Chapter Three
Tuesday Afternoon
Piazalle degli Uffizi, Firenze
While William was clearly content to observe the proto-Renaissance, heavily religious works of the 13th and 14th centuries, Julia was more anxious to get to the more humanistic, classically inspired, and relatively modern masterpieces of Botticelli in another part of the museum. She was therefore content to observe the paintings in a more targeted manner, viewing the remarkable works of Giotto as an iconoclastic effort in establishing an approach to painting that observed a more three dimensional, realistic appearance to his art as opposed to the two- dimensional representation favored by Medieval artists.
Once she entered the part of the museum that focused on the 15th and 16th centuries, she found herself sighing in relief, moving through rooms of the museum that represented the true meaning of the word Renaissance: rebirth or reawakening. Here, most of the art was truly refreshing, a welcoming respite from the relentless religiousness of the medieval period. Though they lived hundreds of years before her, the subjects here were relatable to her, portraits of prominent and prosperous citizens as well as Renaissance interpretations of classical themes- unlike the art in the previous rooms.
As Julia gazed upon the portraits of nobles and wealthy businessmen from that era, she couldn't help but envy what a remarkable and exciting time they had lived in, before remembering that William would tell her that the twentieth century was just as remarkable and exciting. She turned around to say as much to him, but found he was deep in discussion with one of the curators. She decided this freed her to explore on her own which utterly delighted her. Catalogue in hand, she sought out Flora by way of the sculpture hall with its fine marbles of male figures.
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A while later, William found Julia enraptured by Botticelli's La Primavera, her brow furrowed and a slight scowl on her face while her eyes twinkled.
"If I didn't know better, it would seem you are conflicted about this painting," William joked.
"Yes, well, it's certainly a delightful work, but it is perplexing at the same time," Julia answered, looking at him with a slight smile.
"How so?" he wondered. His knowledge of Roman mythology was quite passable, but he was curious as to what had his wife so conflicted.
"Well, look at Zephyrus, chasing down Chloris and forcing himself upon her. Yes, she does become Flora, the Roman goddess of Spring, but is this what she wanted? Why wasn't she able to choose? Why was greatness bestowed upon her? Why couldn't she achieve it herself?" she gesticulated towards the painting. "It is a splendid piece, though," she added, laughing at William's own raised eyebrow.
"It is quite beautiful and intriguing, I must admit," he agreed. "What are your thoughts on this painting," gesturing towards The Birth of Venus, "Venus is the focal point, even if she is, well…"
"Even if she is completely nude?" she finished.
"Well, she was just born, Julia. Really, as a physician I would have thought you would know that," William jibed.
"I am aware, William. However, most of us aren't born fully developed adults either," she retorted, rolling her eyes with a chuckle. "Still, Botticelli does seem to have appreciated women in a multitude of ways."
"Yes, it seems that that he was a devotee of the female form as women were the central subjects in his work and not only are they the primary focus, they are the most intriguing aspect as well," he added. "Then there is Titian's Venus of Urbino."
"Yes, unlike many of the other paintings," she muttered, as they walked into the next room that featured more works of da Vinci that William had not yet seen.
"I thought you were quite a fan of art, Julia. What seems to be bothering you?" he questioned, as he led her to a bench in front of da Vinci's Annunciation.
"At least Titian or Botticelli paint women other than the Virgin Mary...for one of the greatest museums in the world, it seems that the accomplishments of only one particular woman are noteworthy," she grumbled, gesturing around.
William smiled, remembering similar complaints about the lack of feminine variation voiced by some of his schoolmates at St. Ignatius, most of whom had never seen a portrait of a woman other than Mary, and even that having been primarily in their hometown churches. The lads at boarding school were mostly too poor to have had any exposure to art, which is why the teachers used what was available to intrigue their young minds. "Julia," he answered. "You made the same comment about the stained glass in Church on Sunday." He supposed the schoolboys' complaints differed from hers. "You are aware that when much of this art was created, the average person could neither read nor write. Visual representations were how important Bible stories were told."
He gestured at the Annunciation. "Subject matter aside, this is Leonardo da Vinci's journeyman effort when he was barely twenty, working out of Verrocchio's studio. Look at the light strokes in the angel, the use of perspective bisecting the painting which forces the figures into the foreground." He saw Julia was not mollified. "The painting even has Mary reading, certainly a message about educating woman."
"Oh, William...you sound exactly like my old art history lecturer, who was barely five feet tall including her tight grey bun, so I think you are just reciting what you remember from a dry secondary school class," Julia guessed with a dash of petulance. When William blushed she was satisfied her guess had hit close to home. "Apparently the only woman of note according to these great men was Mary Mother of God and only for her ability to bear a child."
