Gianna's Wedding Dilemma: The Matchmaker and The Mother-In-Law

Chapter One

February 1878--Chicago, Illinois

Wind rattled the stovepipe on the coal stove in the room’s corner. A tree branch dragged across the roof with erratic pulls. Snowflakes tapped on the window of the schoolroom set up on the third floor of the Fabrizio mansion.

Gianna Rafaello looked up from the spelling test she graded to assess her students’ progress with their tasks.

The gazes of her three students—Guido, Aletta, and Rufina—were not on their assigned reading. Instead, their heads all angled toward the window and they starred at the snowstorm.

Standing, she clapped her hands and gestured toward herself, an action they knew meant to watch her. “Bambino e bambinas, fai attenzione. Children, pay attention. Today’s snowfall is not the last you will see. For…”—she twisted the pendant watch from where it hung on a silver chain and read the time—“the next twenty-seven minutes, class is still in session. Perhaps, if you three complete your work by the time I ring the bell, you can have a short play time outside.” She did her best to hide her shudder.

When the details of her position were first worked out, Chicago’s winter weather conditions never entered the trans-Atlantic correspondence. Having known only the climate of her southern Italy hometown, she hadn’t thought to inquire and, certainly, never expected to be subjected to snow and hail. Being the only supervisor of the children in their outdoor play wasn’t mentioned in her employment contract, either. But she had assumed the role during the two years since she arrived.

As governess for the Fabrizio children, she had the official duties of teaching them academic subjects appropriate to their ages of eleven, nine, and six. These she performed in English. But the main reason her cousin, Luisa, wanted to hire her was so her children also received Italian lessons from a native speaker. Luisa’s husband, Tito, was second-generation American and didn’t value speaking their shared language fluently as highly as Luisa did. And Luisa, as wife to a successful businessman, claimed not to have sufficient free time to devote to the effort in the way she wanted.

Gianna’s parents, Claudina and Giorgio, agreed to the arrangement of Gianna becoming a “bird of paradise.” As such, she was to live with a relative in America who would chaperone her social life and keep her reputation spotless while developing her English skills. At the same time, she would serve as governess to that cousin’s three children as she earned a bit of money to be added to her dowry back in Italy. The time spent in another country would make her alluring and intriguing, or so Madre said. Gianna’s parents expected her to return at the end of the contracted time and become affianced to a successful man of their choosing. Before leaving Salerno, Italy, Gianna met a few of their selections, and she was not interested in tying herself to someone already married to his business or who was eight to ten years her senior. That age disparity might be fine for her parents’ generation, but not for her.

Although her exposure to broader Chicago society was limited, Gianna had learned that women in America possessed and acted upon their own opinions about who they wished to interact with. The Fabrizios often held parties where Gianna might be asked to join to round out a table for whist or to even the men-women balance for dancing. Gianna loved those evenings because she met interesting people and truly appreciated having conversations with other adults, even if she sometimes couldn’t find the right English word for what she wanted to say.

Another rattle of the stovepipe brought Gianna’s thoughts back to the present. She checked the remainder of Aletta’s spelling words and smiled at the doodles of the family cat at the bottom of Rufina’s test. She’d have to remember to discuss the bambina’s talent with Luisa when next they spoke about the children’s progress.

Glancing at her watch, she saw she’d kept the children a few minutes past the allotted time. “All right. You may close your books now, and mark your places, fare piacere.” She watched them do as instructed and took a second look out the window. Snow still fell, but maybe not as thickly. As least, she hoped that was the case. “Now, you may go to your rooms and gather your winter clothes. Don’t forget to put on a sweater. The air might be warm inside, but it will be cold coming off the lake. No one wants to catch a chill.” Least of all, me. “Rufina, tesoro, I’ll be along in due minutos to help you dress.”

The children stowed their books, paper, and pencils and then scurried from the room.

Hearing clumping sounds on the carpeted stairs that could have been made by rampaging animals, she admonished herself that she didn’t warn them about no running. But after almost daily reminders, she assumed, one day, the practice would start. Sighing, she moved to the stove to adjust the dampers to allow the fire to slowly die. After gathering her ledger and the ungraded papers, she walked to the doorway and flipped the switch to stop the coal gas supply to the overhead and wall lamps. The flames extinguished moments later. This luxury didn’t exist in the home she grew up in, and she truly should appreciate more the time it saved.

Down one flight of stairs, she walked into her bedroom suite and dumped the school items onto the corner table. She walked through a sitting area, complete with a settee, matching armchair, and a pole lamp. In the room where her bed, armoire, and chest of drawers resided, she walked to the armoire to retrieve warmer clothes. A small water closet sat tucked in the room’s corner, but she had to share the bathing room located at the end of the hall with the children.

