When we finally returned to the palazzo, I was immediately locked in my rooms again. One of the servant girls came to wait on me, though it appeared my father had dispensed with posting a guard at my door.
He need not have bothered with locking me in, for I had nowhere to go. All that was left for me, it seemed, was to contemplate my bleak future.
Fearing I would go mad, I distracted myself by returning to the new composition I had begun on that fateful night, fleshing out the orchestral accompaniment but trying to leave the raw pain of the melody alone. It was not as polished as La sirena, but it was, perhaps, more powerful for it.
I had not seen Giuseppe—no doubt he was similarly confined once again—but when I did, and when this new piece was done, he would have one last message from me to take to Vivaldi.
* * *
When my father finally saw fit to release me from my imprisonment, it was in much the same manner as he had prepared me for Ca’ Foscari. This time, however, my father directed the maid to take even greater care with the arrangement of my hair, and he personally looked through all my jewels to select just the right ones for me to wear.
He nodded approvingly as he studied the finished product. “Good,” he said. “I will send for you when our guest has arrived.” Then he turned and left, with the maid following him out, leaving me alone to wait.
It was not long before Signor Fiorello came to fetch me. Moving woodenly, I followed him to the large parlor to find my father conversing with Senator Baldovino. Dread drenched me just as surely as if I had taken an icy bath.
When the two men noticed my presence, they rose to their feet politely. “Daughter,” my father said. “You remember Senator Baldovino, surely.”
“Indeed.”
The senator approached me and lifted my hand to his lips. “A pleasure to see you again, signorina,” he said, with surprising sincerity.
“Be seated, Adriana,” my father said.
I took a chair, opposite the two men who held my future between their fingertips.
“I have no doubt you can deduce why Senator Baldovino is here,” my father began. “He has expressed his willingness to marry you, even in your … condition.”
The way he said “condition” made it sound as though I suffered from leprosy. “Is that so?” I asked snidely.
My father shot me a warning look. “Yes.”
“She is quite far along, as you said,” Senator Baldovino interjected, studying me.
“Yes,” my father answered. “How far along exactly, Adriana?”
“About six months now.”
“So she will be delivered sometime in December, or perhaps January,” the senator said.
“So it would seem,” my father replied.
“And how old are you, signorina?” the senator asked me.
“Nineteen,” I replied. “I will be twenty come March.”
“March, eh?” the senator said. “Perhaps an April wedding, then. A lovely spring wedding. What would you say to that, Enrico?”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea, Giacomo,” my father said, smiling.
I began to feel as if every part of my body were growing cold, as though I were a walking, reanimated corpse that wanted only to be returned to the grave.
“Very well, then,” Senator Baldovino said. “We will draw up the betrothal papers before I leave.” He turned his gaze back to me. “Would it suit you to be a senator’s wife, signorina?”
I could not speak, but Senator Baldovino did not wait for a reply.
“Rest assured I will not hold your past indiscretions against you. Quite the reverse, in fact.” A lecherous grin spread across his face. “I rather prefer a woman who knows what she is doing during the act of love.”
His use of the phrase “act of love” caused me to physically shudder. It will never be so for me, never again.
“Nor shall I question you as to the father,” he went on, in what he no doubt felt was a benevolent tone. “I do not care, quite frankly. This is in the past, or soon will be. God willing, you will be carrying a child of mine before too long.”
I froze in horror at these words.
“Do we understand one another, signorina?” he asked.
There was nothing I could do but nod.
“Benissimo.” He turned back to my father. “I am well pleased by our business here today, my friend.”
“As am I, Giacomo,” my father said.
“Perhaps you had best inform her of what we discussed earlier.”
“Ah, of course.” My father turned his gaze on me, his expression hardening. “Listen carefully, Adriana, so that you understand what is going to happen.”
I sat in silence: a condemned prisoner waiting for her sentence.
“Next month, I am sending you to my sister’s house in Mantua, where you will spend your confinement,” he informed me. “You will give birth there, and once the child is born, it will be given to a family in that city to raise as their own.”
At this, my chilly composure cracked; I whimpered slightly.
My father scowled. “I told you that you would not be allowed to keep the child.”
“Please,” I whispered, glancing from my father to my future husband. “Is there no way that I might…?”
Senator Baldovino shook his head. “No,” he said. “I will forgive your past, signorina, but my money will not be used to bring up another man’s bastard. It will be better put toward the care of our own children, would you not agree?”
And what makes you think you will even be able to father children at your age, old man? I thought viciously. I gasped as a new idea came to me. “What if the child were to be reared at the Pietà?” I asked. “As my mother was?”
While my father looked enraged at this, Senator Baldovino appeared intrigued by the suggestion. “I would not be opposed to such an idea, Enrico,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “The Pietà is a fine institution; as you know, I have been one of their benefactors for many years. Adriana could rest assured that her child was well cared for, and given a good education.”
