Rose Red (38 page)

Half an hour later, warmed internally after
drinking one of Valeria’s hot tisanes, and with the two shallow
wounds on her arm smeared with Valeria’s herbal salve and bound
with clean linen by that competent lady, Rosalinda climbed into bed
and pulled the covers up to her chin. Whether from the herbs in the
tisane or because of her own sleepiness, a sense of peace and
security began to steal over her.

Bianca was with Vanni. Through her open
window Rosalinda could hear their voices from the terrace below and
she could tell that they were not arguing. Bartolomeo had assured
her that Andrea would return soon. Niccolo Stregone was dead and
could never hurt any of them again.

Most important of all, her baby was kicking
merrily, sure proof that the horrors of the day had not damaged the
fragile life growing within her. With a tender smile, Rosalinda
turned on her side and wrapped both arms around her belly.

Of course, there was still the question of
how she was going to explain to her mother that she was carrying
Andrea’s child. And how she was going to tell Andrea, and what
would happen then.

Before she could become caught up once more
in the worries that had consumed too many of her recent hours,
Rosalinda’s healthy body asserted its need for rest. She sank into
a deep slumber, where murder, treachery, and political intrigues
ceased to matter, where even the question of Andrea’s feelings for
her seemed unimportant, and all that concerned her was gentle
repose and the knowledge that her baby was safe.

“You were fortunate, Francesco,” Eleonora
said as she finished wrapping his chest with clean linen strips.
She had refused to allow Valeria to attend to Francesco’s wound
though, as always, that faithful friend stood by in case she could
render some service. “Your chain-mail shirt and thick doublet
deflected Stregone’s blade. You have suffered only a flesh wound,
and I think it is a clean one. It ought to heal quickly, unless you
are foolish enough to attempt some manly action that tears open the
stitches I have made.”

“There is only one manly action that
interests me at the moment,” Francesco responded, catching
Eleonora’s hand and bringing her fingers to his lips, “and to it, I
do not think you are yet willing to agree.”

“To it, I do not believe you are yet equal,”
Eleonora snapped back at him.

“My recuperative powers may surprise you.
Pleasantly.” Francesco grinned when Eleonora pulled her fingers out
of his grasp.

“You need to rest,” she said, not looking at
him, handling the unused bandage as if rolling it up neatly were
the most important thing in the world to her. Only the flush on her
cheeks indicated that her inner emotions were not as serene as her
outward appearance.

Without protest, Francesco swallowed the
entire contents of the goblet of spiced wine that Valeria offered
to him. Shortly thereafter the herbs with which Valeria had infused
the wine began to take effect and Francesco dozed off.

“I will call someone to sit with him,”
Valeria said.

Outside Francesco’s room, Eleonora suddenly
slumped, putting a hand on the wall to steady herself. At once,
Valeria’s hand was at her elbow.

“My knees are weak,” Eleonora said with a
self-deprecating laugh. “How embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” Valeria helped Eleonora toward
her own suite of rooms. “From what Bartolomeo has told me, you
might have lost your daughters this day. Furthermore, by Stregone’s
confession you have learned a great and unexpected truth. It would
be surprising if you were not feeling somewhat unsettled.”

“Unsettled?” Eleonora repeated with a gasp.
“Valeria, for more than fifteen years I have been wrong about
Federigo Sotani. I have maligned a decent man, repeatedly calling
him a murderer. How could I have been so mistaken?”

“Your grief at the death of the husband you
loved was too deep,” Valeria said. “In those days you were not
thinking clearly. Once your mind fixed upon an idea, you could not
let it go, so you continued to believe in Sotani’s guilt.”

“I do repent that false belief now,” Eleonora
said.

“Your mind will be easier tomorrow, after you
have had time to consider all that has happened,” Valeria assured
her friend. Releasing Eleonora to stand by herself, Valeria opened
the door to Eleonora’s private suite of rooms.

“Yes,” Eleonora said, entering her dressing
room. “Tomorrow. After the priest has come and I have made my
confession. After I have torn that wrongful hatred toward Federigo
Sotani out of my heart, where it has lain, corroding all my
thoughts and actions, for so many years. Then, perhaps, I can begin
anew. Do you think I am capable of change, Valeria? Or am I too
old?”