Julia felt herself lapsing into a sour mood, remembering. The unsettling subject matter so clearly favored by early Renaissance artists and patrons had proved to be too much.
William's understanding jarred him. He took her hand and patted it, the both of them staring at the Annunciation in silence. "Julia...I...imagine... that rather numerous depictions of mother and child are ...difficult…" he began. He'd felt a certain longing himself at all the Madonna and Child portraits.
Julia's grip clenched; the pain of what she herself had endured was just too fresh. "Either the happy Mary and her newborn son or his dead body in her sorrowful arms. I found the crucifixion and martyr scenes did little to uplift my mood." She surprised herself with her bitter tone.
"I am sorry," he said simply. William sat quietly beside her, trying to figure out how to comfort her. He was about to offer another defense of the art, or the Church, then caught himself. Before he could compose anything in his head that would be consoling, Julia launched herself off the bench and over to another painting, planting herself squarely in front of it.
William's floundering is not helping and I refuse to feel sorry for myself. She took a breath to steady her nerves, pointing to a canvas full of colour and movement. "This one however…"
"Judith Slaying Holofernes?" William named the painting with its baroque dark background and highlighted foreground.
Julia examined the two women holding their victim down while avoiding arterial spray as they sliced his head off with a blade. "I do admire a woman of action, however Biblical women other than Mary are a rather blood thirsty lot."
"There are three of the same story in this museum," he narrated automatically. "Julia, are you all…?"
"Tell me William, which did you prefer?" Julia was not prepared to talk about her feelings, not quite yet. "The Teutonic-looking Judith by Jacopo Palma the Elder, or Ruben's lady with her breast revealed, hmmm?" Her husband, she noted, had been remarkably blasé about the quantity of female flesh on the walls and lining the halls of the Uffizi; she thought he had in fact been more uncomfortable with the male nudes. She was hoping to distract him from asking how she was.
William understood he was being led away from pressing her, so he went along. "As to which Judith? I prefer this one by Artemisia Gentileschi; a woman painter presenting a female heroine. One is drawn to the areas of intense red, blue and ocher fabric anchoring the violence of the arms and sword."
He heard himself lecturing again and sighed, needing to draw her out more. For a moment William had an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach, somehow relating these avenging women to Julia's past with Harlan Orgill and Eva Pearce. He stopped himself from delving any further, choosing his own distraction instead. "What did you find most interesting? I lost sight of you."
Julia moved a few feet down, away from Judith, changing the subject, which confirmed William's instinct.
She asked: "You appeared to be sidetracked by one of the curators so I moved on. What intrigued you so?"
"I was discussing how to use new technology to examine the art, painting and sculptures in a way that does not harm them. What do you think about the idea of using Röntgen's x-rays? You remember how we did that with a counterfeit dinosaur bone and with that fake Madonna statue? He and I speculated about the application to art conservation, differentiating original from copies, or counterfeits for instance; some painters use lead-based paint and some did not. …"
"William!" she laughed, her odd mood temporarily forgotten. "Only you could get distracted by science in an entire building filled with art!"
He gave a rueful chuckle. "I suppose you are correct. We should get going, as it is nearly four o'clock and time for closing. Walk with me, and tell me what works drew a reaction from you, or which you most appreciated."
Julia took his arm as they retraced their steps to the entrance, deciding what she wanted to share with him. Grinning, she turned to him. "Actually, I rather enjoyed some of the male nudes. What spectacular specimens, even if they were 'young' men. In fact, it made me wonder what you may have looked like in the nude as a youth." She ran her eyes over his figure speculatively.
Laughing at her cheekiness, he shook his head, refusing to rise to the gambit this time. "I'll have you know that I was a chaste young man, and I have not posed for any artists-although I was approached, I'll have you know," he replied with a grin of his own, relieved Julia seemed more relaxed.
"Do tell! When were you approached? As a youth?" She asked, wondering if this was ancient history or more recent. "Or, were you asked during your most investigation with the artist's community in Toronto?"
William coughed delicately. "A gentleman does not reveal such things…" He saw her gaze sharpen, and back peddled a bit from teasing her. "Let us just say there will never be a portrait of your husband you have not personally painted." He sent a challenge about posing for her.
"Does this mean that you'll allow me to paint you in in the nude?" She asked, enjoying the blush creeping up his cheeks. "You offered, William. You can't tell me no, now," she reminded him.
