Ivano was the anonymous writer and the one responsible for hanging the dead cat on the door. In the back of his mind, a voice was telling him that Mister Berilli was hiding something, perhaps a frightening truth. He was in an awkward position though, because Giuseppe’s precarious health prevented him from pressing the lawyer to speak. He shrugged then decided he needed a few hours of sleep.
Behind the blue parlor’s closed door, Matilda sobbed until her eyes swelled and her tears dried out. She had been so close to letting everything out, to telling Antonio all about Caterina and the lies she and Giuseppe had told everybody over and over for two years. The words of confession, so clear and well formed in her mind, had stopped short once more. That morning, after reading the third letter, even before Antonio arrived, she had decided to tell someone about Caterina’s reclusion. First, she had considered telling Umberto, but the fear of his reaction had made her change her mind. He had looked up to her all his life, and she couldn’t find the heart to explain to him what she and Giuseppe and done. She was an accomplice, and who knows what Umberto would do or say to her if he found out. She’d have to talk to him about her reasons, explain the circumstances of her wedding to Giuseppe and the pact of silence Giuseppe had made with the four parents. It was too much. Her own parents had judged her a whore at the time the doctor had confirmed that her hymen wasn’t there. Why would her son react otherwise? There was no one in her family she could confide in, no one who could understand her struggle, no one who would help her without judging her or condemning her behavior. She had felt relieved when Antonio had arrived. As a stranger, not a family member, he would judge her only within the law. She believed she’d find the courage to open herself to him. While she had been waiting for his return from Giuseppe’s room, however, she had almost choked at the thought of what she was going to reveal. Now that Antonio was gone, Matilda realized to her dismay that she’d never find the strength to confess, not to Antonio, not to Umberto, not to anyone—ever. She stood from the loveseat, followed the hallway to the staircase, and climbed it to Giuseppe’s bedroom. As unlikely as it sounded, her only hope to bring Caterina home was to change Giuseppe’s mind.
“Giuseppe?” she called from the threshold. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” he murmured.
“We need to talk about Caterina,” she said, approaching the bed.
Giuseppe wheezed twice, like an asthmatic. “No,” he said.
“Antonio is beginning to suspect,” Matilda said. “We should tell him everything before he finds out.”
“No!” Giuseppe hollered. “Don’t even think of saying a word to anyone about Caterina!”
“You’re sick,” Matilda insisted. “It’s time to undo the unspeakable things we’ve done to our daughter.”
“The only one who did unspeakable things is our daughter,” Giuseppe said. “She’ll stay where she is. Now let me rest. Go away.”
Matilda ignored the command. “Locking a young woman in the convent of the Sorelle Addolorate for the rest of her life serves no purpose,” she said angrily. “Do you think she’s repenting? I say she spends her time hating us. Is that what you want?”
“Go away,” Giuseppe repeated, closing his eyes.
A few days passed, during which Giuseppe remained stable but unable to leave the bed or walk. Umberto and Costanza stopped by every evening to visit him and comfort Matilda, who seemed to them more distressed than ever. They assumed it was because of Giuseppe’s illness, when instead Matilda’s distress was due to her inner fight. Guilt about her complicity in Caterina’s reclusion spread inside her like a canker, making her irritable and depriving her of sleep. Raimondo showed up at the palazzina once in a while, half-drunk and in wrinkled clothes, whereas, unfailingly, Eugenia visited Giuseppe every morning. Never during her visits did she pass up the opportunity to remind him of his lies, the letters, and his unforgivable betrayal, all along blaming Matilda for everything.
“You are a coward,” she told her brother over and over. “You do everything Matilda tells you to do. When are you going to stand up to her and remember who your real family members are?”
Giuseppe began whining the moment Eugenia entered his bedroom, turning his back to her and hiding his face in the pillows. “I can’t