Tuscan Rose (9 page)

Rosa noticed the bomboniere were tied with violet posies. ‘It’s a pity the gardener didn’t have the roses ready. They would have been so elegant,’ she said to Maria.

Spots of colour came to Maria’s cheeks and she averted her eyes. Rosa realised that she had embarrassed her without understanding why. She saw the Marchese glance in Maria’s direction and wondered if he had noticed her crumpled skirt. She hoped the maid would not be reprimanded.

Baron and Baroness Derveaux were the last guests to leave. Rosa reached to take a pen to pass to the Marchese and when she
turned back she saw the Baron was staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘But have I seen you somewhere before?’

The Marchese raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s impossible, François. She was cloistered in a convent until she came here.’

The Baron nodded apologetically.

‘Perhaps it was on Via Tornabuoni,’ offered Rosa. ‘I was there a few weeks ago having my flute repaired. Or somewhere else in the city? I run errands there on Wednesdays.’

‘Ah, but I never go to the city if I can help it,’ said the Baron, a wry smile coming to his face. ‘My wife loves Florence but I can’t abide it. Too many Florentines to tell me that theirs is the most beautiful language, the finest wine, the purest olive oil, the loveliest art. They will even tell you the best walking canes are made in Florence! I spend my time within the grounds of our villa here in Fiesole whenever we are in Italy. I did that as a child when my family came to holiday here.’

The Marchesa turned and studied Rosa. It was the first time Rosa thought she had really looked at her. ‘Who does she remind you of, François?’ the Marchesa asked.

The Baron was quiet for a moment before he answered. ‘It’s when she turned a certain way…Well, perhaps it is a trick of the light.’

‘Or a trick of the champagne,’ laughed the Baroness, linking her arm with her husband’s.

The Baron smiled but Rosa could see he was perplexed.

The Baron’s driver brought his Alfa Romeo to the front steps and opened the doors. Signor Bonizzoni sent Maria away to help the other maids and returned into the house himself. The Marchese and Marchesa, with Clementina and Rosa behind, stood on the steps to witness the departure of the Derveaux family. The Baron and Baroness entered the car followed by their twins. The Baron glanced at Rosa again. She blinked and saw a vision of a young boy and girl standing by a pond. She knew from the gangly legs and winged
eyebrows that the boy was the young Baron. But who was the dark-haired girl? Her face was turned away and she was crouching, as if she were about to skim stones across the water. The image was the picture of innocence and yet it filled Rosa with sadness.

Rosa’s attention was pulled back to the present as the Baron’s driver manoeuvred the vehicle around the fountain and headed down the driveway.

‘Au revoir, mes chéris,’
the Baroness shouted from the car window. ‘We will see you at the ball.’

After the car had disappeared into the woods, the Marchese returned to the house without a word to his wife. The Marchesa walked down the steps towards the driveway. Clementina followed some distance behind, sensing adventure. Rosa, who had not been dismissed for the day, had no choice but to go with Clementina.

‘We shouldn’t be following your mother,’ she told the child. ‘She may wish to be alone.’

‘She goes somewhere in the woods,’ Clementina replied without a hint of guilt. ‘I want to know where.’

It was late afternoon and the light glistened on the trees. The Marchesa took a turn into the woods, oblivious to Clementina and Rosa scampering after her or the damage the earthen path was doing to her shoes. The path took them past the cemetery before curving again in the direction of the gatehouse. The shimmery light through the leaves was beautiful but there was something eerie about the forest. It was as if the trees and birds were waiting and watching for something. Rosa shivered when she remembered the conversation she had overheard outside the music repair shop. Had witches truly been burnt here during the Inquisition?

They were only a short distance from the gatehouse when the man with the cowlick stepped out from behind a tree. He had a closed wicker basket in his hand and put it down beside his feet. Rosa and Clementina hid behind some bushes. The Marchesa was not surprised by the man’s appearance and Rosa wondered if she had gone there to meet him.

‘I left everything for you,’ the man said to the Marchesa.

‘I didn’t ask you to,’ she replied.

‘You said you would come away with me.’

The Marchesa let out a sharp laugh. ‘I said it because I’d had too much to drink. We both know it was only a pleasure of the flesh, nothing more.’

Rosa blushed and tugged Clementina’s arm. ‘It’s time to go back,’ she told her. ‘This is a conversation between adults.’

