Chapter 9 - Dinner

The table was set, the candles were lit, but lord Sforza was still not seated. This was out of the ordinary - although, in fairness, nothing was ordinary about tonight.

Francesca's master never really used to take his dinner at home - let alone take it with his wife - let alone invite his wife to take it with him! And when he did opt to eat in lady Sforza's company, glaring at her resentfully in the silence, it was clear that even his young wife wished he were absent.

What else could happen tonight?


When lady Sforza finally entered, lord Sforza's face transformed. He looked at her in wonder as she walked in, in astonishment, with a tenderness and reverence that Francesca had never seen him display before.

"My Lady Sforza," he said at last, warmly and gently. He finally blinked, and reached out to kiss his wife's hand, "what a pleasure to see you. Thank you for accepting my invitation."

Lady Sforza's eyes shone brightly at him, like two new-born stars in the growing darkness. "The pleasure is all mine, my husband."

Francesca's young mistress had many secrets – and some of them lay in plain view, like this one, right there in the open for lord Sforza to notice, if he dared.

"Petro, could you please bring my food here? I want to sit next to my husband." Seeing lord Sforza's bewildered stare, she continued, her lips curving in a shy smile, "and I would eat alone with him tonight."

She was doing it! She was really doing it!

The servants, seeing their lord's astonishment at lady Sforza's boldness, hesitated to obey. So, Francesca moved to the place the young girl was about to occupy, draped the shawl over the back of the chair, and began to walk out of the room. She turned around as she crossed the threshold, as the rest of the household followed her lead, and was rewarded with her young mistress' grateful smile.


"The meat is not to your liking, my husband?"

"It's -" Lord Sforza stopped himself, finished chewing, and took up again, "It's perfectly adequate, my Lady. It's just - "

"Oh, my Lord, why didn't you say so before? Let me cut it for you." Knife and fork across the plate. "No, no - I'd like to do it, my Lord, it's no trouble."

Francesca edged to the left once again, but was still without hope of catching a glimpse of either of them.

"If your arm is still troubling you, we ought to ask the doctor to take another look at it."

"It's just a little stiff, my Lady. It will get better once the cold months are over, I'm sure."

But Lady Sforza did not relent. "I'll speak to the apothecary again, then. I'm sure he could give you something to ease the discomfort."

Her mistress loved nothing more than to look after the people she loved, and to care for them, to alleviate their pain. When would lord Sforza finally learn to accept it? When would he stop pushing his wife away?

"Thank you, my Lady. Thank you." Another gulp, and the goblet was back on the table. "And speaking of thanking you… I have been meaning to ask…" Lord Sforza's chair creaked, and he took a deep breath. "What do you want in reward for your recent kindness towards me?"

Silence.

"What does my Lord mean?"

"Well, you helped me. You rescued me from the forest."

Lady Sforza's cutlery clinked flat against her plate.

"Yes, my Lord." Francesca could hear a smile in her mistress' voice as lady Sforza absorbed the insult, but it was a bitter one. "It is a wife's duty to help her husband."

"Well, yes, yes… but you did rather more than that. You… helped me. Even though you were unwell… and you were – you are - with child…"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Well, what is it that you want? In exchange for helping me."

How could he insult lady Sforza like this? Treat her kindness like a transaction? Why couldn't he just accept his young wife's love and care for him? They could, perhaps, be happy, if he only decided to forget about it all and let her in.

"Oh, my Lord, I would never imagine asking for anything in exchange for something like that. I can't even contemplate such a thing." Lady Sforza remained perfectly polite, but her voice was full of hurt.

What Lady Sforza wanted was obvious to Francesca – but was that just because her mistress shared everything with her? Was she the only one who could see the younger woman's longing, or could lord Sforza see it too?

"Of course you can't. I have no doubt." Restrained but clearly disappointed. "And yet…" Another deep breath. "Well, I owe you something. And I would hear you tell me how I can reward you."

Another clank of silver against the plate. Another deep breath. They would surely run out of air in the room before they finished eating.

Francesca craned her neck to the left as much as she could, and the Sforzas finally fell into her field of vision. Her mistress dabbed her lips with a napkin, put it down, and turned to face her husband.

"If I could have anything at all, my Lord," she carefully began, hesitantly looking up at him - full of hope, full of resolution - "I would ask only for your forgiveness. And your understanding. And your friendship, perhaps." And she smiled again, unable to stop herself. "And in time," – there it was again, that genuine smile, "I might even hope for your love."

"What are you doing?" A voice too close and too loud to be lord Sforza. Also, from the wrong direction.

A hand landed on Francesca's shoulder, and pulled her away from the keyhole. Lord Capadelli's hand.