Chapter 6: Ties And Binds (I)

He looked.

“Antonio is coming here soon,” he said. “He’s also bringing his whole family.”

Lorenzo knew it too, being his uncle. Though Lorenzo always preferred Zio Carlo more, who was married to his mother’s sister. And his family, that he didn’t quite have any attachment to either.

He nodded. “I’ll meet them today. I know what to do.”

He was more likely to withdraw and just ignore all pleasantries if he didn’t find it interesting—he hated small talk. But it would not do for a future lord, where it was a chance to dig out information.

“I trust you,” Cosimo said. Not yelling at him, but just telling him.

He was happy, perhaps, as he went to see his siblings. Cecelia was with Federico in his room, and he had opened it there.

Cecelia dressed in one of her best gowns, light blue and bringing out her eyes. Her hair with bangs framing her face, and a smile.

Federico, who was now looking less like a child, enough so that he stopped dressing like one. He was in a suit, with a pair of shorts instead. He ran up to greet him, eager already.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Giulia again, and so is Cecelia.” He tugged his coat, though Lorenzo didn’t mind it being a little rumpled. Not as though anyone would notice it. “Is it happening soon?”

“Not that quick, Rico.” Cecelia patted his head. “Soon, like I said, and you can meet her.”

Lorenzo didn’t have that much to look forward to. His childhood had been with his cousins Gabriele and Libere, whom he shared much more with in common than Cosimo.

Perhaps now, he would understand him better now that he knew what he saw and what his life was. The last time he had met hi,. Lorenzo wasn’t in any mood to talk. And he wasn’t ready to face up to the duties expected of him.

“What are you thinking of, brother?” Federico asked.

“Nothing, just how it would go. I’m sure you’ll have a good time.” He would thank him. That was always a part of who he was.

Vanna had come into the room before holding Federico’s hand.

“So, are you looking forward to seeing Cosimo again?” Cecelia asked, knowing the sore question.

“Yes and no, I always hated how high and mighty he was when he said he was an heir, and I wasn’t; I frankly never cared one bit about being the heir to Stressa.” To inherit the estate felt less like an honour and more like a burden for Lorenzo.

“But not him. Who saw it differently?” Cecelia asked. “How do you view it now? It’s all a matter of perspective, after all?”

“I think because otherwise, he would question himself.” Lorenzo looked at him. “This is now something I never wanted. But I know it would be pointless to run from it.”

“You have everything right in your grasp, and all you do is throw it away and bemoan what fortune given upon you. Making you one of the greatest nobles in the duchy is a high honour.”

His words rung clear and true. Cosimo was ambitious. Lorenzo always would rather go back into his books.

“I hated him then, but now, perhaps I need to apologize a little.” He gave a smile.

“He was a little harsh, but maybe that was what you needed to hear.” Cecelia told him. “After all, now you can do so much more than either of us can strive.”

Cecelia only had her imagination and influence, his cousin Cosimo constrained by his resources and lack of power, even in the future.

“It’s almost time.”

He went down first, always eager to catch his sister’s hand so that she could sit down.

“I’m looking forward more to when Libere and Gabriele finally come.” Lorenzo confessed to her. “I liked Gabriele’s sensibility and Libere’s drive. Cosimo is all ambition, but he’s not smart or fun to have a conversation with.”

“Elisa is not quite my age, but she is ten.” She held his hand as he led her down the steps.

They both made their way to the dining table, taking their respective seats. He was going to take the third most important seat, next to his mother on the left side of the table. HIs father would be at the head, his brother to his right.

His uncle had been a landowner, who inherited some land from his wife, and maintained their noble status because of their marriage. However, they did not bear titles, but were noble.

The servants came inside, carrying plates upon plates of food. It was a fine feast, with the best meats and cheeses that Stressa offered. Most of whom that he had dearly missed. It was in summer, as he waited and watched.

Then, his uncle and cousins came strolling in with his wife. She had always been a stern woman and often held her head up high.

Cecelia had a smile for the seven-year-old Giulia and Federico was excited to talk to her. As the servants escort them to a room meant for the children, meant for children. Then Cosimo took his seat. He was the only one old enough to be here dining with his parents.

As for Lorenzo, he always had Cecelia. But there used to be three.

He could not meet his cousin’s eyes, he’ll apologize later. They had never been close because of their personalities and upbringing. He was happy to remain in his books; Cosimo always strove for more power or perhaps influence.

That’s what he always heard him talk, though Lorenzo had it from an academic standpoint and a philosophical one. Why someone wanted it so desperately.

His uncle took the seat next to his son, but someone already focused his eyes on him.

They weren’t quite ready to begin yet, for his father hadn’t come. But he held the feast, hence he was free to do as he wished.

“I heard you recently came back. How was the trip?”

“It was an eye-opening experience.” There was nothing to deny it. He never felt happier or freer than.

But Zio Antonio rarely showed an interest in him until the day he became the heir. Then, all this interest started, and it puzzled him.