“You are only one year older than I,” Valeria
replied, her eyes sparkling with delightful feminine secrets, “and
Bartolomeo tells me with some regularity that I am still remarkably
young. And attractive.”

“Does he?” Eleonora sounded wistful.

“Eleonora, I am your oldest and dearest
friend. I know you better than anyone else, even your daughters.
And I tell you that you can do anything you want to do. Now, today,
tomorrow, whenever you want. For the first time in your life, you
are free.”

“Not quite,” Eleonora said. “There is still
Monteferro. And Bianca’s future. I must work out a plan She fell
silent, lapsing into deep thought.

“And Rosalinda,” Valeria added. “I have been
meaning to talk to you about her. But not now, not after today’s
events. It is possible that Rosalinda’s problem will resolve itself
without our help.”

“What did you say? What about Rosalinda?
She’s not ill and trying to hide it from me, is she? I have noticed
how pale and quiet she has been of late, but I put it down to
longing for Andrea and assumed she would get over it in time.”

“Doubtless, she will, in time,” Valeria said,
and went away, leaving Eleonora alone with her thoughts.

* * * * *

On the terrace, Bianca and Vanni were still
talking, Vanni having just completed a vivid description of the way
in which he, with the help of Luca Nardi and a few other brave men,
had seized Monteferro from the Guidi family.

“And so now you are Duke of Monteferro.”
Bianca’s eyes were lowered, so Vanni could not see the look in
them, nor could he guess at her feelings.

“My sweet Bianca,” Vanni plunged on with what
he meant to say, “your mother’s chief objection to my proposal that
you and I should marry has been her belief that my father was in
some way responsible for the murder of your father. Now she has
heard from Stregone’s own lips that my father had nothing to do
with that crime. Therefore, Madonna Eleonora’s objection is removed
and we are free to wed.”

“Do you really want to marry me?” Bianca
asked.

“Of course I do. How can you question my
intentions?” Vanni exclaimed.

“Perhaps I am wondering if you want me
because you love me,” Bianca said, “or whether it is because
marriage to me would legitimize your control over Monteferro.”

“
I hold
Monteferro too firmly for it ever to be taken from my grasp,” Vanni
stated boldly. “If anyone dares to question my right to rule,
Andrea will come to my aid at once, as I will go to his aid if his
position in Aullia is threatened. I want you – and I do need you,
Bianca – but for love, not for reasons of state.”

“You love me?” Bianca raised questioning blue
eyes to his face, not yet daring to believe, seeking in his
expression confirmation of his claim.

“Can you doubt that I have wanted you since
the first moment I beheld you?” he asked. “I have never disguised
my desire for you, and when we met, I did not know who you
were.”

“That’s true enough,” she said. “At that
time, you did not know me, or my family. To you, I was just a girl
in a forest clearing.”

“We were fortunate to meet and fall in love
without the encumbrance of our family histories and your mother’s
very proper reservations. I think them proper now,” Vanni said with
a smile. “Now that those same reservations are of no
consequence.”

Bianca did not respond to these remarks.
Vanni watched her pace across the terrace stones to the steps. She
stopped with one hand resting on the urn while she looked at her
mother’s garden and then at the mountains. He heard her sigh, but
he had no inkling of what she was thinking.

“Bianca? Will you marry me? I cannot imagine
that your mother will refuse her permission now.”

“Can’t you?” Bianca asked. She fell silent
for a moment before she went on. “How long it seems since the day,
less than a year ago, when Rosalinda came home from a ride into
those mountains, to tell me she had seen a bear on the path. Now
the bearskin is gone, and in its place I see silk, gold, jewels. A
famous title.

“I am greatly changed since that day.” She
faced him again. “Nor am I any longer the silly girl who was
jealous of her sister, as I was when you first saw me. Be warned,
Vanni, I will continue to grow and change so long as I live.”

