Liz Carlyle - The Bride Wore Scarlet

The Bride Wore Scarlet

Liz Carlyle

Contents

Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

London, 1837

T he lamps were turned low in the dark, old-fashioned house in Wellclose Square, the servants gliding like silent specters, eyes downcast as they moved through passageways musty with the scents of liniment and camphorand of what might have been death drawing nigh.

Above, in the mistresss grand suite, the fire that was laid from September to June had been banked for the evening, and the circle of plaguing visitorsteary-eyed relations, gloomy priests, and nattering medical menhad finally been sent away with a sharp, if somewhat diminished, tongue-lashing.

She lay now like a spun-glass ornament in a box of cotton wool, all but lost in the massive medieval bed that had seen seven generations of her family pass from this world to the next, its walnut finish gone as black with age as once the old womans hair had been. But age had not lessened the hook in her nose, the fire in her eyesor the indomitability of her will, much to the consternation of her family.

Against the costly, hand-embroidered silk of her nightdress, she clutched a rosary of jet to her heart, and pondered the hope of her dynasty. She was old, had been old for thirty yearsor perhaps had been born old, as so many of her kind were. But it would not do, the old woman knew, to go leaving things unsaid. Hard decisions unmade. Never had she shirked her duty.

And still, though she had known with the heart of a warrior and the head of a shopkeeper what must eventually be done, she had put off the choice for nearly a decade now.

Oh, this was not her time; she was almost certaindespite her eight-and-eighty years, and the despair of the doctors who paraded daily round what they believed to be her deathbed.

But they might be right. And she mightjust might be wrong.

To have admitted that possibility aloud, howeverah, now that was the thing most likely to choke the last breath of life from Sofia Josephina Castelli.

Maria! she said sharply, holding out her hand. Take my rosary, and fetch me the child.

S, signora . Her companion rose slowly on knees that creaked a little now. Which child?

Which child? the old woman echoed incredulously. The child. The one. And bring me i tarocchi. Just one last time I... I wish to be sure of what I do.

In years past, Maria would have chided her, and perhaps reminded her of the familys censure. But Maria, too, was growing older now, and weary of fighting the old woman. More significantly, however, Maria was a Vittorioa close cousinand she knew what was expected. She, perhaps better than anyone, understood that plans must be made. Obligations met. And that the debt which was owed to ones blood must be paid.

Maria went to the bellpull and sent a servant off to do the mistresss bidding, then crossed to the massive wardrobe to extract the signora s small, ebony wood casket, which was hinged and bound with hammered copper so old it was worn nearly smooth now.

She carried it to the bed, but the old woman waved her off again. Purify the cards for me, Maria, she ordered. Just this once, s ?

But of course, signora .

Dutifully, Maria went to the small bedside chest. Taking a pinch of dried herbs from each of four porcelain urns, she dropped them into a shallow brass bowl and set them aflame with a candle. Extracting a pack of cards from the casket, she passed them four times through the white smoke, calling down the elements of wind, water, earth, and fire to guide her hand.

Buono , Maria, buono , the old woman rasped when it was done. Molte grazie.

Maria laid the cards upon the counterpane beside her. But at that instant, the door flew open, and a leggy, raven-haired girl in a starched white smock rushed in.

Nonna, Nonna! she said, throwing herself against the bed. They said I mightnt come up!

But now you are here, Anas, no ? The old woman set a hand on the childs head, but looked past her, to the woman in gray who still lingered on the threshold, her hands clasped uncertainly.

The governess dropped her gaze, and bobbed a faint curtsy. Good evening, Signora Castelli. Signora Vittorio.

Buona sera , Miss Adams, said the old woman. I wish to be alone with my great-granddaughter. You will excuse us, I think?

Yes, of course, but I... The governess was looking at the cards a little disapprovingly.

You will excuse us, the old woman repeated, this time with a steely hauteur that belied her frail form.

Yes, madam. The door shut swiftly.

Maria had returned to the side table, and was clearing the contents from the galleried silver tray on which the old womans uneaten dinner of beef tea and boiled custard had been carried up. Eyes solemn, the girl had set her elbows to the bed and leaned over it, her chin propped pensively in one hand.

Come, cara mia , climb up. The signora stroked her fingers down the childs wild tangle of black curls. As you did when you were a bambina, s ?

The earnest little face twisted. But Papa said I mustnt bother you, she said. That you werent well.

The old woman laughed, a raspy wheeze. Come, cara , you will not hurt me, she said. Is that what they told you? Come, curl up beside me and let us study i tarocchi together. Maria has found us a tray, see?

Soon they were settled against the pillows together, the old woman having dragged herself up in bed a few inches with Marias help. Only her left hand, fisted against the pain, betrayed what the movement cost her.

Perched on the edge of the mattress with her long, coltish legs curled beneath her, the child took the pack, cutting and shuffling over and over like a diminutive cardsharp.

The old woman wheezed with laughter again. Basta, basta , Anas, she finally said. Do not wear them out, for you will have need of them someday. Now, a sinistra. Three stacks. Just as always.

The girl cut the cards into threes across the silver, moving each time to the left. There, Nonna Sofia, she said. Will you tell my future now?

Your future is blessed, the old woman insisted, catching the childs chin between her thumb and forefinger. S , I will read for you, child. And the cards will say what always they say.

But you have never told me what they say, the child protested, her full bottom lip edging out a tad further. You just talk to yourself, Nonna. And I cannot make it out.

That, too, shall be rectified, said the old woman. Cousin Maria is going to begin work on your language as of tomorrowonly proper Tuscan, Maria, not that hash one hears round the docks.

If you wish it, signora . Maria inclined her head. Of course.

But Miss Adams says a young lady needs only French, said Anas, systematically restacking the cards without being told.

Ah, and what would such a fainthearted creature know of the world, Anas? the old woman murmured, watching her small hands work. Nothing nothing of your world, I would wager. The life you will have, cara mia , is beyond her mortal comprehension.

Whats mortal comprehension ? The child furrowed her brow.

With a trembling hand, the old woman tucked a springy black curl behind the childs ear. Non importa , she said. Come, cara , lay out the cards for me. You know how tis done, s ?

Solemnly, the girl nodded, and began to lay the cards out on the silver tray, forming first a large circle, then crossing it down the center with seven cards.

Draw a chair near, Maria. The old woman spoke in a warning tone. You will bear witness to this.