Chapter 7 - Colours

Lucrezia pulled another dress out of the closet, and carried it over to the mirror.

"I think this shade flatters me a lot more." She held it up to her face, and leaned forward to take a closer look. "Giulia Farnese says you have to look for colours that make your whole complexion stand out - not just bright ones, or ones that you like. This one is very pale - but I think it's perfect!"

Francesca looked at her mistress, and nodded approvingly. "I think so too, my Lady," she said. "Though I also think you would look beautiful in anything!"

Lucrezia felt herself blush at the compliment. "It's decided, then!" She took her three dark-blue dresses off the back of the chair and put them on top of the pile on the bed, but was suddenly unsure. "But isn't it too thin? What if it gets cold later in the night, and my Lord wants to sit with me for a while?"

"Not to worry, my Lady." Francesca took a shawl off the shelf in the wardrobe. "I will put this in a safe place while you're eating dinner, and if you stay up later than usual, I'll give it right to you. It doesn't have to be a white one, of course…", she hastily added.

"No, no, this one is perfect! Thank you so much." Lucrezia looked down at her stomach. "I just don't want the baby to be cold."

By the time Francesca finished arranging Lucrezia's hair, the winter sun was low in the sky, and its fading rays painted the walls a pleasant, vivid pink.

"That's perfect! That's exactly what I had in mind. Have you - have you ever seen the painting The Birth of Venus?" Francesca shook her head no. "Well, in the middle, Venus is coming out of her shell with white ribbons in her hair, but I think we've made it even better!" Lucrezia picked up her hand mirror to examine the back of her head, and imagined how her braids would look by the light of the evening fire - or in the light of the moon. She sat down again, letting Francesca rub blush into her cheekbones.

"What do you think my Lord is going to say?", she asked quietly.

"I don't know, my Lady," her maidservant whispered. "What do you want him to say?"

"I hope he kisses me on the cheeks three times, to show he forgives me. And then… and then I hope he embraces me."

"I think that's a gesture for pardoning his men, my Lady."

"Are there no gestures for pardoning a wife?"

"Perhaps there are," Francesca giggled, "but they might be harmful in your condition."

Lucrezia looked out at the side of the castle from which her husband would soon emerge. "A kiss would suffice me."

"My Lady, has he never… forgive me, with you… has he ever…"

The doors creaked open, and there he was! Lucrezia was finally alone with her new husband. She jumped off the bed, smoothed down her nightgown, - slightly pulled off her shoulders, just like Giulia Farnese had suggested - and gave him her most welcoming smile.

Lord Sforza pushed the doors shut, leaned his back against them, and looked at her.

Lucrezia smiled at him again, feeling foolish now, standing motionless like this, but he didn't react. She began to approach him, but then he started to move too, and she froze.

"You wanted words," he said at last, walking past the hearth and towards her. "I have words."

Even next to the heat of the fire, the cold air of the mountain night weighed heavy on Lucrezia's shoulders. Her lips were trembling, and she could feel her skin twitch under lord Sforza's glare.

"Words for what, my Lord?"

Was she not to his liking?

"For that Borgia wedding."

He took a lock of her hair, just like she imagined he would - but not to admire it, not to compare it to threads of gold or waves of wheat. His eyes bore into hers.

"A farce," he continued, condescendingly, as if he did not expect her not to know the word, or to answer him - only to absorb his anger, "a travesty. A scandal."

Lucrezia was so afraid now that he would pull on her hair that she could not keep herself from looking down. But then his fingers moved to the laces of her nightgown and began untying them.

"A public humiliation," her husband spat out, and she almost recoiled from him.

Had she said something wrong at the wedding? Had he overheard her joking about him with Cesare? She wasn't trying to insult lord Sforza, - or his limited vocabulary - only to flirt with him. Was it so wrong to flirt with her husband, even if it was the first time she saw him?

He took his hand away from the laces, and she could breathe again. But then he clenched his fist around the neckline of her nightgown, and his hot touch grazed her bare skin, and then there was the sound of cloth ripping, and the cold air on her chest, and Lucrezia realised that she was naked - naked! - naked, in front of lord Sforza!

Lucrezia yelped in fear, and backed away from her husband, trying to cover herself with the hem of her nightgown. She hitched it up high - too high, and so she bent down in her desperation, and curled into a ball on the floor next to the bed, as her husband threw off his clothes.

Had she brought this on herself? What had she done to deserve this happening to her? She was only doing as she was told - marrying him because her father needed her to, talking to him, smiling, making sure he could see her collarbone and her cleavage, but not any lower - had she caused this?

She could run - he took off his belt - she could call for help - but how could she? How could she spoil the marriage after it had barely begun, how could she let her father down? And where was she to run to, when she did not know the castle or the mountains around it? What if she got lost, and called out in the dark, and no one came?

The only choice she was free to make now was whether to shield her eyes with her knees, to look at him and show him her fear, or to hope and pray that he would realise how frightened she was - and that he would care. She wasn't supposed to refuse him, but was she allowed to say, "have mercy, my husband!"? "Have pity!"?

Lucrezia shook her head.

"I think he was about to." How much would be saying too much? "But then… he just left. As if he was suddenly… repelled by me. Like he saw something was wrong with me."

"Well, now, that's not possible, is it?" Francesca wrapped her hands around Lucrezia's shoulders, and smiled at her in the mirror. "That couldn't have happened! There's nothing wrong with you, my Lady - look at you! You're beautiful!"

The comment made Lucrezia feel better than she was prepared to admit.

"Maybe he just… changed his mind?"

"Changed his mind because I'm disgusting," Lucrezia countered, secretly hoping this would bring forth another compliment.

"Changed his mind because… maybe because he saw you weren't ready yet. At least," Francesca nudged Lucrezia playfully, "not ready to do it with him."

Would he care about that enough to stop?

"The most important thing is - are you ready now?"

Lucrezia poked Francesca in the side. "That's one too many complicated questions for today!"

It was almost time to go. But she needed to do one more thing.

"Oh, Francesca, you've just reminded me about something. I think I forgot my book in the library downstairs - Bocaccio's Decameron… Would you mind getting it for me?"

Once the maidservant was out of the room, Lucrezia carefully shut the door and kicked off her slippers, letting her toes sink into the rug. Pulling her feet up, she settled down on the bed, breathed a sigh of relief, and gently rubbed her lower back.

"Hello, little one. I know you're still sleeping, but I had to tell you I can't talk to you today at our usual time. Lord Sforza wants me to eat dinner with him tonight - and I can't refuse such an invitation! I'll make sure to eat lots of delicious food to make it up to you. I hope there will be shrimp - I love shrimp. Not as much as I love you, of course! I love you a lot more."

Lucrezia leaned back on the pillows and let her hand rest on her rounded stomach.

"I love you, little one," she whispered. "I love you."