“Has he touched your breasts? I will wager he has, you slut!” Francesca screamed jealously, for Bianca had beautiful breasts, and her own were smaller right now.
“How dare you question me like this!” Bianca fought back. “I do not want this man for a husband, but I cannot help it if our families think otherwise. He comes each day to win me over. I reject him each day when he comes. I do not know what more I can do to discourage him, Francesca. This situation is not my fault, and I wish you would stop blaming me for it. Blame our grandfather, who is a stubborn old man!”
“I hate you!” Francesca hissed and stalked off.
The betrothal between the house of Venier and the house of Ziani was announced to Venetian society with a grand banquet. It was considered a triumph for both families. Prince Enzo was handsome and well liked. The Florentine bride was beautiful. The wedding date was set for the twentieth day of September. The dressmaker came with her assistants to make the bride’s wedding gown. They brought beautiful fabrics from which she might choose. They measured and twittered around her like a group of hungry sparrows in winter. She forestalled them as best she could, claiming the fabrics were not fine enough for her, insisting they send to Florence to her father for the cloth.
Bianca was furious with both her grandfather and Enzo Ziani, neither of whom seemed to comprehend that her refusal to even consider this marriage to Enzo Ziani was sincere. They treated her as if she were a child, unable to make her own decisions, and so they wisely made them for her. Then to have Francesca skulking about, sulking and muttering curses at her, was not particularly pleasant. Not that she blamed her younger sibling. After all, what was the poor girl to think under the circumstances?
“Oh, Agata,” Bianca said one day to her faithful servingwoman. “What if they are right? What if Amir has forgotten me? What if I wait but in vain?”
“I believe your prince to be an honorable man,” Agata said. “If he said he would return for you, then he will return, mistress. You must not lose hope or your faith in him. He will come.”
“It had better be soon,” Bianca said grimly. “We have been parted for months now, and it is already August.” And then Bianca had an idea. It was a wonderful idea, but at the same time a terrible one. What if on the wedding day Francesca took her place at the altar next to Enzo Ziani? The bride would be heavily veiled, and they could dye her sister’s hair dark. It would not be until Enzo Ziani raised that veil to kiss his bride that they would discover Francesca. But it would be too late then, for the marriage ceremony would have been performed and sanctified. Refusing the bride would cause a far larger scandal than accepting her. All Venice loved a good joke. They would laugh, but then they would consider how romantic it was, and the noble sacrifice Bianca had made for the little sister she loved. Everyone knew this marriage was not a love match. Now it would be, and Francesca would have her heart’s desire. Ziani and her grandfather might fume privately, but Bianca would have more time to wait for Amir.
“That is a wicked, wicked idea,” Agata said. “Your grandfather is correct in that she is too young.”
“Would you have me forced to the altar instead? And then when Amir comes, I would have to run away, causing an even greater scandal?” Bianca asked. “So Francesca is wed a year beforeNonnointended. Believe me, she is more than ready. Many girls are wed at twelve. She is almost fourteen. She wants her prince and I want mine. The two families still get their way with this union, even if the bride is not who they intended her to be.”
“All of Venice will indeed laugh at such a happening,” Agata warned. “The two families will be made figures of fun, mistress.”
“Only briefly, if they are clever and laugh with the rest of Venice. The story will be told that the younger sister wanted this handsome man, and so she cleverly stole him from beneath her elder’s nose on the very day of the wedding. It will be considered a great love story, and if Enzo is wise he will tell the world how fortunate he is to have a bride who loves him rather than one who does not,” Bianca said. “And then any scandal will die away, as it should when my disappearance becomes the next scandal.”
“How will you account for your sister’s not appearing for this wedding?” Agata wanted to know.
“Francesca has already proclaimed she will not go to see the man she loves wed to another,” Bianca said.
“But will she go along with your little plot?” Agata wondered.
“I shall not know until I can speak with her,” Bianca answered.
But Francesca wasn’t of a mind to hear what her sister had to say. It was not until Agata had asked the younger girl’s maidservant, Grazia, to intercede with her mistress that she would listen to what Bianca had to say.
“What is it you want of me?” she asked in a surly tone one morning when they had finished their meal. “Grazia says I should at least hear you out.”
“Come, and walk with me,” Bianca invited her sibling. “The garden is lovely.”
“Well, you would know better than I, for you spend so much time in it with my prince,” Francesca replied meanly.
Bianca did not bother to defend herself, instead leading her sibling outside where the chances of their being overheard if they spoke softly were far less than if they remained in the palazzo. When they reached the marble balustrade at the end of the garden, which overlooked a small canal, Bianca gazed about them carefully to be certain there was no one to hear her. Then she pulled her sister down onto a marble bench so they would be more comfortable.
“Do you wish to marry Enzo Ziani, Sister?” she asked Francesca.
“You know that I do!” the younger girl replied, her green eyes tearing up.
“Then you shall,” Bianca said. “You will take my place on the wedding day next month. You will be heavily veiled, and we will dye your hair dark. When he raises your veil after the ceremony, it will be too late, for you will be his wife, Francesca.”
“Oh, Bianca! Do you think such a ruse would be successful? Oh! If it were, I should be the happiest bride ever come to the altar,” Francesca said, the angry and pinched look suddenly gone from her beautiful face, her plump lower lip quivering, for she was about to burst into tears of happiness.
“I believe it can be done if we are very careful, and very clever,” Bianca said. “But that means you must continue to appear to hate me. You must declare over and over that you will not attend the wedding. I will prevail uponNonnoto allow you your way in this matter. I will tell him if I must accept this marriage, then I will not have the day spoiled by my sister’s whining and weeping over a man she cannot have.”
“You would really do this, Bianca?Really?Truly?”
“I do not want Enzo Ziani, Francesca. I remain in love with my infidel,” Bianca said. “I will never love another man but Amir.”
“Nonnoand the Ziani family could order an annulment before the marriage is consummated,” Francesca pointed out.
“They could, and it is a chance we must take, but I do not think they will. The mere fact that the brides were switched will be enough cause for scandal. Neither family will want to make the situation worse. Especially if you hint that Enzo took liberties with you before I came to Venice. Who can prove otherwise? And you need not saywhatliberties he took. After I have rejected Enzo Ziani so publicly, he could hardly annul a union with the sister who loves him enough to force him to the altar,” Bianca explained.
