The Contessa's Vendetta (21 page)

Even more startling were
all the matchmaking mothers seeking to marry me to their sons. My garish spectacles did not seem to deter these politically inclined social climbers. On the contrary, they assured me how fetching I looked while wearing them, so eager were they to add me to their families as a daughter-in-law.

Stiff and
insincere widowers thrust themselves forward as potential suitors eager to get their hands on my wealth and then dupe the old black-spectacled wife to their heart’s content. I played along with their ogling glances and false compliments about my beautiful white hair, and forged laughs at my horrendous attempts at humour, as they tried to trap me into marriage. 

At the
many social events I attended, I saw to it that my husband and Beatrice were included as a matter of course. At first, Dario retreated from all invitations, citing his recent bereavement, but I persuaded him otherwise. I convinced several male acquaintances to implore him to attend and tell him it was not good for so young a man to waste his time grieving. Thankfully, Dario listened to their advice and accepted the invitations he received, despite the fact that he did it only to please me.

On Beatrice I heaped all manner of rewards. To surprise her, I paid her debts at the local dressmaker. Apparently, all of my gowns that she had claimed for herself failed to satisfy her. Nevertheless, she appreciated it. I delighted her with many jewels and trinkets of small extravagance, toying with her like a cat to its prey. In this way, I
won her confidence. Although I failed to trick her into confessing her affair with Dario, she kept me informed as to their progress. Clueless to whom she was confiding in, she told me many intimate details, and although the knowledge stirred my blood into wrath, I always managed to remain composed while it fueled my need for vengeance.  

Sometimes, as I listened to her petty dreams
that would never come true, an appalled bafflement would come over me. She seemed so sure of her future happiness, so certain that nothing could blight it. Traitor that she was, selfish to her heart’s core, she failed to fathom the possibility of retribution. On occasion, a risky urge stirred me; a desire to caution her that she was condemned woman with one foot on the brink of her grave; and to prepare for her death while she still had time. Often, I wanted to seize her by the throat, declare my identity, and accuse her of treachery. Thankfully, I always managed to bite my lips and keep a strict silence. 

Beatrice loved a good wine; a secret flaw I knew about from our past together. Therefore, I encouraged her to drink at every opportunity. Whenever she visited me, I offered her the finest vintages. Often after a cordial evening spent in my apartments with a few other women of my class, she tottered away with slurred words and a deeply flushed face. I wondered how Dario would receive her, for although he saw no offense in his own drunkenness, he abhorred drunken vulgarity in a woman.
Go to your lover, my dear Beatrice,
I would think, as I watched her leave my residence staggering and laughing loudly as she went.
Dario will turn against you soon and will look upon you with disgust and repugnance.

Dario and Beatrice welcomed me at Villa Mancini at any hour. I could sit in my own library and read my own books or stroll leisurely through my beautiful gardens accompanied by
Chiara and an eager Tito. The villa was completely at my disposal, though I never passed a night beneath its roof.

I played my character of a prematurely aged woman well. Cautious in all interactions with my husband in Beatrice
’s presence, I guarded against any word or action that could rouse her jealousy or mistrust. I treated her with consideration and formality, but Dario was quick to perceive that my interest lay with him. As soon as Beatrice’s back was turned, he would look at me with a knowing, mocking smile, or utter some disparaging remark about her while he complimented me. It was not for me to betray his secrets. I never disclosed to Beatrice that Dario regularly sent Giacomo to my apartments with fruit and flowers; or that Paolo carried gifts and similar messages from me to him. And this was all part of my plan, unfolding so perfectly.

By the start of November, my own husband was secretly courting me and I reciprocated his romantic
behavior with equal secrecy. The fact that I was often in the company of other men piqued his vanity. He knew many sought my hand in marriage and resolved to win me for himself; and of course, I was determined to let him win me. 

Beatrice never suspected anything between Dario and me. She had often mentioned how poor Carlotta had been too easily duped; yet never was there
a woman more duped than she was. She was too self-assured of her own good fortune to see what was happening before her very eyes. I sometimes wished to stir up her distrust and hostility, but I could not do it. She trusted me as much as I had once trusted her. Therefore, the devastation that would befall her would be unexpected as well as lethal. It would be better that way. 

In my numerous visits to the villa, I saw Chiara often. The poor little thing was naturally fond of me. Often, Annunziata would bring her to my
rented villa to pass the time just her and I. Chiara delighted in these visits, especially when I took her on my knee and recounted a tale about a girl whose mama suddenly went away, and how the child grieved for her until fairies helped her mother to return. It became her favorite. I spent as much time as possible with Chiara. I yearned to pull her to me in a fast embrace and relieve her grief and pain by confessing my true identity. Somehow, I found the strength not to do so, for it would ruin the plans I had spent so much time preparing. To compensate, I bestowed her with my full attention and unfettered love. The knowledge that soon, Chiara and I would be fully reunited was my solace. My patience would one day be rewarded.

At first, I was nervous around old Annunziata. After all, she had once been my
guardian. Could it be true she did not recognize me? The first time I met her in my disguise, I held my breath in suspense, but because she was nearly blind, the good old woman could scarce make out my facial features. She truly believed Carlotta was dead.

Giacomo, however, did not. The old man had an obsessive belief that his young mistress could not have died so suddenly, and he grew so obstinate in this conviction
of Carlotta being alive, that Dario declared him demented.