“Glad to hear it. Youth is a chance to experience life and explore if you aren’t sure, and if you ever need some advice, my door is always open.” He took a seat when a servant served him wine.

Though Cosimo froze up at the mention, almost wanting to glare daggers before being stopped by his mother. She held him back, though her eyes lacked the warmth.

Lorenzo could feel something off about it as a whole. “You’ll be the first I go to if I have a problem only you can solve.”

Though he was always better at writing than he did speaking.

His father had come in with a smile on his face, perhaps showing some pride before taking a seat. Beatrice took a seat, silently shooting him a look.

They both had embraced and laughed, having known each other all their laughs. He doubts even when Federico is older that he’ll be anything more than his adorable little brother in his eyes.

Then, the fear started in earnestness. They slipped into chatter. And once he was full, he knew the inevitable was coming.

“The last time, I think I misread your intention. That you wanted to just ask me to look at the bright side and I brushed you off.” Lorenzo had a smile, admitting it. “I was just to hurt by everything to not see it.”

“Maybe I could have been more tactful, that you needed to move on, not cling to a past that wasn’t here anymore,” he said.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have clung onto a past that was already gone. Except they promised it me with my whole life,” he said. “I’m guessing just now there was something you’re not satisfied with.”

“I wanted to go on a trip, and neither Papa nor Mama wanted. I’m thinking it’s Mama’s influence. She cannot bear to part with me, for I was her only child for so long. But even with other children to fuss over, she still wants me to remain at her side till I’m married.”

“But when you’re married, you need to be there for the family. You can go frolicking around anymore.” Lorenzo knew it, too. That now was their time to be foolish, to be young. Once you were a husband and a father, you could not. Your wife depended on you, and so were your children.

Only in death could the bond be severed.

“Yes, I know that. I wish it was easy.” He grunted a little.

“You still have time,” he said. “But do you want to hear about my trip?”

Cosimo lit up at it. He hungered for travel. “Yes, please.”

Lorenzo told him the full account of his time in Sarponne, leaving nothing out or in. He told them about the rather cramped apartment he shared with his traveling companion, of the sights they saw but also of the difficulty they had in meeting guests. It was a real world out there, and there was poverty alongside grand sights.

Once he was done narrating. “What do you think?”

“I want to go out. Because nothing is ever secure, and that pushed me harder to do it.”

Though he could feel the wrath of his mother, but it was one he was glad to bear if Cosimo seemed happy. He did not lie to Cosimo. He told him the complete picture.

---

After they had luncheon together, and once Lorenzo downed a cup of coffee, while knowing that his mother was coming. However, Zio Antonio would remain here with his family for a few more days.

Their conversation had continued itself until Lorenzo promised him the journal.

“I’ll need to go up to fetch it for you.”

It was also his chance to get away from them, as he liked to withdraw away.

“Take me with you.” He begged.

Cosimo followed him up, as the talking between the adults mostly devolved into topics that they rarely gave an interest in. He was already fiddling with the food and the forks while he stared. Cecelia only smiled, watching along.

They both had snuck past the hall, and bringing him up to his study.

“You get an entire room to yourself. And untouched too.”

“I got it once I turned fifteen. “

It was blessedly empty, with no reminders. He barely remembered.

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“Here’s the journal,” he said, passing it to Cosimo. “Inside, it’s all the information about my travels. And well, I wasn’t really lying.”

“You were never one to lie to me,” he said, before they both remembered a memory. One that downed their entire mood.

“Are you planning to go back?” He asked.

“No, anyway, I would have wanted to remain here. Now, I have more of a reason to.”

Cosimo accepted it, before leaving the room waving his hand. He took a seat, and wondering why he wanted to do so.

“Lorenzo.” He heard a knock on the door, and he went to see who it was.

It was his mother, Beatrice, whose black hair with hazel eyes and her slender figure. He was a tall, slender man, stark in contrast when compared to his stocky father. He always took after her more, as he opened the door to his study.

It had been a while since they talked to each other; she focused her attention on Cecelia. She was coming of age soon, and she needed to find prospective husbands.

She came inside, taking a seat on an armchair. Gennaro had gone to grab a cup of coffee for them to talk to you.

“How have you been?” She asked with a smile. “I haven’t had the time to talk to you. And what I saw earlier, felt that I needed to talk to you.”

Even after she had retired.

“It was Maddalena that had called it first, and your father brought your uncle with him. I checked on you,” she said.

“What did she say?”

“Kindly telling me to tell you to not feed her son ideas.” She looked at her.

Lorenzo looked at her, wondering just a little. Despite that, he had stepped on her toes. Maybe he had been too blatant. “Do you think I was wrong?”

Lorenzo felt it was right of him, regardless to tell him.

“It’s hard to say whether you were wrong. But I would not say if you were honest, but I don’t think you were lying. You even gave him your journal. I passed him in the hallway.”

He gave a sheepish smile. “I think he should know it all, and before he goes back to his duties. At least have some happiness.”

Inevitably, matters of survival would overtake them.