Luisa and Tito had one in their suite, their tub being at least six feet in length. The servants used the shorter one in the room off the kitchen on the first floor.

Under her flannel petticoat, she pulled on a pair of woolen stockings over her cotton ones and added wool socks. After her arrival the first fall, she’d had to learn how to knit to make these for herself so she could survive the winter.

In her decade of living in Chicago, Luisa had become accustomed to the weather, and thick woolen, but still stylish, gowns suited her well enough.

When Gianna wanted to be warm, she did not care about fashion. She pulled on a knitted cap that covered her ears and most of her forehead. A matching scarf draped her left arm, which she’d put on before exiting the mud room downstairs. She held her fur muff in one hand as she closed the door and moved across the hallway to Rufina’s room. “Almost ready?” She tapped a knuckle on the opened door and found the little girl sitting on her bed and playing with her dolls, instead of finding her garb.

“I don’t want to go. I want to play here.”

Gianna could sympathize. “I know, topolina, but I can’t do my job of supervising all three of you children if one is here and two are outside.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t Madre watch me?”

“Your madre is making sure Monsieur Gaspar is preparing the food she requested for a party tonight.” Though why Luisa, with no formal training, had to supervise a man who once cooked in a Paris restaurant made no sense. “So she’s too busy. Capisci?”

“Sì, io capisco.” Sighing, Rufina left her dolls on top of the mattress and crawled to the edge, then stopped with shoulders hunched and legs tucked under her body. She wiggled her nose, peered over the side, then looked up and shook her head. “It’s too far to the floor.”

What stall tactic was this one? “Just swing your legs over and stand.” She waved her hands to mimic the action the girl should take.

“But I can’t.” She ventured a hand down a few inches before drawing it back to her body. “You called me a little mouse, so I can’t reach the floor by myself.”

Gianna smiled. Clever girl. One thing she appreciated was how participating with the child’s imaginative play made her feel young again. “If I named you farfallina, will your wings flutter you from the bed to the floor?”

Rufina straightened, adjusted her legs on the edge, and flapped her arms. “Sì. Watch me.” After slipping off the mattress, she pranced a bouncy circle around her room. “I’m a butterfly.”

“Grazie, bambina.” Smiling, she clapped her hands. “Very graceful. Now, hurry. The sooner we get outside, the faster we can return to this wonderfully warm house.” She suspected she cheered herself along just as much as the little girl.

Thankfully, by the time Gianna double-checked hats, scarves, and mittens for three children, pulled on and fastened their galoshes, and trooped into the backyard, the snow had stopped.

Not content with running through the four inches of powdery flakes, the older two begged to take their sled to the hill at the end of the street.

Because she hated to disappoint them, Gianna agreed, and they set out through the Pilsen neighborhood past other mansions. Once they arrived at the hill, she was glad to see additional children had the same idea about snowplay. Each child found a friend and paired off.

Soon, snowballs flew through the air between them, accompanied by whoops and hollers. Guido and a buddy ran the sled down the five-foot hill more times than Gianna could count. Aletta and a girl from across the street built a tiny snowman. Rufina danced around, flapping her arms and kicking the snow.

Gianna scraped the snow away from a small space of concrete sidewalk and stamped her feet when they started to tingle. Her warm Mediterranean blood detested this climate, but she vowed not to spoil the children’s fun. However, as sooln as she heard Rufina’s first complaint, Gianna latched onto that reason and waved an arm over her head. “Fabrizios, time to go home. Andiamo.”

Listening to the older two’s excited chatter while swinging Rufina’s hand as they walked, Gianna was again reminded that suffering a bit of discomfort wasn’t so bad when the result produced happy children. Some might say she was too indulgent with the three. But what was childhood if not to have fun and experience life?

On the back stoop, everyone scraped their galoshes and then tumbled into the mud room.

“Off with your shoes and leave them here in a neat row, fare piacere.” Gianna unwound the scarf from her neck and loosened the big buttons of her gray coat.

Luisa rushed into the small space, her wide-eyed gaze taking in the group. “There you are. I looked through every room upstairs.”

The children started talking as one about their adventure, vying for her attention.

The high color in her cugina’s cheeks indicated she’d probably also searched the third floor. Luisa wore a day dress of a lightweight peach wool, but her hair was coiffed and curled into a structure that was only meant for an evening event. “But I told Abigail where we were going. Didn’t she relay the message?”

Luisa pressed kisses to her children’s foreheads, then wrinkled her nose. “Gaspar sent her on an errand to the green grocer.” She flapped a hand back and forth. “Never mind. You’ve returned. I’m sending supper up to the classroom because the children just cannot be downstairs tonight. Not even to eat a hurried meal.” She stepped close and cupped a hand at the side of her mouth. “Tito has invited an important client.”

