Chapter11
A Housekeeper Provides Opinions
Meanwhile...
Despite having stayed out far later than he planned the night before, Patrick awoke at his usual time.The servant he employed to see to his clothes and his apartment, Giovanni Ricci, shaved him before holding out his typical uniform for a day—navy topcoat, white shirt, white cravat, embroidered waistcoat, cream colored pantaloons, and stockings.The only difference from day to day was the color of the waistcoat.
“Let us do the...”He sucked air through his teeth, trying to imagine what color frock Lady Armenia would choose for their outing.“The yellow waistcoat,” he finally decided.
Breakfast was already on the table when he made his way through the corridor towards the center of the apartment.Giovanni’s mother, Signora Ricci, an older woman who was as round as she was tall, greeted him with her usual string of Italian words—half of which he still hadn’t been able to interpret—and used a pudgy finger to point at the pile of correspondence next to his plate.“For you,” she added.
He watched as she filled his plate with poached eggs, buttered toast, and a slice of ham leftover from the dinner she had made several nights ago.
Although most inhabitants of Rome didn’t consume such a big breakfast until later in the morning—they ate very little with their coffee—Patrick was used to eating a hearty breakfast first thing.Despite the amount of cajoling he had to employ to convince her, Signora Ricci seemed pleased with the arrangement—once she learned she didn’t have to make him another meal until dinnertime.
“The ball was good, no?”she asked, pouring him another cup of coffee.
He glanced up from the note he had written for himself the day before, a reminder of what he needed to accomplish in the office below his apartment before he set off to collect Lady Armenia.
“Very good,” he replied.He lifted one of the missives from the pile of correspondence she had placed next to his plate.
“You meetDonD’Avalos?”
Chuckling softly, he popped the wax seal from the back of the envelope.“I did.He has agreed to sell me all his wool.”He wasn’t sure she understood anything he said in English, but she was always attentive.
“You meet his daughter?Maybe you marry her?”she asked in her stilted English.
He had to resist the urge to laugh as he shook his head.“I did not have the honor.She was… otherwise engaged with much younger gentlemen, including several from England,” he said, watching for her reaction.He was fairly sure Sophia Ricci had agreed to be his housekeeper and cook as a means of gathering gossip she could share with her friends when she went to market every day or so.That he gained a valet in the process by way of her son was simply a bonus of her hiring.
“Young men fromEngland?”she repeated, her eyes wide.
He nodded.“Indeed.From what I could gather, they are on their Grand Tours,” he explained.“And they are somehow related to the man who is married to the Marchesa Montblanc.”
Her eyes rounded.“SignoreSlater?”she said in awe.
Patrick blinked, surprised she would be familiar with him.From what he had heard the night before, the husband of Armenia’s niece usually lived in Catania with the marchesa and their children.“Do you know him?”he asked.
Sophia slapped one of her hands against her ample bosom several times.“I see him.When he is walking with the marchesa.Very nice man.Always tips his hat when he sees me,” she claimed, miming the move lest he not understand her heavily-accented English.“So polite.His mama raised him good.”
Patrick gave a start.“Well, as it turns out, his mother was there last night, as was his father,” he said, suppressing the urge to grin when he saw how her eyes once again rounded.“The uh....”Here he paused in an attempt to remember what he had overheard.“The Earl and Countess of Bellingham,” he stated.“They were with their nephews and their wives,” he went on, happy to have her undivided attention.“The oldest is an heir to an earldom.There was another young man, too.Uh…”
“DonPenton?”she guessed, her eyes even rounder.
Scoffing in surprise, Patrick asked, “How did you know?”
Signora Ricci shrugged a shoulder.“A good guess,” she replied.“He isSignoreSlater’s little brother,” she stated.
Patrick had to resist the urge to call her out for saying David Slater was “little.”From what he remembered, the two appeared to be about the same hieght.“I think you meanyounger,” he murmured.
“Donna Vittoria will need to be careful with that one,” she added, wagging a finger before she turned to resume her work at the sink.
“Oh?”he responded, curious as to what she might have heard in the market square.Feeling spiteful on behalf of David Slater, he said, “It seems to me any young man would need to be careful when it comes toDonnaVittoria.”
The housekeeper turned from the sink and gave him what he could only interpret as an evil eye.“DonnaVittoria D’Avalos is a sweet, perfect young lady,” she claimed.
“She is?”He didn’t mean for his query to sound with disbelief, but from the behavior he had paid witness to the night before, he would have thought Vittoria a spoiled rotten brat.
“She is a perfect youngdonna,signore,” Signora Ricci insisted.“Penton is abriccone.”
