The following week Giuseppe joined us for an opera at the Teatro San Giovanni Grisostomo. By that time, all of Venetian society was buzzing with the news of Enrico d’Amato’s bastard son, raised from obscurity to inherit his empire. Thus, my circle in particular was most excited to meet him.
“So this is your brother, is it, Adriana?” Giulietta Grimaldi asked excitedly, allowing Mario to help her into the gondola that Giuseppe had so graciously volunteered for the evening.
Once she had settled her heavy frame against the cushions—she was well into her seventh month of pregnancy with her second child—she extended her hand, which Giuseppe kissed with a gallant flourish. “Giuseppe Rivalli,” he introduced himself. “And you must be the charming Giulietta Grimaldi. My sister has told me much about you.”
Giulietta giggled. “Indeed! It seems she must have found something good to tell you, for you do not look scandalized in the least.” She tossed me a conspiratorial glance. “But you did not tell me he was so handsome, my dear Adriana!”
I laughed. “Then I apologize for being remiss in my description.”
Giulietta introduced Mario, and then we made our way to the Cassenti palazzo, where Leonardo would have arrived earlier to escort Vittoria.
Giuseppe had been deep in conversation with me but stopped mid-sentence when Vittoria joined us, his jaw hanging slack. A similar stillness came over her for just an instant upon catching sight of him, before she allowed Mario to help her into a seat—the one on Giuseppe’s other side, as luck would have it.
Some light, bright happiness sparked within me as I observed the way they looked at each other. At that moment, nothing mattered other than the fact that two of the people I loved best in the world should be so instantly attracted to one another.
“Giuseppe,” I said, as soon as Vittoria was seated, “this is my dear friend Maria Vittoria Cassenti, formerly Vittoria della Pietà.”
Giuseppe reached for her hand and brought it quickly to his lips. “Madonna,” he said, with as much reverence as if he addressed the Blessed Mother herself. “The pleasure is all mine. Giuseppe Rivalli, your servant.”
A blush bloomed in Vittoria’s cheeks. “I am delighted, Don Rivalli,” she said. “Adriana speaks so highly of you, and yet I see now that her praise was insufficient.”
Giulietta tossed me a knowing glance over the folds of her fan as Leonardo plopped down close beside Vittoria and loudly cleared his throat. “Leonardo Franchetti,” he said, nodding at Giuseppe. “A pleasure.”
“Likewise, Don Franchetti,” Giuseppe said.
“Well, we are quite the merry group!” Giulietta broke in, smiling. She looked at Vittoria, then at Giuseppe, then back again. Vittoria’s face grew self-conscious, flushing even more. And Giuseppe, engaged in conversation with Mario, kept stealing glances at Vittoria when he thought no one would notice.
That evening at the opera, we broke from our usual tradition, in which Vittoria and I insisted we watch at least a portion of the opera and would sit riveted at the front of the box, whispering critiques of the musicians to one another. In fact, we scarcely saw any of the opera, and were content to have it so. We remained in the rear section of the box, eating, drinking, and playing several hands of cards. I was delighted Giuseppe fitted in with my friends, who had in turn accepted him wholeheartedly—with the exception of Leonardo. Giulietta and I were quite certain Leonardo was in love with our friend, and his behavior tonight confirmed our suspicions.
I watched my brother closely throughout the evening. The two seemed to dance about each other in some strange, unspoken complicity. Giuseppe did not single Vittoria out, nor did Vittoria readily engage him in conversation. Yet their eyes would constantly dart to the other’s face, as though trying to memorize each other’s features.
Once we had taken the others home at the end of the night, and Giuseppe and I were alone in the gondola, I considered bringing it up, but decided it might be no more than a simple fancy. It was best not to make more of it than it was. After all, Vittoria was a married woman, and hardly one inclined to break her marriage vows.
* * *
Our newly enlarged group of six went out together a few more times before the annual migration of Venetian society to the country. Giulietta remained behind, being near to her confinement, and I knew that I would miss her company.
Giuseppe, too, remained in the city over the summer, having many details to attend to as he began to take over our father’s business. He was true to his word and sold the d’Amato palazzo within weeks of the estate being finalized and bought a new one, slightly smaller than our father’s, that was not far from my own.
Giuseppe wrote me frequently, and spent a few nights with us at our villa. Giacomo treated him courteously if a bit coldly. He was still angry at me for proposing that Giuseppe receive the inheritance, and angry at Giuseppe for accepting it; yet despite some grumblings, he had done nothing to block the process in earnest, which led me to believe that my words outside of Signor Peri’s office had reached him.
In August we were forced to return to Venice early, as my pregnancy had become increasingly difficult. My belly had grown quite immense, and I suffered from aches and inordinate exhaustion that kept me in bed much of the time. We decided to make the return journey while I was still able, and once back home I found myself rarely able to leave my chamber. I was too tired even to play the violin, which I had continued to do, slowly, since Lucrezia’s birth.
Lucrezia, the joy of my life, brought me even more happiness in those days when I stayed abed. She would curl up next to me contentedly while I told her stories of princesses and genies and angels, until we both fell asleep. Giuseppe was completely enchanted with her—more so, perhaps, than her own father—and often came over to help her toddle about her nursery while I rested.
Yet I was far more impatient for and apprehensive about this birth than my previous two. I tried my best not to worry, as the midwife who examined me upon our return pronounced me perfectly healthy, and assured me my difficulties simply stemmed from carrying a large child. My friends happily came to visit me as I rested, and Giulietta brought her new infant son, named Giulio in her honor.
Giacomo’s anger and frustration toward me faded away as his concern for my health grew, and he was even more attentive than he had been during my last pregnancy. As summer cooled into fall, my expected delivery date drew nearer, and it could not come soon enough.