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hind me, I could hear the twins’ peals of laughter, making me
suspect this was not the first time Pio had tried this trick. By
the time Pio consented to halt, we were halfway across one
portion of the grounds. I knew that, had a rope not confined
him, he would have long since reached the main gate and
been running around the town square!
My breathing had almost returned to normal—I’d for­
gotten how exhausting it was to run in long robes—when
Rosetta and Isabella strolled up to join me.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid we forgot to tell you that he only
obeys the contessa,” one of the pair said with a smirk, con­
firming my suspicions that they had anticipated such a dis­
play and had enjoyed the dog’s antics.
Unwilling to let them get the better of me, I summoned
a bright smile. “I truly did not mind it. I was finding myself
growing quite stiff after sitting all morning, so that I wel­
comed a bit of exercise. In fact, I think we will run about
again in another minute.”
The pouting looks the twins exchanged this time re­
flected disappointment that I’d not reacted as they’d hoped.
Still smiling brightly, I set off with Pio again, though this
time at a more sedate pace. Muttering between themselves,
Isabella and Rosetta once more followed.
We spent the next quarter hour pleasantly walking about
the green while Pio happily sniffed at leaves and bugs and
pebbles while lifting a leg upon a few select spots. I was
content to stroll after him, enjoying my first relaxed moments
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Diane A. S. Stuckart
since the Master left me in Caterina’s care the previous
morning.
The young contessa had thus far given no hint of being
an unduly harsh mistress, though she had a tendency toward
careless impatience that was most often directed at us ser­
vants. Moreover, her interest in any particular subject wa­
vered as often as did Pio’s. It seemed in the short time I’d
been in her company that we were constantly jumping up
and down at her every change of mind. But my duties—
though more tedious—were far lighter as a maidservant
than as Leonardo’s apprentice.
The greatest relief in all of this was at no longer having
to hide my true gender. To be sure, the tightly laced bodice
I now wore was as confining as the garment I had worn be­
neath my boy’s tunic, while my skirts were nowhere as com­
fortable as my trunk hose. And my new braid of hair
trailing gloriously down my back did add an undeniable
weight to my head. But my lightness of spirit at being freed
from this most basic of deceptions outweighed any discom­
fort I felt at facing the world as a woman once again. Thus,
my enjoyment in simply walking about the courtyard with
a small hound at my side.
At this time of the day, not long after the midday meal,
we had this portion of the quadrangle mostly to ourselves.
The contessa had not yet appeared, and I pictured poor Esta
being run off her plump feet fetching various gowns and
surcoats and slippers while Caterina decided what she pre­
ferred to wear. Pio, at least, was content with his collar.
“Delfina, we are tired,” a peevish voice belonging either
to Rosetta or Isabella called from behind me.
I glanced back to see the pair, cheeks pink with exertion,
struggling to keep up with me and my four-legged charge.
Doubtless, Pio was shortchanged in his outings when it was
not the contessa who took him about. Little wonder that the
small hound seemed so pleased to be in my company.
“Isabella and I wish to return to the castle now.”
Portrait of a Lady
143
This voice, obviously belonging to Rosetta, was sharper
than her sister’s. As I looked back again, she added, “The
contessa will be waiting on us. Come, bring that wretched
dog with you, and let us go back.”
Only the fact that the contessa would be waiting on us
prevented me from pretending temporary deafness at their
complaints. With a sigh, I turned Pio about.
“Finally,” Isabella huffed with a roll of her blue eyes,
linking her arm through her sister’s.
By now, I had noted that her features were slightly
coarser than Rosetta’s, making it a bit easier to tell the two
apart. With time, I likely would easily make the distinc­
tion, though with luck I would not remain in my role here
for more than another few days. I would have to make swift
progress, however, for only ten days remained before the
duke’s masquerade was to be held. While no other of the
contessa’s servants had met untimely ends of late, I had
learned nothing of value in the company of her and her
women. . . that was, save for a brief remark I’d heard from
Esta the night before.
“You are replacing another girl named Bellanca,” she had told
me with a small sigh as she directed me to the small cot I
would share with her in the servants’ quarters not far from
Caterina’s own chambers. “She and I were friends, of sorts, even
though she was closer to Rosetta and Isabella than to me. She died
in a terrible fall only a few days ago. Perhaps you heard what
happened?”
With a silent prayer asking forgiveness for the lie, I had
pleaded ignorance of the matter. Esta had sighed again and
then plopped herself upon our narrow bed, launching into a
dramatic account of events that differed little from what I
already knew. But one comment she’d made, almost as an
afterthought, had caught my attention.
“She used to carry messages for the contessa, you know,” the girl
had mused. “I wonder if she was there at the tower to deliver a
note when she fell.”
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Diane A. S. Stuckart
I had refrained from questioning her about this unex­
pected bit of information, instead storing it away for future
consideration. I’d also wanted to ask her about Gregorio, the
dashing captain of the guard, and learn if Bellanca’s connec­
tion to him was common knowledge. But given that I, as a
supposed newcomer to the castle, could know nothing of Bel­
lanca’s personal life, I prudently kept my mouth closed on this
matter, as well.
Neither did I dare ask her about Lidia. Like the Master, I
could not believe it was simple coincidence that Lidia’s son
might have been carrying on a dalliance with a maidservant
who happened to be well-known to Lidia. Had others—
particularly Bellanca—been aware of the blood relationship
between Lidia and Gregorio? Or had Gregorio’s explanation
to Leonardo perhaps been the first public acknowledgment
from either mother or son? I could only hope that, as I
gained Esta’s confidence, she would be inclined toward fur­
ther gossip.
I was still mulling over that conversation when a menac­
ing bark quickly brought me back to the present.
The rough sound had not come from Pio, but it caused his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]