Annunziata talked of Carlotta
’s death to me. “It was to be expected, contessa. She was too good, and the saints took her. God takes the best among us. Poor Giacomo will not listen to me, and refuses to believe she is dead. Poor man, he loved the mistress very much,” she would say in a solemn voice. “I always knew my mistress would die young. She was as delicate as an infant and too kind-hearted to live long.” Then Annunziata would shake her hoary head and reach for her rosary, muttering an Ave Maria for the repose of my soul. Much as I tried, I could never get her to talk in detail about her mistress’ life, the one subject on which she remained ever silent. Once, when I spoke of the young contessa’s beauty and good deeds, she scrutinized me, but said nothing.

It pleased me to see her
strongly devoted to Chiara, who returned her affection. But as the days progressed, I noticed how my daughter became pale and gaunt and she became easily fatigued. Because of her increasing thinness, her eyes looked unnaturally large. I called Annunziata’s attention to these signs of poor health.

“
I have spoken to the count about it,” she answered, “but he has taken no notice of the child’s weakening condition.”

I then mentioned the matter directly to Dario
and offered to call a physician.

“
Really, contessa, you are too good.” He gave me a grateful smile. “Chiara’s health is excellent. Perhaps I overindulge her and permit her to eat too many sweet cakes, and she is growing rather fast. Nevertheless, you are very kind to think of her. But, I assure you, she is quite well and there is no need for a physician to visit her.”

I was not so certain, but masked my worry lest it betray me. 

Around mid November, something happened which forced me to accelerate my vendetta. The days became colder and I was in the process of organizing a few dinners and masque balls for the approaching winter season, when one afternoon Beatrice hurried into my apartment unannounced and slumped into the nearest chair with a vexed expression.

“
What is the matter?” I asked. “Is it a matter of money? If so, permit me to help.”

She smiled nervously.
“
Grazie
, contessa, but it is not that. It is...it is...
Dio
! How unlucky I am!”

I
put on an expression of profound concern. “Is it Dario? I hope he has not played you false. Is he refusing to marry you?”

She laughed with derisive triumph.
“No, there is no danger of that. He would not dare to play me false.”

“
Would not dare? That is a rather strong statement.” I gave her a hard look.

She blushed.
“Well, I did not mean that exactly. Of course he is perfectly free to do as he likes, but I doubt he could refuse to marry me with all the attention he pays me.”

“
Not unless he is an outright scoundrel, but we both know he is a most decent man, so have no fear. If it is not about love or money, then what is troubling you? Judging by your expression, it must be serious.”

She twisted a loose thread on her sleeve
; a green damask gown that had been a favorite of mine, turning it round and round her index finger. “I have to leave Vicenza for a while.”

My heart
pounded with excitement. She was leaving the field of battle, enabling me to reap victory. What good fortune, indeed! Fortune surely was on my side. “Going away? Where? Why?” I asked with false sincerity.

“
My uncle is dying in Rome. He has no sons or daughters, so I am to inherit everything. For the sake of decency, I must be by his side and attend him in his final days. I do not know how much time he has left, but the solicitor insists I be present, otherwise the old man may disinherit me with his last breath. I do not think I will be gone for long, perhaps two weeks at the most.” She gave me an anxious look and hesitated.

“
Please say what you have to say,
cara
,” I urged. “Do not hesitate to ask anything of me. I am only too happy to help.”

Beatrice rose and walked to the window where I sat. She took the chair opposite to me, sat down, and laid a hand on my wrist.
“There is something you can do for me and I know I can depend upon you. Watch over Dario. He will have no one else to watch over him and he is so handsome and can be impulsive at times. Watch over him as a mother would. After all, you are a family friend and this in itself merits your vigilance over him. You can prevent other women from meddling and pushing themselves upon him now that he is an eligible widower.”

I rose from my seat with an air of false tragedy.
“If any woman dared to come between you, I would make her regret it.” I grinned as I said this. She had uttered those exact words when I had witnessed her with my husband that first time in the avenue.

Something about the
words must have seemed familiar to her because she looked a little bewildered.

I
hurried to change the topic of our conversation and became serious. “I apologize for my flippancy. I can see this subject is far too sensitive for you. Let me assure you that I will watch over Dario with the jealous scrutiny and the prudence of an elder sister even though I admit it is a task unsuited and repugnant to me. Still, I will do it so that you can leave Vicenza with an easy mind.” I took hold of her hand. “I promise to be a true and worthy friend and demonstrate the same devotion and faithfulness you showed to your dead friend Carlotta! The past could not provide me with a better example of honesty and loyalty!”

She
tensed as if my words stung. All color drained from her face. Doubt shone in her eyes.

I feigned an expression of reassurance.

“
Grazie
. I know I can rely upon your loyalty and friendship,” she said composing herself.

“
You most certainly can, as confidently as you can rely on mine towards you.”

Again, she winced.

I released her hand. “When are you leaving?”

“
Early tomorrow morning. I’m taking the coach from The Black Horse Inn.”

“
Well, I am glad you told me.” I glanced at the unsent invitations on my writing table. “I will delay all festivities until you return.”

She gave me a grateful look.
“Truly? That is very kind of you, but I did not mean to cause you any inconvenience.”

“
Think nothing of it,
cara
amica.
The masque ball can wait for your return. Besides, it will be better for you if you know Dario will be relatively isolated during your absence.”

“
I would hate for him to be bored.”

I showed no reaction to the insincere tone in her voice and smiled.
“Oh, you need not worry about that!” As if, Dario would permit himself to be bored! “I will take care of everything and arrange small diversions like a quiet drive into the countryside or the opera to occupy him. Any dances, dinners, or musical evenings shall wait for your return.”