All of his clients for his import-export business were important. Gianna just nodded.

“This client’s wife has not been as blessed…” She rolled her eyes toward the children. “And can’t abide the sight or sound of what she is unable to produce.” She clasped Gianna’s hand and squeezed. “I know you should have this evening off, but I really need you to monitor the baths, meal, and bedtime. Don’t skimp on the bath time because Guido smells a bit…” She mouthed the last word sour.

Gianna wanted to echo the eyeroll but didn’t dare. Guido had exerted himself while playing. He was getting to that age when his perspiration smelled bad. She remembered the same happened with her younger brothers, Ettore and Santo. They thought it funny and had boasted about who smelled worse. Luisa obviously spent no time near her son’s laundry. “Of course, Luisa. We’ll need at least forty-five minutes to finish bathing.” She’d already known her presence wasn’t needed to even out the number between the sexes for the evening’s party. But she had hoped to slip downstairs to the library after the children were in bed to at least overhear some of the dinner conversations.

Luisa pressed both hands to her mouth, made a smooching sound, and then blew kisses. “Good night, my angels. Mama loves you.” With a whirl, she disappeared, leaving behind a trail of gardenia scent.

“All right, you heard your madre. Upstairs to take baths.” She made a cradle of her arms to receive coats, scarves, and mittens. “I’m thinking of a number between one and twenty.” Seven. Whoever is closest wins the first bath. And you must give me the answer in Italian and why you chose it.”

Guido waved a hand. “Dodici, because twelve is how old I’ll be on my birthday next month.”

“Dieci, because it’s in the middle.” Aletta bounced on her toes.

“Aww, that’s what I was gonna pick.” Rufina let out a sigh.

“Guess again, bambina.” Gianna jerked her head to the side, hoping they’d understand that meant to start walking.

“Then I choose sei, because it is my age.” She stepped into the kitchen.

“Rufina’s first. The number I thought of was sette.” Gianna glanced around at the activity of the two helpers and the chef. Scents of cooking meats and yeasty breads and buttery sauces filled the air. “Stay to the edge of the room and hurry like bunnies.”

“I’m too old to pretend to be an animal.” Guido stood on tiptoes and gazed into a steaming pot. “I love lobster tails. I hope we get some.”

The girls echoed his wishes.

Gianna shifted her load to her right arm and pressed her left hand on Guido’s shoulder. “Come along. We don’t want to bother anyone busy preparing this wonderful food.” Or to cause an accident that splashed scalding water on someone. She herded them upstairs, distributed the winter gear into the correct rooms, then supervised both girls’ baths, and stood outside the bathing room, checking with Guido on his progress through the door.

By the time dinner was delivered to the classroom, Gianna was almost out of excuses for Luisa’s choices. While not the lobster they hoped for, the meal was still special. Gaspar made scalloped potatoes and ham—always a kid favorite—with green beans and cloverleaf rolls on the side. She stretched to her right to cut up the ham and potato pieces for Rufina. For Aletta who always feared getting burned fingers, she split the roll and added butter. Guido had reached the age where he didn’t need—or want—her help, even though he sometimes struggled to cut whatever meat was served.

Gaspar also prepared a tray of Brie cheese and crackers and crab-stuffed mushrooms. The kids turned up their noses at the mushrooms, which Gianna preferred. So, by the time they got to the strawberry jam tarts for dessert, everyone was happy.

After reading most of a bedtime story in Guido’s bedroom, Gianna carried Rufina and guided Aletta to their own rooms and settled them into bed.

At the click of her closing bedroom door, Gianna let out a sigh before crossing to the window. If she stood at the farthest left side of her frame, she could see part of the curving driveway leading to the front door. The children’s meal was early enough that guests just now started arriving. Watching gentlemen climb out first and reach back into the carriage to assist their wives made Gianna wistful for the relationship she did not have. Some men offered their hands, and others braced a palm at the woman’s back. She couldn’t decide which assistance she preferred and had to swallow hard at the lump in her throat.

Why couldn’t she have that for herself? If she wanted to be the one in charge of the choosing, she better do something about finding someone to love. Weeks ago, Luisa was under the weather and asked Gianna to attend a women’s auxiliary meeting in her stead. Gianna met a woman her age, Angelina Casale, who had just signed with a sensale di matrimoni, Signora Piazza, to put her in contact with eligible bachelors. At the time, the notion seemed far-fetched, because Gianna doubted the woman’s ability to matching interested parties just by the letters they wrote.

But tonight, she was lonely enough to do as Angelina suggested—write an introductory letter that expressed what she looked for in a husband and what her expectations were for a marriage. Even if all she did was to transfer the feelings in her heart into the ink on the paper, Gianna would accomplish the first individual step toward guiding her own future.