“May I see my sister now,signore?” Bianca asked him.
He almost chuckled. His granddaughter had his daughter’s stubborn nature, and it took him back to the day when he had told her she would be marrying a Florentine merchant and not remain in Venice. She had wept and raged at him over it, but in the end she had gone meekly to the altar with Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo, as he had expected her to do. Bianca would do the same when he found the right match for her. “Of course you may see Francesca,” he said to her. “She has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” He motioned to a servant with his hand. “Fetch my granddaughter,” he said. Then turning back to his other guests, he asked them, “What think you of Venice?”
“Magnificent as our mother said it was,” Marco quickly replied. “Today, of course, I shall remain with our family, but tomorrow,signore, I should like to visit my father’s warehouses here, with your permission.”
“You are all to call meNonno,” the prince said. “I am, after all, your grandfather.”
“You are too elegant a gentleman to be called justNonno,” Georgio said. “I will call youNonno Magnifico.”
Alessandro Venier laughed heartily at this pronouncement. The boy had charm, and was amusing. If he continued to show humor, he would invite him to remain. He must write to Orianna and ask what plans they had for the boy.
A squeal of delight interrupted his train of thought. “Bianca!Marco!Georgio!You are here at last!” A young girl had run into the salon. She was tall and slender. At thirteen her breasts were budding as the material from her gown clinging to them attested.
“Francesca!” Bianca was amazed. Her little sister had indeed changed. The red-gold hair was luxurious. The green eyes sparkled. She hugged the girl warmly.
Their brothers looked surprised. This was Francesca? She had only been gone from Florence a little over a year, but the change was astounding. They greeted her with kisses and warm words.
“I have changed, haven’t I?” Francesca said gleefully.
“Our gondolier said you have a face to rival Helen of Troy,” Georgio told her.
“Who is she?” Francesca asked. “Do we know her?”
Her two brothers laughed at her ignorance.
“I can see your education has been neglected,bambina,” Marco said.
“On the contrary,” the prince interrupted. “Francesca has learned to dance all the newest dances. She can play her lute exquisitely and sing divinely. Her manners have become flawless. She has learned to supervise my kitchen and make the most wonderful scents from the flowers in my garden. She is perfectly educated.”
“To be an ornament, but not a companion,” Bianca noted.
“But the perfect wife is the most glorious ornament in her husband’s house,” the prince replied. “Francesca will soon have a husband to please and she will do it quite well, Bianca. Were you not an ornament in your late husband’s house?”
“It is obvious that my mother said nothing to you of my marriage or the shameful way it was brought about,” Bianca told him. “I will not discuss it here in the presence of innocent ears, but should you be curious,Nonno, you have but to ask me.”
“Francesca, my precious, take your sister and her servant with you now. Help them get settled,” Alessandro Venier said, dismissing his two granddaughters, which Bianca found slightly offensive. She was not someverginalelike her sister. She had been a married woman, now a widow, and was entitled to more respect. Her grandfather was treating her like a child, and she wasn’t. “I do not like him,” she muttered under her breath. “He is too much like ourmadre.”
When they had left the salon and were walking up a broad flight of marble stairs, Agata said, “Do not irritate your grandfather, mistress. You would do better to make him your friend and not your enemy.”
“He does not treat me with the respect a woman of my age and experience is entitled to, Agata. He is old-fashioned and will be very angry when I refuse the man he thinks will make me a good husband. Better we not be friends.”
“You don’t want to marry again?” Francesca was puzzled. “Do you want to go into the Church now? You did not the last time I recall.”
They had reached the top of the staircase, and followed the younger girl as she led them into a spacious apartment of several rooms.
“These are our rooms,” Francesca said. “We each have our own bedchamber, and your Agata can either sleep on a trundle in your room or share a separate chamber with my Grazia. Now tell me why you don’t want to marry again.”
“It isn’t that I don’t want to wed again, but I want the choice to be mine. I have already made it, but our mother will not allow it,” Bianca said to her sister.
“Why not? Isn’t he rich enough?” Francesca asked, curious.
“He is a Turk,” Bianca replied.
“Aninfidel?” Francesca’s green eyes went wide with surprise.
“So he is called,” Bianca said.
“Well, of course you can’t marry an infidel, Bianca,” her younger sister said. “Even I can understand that.” Her tone was very assured.
