaret wants to meet you first, I would guess. She will take your measure, ask questions, and then if she likes you, she will probably invite the queen to join you. It is her usual way,” he explained. “She is a very wise and clever woman, else she could not have made her son a king, or survived the Yorkists, considering her activities during their reign. She was always carefully manuvering to see that Henry was in an advantageous position when the time came.”

“She was a good and dutiful mother,” Lucianna said. “Much like my own mother. Orianna has always been involved in her children’s lives. Now she concentrates more on the boys, for my eldest brother, Marco, while sweet in nature, cannot seem to grasp being an adult. I can only imagine the misery he is in without his mistress. Giorgio, of course, makes her the proudest, being in Rome.”

“And your twin brother?”

Lucianna laughed. “Luca was always the soldier,” she said.

The servants began bringing in a hot meal, and his hostess saw him to the high board, where she filled his plate not once, but twice.

“You are not eating,” he observed.

“I ate earlier. It suits my disposition,” Lucianna told him.

“You keep country hours, up with the sun, and to bed soon after it sets,” he said with a smile as he helped himself to some cheese.

“Shopkeepers are little different from country folk,” she agreed.

After his meal, they sat again by the fire, talking quietly for a time. He told her of his home in Hereford. “It is pure country, green and lush. The Mintons have held it for several hundred years, and the earldom since the time of Henry the Fifth. One of my ancestors married an heiress whose family name was Lisle. When Henry the Fifth offered an earldom to him, he asked it bear the name of Lisle in her honor, for he loved her dearly.”

“How lovely, and how very romantic,” Lucianna exclaimed.

“I never actually considered it that way,” the earl said. “I suppose I am not a particularly romantic fellow.”

Lucianna did not know if she agreed with his assessment, but she decided that would be a good time to end the evening, which she did.

•   •   •

I
n the morning, she awoke to find her tub already filled and awaiting her. Yawning, she exclaimed her surprise.

“You’ll not go dirty to meet the king’s mother,” Balia said sternly.

Lucianna laughed, thinking her mother would approve her tiring woman’s words. Getting up, she stripped her chemise off and climbed into the tub. Balia saw her scrubbed, and washed the golden hair with its reddish highlights. Once out of the tub, she was dried and seated by the fire while her hair was first toweled and then brushed dry. A clean long-sleeved
camicia
was followed by an underskirt, and finally a gown of dark green velvet with a small V-neckline. The neckline was embroidered with wide green and copper-colored braid that ran down the front of the gown and about the hem. The turned-back sleeves were also quite wide and trimmed with the same braid. A belt of the same material hung at hip length. It was an elegant and flattering gown. Lucianna wore it on the days she knew she would be receiving an important buyer. Today, she would wear a soft hood with a veil.

She had eaten a small meal of hot oats and watered wine while Balia had brushed her hair dry. Although the king’s mother had requested her presence this morning, who knew when she would next see food again that day? If she was indeed the king’s silent adviser, Lady Margaret might have much more to do than chatter with a Florentine shopkeeper this day. Lucianna had heard that she would probably wait before she actually was ushered into that august lady’s presence.

Balia now slipped a pair of low-heeled leather boots on her feet. “These will serve you better today than fancy slippers. With all this rain, these English streets are muddy.”

Lucianna nodded, agreeing. Besides, she knew no one would look at her feet. They would be far more interested in the jewelry she was wearing. About her neck was a short gold chain from which hung a small gold crucifix. She slipped several different rings on her fingers.

Standing, Lucianna now viewed herself in the beautiful full-length mirror she had brought with her from Florence. It had been a gift from her grandfather in Venice upon her marriage, and she treasured it. She smiled, pleased by what she saw. Yes, she would do her family and Florence proud this day.

Balia chuckled at the look of satisfaction upon her mistress’s face.

“Yes, you are beautiful, and the king’s mother will not find you wanting, my lady. Now hurry, for the earl is waiting for you.”

Downstairs, Robert Minton’s eyes showed his pleasure in her appearance. Balia gave him time for a good look, and then she silently placed a dark green wool cape lined in warm marten about Lucianna’s shoulders, handing her a pair of dark leather gloves lined in silk. Outside, the horses awaited them, for they would ride to Lady Margaret Beaufort’s house.

It was cold, and there was no sun, but there was also no wind. They rode through the busy streets, keeping to the center and listening for the warning cry of “Ware!” as an occasional night jar was emptied from above. It was not a great distance to Lady Margaret’s house, and upon arriving, their horses were taken, and they were shown inside.

Lucianna shivered as they were taken to a small antechamber to await their summoning. “I cannot quite get used to this damp cold,” she said, rubbing her gloved hands together and holding them over the small fire available to them.

“It is not as damp in the country,” he answered her. “It is cold in Hereford, but not dank as it is here in the city. It is the river, and the nearness of the sea, of course.” He drew a small straight-backed chair next to the fireplace. “Sit down,” he said.

She accepted his invitation, and after a few minutes the heat of the flames in the small hearth began to warm her. Her shoulders relaxed, and she pulled off her gloves, tucking them in an inside pocket of the fur-lined cape. “Ah, this is better,” she told him.

The door opened and a black-robed priest entered the room. “Good morning, Robert,” he said, and he smiled at Lucianna, who had risen out of respect. “This will be Mistress Pietro d’Angelo,” he remarked, with another smile. “She has sent me to fetch you. I am Father John Fisher, Lady Margaret’s confessor. You need not come, Robert, but are free to wait for Mistress Pietro d’Angelo.”

The earl quickly removed Lucianna’s cape and gave her a small smile. “I’ll find you when you are ready to depart,” he promised.

Lucianna followed the priest, who swiftly led her from the antechamber down a hallway, opening a door at its end to usher her inside. There were two or three ladies seated within the chamber, who smiled at her in a friendly fashion. Then the door to another room opened, and a tall woman emerged as the others came to their feet, curtsying.