Father married Adriana Grilli at the end of January, barely a year after Mamma’s death. From the moment Adriana entered our household, she showered attention on the little ones. Father’s new wife was so childlike herself, it was no surprise Vincenzo and Paola took to her right away. She won Isabella over easily enough, too.
What did surprise me was that our young stepmother turned out to be quite capable at managing the household. She told us she’d had practice helping her father, not only at home, but with his business, too. No wonder Signor Grilli hadn’t married her off sooner.
With the influx of funds from Adriana’s dowry, Father began shopping for a feudal estate. Such property would bring with it the title he’d sought for years, assuming Emperor Charles VI approved the purchase. Then Father would finally become a don, and his new wife, a donna. Mamma had shown little interest in gaining noble status. Adriana, on the other hand, encouraged Father’s efforts at every opportunity.
She also influenced Father in other ways. He smiled often now. In my mind, too often.
Adriana must have bewitched him. Otherwise, how could Father have forgotten Mamma so quickly?
***
Adriana’s energy seemed boundless. In addition to managing the household and tending to the little ones, she began helping Father plan the return of his academic meetings. The news spurred me out of the lethargy that had set in when Adriana became my stepmother. I rededicated myself to my music. I was as determined as ever to avoid being forced to take the veil.
One evening in early spring, while Maria, Isabella, and I worked on our embroidery, Adriana began telling us of the plans for Father’s next meeting. We were all seated together in our stepmother’s sitting room. The room bore little resemblance to when Mamma was here. Adriana had brought in all new furniture and changed the wall coverings. Even the portrait of the peaceful Santa Clara was gone. I resented our stepmother for taking away so many mementos of Mamma.
From her seat near the window, Adriana announced, “I’ve finally convinced your father to allow women guests at his meetings.”
“How did you ever manage that?” Maria asked.
“It was easy,” Adriana said. “When he showed me the guest list, I simply asked why none of the gentlemen’s wives were included. Your father said, ‘Well, I’ve never invited them before.’” Adriana mimicked Father’s voice, making Maria and Isabella laugh. I didn’t find it at all funny.
Adriana went on. “So then I replied, ‘Why would you, an advocate for women’s education, ban women from witnessing the talents of the two most accomplished young women in all Milan, especially when they happen to be your own daughters?’ For a moment, your father was dumbstruck. Then he said, ‘Well, I suppose you have a point.’” Adriana smiled, pleased with herself. “And that was that.”
It was my turn to be dumbstruck. Beneath her petite appearance and childlike demeanor, our stepmother was a cunning woman.
Of course, Maria didn’t see it. She said, “How generous of you, Signora Madre.”
“I’m ashamed to confess that it’s not generosity, but selfishness, that inspired me,” Adriana said. “I want to attend the meeting myself, to witness your performances.”
“May I come, too?” Isabella asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Adriana said. She chattered on as she resumed working on her embroidery project, a pillow cover in the greens and golds of her bedroom, which she’d also redecorated.
She suddenly cried, “Ouch!”
Startled, I looked up to see Adriana sucking her finger. She must have pricked herself. I covered my mouth and coughed to hide my smile.
“Perhaps I’ve been too ambitious in choosing this piece,” Adriana said. “I’m rather inept at needlework. How is it you girls are so proficient?”
Maria laughed. “I doubt anyone is clumsier at needlework than I. Emilia can attest to how often Mamma scolded me about it.”
“Yes,” I said, “in this very room.” But Mamma had praised my needlework here and my musical talent, too. The memory brought unexpected tears. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from falling onto my embroidery.
My sadness turned to anger. Adriana wasn’t going to be satisfied with simply ridding Mamma’s mementos from these rooms. She intended to chase Mamma herself from our hearts. Well, Maria and the others might give in to our stepmother’s charms, but I never would.
“Excuse me.” I stood and gathered my things.
“Is something wrong?” Adriana asked.
“Nothing rest won’t help,” I answered as I left the room.
***
I recounted the scene to Gabriella the next time I saw her. We were strolling through the gardens of Palazzo Riccardi. Delicate white blossoms covered the pear trees, their sweet scent perfuming the air. The hum of bees flitting among the flowers provided the basso continuo to our conversation.
“It’s natural to dislike your stepmother,” Gabriella said as we walked. “What is unnatural is how the rest of your family has so readily accepted her. I don’t imagine to be as fortunate if I should marry Count Cavalieri.”
“Has your father made a decision yet?”
“He has eliminated all the suitors save two,” Gabriella said. “Count Cavalieri and Lord Lodovico. Father and my brother both favor the count. Mother is convinced either would make a suitable match, but she has agreed, for my sake, to entreat Father to choose Lord Lodovico.”
“Have your brother’s inquiries revealed anything about Lord Lodovico?”
“Only that he’s partial to wine, women, and gambling,” Gabriella said with a laugh.
“Doesn’t that trouble you?”
“I’d be more worried if a rich, handsome nobleman like him had no such vices,” Gabriella said. “I’m confident marriage will reform him.”
As we walked on, the breeze stirred the tree branches. White pear blossoms drifted down like snow. Several landed on our hair and shoulders.
“When will your father decide?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Gabriella brushed the blossoms from her shoulder. “He can’t wait much longer. Count Cavalieri keeps pressing for an answer.”
“Do you think the count will tire of waiting and find someone else?”
Gabriella smiled. “That is my hope.”
“And what of Lord Lodovico? Is he anxious for an answer, too?”
“If he is, Father hasn’t mentioned it,” Gabriella said. “But I have a plan to spur Lord Lodovico to action.”
“You do?”
“Yes, and it involves you, my dear friend.”
“Me?” I said. “How?”
Gabriella took my arm in hers. “Lord Lodovico is attending your father’s next academic meeting, is he not? And Count Cavalieri, too?
“They’re both invited.”
“Well, thanks to your marvelous stepmother, I will be there as well,” Gabriella said. “And I intend to use the evening as an opportunity to make Lord Lodovico jealous. I will feign favoritism toward the count. Your task will be to urge Lord Lodovico to press his own case with my father so as not to lose me for himself.”
“Isn’t that risky, Gabriella? What if Lord Lodovico doesn’t rise to the challenge?”
Gabriella let go of my arm. “Well, then he would not be worthy of me.”
I did not relish the role Gabriella was asking me to play. But I had no choice.