Clementina looked at her with shining eyes, oblivious to the meaning of the conversation. ‘But I want to see what’s in the basket.’

‘Hello!’ the man called. Rosa looked up and realised that he had spotted her and Clementina.

‘I brought a present for you, Clementina,’ the man said, opening the wicker basket. He pulled out a Weimaraner puppy.

‘She doesn’t want it,’ the Marchesa told him.

‘Yes, she does,’ the man said, placing the wriggling puppy on the ground.

The dog scrambled towards Clementina who ran to meet it. She picked it up and laughed when it licked her face. There was a dark patch in the dog’s fur, near its muzzle. It would have been a blemish in a pedigree, but Rosa thought the puppy was even more adorable for it.

‘I’m sorry, Signora Marchesa,’ Rosa said, gesturing to Clementina to bring the dog and follow her. ‘We didn’t mean to intrude.’

The Marchesa flashed Rosa a derisive look. ‘You don’t have much control of my daughter,’ she said.

‘No, Signora Marchesa,’ Rosa replied, feeling herself grow hot with embarrassment. ‘I don’t usually have to exercise discipline. She’s normally obedient.’

The Marchesa shrugged then turned back to the man, obviously dismissing Rosa from her mind. ‘Did you think I would leave this?’ she asked him, indicating the grounds and villa. ‘To become the wife of some dusty university scholar?’ She beat her chest with her
fist. ‘You don’t know what I’ve paid for it! What I’ve had to give up to become the Marchesa Scarfiotti!’

The blood drained from Rosa’s face. Clementina, who was having trouble getting the excited puppy to follow her, was out of earshot. But she wasn’t. Did the Marchesa intend for her to hear this conversation? Or did she simply not care?

‘So it was all lies?’ the man asked.

The Marchesa shrugged.

The man staggered backwards as if he had been shot. ‘You told me you loved me,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘You were stupid enough to believe it.’

The man stared at the Marchesa. The confusion on his face was palpable. ‘You were a different person when…you were different.’

‘We are all different when we want to be,’ the Marchesa told him. ‘We all act our parts. Well, the show is over now.’

The man groaned. The Marchesa’s eyes gleamed. It seemed to Rosa that she was enjoying the pain she inflicted. She was like a vampire, drawing strength from another human’s weakness. Rosa was sickened. If the man loved the Marchesa, then he loved unwisely. She didn’t love anybody, not even her husband and daughter. The man gave one last look to the Marchesa before he turned and fled into the woods like a wounded animal. A few moments later a car engine started.

The Marchesa stared after the man for a moment then she spun around and fixed her eyes on Rosa and then Clementina and the puppy. A menacing look fell over her face. ‘I’ll teach you both to spy on me,’ she said.

‘Clementina, come this way and bring the dog,’ she called, walking in the direction of the gatehouse. ‘We’ll show it to Signor Taviani.’

Clementina picked up the puppy and ran after her mother, unaware that she was about to be punished. Rosa followed. Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

‘He’s so beautiful, Mamma!’ Clementina sang out, kissing the puppy who licked her in return. ‘So beautiful!’

Signor Taviani was standing at the rear of the gatehouse, chopping wood. He frowned when he saw the women and Clementina approaching. The Marchesa grabbed the dog from Clementina by the scruff of its neck and thrust it at Signor Taviani who caught it in his arm.

‘Kill it!’ the Marchesa said.

Clementina screamed. Rosa was too stunned to speak. The puppy wriggled from the gatekeeper’s grasp and ran back to Clementina. She threw her body over it and protected it with her arms.

‘We are not keeping that dog,’ the Marchesa said. Her voice was no longer languid and arrogant. It was high-pitched and hysterical.

‘No, Mamma! No!’ Clementina cried.

The puppy peeked out from Clementina’s arms. The sight of its wagging tail was too much for Rosa. ‘It’s only a puppy, Signora Marchesa,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we can give it to one of the servants. For their children.’

The Marchesa snapped her head in Rosa’s direction. The whites of her eyes were showing, like a horse about to bite. ‘God, you’re a classless little stray, aren’t you? How my husband ever thought you were suitable for this house, I don’t know! Look at the mark near its nose, you stupid girl! It’s deformed!’

‘No, it isn’t!’ shouted Clementina. ‘And don’t be rude to Signorina Bellocchi! She’s smarter than you!’

