The Marriage Market (23 page)

“Allow me,” he said, removing the simple gold chain she wore and replacing it with the emeralds.  He stepped back and looked at her admiringly.

“Here, Jemma, take a look,” Clara said, handing her the mirror.  Jemma smiled and turned her head so that the stones caught the candlelight. 

“How lovely, Stephano,” Jemma said.

“I agree,” Stephano said, gazing at her.  He leaned over to remove the necklace and whispered in her ear, “but some women do not need cold stones to add to their beauty.  You look well wearing nothing at all.”

Jemma turned to stare at him.  “I mean no jewellery at all,” Stephano said, correcting himself with a wink.  “Here, Cecilia, try on the emeralds, too.  These are the three choices that I have brought for you.  You will have to decide between them.
”

“Mama, I think that I still like the rubies best,” Cecilia said, and the family spent the next half hour energetically debating the colour and quality of the stones and their settings while Jemma watched them all fondly.

The next morning dawned cool and sunny.  Jemma breakfasted early with her hosts and left the villa to go for a walk.  She set off along a lane that ran up behind the vineyard and into the hills.  The road was bordered by long, dry grasses and cypress trees that provided necessary shade in warmer weather.  She had not gone far when she heard someone call her name, and turned to find Stephano waving at her.  She paused as he ran to catch up with her.

“Good morning, Jemma.  May I walk with you?” he asked with a little bow, not at all out of breath. 

“Of course,” she said, smiling. They fell in step together, and Stephano gossiped about an infamous Italian tenor performing in Florence who had left Naples in a suspicious hurry. During their conversation, Jemma stole two or three appreciative glances at her companion.

Stephano was a tall, athletic, curly-haired man in his early twenties with an olive complexion and cheeks ruddy from the sun.  He wore a green scarf tied round his throat, an open-necked white shirt, snug trousers, and walking boots.  His clothes fit him well, and he walked with a confident, easy style. 

Jemma changed the subject to one that had been troubling her.  “But tell me, Stephano, that chest of jewels you are travelling with.  Are you not worried to be carrying such valuable jewellery all by yourself?”

“No, why should I.  Who would dare to attack me?  Besides, I have protection.”  He drew a pistol part-way out of his trouser pocket.

Jemma glanced down at the weapon and frowned.  “I see that you are prepared for the worst.”

Stephano shrugged and tucked the pistol away.  “I have never had any trouble.  I often deliver jewellery to the homes of our most valued customers.  It is more convenient for them than visiting the shop.  And I like to visit the ladies in their fine houses.”  He waggled his eyebrows at Jemma.  “I am a favourite with them.”

“Yes, I am sure that you are very popular.”

They reached the summit of the hill and turned to admire the view stretching out below them.

“And you, bella Jemma?  My uncle told me that you have started a business for yourself.”

“That is so.”

“I do not approve.  Women should not intrude themselves into the world of business.  A beautiful woman like you should have a life of ease with a good man to look after her and many children.  Why would you do this to yourself?”

“You forget, Stephano, that I once had a loving husband and a fine son.  They were both taken from me.”

“Yes, that is very sad, but you are still young and beautiful.  You have money.  A strong, handsome man will come along and sweep you off your feet.  You will see.”

“Perhaps, Stephano.  But for now, I am happy.  I have an exciting life, I travel, and I enjoy myself.”

“Bah, you must be lonely.  Every woman without a man is only pretending to be happy.  But maybe there is someone you care for back in England?”

Jemma hesitated.  “There is someone who is a special friend.”

“I do not like it.  If this man loves you, why is he not here with you?  If he truly cares for you, why does he let you travel alone?  He cannot be much of a man to allow you to do this.”

“I am no longer a married woman, Stephano.  I am responsible for my own life.”

“You are a woman and you are weak.  You cannot help yourself.”

Jemma frowned.  “Your mother is a businesswoman.”

“That is different.  My mother works hard in the shop, and she is no fine lady.  She does what my father tells her to do.”