His heart opened a bit with the banter between them and almost impulsively said "yes". He took her hand, laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles. "Perhaps I prefer a more modern, abstract style. Like the landscape I had in my office at one point."
"Aha! So you admit that it was no 'landscape' of the Canadian Shield! I knew it!" Laughing, she leaned against the stone building, subconsciously inviting him in for a kiss.
He laughed with her and kissed her lightly.. "It was slightly embarrassing at the time, Julia. Sally Pendrick, or perhaps I should say Sally Hubbard was trying to distract my investigation…"
"You mean she was trying to seduce you, William," she murmured, pulling on his tie to bring him closer. He complied, pressing her against the rough stone, this time kissing her more passionately.
"You're going to get us arrested, Mrs. Murdoch. Perhaps we table this discussion for later?"
Once on the lungarno, they decided to stroll arm in arm to the Ponte Vecchio while the sun was waning, chatting about the museum and William's x-ray idea, which Julia though was very clever, and his out-of-hand comment about being propositioned as an artist's model...which, now that her sour mood had dissipated, Julia thought was hilarious (and provided a great opportunity to tease him mercilessly.)
The mood between them was light, until a large family with several children raced on ahead of them to other side of the bridge across the Arno. William could feel the tension returning in her stride, so he slowed, bringing her to some shelter against a shop in the the medieval buildings which lined the bridge deck.
He found a place for them to rest out of the evening chill in a dark and cozy corner offering a modicum of privacy. Still holding her hand, he watched the last of the children skip away, followed by the parents and lastly by a tiny black-clad woman he took to be the grandmother.
He felt the loss as he spoke gently. "That family does not look like any of the paintings we saw today."
"No William, they don't. But they're beautiful in their own special, realistic way. I suppose according to standard of that family and the artwork I saw today, I am a failure as a woman. I must admit that I am feeling at such a loss, but I refuse to feel like a failure anymore…" Julia truthfully commented, stopping to look at William and gauge his reaction to her words.
William shook his head. Here he was with Julia, in Florence, Italy of all places, to put their marriage back in order. We're here to overcome our issues, are we not? he reminded himself.
William wrestled with telling her about the painting before deciding to tell her the truth, even though the thought of adoption was still tender. William knew they could only truly move on if they were fully honest. "You asked me what artworks caught my eye, made the largest impression on me inside the Uffizi? I gravitated to the Doni Tondo, Michaelangelo's image of Joseph." He took her hand again. "Julia, I am no saint, but long ago I made peace with not having my own physical children; I knew you could not have any, years before we wed. I chose you over children and I have not nor will I ever change my mind."
Julia turned to him. "I cannot try again… I even told Miss Clark that. I can't go through that again, William. The physical pain was great, but it was nothing compared my grief or to the disappointment it caused you. I cannot nor do I want to put you through that again," she admitted, feeling an odd mix of the relief as she unburdened herself, along with renewed mourning over not only the loss of Mary, but of having to accept that being a mother was a door that was closed to her, that fatherhood was a door that was closed to William.
William held her closer. Hearing her agony brought it all back to him as well. "And I never want to go through the fear of losing you, nor the pain of losing another child by miscarriage. I believe we can agree on that."
He had told her this before, but he had the sudden insight about her words….How can she make her primary worry about disappointing me?
"Julia," he assured her, "in this matter you have not and cannot disappoint me. We both feel the loss of our child; that loss is what disappoints me, but not you. When I hear you say that, I have the feeling that you are speaking about more than having a child." It was a statement, more than a question to her. "I am no psychiatrist but...perhaps this is more about your relationship with disapproving men in your past, such as your father. You did not fulfill his expectations, and that lead to painful estrangement between the two of you. Is that not so?"
Julia stopped cold and looked at William, her mouth agape. She wasn't sure what to say.
He continued: "My observation over the years was that you were hurt because he rejected you. My behaviours opened an old and ugly wound…" William felt a tremor inside at saying this, yet he believed strongly his instinct was correct. He'd spent years understanding the motives underlying what men and women do.
Julia winced and looked down at the old cobblestone street beneath her feet. She was speechless, and her mouth moved yet no words came out. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at William and shook her head. Am I that transparent?
"I suppose that both of us have issues with our fathers, don't we?" she answered. "We've shared a lot about one another, but not very much about our families. I've known that a lot of my behaviour stems from my relationship with my father. You've shocked me with your insight, William. I just didn't know that it was that obvious to, um… others, although I shouldn't be surprised; even without formal training, your keen insight is superior to many professional psychiatrists; sometimes even my own," she quietly admitted in a small voice.