The Marchesa raised her hand. Rosa stepped in front of Clementina, terrified she was about to slap the girl.

‘I can’t stand malformed things!’ the Marchesa raged, lowering her arm. ‘They disgust me!’

Clementina broke into sobs. Rosa tried to steady her own nerves. She had thought the Marchesa wanted the dog destroyed because it had been given to Clementina by her lover, or to teach them a lesson for following her. What sort of deformity was a dark patch on a dog’s nose? Rosa’s mind was a throng of confusion. Only a while ago she had been presiding over children at a party—and now this? The Marchesa was mad, Rosa was sure of it.

The Marchesa turned to Signor Taviani. ‘Kill it!’ she said. ‘I don’t care how. Drown it. Shoot it. Use that axe you were holding a moment ago.’

Clementina let out a wail. Rosa prayed that someone back at the villa would hear her cry and come to investigate.

Signor Taviani glanced from Rosa to the Marchesa. ‘Not in front of the child,’ he said.

Rosa was taken aback by his voice. It wasn’t the rough dialect she had been expecting; it sounded refined and calm. Then she remembered that he had not always been a gatekeeper; he had once managed the estate. She considered appealing to his mercy but there was something formidable in his face that stopped her. Even the Marchesa seemed wary of him.

‘All right,’ the Marchesa said to him, brushing her hand through her hair. She gave a short laugh and waved in the direction of Clementina and Rosa. ‘They don’t understand. They’re too stupid. But you understand, Signor Taviani.
I know you do.
One has to make difficult choices if one is to be great. Not everyone has the strength to make those choices. That’s why they stay little people all their meagre lives.’

The Marchesa turned and grabbed Clementina’s arm and twisted it. The girl struggled but lost her balance. ‘You’ll shut up now, Clementina,’ the Marchesa told her. ‘Or I’ll get rid of your governess too.’

The Marchesa didn’t wait for Clementina to regain her footing but dragged her through the undergrowth on her backside towards the driveway. Rosa was too shocked to react. Never in her life could she have imagined a mother doing that to her child. When she came to her senses a wave of anger washed over her. She didn’t care about her position, she cared about Clementina. Could she run fast enough to the villa to alert the Marchese? Surely he would put a stop to this insanity.

Rosa broke into a sprint, thrusting past the Marchesa and Clementina. Her breath hurt in her chest and her legs cramped, but she fought through the pain. She had reached the driveway and the
villa was in sight when she heard the shot ring through the air. It sent birds into the sky from fright. Rosa fell to the ground and clasped her knees, agonisingly trying to regain her breath. A sick feeling rose in her stomach. There was no use running any more. It was too late. Clementina’s puppy was dead.

That night, Rosa was woken by the sound of Clementina crying. She rushed to the girl’s room to find her bathed in sweat and rocking in her sleep. Rosa lifted her into a sitting position and embraced her. Clementina opened her eyes and stared at Rosa. Her lips were trembling.

‘It’s all right,’ Rosa told her. ‘I’m here.’

She had written her letter of resignation before going to bed but now realised she could not present it. If she left, who would take care of Clementina? Certainly not her sadistic mother! Even the Marchese was preoccupied by other things. Rosa had searched for him after the incident that afternoon and had not been able to find him. Only when one of the maids brought her dinner did Rosa learn that he had retired to his study with the strict instruction that he was not to be disturbed. It was probably just as well Rosa hadn’t been able to speak to him. She would have said things about the Marchesa that couldn’t be retracted.

Clementina began to sob again. Rosa wondered why Maria, who had been appointed the girl’s nursemaid, hadn’t appeared. She’d been informed that afternoon by Signora Guerrini of her new position, which was to start immediately. Rosa soothed Clementina until the girl’s breathing calmed and her twitching subsided. Rosa knew it was the slaughter of the puppy that had distressed her. It had disturbed Rosa too. But she didn’t think that talking about it would make either of them feel better.

‘Shall we read something together?’ she asked instead.

Clementina blinked away her tears.
‘Le tigri di Mompracem?’
she sniffed.

It made Rosa smile to think that Clementina preferred Salgari’s
swashbuckling pirate adventure story over
Sleeping Beauty
or
Snow White.

‘Ah, well, you had better read it to me then,’ she told the little girl. ‘So I can hide under the blankets during the fight scenes.’