Katharine, The Virgin Widow - Plaidy Jean (книга регистрации .txt) 📗
Until the Infanta was married, none of her maids of honor would be.
And thus, thought Francesca, the years will pass until we are all dry old spinsters whom no one would take in marriage even if we had big dowries.
Francesca was never one to wait for opportunity; she went out to seek it.
She had met Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida and recognized in him a nobleman such as Puebla could never be. Being suspicious of Puebla and believing that he worked for the King of England rather than for Ferdinand, she wished that he should be recalled to Spain; it seemed that he never would be, because Ferdinand for some strange reason trusted him. And in any case the old fellow was now so infirm that he would be of no use in Spain. It was characteristic of Ferdinand that he should not recall him. It was so much easier to keep the ailing old man in England, pay him no wages and let him work for Spain.
Francesca pinned her hopes on Fuensalida.
She decided therefore that she would see him in private. This was not an easy thing to do at Court because when he came he was not alone; and in any case what chance had a maid of honor of a private interview without calling a great deal of attention to herself to obtain it?
There was plenty of freedom now in Katharine’s entourage, so Francesca had planned that she would slip away one afternoon and call on the ambassador at his lodgings, which she knew to be in the house of the banker, Francesco Grimaldi.
She wrapped herself in a cloak, the hood of which did much to conceal her face, and set out. When she reached the banker’s house she was taken into a small room and the servant who had brought her in went away to discover whether the Spanish ambassador was in his apartment.
While Francesca waited she examined the rich hangings and the fine furniture in this small room. She had been struck by the grandeur of the house as soon as she entered it. Perhaps this appreciation was the more forceful because she thought of the poverty in which she and the Infanta’s maids of honor had lived for the last few years.
Banking must be a profitable business, she reflected; and it was brought home to her that people such as bankers must live in more affluent circumstances than many a Prince or Princess.
The door was opened and a rather plump man stood in the doorway. Francesca noticed at once that his jacket was made of rich velvet and that his stomacher was most elegantly embroidered. His hanging sleeves were somewhat exaggeratedly long and there were jewels at his throat and on his fingers. He gave an impression of elegance and wealth and his corpulence and air of general well-being indicated a man who lived most comfortably. His eyes were warm brown and very friendly.
When he bowed low over Francesca’s hand on which his lips lingered slightly longer than Court etiquette would have considered necessary, she discovered that she was not displeased.
“I am happy to see you in my house,” he said. “But alas, Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida is not here at this time. If there is anything I could do to help you, depend upon it I should be greatly honored.”
“That is very kind of you,” Francesca replied, and she told him who she was.
“This is a happy day for my house,” answered the banker, “when one of the Infanta’s ladies call. And that she should surely be the most beautiful adds to my pleasure.”
“You are very gracious. Will you be so kind as to tell Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida that I called? I should have told him I was coming.”
“Pray do not leave so soon. I cannot say when he will return, but it is possible that he may do so within the hour. If in my humble way I could entertain you during that time, I should be most happy.”
Francesca said: “Perhaps I could linger for a little while.” And she was gratified to see the look of bemused pleasure in the face of the banker.
“Allow me to offer you refreshment,” he said.
Francesca hesitated. This was most unconventional, but she was known to be the most adventurous of the Infanta’s maids of honor and she thought how she would enliven them all when she returned by telling them of her adventures at the home of the Genoese banker; so she succumbed to temptation and sat down; whereupon Grimaldi summoned a servant and gave his orders.
Half an hour later Francesca was still in the banker’s company; she was amusing him with stories of Court life, and he was amusing her equally with stories of his own world. When she expressed her admiration for his beautiful furniture he insisted on showing her some of his more elaborate pieces, which resulted in a tour of this very fine house of which he was clearly—and justly—proud.
Fuensalida had not returned when Francesca decided that she really must leave; Grimaldi wished to escort her back, but she refused to allow this.
“We should be seen,” she said. “And I should doubtless be severely reprimanded.”
“What a mischievous young lady you are!” murmured the banker rapturously.
“One must bestir oneself in some ways,” retorted Francesca. “I do admit the others are somewhat prim.”
“I shall never cease to bless the day you came to see Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida, and I feel grateful to him for not returning, thus allowing me to enjoy your company and have it all to myself.”
“Are bankers always so gallant?” asked Francesca almost archly.
“Even bankers cannot fail to be in the presence of such overwhelming beauty,” he told her.
It was all very pleasant and Francesca had enjoyed the encounter; and when he said goodbye his lips lingered even longer on her hand. We are so unused to such attentions, she told herself; and even when they do not come from the nobility they are not without their attractions.
“If you should ever desire to do me this honor again,” he said earnestly, “I should rejoice in my good fortune.”
She did not answer, but her smile was provocative.
She hurried back to the palace, telling herself how she would enjoy explaining her little adventure to the others; she imagined herself imitating the banker’s voice as he paid her the most extravagant compliments. How they would laugh! And who among them had ever had such an adventure?
Then suddenly she decided she would say nothing. What if she were forbidden to visit the banker’s house again? Not that she intended to go again: but suppose she wanted to, it would be most irritating to be forbidden to do so.
No, for the present her encounter with Francesco Grimaldi should remain her secret.
* * *
WHEN KATHARINE HEARD that Fuensalida had quarrelled with the Council she was disturbed and commanded Puebla to come to her at once.
The old man sent for his litter and, as he was carried from his lodging to the palace, he reflected that he would not make many more such journeys, for he was well aware that the end was in sight for him. It was sad that he had worked so hard and unfailingly to bring about this marriage without success, and now that Ferdinand had sent his new ambassador the position had rapidly worsened.
He did not expect to be appreciated. When had he ever been appreciated? He was a Jew by birth, and he had become a Christian. Such as he must become accustomed to injustice. He should think himself lucky that he was not in Spain, where he might so easily commit some mild indiscretion and be taken before the tribunal of the Inquisition and charged with heresy.
At least, he thought, I shall die in my bed; and the reward for my services will be merely neglect and general ingratitude.
As he dragged himself painfully into the Infanta’s apartment Katharine felt an immediate pity for him.
“Why, you are ill!” she said.
“I grow old, Highness,” he murmured.
She called for a chair that he might sit in her presence, and for this he was grateful.
She came straight to the point. “I had hoped,” she said, “that my dowry was to be paid and that I should be able to claim the fulfilment of my marriage treaty. It seems this is not to be so. When I came here it was understood that my plate and jewels were to form part of my dowry, and now Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida informs me that the King will not accept this.”