Listening to her disclosure, William thought it was remarkable. "This is why I am so very sorry for how I reacted, so very sorry for having hurt you, for having said words which are unforgivable. In the moment I was blinded by my feelings, blindsided by what was happening... but I knew I had behaved terribly and that you were justified in having me leave."
"But you didn't leave me, at least not fully. I know that now. I said if that's how you felt, and you left, so I assumed that it was so. I was hurt and not thinking rationally either. But, you're right. My entire life I've been fighting men in some capacity and perpetually disappointing my father. I was and am heartbroken about Mary's loss, but I am also so sorry at the pain it has caused you. Yet again, I hurt the man I love more than anyone...a nasty habit of mine, it seems," she confessed.
William felt tears well. The sun having set long ago now, he sought her face in the gloom hoping she could feel his sincerity,,. "Julia, my unwelcome habit is taking a very long time to digest things, to speak my mind. I will never leave you, I am incapable."
I have always come back to you, he said to himself and he knew in his heart it would always be so. William went on in a rush. "I made my vows to you, Julia, as God blessed our union. I will not break them. I hope you can come to trust me, that I can earn that trust back…"
Julia interpreted that he was alluding to the lack of physical union between them, that he still thought he needed to earn her trust before she shared her body again with him, when that wasn't the case at all. William was a remarkable man, but a man nonetheless, and not for the first time, she wondered how long he'd be willing to remain abstinent, given that he had to know that she was avoiding his affections at this point. She really needed to discuss it with him, but it never seemed to be a good time.
So much for not keeping secrets from one another, she scolded herself.
Knowing that she couldn't talk about that topic in public, she opted to again change the subject.
Taking a breath Julia decided to bring up something else which was still painful. "William, there is a hole in my heart left by both Roland and Mary. No child can ever replace another," Julia almost stopped herself, and then carried on before she could lose the courage she had mustered.
" …I'm fully prepared to pursue adoption upon our return, but I have my reservations about getting too excited about it. You have saddled yourself with a notorious woman, Detective," she jibed, seeking to lighten the mood once again as well as soften the cold truth. Putting her arm through his, and huddling against him for warmth, they resumed their stroll across the bridge towards their hotel.
As for William, his mind was elated. It felt to him as if some of the burden he'd been carrying was shifted. He felt lighter. However, Julia was wrong about one thing he needed to correct immediately.
"Julia," he said carefully, "I am sorry again, but it is not your fault alone we are having troubles with adoption. My past is an impediment to adoption as much as or even more than yours is, and my profession is not viewed positively by the vast majority of society. So it is not at your feet if we cannot adopt if it comes to that. If that is what results, then so be it; I will never blame you." He nearly said he'd accept it as God's will, but knew that might stir her up uncomfortably.
Julia felt lightened. "Perhaps we should go back to our room and discuss from where we might like to adopt. Given our pasts, perhaps we should explore options outside Ontario and perhaps even the country," she felt inspired by the suggestion. "Then we should get some rest. Our journey to Rome tomorrow will be long," she reminded.
"And we can turn over those ideas to pass the time while we are on the train tomorrow. Shall we go for an older child or a pair of older siblings perhaps? Or a child that needs medical care?" William's excitement was building. The heartache inside was slowly, slowly easing. Roland and Mary would always have a special place in their hearts, but perhaps there was more room for another child to love.
"I love you, William Murdoch," Julia blurted out, surprised at her outburst. She stopped and placed her arms around him, reveling in his embrace. She was content to remain there until she remembered that he might want to finish what she had started earlier.
"I love you too, Mrs. Murdoch…" he told her, safe in the knowledge that their paths were moving forward together.
As for Julia, while they walked arm and arm through the ancient streets on stones set centuries ago during the Roman Empire, she reflected on William's remarkable admissions. He had given her all the reassurance and understanding she hoped for, and perhaps more than she knew she ever needed to heal the hurt his behaviours had caused. He offered no recriminations, nothing but love.
Instead of a tear of joy, she felt her eyes weep in fear:
She loved him and wanted to spend her life with him, but would that be enough for him?
How will he feel about a sexless marriage? He certainly won't be happy about it, but can he forgive me and accept it?
She knew he would never leave her, but there was no denying that he had his appetites...What will I do when he finally seeks another? She couldn't bear the thought of another woman touching him, but neither could it be her ever again. To resume her role as his lover as she had been before was just not possible - not without risking a pregnancy that would end in tragedy, and she was very scared how he would react to that bit of information. The seesaw of emotions she had experienced of late was back again.
Perhaps what he doesn't know won't hurt him…