My heart began to pound wildly as hope sprang to life once again within it. The child’s father will be able to watch over him or her … he surely owes me that much, at least.
But my father shook his head. “Out of the question,” he said. “It will present far too great a temptation for Adriana. I know my daughter, Giacomo. She will want to visit the bastard, send it gifts and so on. Would not that time and attention and money be better devoted to your own children, as you so rightly said before?”
“I suppose you are right,” Senator Baldovino said, shrugging.
All hope drained out of me. My life would go from being under the control of my father to being under the control of my husband, as I had always known it would. It was shocking, after all the upheaval and destruction that had been wrought in my life, to realize how little had actually changed.
“We shall abide by the original plan, then,” my father said. “You shall go to your aunt’s house, and the child shall be adopted by a suitable family as soon as we find one amenable to the arrangements. It should not be too difficult, for I will make it worth their while.”
I bowed my head so that neither of them would see the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Do you understand, Adriana?” my father demanded.
“I understand,” I said. “I suppose I have no choice, do I?”
“No,” he bit out. “You do not.”
To my surprise, Senator Baldovino rose from his chair, crossed the room to me, and patted my shoulder. “Do not fret, signorina,” he said. “In a few months’ time, all of this will be behind you. I am sure you will find nothing to object to in your life with me.” He turned back to my father. “Shall we adjourn to your study, Enrico, and draw up the papers?”
“Certainly,” my father said, rising from his chair. “Right this way, Senator.” He tossed me a careless glance over his shoulder. “Please return to your rooms immediately, Adriana.”
After they left, I remained seated, trying to absorb what had just happened to me. I was not surprised by my new betrothal, as I had known that my father would do his damnedest to find someone; yet I had found that imagining a blank future with some faceless husband had been ultimately more palatable than knowing exactly who I would be forced to spend my life with.
Just as I was about to rise and obey my father, Giuseppe slipped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“Oh, Giuseppe!” I cried, leaping to my feet and flinging myself into his arms. “Oh, where have you been? What has Father done to you?”
Giuseppe smiled. “He has done nothing to me, yet. But please, Adriana, sit. It cannot be good for your condition to be so excited.”
I obeyed, and he drew up another chair beside me. “I doubt I shall ever have occasion to be excited again.”
“So you are betrothed, then,” he said.
“You know?”
He shrugged. “I knew Baldovino was coming today, and I saw him and Enrico leave the room looking quite pleased with themselves.” He paused. “So you are to marry him?”
I nodded. “They are drawing up the betrothal contract. And the child—” I broke off, not sure if I could speak the words.
“They will not let you raise it yourself, will they?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I told Giuseppe of our father’s carefully laid plans.
“Despicable,” he said when I had finished. “The two of them. But in truth I expected nothing better.”
“Nor did I,” I said. “But even so…” My eyes filled with tears. Dear God, would I ever stop weeping?
“Would that I could come with you to your aunt’s house, but Enrico would never allow it,” Giuseppe said. “He would no doubt think we were plotting an escape.”
“Would that I could escape,” I said. “But he need not fear, for I have nowhere left to go.” I changed the subject. “But what of you, Giuseppe? Where have you been?”
“I have been here, in the palazzo,” he said. “Enrico has not thrown me out, but he has forbidden me to communicate with you in any way. The servants have been warned not to carry messages between us, nor admit me to your rooms.”
“Oh, Giuseppe,” I said. “I have brought all of this upon you. It was all just as you said.”
“Do not trouble yourself about that, Adriana, do you hear me?” he said. “I have no desire to stay here in any case, since you will soon be gone.”
I reached out and took his hand. “I do not know how I can bear to be parted from you, especially now.”
“Do not fear, mia sorella,” he said softly. “We will still be a part of each other’s lives. I will not allow it to be otherwise.”
I smiled. “Nor I.”
“You should get back to your rooms soon, should Enrico decide to look in on you,” he said. “But first, I have something for you.” He rose, opened the door, and picked up something he had left just outside. I froze when I saw what it was: a violin case. “What—where did you get that?” I demanded.
He held it out to me, and when I made no move to take it, set it on the floor at my feet. “He sent it,” Giuseppe said. “It is for you.”
I did not reply. Slowly, I leaned down and lifted the case onto my lap. I opened the lid and gasped. It was not my violin that he had sent me: it was his.
Gently I lifted the instrument out of the velvet-lined case, hoping, fearing he had included a letter. But there was nothing. He knew there was nothing left to say.
But I had one last thing to say to him, in the only way I knew how—and the only way he would understand. “Follow me to my rooms, please, Giuseppe,” I said, my voice wavering as I closed the lid. “I need you to take something to him in return.”
“A message?” Giuseppe asked, somewhat incredulously. “Adriana, what can you possibly—”
“Not quite a message,” I said. “It is a piece of music.”