Margherita turned her attention to the next document in the collection. ‘It’s a letter to the Mother Superior, from . . .’ she flipped it over, ‘. . . Padre Luigi . . . Luigi B–something. It’s difficult to read.’
‘The same priest, perhaps?’ Matthew guessed.
‘I think so.’ Her eyes scanned once more. ‘Ok, so this one is dated a month later. It’s a follow-up of sorts. He says that the Conte D’Adamo – we have a name! – has relinquished his noble title and forfeited his estate to his late cousin’s wife.’
Both Sarah and Margherita turned to the family tree and located the branch the letter indicated.
‘There! Baronessa Gabriella De Clerici. According to the tree, she remarried shortly after her husband’s death. He already had a young son from his previous marriage,’ Sarah noted.
Margherita continued her recount. ‘He goes on to say that the D’Adamo estate shifted hands and that, by default, with no heir, Gabriella’s new husband assumed the title.’
‘And by rights, her husband’s young son, in the future,’ Matthew added.
Riccardo nodded, following along with the family tree.
Margherita placed the letter aside, and collected the next document. ‘Another letter to the Mother Superior. Oh. Sixteen years later.’ The three all leaned in closer. ‘It’s a letter asking if theconventocould host “Giove” for the summer for theological study. He’s apparently not welcome back at the monastery that hosted him the summer before. He has been causing trouble in Florence and mixing with the wrong circles. Who is Giove?’ she asked.
Sarah’s fingers traced the tree. ‘Giovanni? Gabriella’s husband’s son. Sixteen years on, he might have been eighteen or nineteen.’
‘Ok.Va bene.’ Margherita took the next document. ‘A journal entry. The Mother Superior. She’s frustrated that Viola . . .Dio. . . is close to Giovanni. Too close. She caught them together in the barn and immediately sent him back to Florence on account of his behaviour.’
‘So, Viola was still there, sixteen years on?’ Matthew asked.
‘It would seem,’ Margherita said. ‘Giovanni has been sent back to Florence. That is all. It’s very short.’ She collected the next document which was written on far different paper. ‘A letter, six months on, to the Mother Superior, from another Mother Superior at a convent in . . . somewhere just outside of Florence. She’s giving advice. They are communicating to solve a problem . . .’ She scanned ahead and her face suddenly went grey. Her eyes locked with Sarah’s. ‘Viola is pregnant by Giovanni.’
‘Her cousin?’ Matthew grimaced.
‘Not by blood. By marriage. And they wouldn’t have known that they were connected.’ Riccardo traced the line back in his mind.
Sarah’s spine straightened, and her eyes frantically tried to find their place on the tree.
‘Giovanni doesn’t know the baby is his. Meanwhile, he has had to marry a young woman named Arcangela back in Florence. Arcangela was already pregnant with his child before he came to La Viola,’ Margherita read.
‘What a mess,’ Matthew breathed, scanning the tree over Riccardo’s shoulder.
‘The two nuns are trying to arrange how to get Viola’s baby out of the convent when it’s born. They’re talking about failure and shame here.’ Then, Margherita picked up the final document. ‘A journal entry again by the Mother Superior.’ Suddenly shook, Margherita gasped. ‘Viola is dead. Childbirth. The Mother Superior found her in the olive grove. A baby boy. She explains how she is going to send the baby to live with Giovanni in Florence.’ She lowered the document then peered back into the case. It was empty.
‘That’s it? That’s all we have?’ Matthew cried.
‘No,’ Sarah said calmly, suddenly on her feet. ‘That’s all weneed. Look . . .’ She pointed to the place on the tree where the D’Adamo schism had occurred. ‘Matthew, this is Luca’s line of descent. He’s a descendent of Giovanni and Arcangela’s son. There’s no D’Adamo blood there at all, just an adopted name by marriage for monetary reasons. This,’ she pointed to his line of descent, ‘is where you stem from. Giovanni’s other son, mother unknown. He was the younger of the two.’ Her eyes flicked back to the family tree. ‘Alberto’s got it wrong. He said that the inheritance clause may have started after the Conte D’Adamo. But . . . I don’t think that’s the case.’ Assessing the schism of bloodlines once again, she said, ‘This is where the clause started. I’d wager my soul on it.’ Her fingers traced the wordsmother unknown. ‘Giovanni established it all. He must have loved Viola, and this was his way of protecting her bloodline and their child. Preferencing their son over the one he had with Arcangela.The youngest married male . . .’
Matthew’s eyes locked with Sarah. ‘What are you suggesting?’ Matthew’s chin quivered and he began pacing the kitchen to appease the tension which prickled at his feet.
‘Viola D’Adamo. She killed her mother in childbirth, met the same fate herself. She’s the missing piece. Viola, and Viola’s son are your direct ancestors. Byblood. You, Matthew, are thetrueheir.’
quarantatré
The revelations brought about by the discovery of the case and its contents should have set Matthew’s mind at ease. They did no such thing.
Resting on their bed later that night, Matthew’s head lay in Sarah’s lap, and she gently and rhythmically ran her fingers through his hair.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Matthew finally said, ‘I know I should be happy about all this, but I’m not.’
‘Why?’ Her fingers traced circles around his temples and down the sides of his cheeks.
‘It feels like a one-way ticket out of this mess. An anticlimax.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Does that sound stupid?’
‘No. I get it.’
