CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Wearily, I dragged myself to the rail and stared down at Tommaso. In my politest tone, far different from the one I wished to use, I asked, “May one ask whom?”
“A tall...person. She is...from a house on the square.” Before Tommaso became our footman, he’d lived on the streets and he knew very well who wished to see me. He simply didn’t know whether he should present her.
I nodded. “Madame Culatello. Welcome her in. I’ll descend.” Actually, if I didn’t get some sleep pretty soon, I was going to do more than descend. I was going to fall flat on my face. Nevertheless, I would not dismiss Madame Culatello or her exhaustion, either.
Madame Culatello had changed into a handsome day dress that complemented her narrow figure, but she looked worn and weary and a bruise discolored her cheek and blackened her eye.
I greeted her with smiles and thanks for her support last night, asked Tommaso to bring wine for us both, and expressed my hope that none of her ladies had come to harm in the riot of confusion that ended the masquerade. I also reflected guiltily on my belief that she’d been the one who betrayed me. That suspicion had been unworthy of her and cast shame on me.
When she had assured me all was well, I guided her into the atrium, open to the sky, and to the small table farthest from the bedrooms at the back where my parents slept.
As we sat, Madame Culatello took my hand, saw the ring, and burst into tears. “He found you. The prince found you!”
“Sh.” I handed her a cloth to muffle her sobs. “He did, indeed.” As a reminder, the cold seat felt good against my sore bottom. “As you see, I’m for the most part unharmed.”
“Berengaria saw you running from the masquerade. Men were chasing you. Men in satyr masks! She chased too, but one of them turned on her and she fled in fear.”
I wished to smack whichever of the prince’s bodyguards had dared frighten the valiant Berengaria. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to send a messenger. But you know I land on my feet.” I tried a bracing smile.
Madame Culatello didn’t seem particularly reassured. “Berengaria returned to La Gnocca and we called in all our contacts, but no one knew where you’d disappeared to, only that you’d been chased when you tried to return to Casa Montague.” She gratefully accepted the wine Tommaso offered. “I worried because...Uria is gone!”
“Gone? How? The iron cuff!” I’d seen Madame Culatello lock it around Uria’s ankle.
“The cuff had somehow been opened.” She drank. “There was blood on the metal.”
“Hers?” A stupid question, for how would Madame Culatello know? I, too, took the wine and swallowed to ease the constriction in my throat. “Was there a struggle? Could you tell?”
“A struggle, yes. He came and got her. Foolish girl. She failed him and now she pays the price.” Although Madame Culatello had been angry at Uria, and although we both knew Uria had given Count Prospero the information he needed to trap me, she still hurt for the young woman who had been one of her companions.
I settled back in dismay. I’d assured myself the only one to come to harm tonight was me, and some would point out—had pointed out—I deserved all that happened and all’s well that ends well. Now I wondered what had happened to Uria, and hoped she didn’t fatally regret her foolish alliance with Count Prospero.
Madame Culatello turned the subject to what she considered a happier topic. “I’m so glad I found Prince Escalus and brought him. He saved you in time?”
“In time for what?”
“Before those men grabbed you and...hurt you.” A euphemism for what cruel men invariably forced on a desperate woman.
Should I tell Madame Culatello the truth? That Prince Escalus had taken this night’s opportunity to...to...
Madame Culatello’s gaze sharpened. “Perhaps I’m asking the wrong question. He didn’t hurt you, did he? When I went to the palace and told Prince Escalus the events that were unfolding, I’ve never seen him...he was angry. Livid. With me, and with you. He didn’t even give me time to explain what had happened and why you were involved in recovering the ring. He simply told me to watch over your safety until he could arrive, called for his men and shoved me out the palace door.” Leaning forward, she clasped my hand. “He’s very possessive of you.”
“I’m not hurt,” I assured her.
She squeezed my fingers a little too hard. “I should have known that a man with formidable control needs it to constrain his formidable passions, and one should avoid roiling those passions lest they tumble you into a whole new world.”
“Now you tell me.”
She didn’t smile as I expected. Her attention wasn’t on my small attempt at humor; her thoughts were turned inward. In a troubled voice, she said, “Whatever passions he showed you in these last hours, still he put his ring on your finger.”
“So he did.” Formidable control for his formidable passions. Going forward in my dealings with Prince Escalus, I needed to remember Madame Culatello’s assessment and her wisdom in dealing with human pairings.
“Ultimately, all is well. Even if he’s displeased, you still hold your place as his betrothed.” Madame Culatello stoked the diamond with one finger—and that finger trembled.
I grasped her hand. “Cara amica, what’s wrong? Do you worry more about Count Prospero and what vengeance he’ll wreak on you? For you need not. Prince Escalus has banished him.”
Rather gloomily, she said, “I fear we haven’t seen the last of Count Prospero.”
I remembered Prospero’s wealth, his insidious power, the terror he so relished exploiting, and his fury at me for challenging and defeating him, and I comprehended her distress. “Perhaps not, but we must trust that Prince Escalus can compel him with the promise of imprisonment and death should he attempt to return.”
“Yes. Foremost in the prince’s intention is to keep Verona’s law for the sake of her people. After such a tumultuous night, I fear he’ll view me as a disruptor of order and cast me from the city and my ladies with me.” She lifted her chin...but it wobbled. “I can survive. I can start over. But I’ve extended my protection over those girls and I’d hoped...imagined I could keep them safe from the dreadful cruelties men can inflict. Now...” Another tear trickled down her cheek, and she swabbed at it with the rag.
“Oh. I comprehend... Oh.” Prince Escalus had displayed his wrath and Madame Culatello foresaw calamitous results for the home she had so carefully built and the shelter she so kindly offered to my sister, to Princess Isabella, and to me. I thought how I should proceed.
I glanced up at the sky. The sun’s first rays were touching the house. Night was over. I’d kept my vow to Prince Escalus. Now it was time to help a trusted friend.
And yes, gentle reader, you’re right. I banked too much on blind faith, but you’d do the same, I know. I said, “This night, so lately flown, Prince Escalus put the ring on my finger as a symbol of his...” Not possession. He’d firmly corrected me when I used that term. “As a symbol of our betrothal. The prince and I know, however, it’s important that the ring ceremony be public and seen by all our people, our aristocrats and our families. Indeed, after such a rough beginning, it’s imperative that every bit of our time be bound by ceremony and witnessed by all.”
She laughed, as I meant her to, but she comprehended very well the dangerous nature of gossip, how much had already spread because of the fashion in which the prince had captured me, and what more could happen should this night’s masquerade escapade become public knowledge. “Yes. Of course.” She tried to focus on my issue, which I knew was so much less than hers.
“Also, he wishes to size the ring to fit my finger more easily, and I told him I’d return it today by a messenger I trusted.” I worked the ring off over my knuckle. “Would you take it to the prince?” I put it in her palm and closed her fingers over the glittering stone set in a carefully crafted swoop of gold.