“I am saying so now,” Stefano replied, in a tone of haughty irony. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
“So this is where you hide, like a cross old hermit,” I said. “It is a pretty little cell, Cousin.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Stefano said, still blocking the door.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“No.”
“You aren’t very polite.”
“That is a virtue I am seldom accused of possessing. Don’t sulk, Cousin, it spoils the shape of that charming mouth. I am not discriminating against you in particular. No one comes here without an invitation from me.”
“Not even Grandfather?”
“Not even he. There is nothing to see,” he added, shifting his weight carefully from one foot to the other. “Only bachelor quarters, austere and extremely untidy. No murdered brides, hanging by their hair, no evidence of weird, evil rites; not even a woman’s forgotten shoe or ruffled garter, little Cousin.”
I blushed furiously. I don’t know which I resented more—the crudity of the hint, or the fact that he had read my unladylike thoughts with such precision. Stefano smiled.
“I’ll give you a proper tour some other time, Francesca. At my convenience.”
“But I’m bored now,” I said.
“Then you are a young woman with very few resources. Read, embroider, play on the pianoforte, sketch, ride…. The Prince has given you the gentlest mare in his stables.”
“I can’t ride alone. Why don’t you come with me?”
There was some malice in the question. I wanted revenge for his rudeness. But I swear I had no idea that I would be probing into such a tender spot. Stefano’s smile vanished; his face grew dark with anger.
“Oh, well done, Cousin. However, lest you think your triumph too complete, I must tell you that I did remount the horse that threw me—two years ago, after my bones had healed in the inadequate fashion you see. But I ride, in my own clumsy way, privately. I certainly do not intend to give you the pleasure of jeering at me.”
And with a lurch that almost threw him off balance, he plunged into the house and slammed the door.
The echoes were still reverberating as I ran down the flowery path. Tears of shame and anger clouded my vision. I had assumed—though I don’t know why I should have done so—that Stefano had been crippled for years, perhaps since birth. That was bad enough; but for a man to be struck down in the full flush of his youthful vigor was certainly tragic. How he must rage against the cruel fate that had injured him and left his brother untouched!
As I have said, I am not proud of my thoughts during this period. As I went on, dabbing at my eyes, rage won out over shame. After all, he had mocked me first; no gentleman should even hint of such matters to a lady! And how was I to know he was so sensitive about his affliction? A truly noble character would have risen above it!
I went into the yew garden, where Alberto, the head gardener, was delicately clipping the bushes which had been shaped into fantastic animals. It was precise, exacting work, one clip for every fifteen minutes of concentrated study; and it was very boring to watch. I wandered on in the direction of the stables.
One of the stable cats had recently had a litter of kittens. She was a lean, wild black beast, who was extremely suspicious of my overtures. The cats were not pets, but working animals, tolerated because they controlled the rats and mice that infested stable yards. But the kittens were adorable, and I had hopes of winning their mother with time. I thought I might also pay a social call on Stella, the little mare that had been assigned to my use. Not being accustomed to horses, I was only an indifferent rider, and I had managed to postpone the lessons Grandfather wanted to give me by pointing out that I had no proper riding costume. A very elegant one was even now in the hands of the seamstress, and I looked forward to appearing in the high plumed hat and black wool jacket, which was to be cut like a man’s military coat, with gold buttons and a high collar. I had no intention of riding that day, certainly, but as a soft breeze stirred my hair, I rather wished I could.
I was delighted, therefore, when I found Grandfather in the stableyard, booted and spurred, watching his favorite steed being saddled.
“Where are you going, Grandfather?” I asked eagerly. “May I come with you?”
His stern face lightened at the sight of me, but he shook his head.
“I am going to the tombs.”
“The tombs from which my lovely jewelry came? But I want to see them. You promised you would take me one day; why not now?”
“It is bad country,” Grandfather said slowly. “Rough and wild. Your pretty dress.…”
“I’ll change into an old dress. Please wait for me!” And since he said no more, I turned impetuously to the groom and asked him to saddle my horse. Then I ran quickly back to the house.
I put on one of the muslin dresses that had been dyed black, and found a bonnet and gloves. On my way downstairs I passed the room occupied by Galiana and her mother and heard from within the soft drone of the Countess’s voice invoking the Virgin. I am sorry to say that instead of admiring her piety. I pitied her daughter. Poor Galiana; how weary she must be of so much praying.
The library doors opened as I passed them, and Miss Perkins appeared, blinking and rumpled like a sleepy owl. She had a great thick book in one hand, with her forefinger inserted in the pages as a marker.
“Where are you off to?” she asked, seeing my outdoor attire. “Don’t go far, Francesca; you still don’t know the area well.”
“It’s all right, I’m going with Grandfather.” I paused before a mirror to adjust my bonnet. “He is taking me to see the tombs.”
“The Etruscan tombs? Oh, Francesca. I don’t think—”
“I know you would like to see them too, and I would ask you to come, but I don’t want to keep Grandfather waiting. He was ready to leave when I asked if I might go with him. Another time, perhaps.”
“Wait.” As I turned away, my skirts flaring, she caught my arm. I turned in some surprise, and saw that her face mirrored the urgency that had been expressed in her tight grasp. “Wait, child, I must talk to you. I have just found something—”
“I can’t wait.” I was not stronger than she, but I was more impatient; I pulled away. “Excuse me, Miss Perkins, but I really must run. As soon as I get back you can show me your great discovery.”
I ran away, laughing, leaving her standing with her hand outstretched and her lips parted in a frustrated appeal.
The horses were saddled when I reached the stableyard, and Grandfather was pacing up and down switching at his boots with his whip. He said nothing, only swung into the saddle and turned the horse’s head toward the gateway. Clumsily I followed suit. He seemed to be in a bad mood, and I thought it best not to annoy him with questions.
Conversation would have been difficult in any case. There was a trail, of sorts, but so narrow and overgrown and rocky that we had to go single file. I had sense enough to let the reins lie loose. My little mare had been chosen for her docility and intelligence, and she picked her way through the brambles with delicate steps. The shade of olives and firs softened the warmth of the sun, and the sky overhead was as blue as my cousin Andrea’s eyes. The could shadows lay cool on the hillsides, dulling the brilliant green of the foliage.
Then we began to descend. Before long I regretted my enthusiasm and began to wish I had not come. The slope was so steep in places that I closed my eyes and clutched the pommel with both hands. Branches plucked at my bonnet. When at last the track leveled out, I dared to open my eyes and saw that we were riding slowly through a green twilight. The trees here were evergreens in whose perpetual shade the ground was damp and slippery. It was a strange, haunted place; one would not have been surprised to see the slender form of a wood nymph slipping through a ray of diffused sunlight.