“I have changed, too,” he said, “though not
enough. I have no great skill in statecraft, Bianca. Andrea is the
twin who was taught to rule, while I was permitted to live a freer
life. But I suspect your mother has trained you well, and you could
teach me what I will need to know. Together, you and I could repair
the wrongs done to Monteferro during Marco Guidi’s rule and make it
a great city again. But I do not think I can accomplish all I want
to do there without you at my side each day, and in my arms at
night. And when our lives are done, I want our children to inherit
a prosperous and secure Monteferro.”

“Our children?”

“Your mother should approve the idea of
Girolamo Farisi’s grandchildren ruling the city that once was his,”
Vanni said. “Don’t you agree?”

“I will not marry you for the sake of
Monteferro, though I know my duty well enough,” Bianca said. “I
have been told about my duty since I was old enough to understand
the word. You do not know me at all, Vanni, if you think I will be
content with only a title and duty. I want passion! I want to give
way to a desire that will never end. I want a man who will love me
until death parts us, and who will be faithful to me as my father
was to my mother. Why are you smiling at me like that? Have I said
something you think is funny?” she asked in an offended tone.

“Sweet Bianca, you have just said what is in
my heart, what I have been trying to tell you all this while.
Obviously, I have not said it very well, or you would not doubt my
love for you.”

“Then say it again,” she demanded. “Say it
simply and clearly, with no mention of the duties and
responsibilities that will await us in the future, should I decide
to accept your proposal.”

“Bianca Farisi, I love you with all my
heart,” Vanni said. “I will love you until the day I die. I will
love you even after I die, when I hope we will meet again in the
next world and spend eternity together there. I will never want
another woman, and I will do everything in my power to make you
happy. I ask you again, will you marry me? If, of course, your
mother has no objection?” He ended his passionate declaration with
a boyish grin.

“I will see to my mother,” she said with firm
assurance.

“Then, you will marry me?”

“Yes, Vanni, I will.” A tear of joy glinted
in Bianca’s eye. It was quickly blinked away, to be replaced by a
mischievous twinkle. “Now that you have asked me as I wanted to be
asked, you may kiss me if you like.”

“If I like?” His embrace lifted her off her
feet. With Bianca’s hands braced on his shoulders, Vanni whirled
her around and around, while he grinned up at her and laughed for
sheer happiness. Then he let her slide down along his body, so she
would feel his hardness and know how urgently he desired their
marriage.

“Oh,” she said in reaction to his obvious
eagerness.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Oh, indeed. But I will
wait, Bianca, until we are properly wed and blessed by a priest.
Then you and I will share a glorious marriage night.”

At last, with Bianca standing on her feet
again, Vanni’s lips touched hers in the kiss she had granted.
Slowly they sank to the terrace steps, to sit there with their arms
entwined while they shared the longest, sweetest kiss either had
ever known.

When Vanni pulled Bianca closer still, his
arm brushed against the white rosebush. Disturbed by the movement,
a few of the late-blooming roses on Bianca’s bush released their
petals, which drifted over the lovers like fragrant snowflakes.

* * * * *

“Dukes?” Rosalinda exclaimed to her sister.
She got off her bed to pace across her bedchamber to the window.
“Both of them? They succeeded so well and so quickly?”

“I think Vanni could succeed at anything he
wants,” Bianca said, touching the gold ring set with a sapphire
that Vanni had removed from his own hand and placed on her finger.
It was too big, so she had wound it with ribbon to make it fit, but
she would not hide it. “I am going to marry Vanni. He asked me
yesterday, and I agreed.”

“What does Mother have to say about your
decision?” Rosalinda asked.

“She doesn’t know yet. She has decreed a
household meeting in the sitting room this afternoon. We plan to
tell her then. Rosalinda, if Mother objects, will you speak on our
behalf? I love Vanni so much, and I know he loves me. I made sure
of his affections before I agreed to marry him. But we are not
certain what Mother’s reaction will be to our announcement.”

“Of course I will tell her I think you ought
to marry,” Rosalinda said, “though what weight my words will carry,
I cannot guess. Why don’t you tell her now, before this meeting she
has called? She might be more likely to agree if you and Vanni
speak to her in private. I’ll go with you if you want.”