Heart of Glass - By Sasha Gould Page 0,77
home, the villa is in chaos. Servants rush from room to room. One carries a pile of clothes while another heaves wicker baskets of food into a waiting carriage, luggage strapped to its roof. Faustina’s voice can be heard from the bedrooms, crying orders to the servants, and Bianca bustles down the stairs, almost tripping over the gowns she carries. An open leather chest stands in the hallway, overspilling with skirts. Emilia kneels beside it, placing her silver-backed hairbrushes inside a vanity case that slots into the lid of the trunk. When she sees me, she smiles sadly.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I hoped you would be back,” Emilia tells me, climbing to her feet. “I wanted to say goodbye properly.”
“Are you going?” I ask. “Already?”
Her eyes dart to the stairs, where my brother appears, his face set. Faustina hurries behind him, carrying Lysander’s writing desk, and shakes her head at me as if to say, Don’t stir things up.
“We’re leaving now,” Lysander tells me as he walks out to the coach. “We have to.”
I leave Emilia in the hallway and follow him into the sunlight.
“So quickly? Why the rush?”
The servants are red-faced and sweating as they maneuver the heavy cases onto the coach’s roof. The horses, already in their tack, hoof the gravel drive impatiently.
Lysander hands a sheaf of papers to a manservant and for the first time looks me in the face. He places a hand on my arm and squeezes. “War is coming. Venice isn’t safe. I’m taking Emilia back to Bologna. As she’s already told you, you are welcome to come with us.”
I gently pull my arm free of his grasp. “Things will calm down,” I say, though I can hear how hopeless my words sound. “I don’t need to leave.”
Lysander shakes his head. “Things are going to get worse before they get better. A lot worse. The Doge’s power is stretched to its breaking point.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “And Roberto isn’t coming back. We can all see that.”
He frowns and his glance flickers over to the doorway. I look over my shoulder and see Emilia following Faustina to the rear of the house. Lysander takes me to one side, farther away from the coach. “It’s not just all the unrest. It’s this damned secret society. I’m worried that Emilia will be vulnerable to their influence. We haven’t been married long; I don’t want her changing for the worse.”
I groan. We’ve already argued about this once. “How can you be so close-minded?” I say.
“I’ve read the pamphlets. I know what the Segreta are capable of.”
I can’t contain the laugh that emerges. “I’ve already told you—those pamphlets are nothing more than rags circulating vicious lies. Only a fool would believe them!”
Lysander’s face hardens. A wall has risen up between us.
“Lysander,” I begin, drawing him to me. “I have enjoyed every moment of having you back, and Emilia already means so much to me. Let us not fall out during our last moments together. I cannot come with you, but I don’t want you to leave as a stranger.”
Something changes in his face, and he draws me to him in an embrace. When he releases me again, his eyes are fraught. “I worry about you, Laura. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were one of them.”
“And what if I were?” I say. “Would you do what the pamphlets ask and hand me over to be tortured?”
He swallows. “Of course not.”
I’ve taken a vow of loyalty to the Segreta, a vow I have already broken once before. This time it comes more easily. My brother’s love is too important to lose.
“Lysander, listen. Without them, I would have been married to Vincenzo. I would have been forced to bear that man’s children.” I can see the emotions fighting in his face. He looks back to the house for a moment. “During my time with the Segreta, I have seen them do nothing but good. Truly! Hundreds of people in Venice owe their lives and health to these women. They help those with no power of their own.”
“I should have guessed,” he murmurs. “Laura, the city has laws to protect people. The Grand Council—”
“The Grand Council stands on the shifting sands of politics. But the Segreta’s feet are braced on a bedrock of common decency.”
Lysander shakes his head. He looks up at me, and his eyes are fearful. “Come with us, please. I’m begging you, Laura. I don’t care about the Segreta and I don’t care