Our Little Life

Chapter 4

I rang for the maid as soon as Raphael left me. I was extremely hungry now the first part of my craving had been withheld. I smiled thinking of him, knowing there would be time later. I felt heat on my face, imagining it. Jesu, how I love him.

Jesu, how I love himMaria helped me dress and pinned-up my hair. She was my height but heavily built with thick black hair scraped into a tight bun. As she had accompanied Raphael’s mother from Florence, it seemed easier to make use of her skills as a lady’s maid rather than try to find a girl myself. Though she spoke little English and I less Italian, we managed with smiles and goodwill and Raphael’s help when he was there. Perhaps my previous maid Bess’s betrayal, which had nearly cost the life of my dearest friend and Penny’s father, Sam Carter, accounted for my reluctance to find a replacement for her. The girl had stolen his sword so it could be discovered hidden in a Whitehall courtyard, providing the only evidence Sam had committed the murder for which he had ultimately been convicted. Only her eleventh-hour confession had saved him from a traitor’s death.

As I made my way down the wide staircase to the dining room, reflecting on how different I felt with this child – and, yes, I do believe there is one though I have not admitted so to Raphael – than with Penny years before. Then I had vomited so much I thought I would die from it. Now I could not stave off my hunger pangs. Did this mean I carried a boy? Please God it might be so. I wanted it for my husband.

I found his mother, Lucia, seated at the table buttering a hot roll. She looked up at me and smiled. I returned it, thinking how much of Raphael I saw in her, though she was so tiny. She stood to kiss me on both cheeks before holding me away to look at me. ‘Susannah you are una bellissima ragazza. More so each day. I say this to my Raffaello; how lucky he is. Is Meravigliosa … wonderful to see him truly happy at last.’

una bellissima ragazzaMeravigliosaI sat beside her at the table and began to load my plate while she poured coffee for us. I could not help wondering why he had not been happy in the past. He had always seemed so in the time I had known him. I smiled. But perhaps not quite so visibly as he was now. ‘Yes, it must be.’ I admit I wanted her to tell me about it without realising I did not already know. It seemed a little unkind to try and trick her like this, but I sensed this was something perhaps I needed to hear, for he still hid secrets from me.

‘After Valentina.’ She shrugged. ‘Though, it was to be expected after losing them, credo?’

credoValentina? Them? Jesu. What was she talking about? I had to find out. ‘Yes, of course.’ What could I say to make her tell me? ‘He hasn’t said much,’ I lied. ‘Perhaps if I knew more, I could help him?’ I lowered my eyes, feeling horribly guilty for misleading her so shamefully.

Valentina? Them?She tilted her head, studying me with some care. ‘Maybe you’re right, cara mia. Has he told you about Rome?’

cara miaI nodded. ‘Yes, he spent three years there.’

‘He met her there. She was married … what can I say about his behaviour? If he hasn’t told you, then I do not wish to shock you–’

‘I shall not be shocked,’ I said, quietly. I knew all about those activities. There had been many such at court since he arrived in London.

‘She came to us in Florence far gone with child.’ She took a sip of coffee.

His child? I felt dazed, which must have shown on my face. Luckily, she read it as deepening concern.

She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Her husband had put her out, you see. He knew the child couldn’t be his.’ She shook her head. ‘Allessandro believed she’d come to Raffaello because he was conveniently far away from Rome. But I knew the girl was his as soon as she was born.’ Lucia looked away. ‘Valentina had meant her for Raffaello, so a dead child was of no matter to her. She said she’d go back to her husband.’ She held my gaze. ‘Then the childbed fever took her. Capitano Gentileschi fetched her. We took care of the child.’

I thought I would vomit, my hand pressing on my belly where this child was just beginning. ‘Jesu.’ Tears spilled.

Her eyes widened. ‘Dio mio. You’re with child.’ She crossed herself. ‘God forgive me, I should never have spoken of this to you now.’

Dio mioI seized her hand. ‘You didn’t know, Lucia.’

She paled. ‘And you didn’t know of it at all, did you? Dio mi perdoni. I never dreamt he would have told you nothing.’

Dio mi perdoni.‘I wanted to know. Forgive me. I made you think I already did.’ All at once, I was angry. Very angry, indeed. ‘He should have told me. I had a right to know.’ Especially as he knew everything there was to know about me. He would have some explaining to do. I stood, patting Lucia’s shoulder. I had quite lost my appetite. ‘Forgive me, I’m a little unwell. I think I must retire to my chamber for a while.’ She looked so distressed, I bent to hug her, kissing her cheek. ‘Please don’t blame yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.’ Which was more than I could say for her son.

Giuseppe. His manservant. Assistant. Friend. What did he know of this? Surely, he could explain why Raphael had kept it hidden from me. I hastened down into the workshop, stark in light and deep shadow, sunlight blazing in through the skylight casting a dark grid beneath it. Giuseppe’s black hair gleamed just as Raphael’s did. I stood beside him while he finished mounting a large diamond between two emeralds, set into a slender gold band.

He looked up. ‘What’s happened?’

I cannot say it surprised me he could read it on my face. I glanced at the apprentices and journeymen at their benches. ‘I need to talk with you.’

He took off his leather apron and led me out into the mews behind the house. ‘Raphael?’

I laughed, if somewhat grimly, for what else could it be. ‘What do you know about Valentina Gentileschi?’

He looked genuinely surprised. ‘Why you ask this?’ He studied my face.

‘Did you know he has told me nothing? When his mother spoke of her at breakfast, it was the first time I’d ever heard her name.’

His eyes widened. ‘Merda. He hasn’t shared that with me, no.’

Merda‘Why would he do such a thing? You’ve known him most of his life? Why?’

He touched my arm. ‘Padrona, it’s him you should be asking this.’

PadronaI held my forehead. ‘Oh, believe me I shall, but you must have some idea.’ I chewed my lip. ‘Is it so shameful then, so depraved, what he did? Is he afraid for me to know of it?’

‘Santo Dio. Is no that at all. You think he could do something so bad? You know him. You really think such things of him?’

Santo DioI took a long shuddering breath. ‘Jesu, no. I do know him, Giuseppe. While I know how he used to live, I also know how he lives now. So, why hasn’t he told me about this? There was a child. I had a child.’ I shook my head. ‘I simply can’t understand.’

He squeezed my shoulder. ‘You ask him. One thing I say. He always hard on himself. Too hard. You know this, Susannah. Talk to him.’ He walked away back to the workshop.

I did not return to the house but went instead to my studio over the coach house. I would wait there until Raphael returned. Hugo was already working, cutting the metal disks and ovals from sheets of silver and gold that I would need for my enamel portraits. A task he had proved particularly adept at. He was a cheerful boy with a round, guileless face and unruly copper hair always trying to escape from whatever means he used to restrain it. Today it was a leather string.

He turned and smiled, plainly surprised to see me so early. ‘I’ve done your box for the palace, Mistress, just like you asked. Don’t you worry yourself.’

I smiled. ‘I knew you would.’

‘Who’s you painting today, Mistress?’

‘Henry Hyde, Earl of Clarendon. He is close to the Duke of York.’ I studied him for a moment. ‘I shall take you to court with me one day soon so you can make your own watercolour.’ He copied each of mine after I returned with them and had been making a fine job of it. And he had just begun learning to transfer to enamel. I should have thought to take him with me sooner, though not today, for my mind was too occupied elsewhere to make much of an instructress.

He glowed with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Mistress. I shall work hard to learn, I swear it.’

I heard the coach wheels on the cobbles, then, and stood. My husband had returned.