Beatrice nodded. “Do you know why she is so concerned?”

Lorenzo tried to think, but he didn’t come up with an answer, but he couldn’t come up with anything.

“He had been her only child for almost a decade. I can understand why. Besides, it’s in a mother’s nature to fret and worry.” Beatrice took a sip.

He wondered too, a question that he didn’t. And of course, how he left him behind. And whether there was.

His mother was happy to welcome him home, immediately hugging him and caring for him.

“With that, what do you think now?” Beatrice asked, looking into his eyes. “I know you struggle to understand the perspectives of others and emotions.”

She was a mother who wanted her children safe and out of safety.

He had his answer. “I think I shouldn’t have been so blatant about it. But he would have had more delusions if I didn’t give him anything more than if I told him everything.”

His travelogue had much commentary of the life of poor and the normal.

“It’s something that all mothers would have to realize, that your children grow up and someday, they may establish their own lives or leave you.” Beatrice grimaced. “On one hand, I’m never happier that you’re getting older, more mature. But on the other, I still see you as a child. You’ll understand once you’re a father.”

It dampened the mood once more, just between them.

“Did you worry about me when I was gone?” He asked.

“I’ve accepted that it’s in God’s hands. I’ve made my peace with that years ago.” But she would shower her children with love as long as they were alive.

He wanted to send her away.

“You still haven’t answered my second question about what you do right now?” She asked, glancing at his hands.

He could hide nothing from her.

“Busy, I was about to dive into work again.” He pointed to the stacks of papers just behind him at the armchair.

She shook her own head. “Don’t forget who you are, Lorenzo. It’s good that you’re not ignoring it, but you don’t have to put it ahead of everything else. And deep down, you’re interested in going back, don’t you?”

Before she looked, before pinching his cheeks like they were as a child. He never liked it by anyone other than his mother.

“It was luck that brought me here,” he said. “Like I’m occupying a spot that doesn’t belong to me and one that I never wanted.”

The estate wasn’t meant to be his. Though he faced it all, regardless, deep in his mind, it belonged to someone else. But he was already gone.

“It belongs to you, and everything that it does is now yours. The benefits, the downsides, everything. But own the decision since you already made it. You can’t look back anymore, and although it’s not your choice that brought you here,” she told him. “But why are you in such a hurry?”

Lorenzo couldn’t answer it. His mother always liked to ask them why they were doing it. She loved them, but she also wanted them to do.

“I’ve always been good at studies, and that impressed Papa. Except, I’m not that good at this.” He struggled harder, spending time with his father as he went to teach him what to watch and what to know.

“He never thinks that way. You’re doing well, but maybe that’s a conversation I’ll have with him.” She gave a sigh, exasperated but happy a little.

“Neither Papa nor I are good at expressing our feelings.”

Lorenzo’s nature always got him to withdraw, to read more. While his father always spent his time with his horses.

“You can either learn, or have someone you deeply trust and know you to point it out,” she said. Because one day, even she won’t be around. She was an old woman, and she would advise him as long as she could.

“What scares you the most about this?” She touched his cheek.

With his mother, he never felt safer at spilling things out. Things that he could never tell his father, as his father would expect more.

“I’m afraid that I’m not good at it, that all of this may be for nothing, that I gave my dream up to give it away for nothing,” he said. “But maybe I shouldn’t neglect my pursuits.”

“Yes, these matters take time, and anything takes time and patience. I still remember when you were still learning how to read, and how difficult it was for you.” She gave a smile. “I need to go now. Either way, I feel I need to talk to Maddalena personally. You talking to her would achieve almost no good, better for us both.”

He smiled, as though this reignited him, perhaps to take time for himself.

Beatrice left the room.

“I’ll take you there,” he said, going with her.

“So, what did you decide?”

“I think I’ll continue to read,” he said.

“Tell me a little. I used to read when I was younger, but with age, my eyes are getting bad.”

“Novels?”

“No, a little more than that. I learned the classics just a little. But little else. You may have gotten that curiosity about me,” she said.

“But it’s not encouraged in a woman.” He always noticed that, though he never had that in Cecelia.

She gave a smile, not showing anything. “Do you want to hear the blunt truth of life as a woman?”

Lorenzo nodded.

“Dreams, no matter how sweet, are reserved for men. As a woman, you’ll need a husband to survive for anything or a male relative that’ll take care of you. They always molded your dreams to just one, marriage and family.”

“Do you still remember what your dreams were when you were young?”

“No, not anymore. If I did, it probably was rid out of me by my mother. To put your duty and responsibilities above all else, before anything else. But in a child, I want you to know yourself first before you go into a role, wholly immersing in it. Both Cosimo and I are guilty of that.”

Until they left nothing of them, except what they expected of them.

“The garden reminds me of things that I used to love, as much as all of you.”

They had reached the rooms at last, before his mother disappeared.

He spotted his uncle, who passed him by. “Thank you for passing him the book. I’ll do my best to speak to your aunt about it. But thank you.”

He blinked.

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