“Perhaps she has worked long enough?  Perhaps she would prefer to remain at home?”

“Her children are all grown and have left home, except for me.  She is old.  What else would she do, but work in the shop?”

Jemma shook her head and began to walk briskly back down the hill.  “Let us not quarrel today, Stephano.  It is too lovely here to spoil things with cross words.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me.  I am only concerned for you.  You deserve better.  With me, you should have no cross feelings.”

Jemma said nothing.

“Listen, Jemma, Saturday is a feast day.  There will be an evening procession through the hills, with stars and torchlight.  It will be very beautiful.  Afterward, the people will gather in the square.  There will be singing and dancing and wine and food.  Everyone will be celebrating.  Will you come?”

“Yes, I plan to go with Clara and Antonio.  Cecilia will be going with her Alberto.”

“Good.  I will come too.  I am a very good dancer – all the women tell me so.  The other men will be jealous to see me dancing with the most beautiful woman there.  I am sure that you are a very fine dancer.”

Jemma laughed.  “I do love to dance.  I will dance with you, Stephano, and we will make all the women jealous, too.”  They smiled at each other and walked back to the villa.

The next few days passed agreeably for Jemma.  Stephano was her frequent companion, accompanying her on walks, driving her in the Bellini's carriage, and exploring the small neighbouring towns with her.  Jemma knew that Stephano was a flatterer and a flirt, and she did not take his attentions seriously; rather, she enjoyed his company as an amusing diversion.  And why should she not?  She had worked hard this past year and had been unhappy since leaving James behind in England.  Stephano would be returning to Florence soon.  A flirtation was just what she needed to lift her spirits.

Saturday dawned sunny and clear, and it was still mild by the time evening came.  Jemma and the Benellis joined the torch-lit procession in the lane behind their home.  The procession was led by four men bearing a statue of the local church’s patron saint on a small platform.  The rest of the group straggled after them, neighbours joking and gossiping together, and mothers calling to their children not to run too far ahead.  The moon and stars shone down from the clear night sky, casting a silvery glow on the hills. 

Jemma was enjoying herself very much, and it did not seem long before they reached the town square.  Everything was ready there:  tables, chairs, and benches filled one side of the square, with a platform and a space for dancing on the other.   The townspeople were already seated at the tables and hailed the newcomers, who hurried to find spaces for themselves.  The crowd hushed as the local priest stood, uncovered his head, and said a blessing, and then the women bustled about carrying platters of food.  The crowd feasted on roast chicken and pork, little nugget potatoes, green beans stewed with tomatoes and herbs, salad, and crusty bread.  Antonio had contributed some casks of wine, and the Benellis were complimented on the vintage.  When everyone had finished all that they could eat, the women cleared away the leftover food while the men smoked and the children chased each other around the square.  Jemma helped Clara with the chores and enjoyed the women’s good-natured banter.  Cake was brought out next, and then fruit, cheese, and nuts.  Everyone nibbled and visited together.  One of the musicians began to play his accordion and the people sang along, calling out their favourites as each tune finished.  The accordion player climbed up onto the platform and was joined by fellow musicians on violin, guitar, and flute.  People rose from their places to dance.  Jemma danced with Antonio twice and many more times with Stephano, who held her too close and swung her round and round until she was dizzy and weak from laughter.  She even shared a sedate dance with Cecilia’s Alberto, who stared silently over her shoulder the entire time. 

Night wore on into early morning.  Finally, Antonio rose to fetch the carriage and horses that he had left at a friend’s stable earlier in the day.  Jemma was tired and glad that they did not have to walk all the way home again.  Cecilia said goodnight to Alberto, and Jemma and the family started for home.

