Bianca was frightened and heartsore by what Marco had told her, but he was her beloved brother. She was closer to him by virtue of the thirteen months that separated them in birth order than to any of the others. She would do whatever her family requested of her to protect him, to protect their good name. “It will be all right, Marco,” she assured him. “I must marry eventually, and I am of an age to do so now. Our mother has raised me to be a good wife and chatelaine. I will have children to comfort me, and he, like all wealthy and important men, will have a mistress to entertain him. When the novelty of having a young wife has worn off, he will leave me in peace. Yes, I had hoped to wed out of Florence, but if it is not to be, then it is not. There is no use weeping over what cannot be changed.” She patted his velvet-clad arm. “Leave me to absorb this so I am able to behave with some decorum when our father speaks to me. I do not want our parents to be ashamed of their eldest daughter when I am informed of my fate. Nor do I wish to cause a further breach between them. Rather, by accepting what I must with obedience, I pray I will heal that chasm that has opened to separate them.”
He nodded and kissing her on the forehead, left her bedchamber. In the corridor outside he found, as he had anticipated, Francesca lurking and eager to know what had transpired between her elders. “Nay,ficcanaso, you may not go in and badger Bianca. What we have spoken about will remain between us. She is resting now.”
“Marco!” Francesca gave him her prettiest pout and a little smile.
“No,” he said, taking her by the arm. “One of the house cats has just birthed a new litter of kittens,” he said, cleverly distracting her. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it. It’s the red, white, and black one we call Tre. Let’s go and see what she has spawned.”
“Aren’t you too sophisticated to look at litters of kittens?” Francesca demanded.
“Not when it’s with my little sister,” Marco replied, taking her around the corner and off to the kitchens, where the cat was certain to be found. The cook loved cats, for they kept the rodent population down and her stores in the storeroom safe.
Bianca had heard Francesca’s voice outside her chamber. She was grateful that Marco kept the younger girl from the room. She wanted to be alone to consider what was about to happen to her life. She had met Stefano Rovere several times, for he was Marco’s best friend and was often invited to eat at their table. He was a serious boy. It would not be so bad if she were betrothed to him. At least he was young. But to marry his father? Bianca shuddered. And there was a younger brother. Could she tell her parents that she had heard a sudden calling from God and wanted to become a nun? It was doubtful they would believe her, even if she insisted it was true.
The morning ended and the afternoon passed slowly until it was time for the main meal of the day. Her parents were unusually quiet during the meal, although the younger children were so lively it was not likely that anyone noticed. The family and their servants crowded about the table in thesala da pranzoeating the pasta and meats the cook had prepared for them. There was a large bowl filled with grapes and oranges. Neither Bianca nor Marco could eat a great deal, something their mother noted to herself. Francesca had told Orianna that the two had been closeted for a brief time in late morning.
“Bianca.” Their father spoke.
“How may I serve you,signore?” the girl replied.
“You will leave the table and go to my library. Your mother and I would speak with you shortly,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said. Then he picked up his silver goblet and drank deeply. That he looked troubled was not reassuring.
“At once,signore,” Bianca responded. She did not look at any of them about the table but rose and hurried from the room. Entering the library, she stood awaiting the arrival of her parents. They did not keep her long.
Her parents seated themselves in two high-backed chairs and beckoned Bianca to stand before them. Her father’s face was serious and pained. Her mother looked as if she had been crying. There were actual tears in her eyes now.
“You are to be married,” her father began. “Your bridegroom is a man of both wealth and importance here in Florence. You are a most fortunate girl, Bianca, to have attracted such a husband.”
“May I know the name of this illustrious gentleman,signore?” Bianca asked in a quietly measured voice. She was amazed by her tone, for her legs were slightly shaking.
“He is Sebastiano Rovere, Stefano’s sire,” her father replied.
“Stefano is only older by several months than my brother Marco,” Bianca heard herself saying. She had no choice in this matter, but suddenly she was angry at her father for not fighting harder to protect her; for the bitter and hopeless tears her mother had shed this day, and would continue to shed. “You are giving me in marriage to a man old enough to be my father? How could you, Papa? How could you?” She hadn’t meant to lose her temper, but the situation facing her was intolerable.
“A young wife needs the firm hand of an older husband,” her father answered sharply. Her words had stung him. “You must learn to curb your temper, Bianca.”
“I am told this man’s reputation is less than respectable,” Bianca persisted. Did the gossips not hint that he had murdered his first two wives?
“Who has told you such things?” her father demanded angrily. “It is not your place, daughter, to speak disparagingly of a man you have not yet met. Sebastiano Rovere is the most skilled attorney in all of Florence. He is respected and he is rich. No maiden of good family could ask for more than that.”
“The servants will gossip,” Bianca responded pertly. “They say that while he is rich and clever at his craft, he is wicked and godless. And this is the man you have chosen for me, Papa? Have I been so wretched a daughter then that you are willing and eager to entertain the first offer for my hand that is brought to you?”
“You should not be listening to the idle chatter of menials,” her father responded through gritted teeth. In his mind, she was correct, but it was not her place to criticize him. She did not know of the circumstances that had brought about this catastrophe. He had no other choice. Marco was his heir, and his reputation for honesty would surely suffer if the truth came out about that night. It was the sort of thing that was never forgotten, and it would reflect on the family’s silk business. It could not be permitted to happen.
“Why must I marry this old man?” Bianca asked him. “Could you not have found me a younger husband? A noble husband?”
“How dare you question my decision, daughter? You have never before done so,” her father replied, defending himself. She was his daughter. It was her duty to obey his every wish whether she approved of it or not. “I have never before beaten you, but I will, Bianca, should you defy me in this matter. It is not your place to say whether you will or you won’t wed the gentleman I have chosen for you. I have accepted Sebastiano Rovere’s proposal of marriage in your name, and you will wed him as soon as the date is fixed. That is the end of the matter. Now there is another matter that must be settled. Yourfidanzatohas heard of the spectacle you have been causing in the piazza when you go to Mass with your mother each morning. He does not wish his future wife to be the center of such foolishness. You will again join your younger siblings when Father Aldo says Mass in the house chapel every day.”
“But I am not responsible for the behavior of those young men,” Bianca protested. “I like going to Mass with my mother. I like Father Bonamico.”
“Your reputation must be preserved, Bianca. Sebastiano Rovere is the most sought-after and respected lawyer in all of Tuscany. His bride cannot be said to be anything less than pure and untouched. She cannot be like a common woman of the streets, whistled at and shouted after by strangers. The matter is settled.”
Bianca opened her mouth to challenge her father again, but Orianna finally spoke.
“It is little enough to ask, Bianca,” she said in her quiet voice. “Father Bonamico will come to the palazzo to hear your confession each week. You should find it flattering that yourfidanzatois already jealous of you.”
Bianca pressed her lips together and bowed her head in submission. “Yes,Madre,” she said. “I hope I will have the time I feel I need to grow used to this marriage that you have planned for me.”
“Of course,cara mia,” her mother reassured her quietly. “It will not, cannot, be for several months at least. Your trousseau and your bridal gown must be made. This is not something that can be easily or properly done if it is done too quickly. Do not think about it,cara. Now run along and share this exciting news with your sisters and brothers.”
