Italian Sonata: a Gothic Mystery (Noire Book 2) by de Maupassant Emmanuelle

Author:de Maupassant, Emmanuelle
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The night is made from stars, as much as from the darkness. They look down from above, their eyes glittering, watching as Maud watches, and someone else too. There is another pair of eyes, unseen. The eyes of one who will report to his master.

Warnings

It’s early when Cecile knocks on Agatha’s door, but that lady has been long awake. She finds her sitting at her dressing table, brushing out her soft, silver hair.

‘Does Isabella still dye hers that improbable shade of blue?’ asks Agatha, plaiting the length, before coiling it in place.

‘Lilac,’ answers Cecile, with a small smile. ‘It suits her, I think.’

‘Of course, my dear.’

Agatha pinches her cheek. ‘What a kind girl you are. Now, come and sit with me, and tell me what’s bothering you.’

What a relief it is for Cecile to be guided to the sofa, to sink into its soft cushions. Agatha strokes the faded green brocade.

‘I remember sitting on this seat, years ago, when Isabella was newly married and I came from London, to visit. We met during our year of coming out, and I’d danced and chatted with Robert, her older brother, at various balls and other events that season. However, it was at Isabella’s wedding that we fell in love. How could we not, in such a place, under the Mediterranean sun?’

Cecile smiles. It’s the sort of romance she’s always dreamt of for herself.

‘We can have anything our heart desires. The tricky thing is determining what that is exactly. Are you having trouble deciding, Cecile?’

She does not trust herself to speak, but Agatha seems to sense, at least in part, the anxieties of love.

‘I knew Lorenzo’s father well. What poor Isabella endured! He was a reprobate and a gambler, and a seducer of women. Look at our young Lucrezia, born of his affair with that Milanese singer.’

Agatha gives a sniff of disapproval.

‘Talented she may have been, but no good sense at all, abandoning her baby and throwing herself from the roof of the opera house! It’s the stuff of those Penny Dreadfuls!’

Cecile wonders, faced with the same situation, how she would behave. The thought of such a thing brings a flux of bile to her throat.

‘The old Conte paid to house Lucrezia in a place for… unwanted children, and she was conveniently kept away from polite society,’ continues Agatha.

Cecile shifts in her seat, uncomfortable in discussing the details of Lucrezia’s upbringing. Though, she knows that her new friend would care not a jot. It’s one of the things Cecile most admires about Lucrezia: that she rises above the commonplace need for approbation.

‘I must warn you,’ Agatha adds, ‘Lorenzo has followed the same path of riotousness as his father before him. He’s charming, of course, when he chooses to be. Enough women have fallen at his feet. Some even fool themselves into thinking him besotted.’

Cecile picks at the embroidery on a cushion.

‘Still, we must give credit where it’s due,’ concedes Agatha. ‘Lorenzo took up Lucrezia’s guardianship on his father’s death, and has kept her close ever since.

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