The carriage lanterns were lit, but were unnecessary in the light from the moon and stars.  The jingling harness and the steady clip-clop of the horses' hooves mingled pleasantly together.  Jemma and the family were wrapped cozily in rugs, and they sang all the way home.  Before it seemed possible, they were driving into the laneway leading up to the villa.  As they approached, they were surprised to see a horse tied to the hitching post by the front door, its saddle on the ground, and a man sitting in the shadows on the front stairs.  The man was muffled in a riding cloak and hat, and the three family dogs lay beside him.  They jumped to their feet and ran alongside the carriage, barking a welcome.  The stranger also rose and walked to the carriage as it rolled to a stop, bowing and removing his hat.

“James!” Jemma cried in astonishment, “what are you doing here?”  She leant out of the carriage and held her arms out to him.  James lifted her and spun her around before setting her down.

“Jemma, at last,” he said, embracing her.  Alberto, Clara, and Cecilia gazed at each other inquiringly while Stephano scowled. 

Releasing her, James said, “I had business to attend to in France, so I decided to take a vacation and come to see you.”  Dragging his eyes away from her face, he turned to Antonio and Clara.  “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Benelli.”  They nodded wordlessly, and he bowed.  “I arrived in Florence this afternoon and found the home belonging to your sister, sir.  They very kindly fed me and gave me directions to your villa.  When I arrived, these fine animals allowed me to wait with them.  I hope that I do not overly inconvenience you by arriving here so late, but having come so far, it would have been too disappointing not to see Mrs. Greene tonight.  I will find lodgings in a nearby town tomorrow, if you will excuse my presumption in begging a place for the night.”  He turned back to gaze at Jemma, who clung to his arm.  “It is wonderful to see you again, Jemma.”

The Benellis clambered down from the carriage and stood beside their friend.  Jemma said, “Forgive me.  In my surprise, I have quite forgotten my manners.  Mr. and Mrs. Benelli, this is my dear friend, James Wovington.  James, this is the Benelli’s daughter, Cecilia, and over there in the carriage is their nephew, Stephano Rossi.”

Antonio said, “Of course you must sleep here tonight, Mr. Wovington.  As a friend of Jemma’s, you are most welcome.  Come inside.  You must be very cold, waiting on the stairs.  Stephano, stable the horses and carriage and come back for Mr. Wovington’s horse.”  They turned and went into the house together with Stephano still scowling after them.

Chapter Twenty-Two – A Confrontation

The family stayed up long enough to press food and wine on James while quickly preparing their guest room.  Fortunately, Clara was a vigilant housekeeper and the room was always kept in readiness.  James and Jemma did not have a moment to themselves, but they were both too weary to spend the remaining night in sleepless anticipation of tomorrow’s revelations.  They slept late, as a matter of fact, so only Clara and Antonio occupied the kitchen when Stephano burst in the following morning.

“I do not like it.  I do not like it at all,” the young man stormed, dropping into a chair at the table.

Clara looked at him over her shoulder from in front of the stove.  “What is wrong with you this morning, Stephano?  What don’t you like?”

“What do we know about this James Wovington, who suddenly shows up at our door in the middle of the night, eh?  Where has he been all this time, and what right does he have to be so familiar with Jemma?”

Clara crossed to the table, plunked a bowl of porridge in front of her nephew, and pushed the milk pitcher toward him.  “What do you mean, Stephano?  Obviously, he is a close friend of hers.”

“But who is he?  Who is his family?  Has Jemma ever spoken of him to either of you?”

“Yes, she has mentioned him to me,” Clara said.  “He is a lawyer, and his father has a very good drapery business.  Both of them helped her start her business.  She speaks well of Mr. Wovington.”

“Yes, he sounds respectable, but I still want to know what is between them.”

Antonio, who had been sitting at the table peaceably smoking his pipe, said “If you ask me, Nephew, you sound jealous.”

“Jealous?  Yes, and why not?  Jemma and I are good friends.  She is beautiful, kind-hearted, and rich.  She would make a fine wife for me.”

Clara laughed.  “For you, you silly young ass?  You do not think too much of yourself, do you?  What would Jemma want marrying a young, shiftless thing like you with no money except for what your parents give you?”