Chapter 9: Fulfill (II)

Lorenzo glanced outside at the city of Paserta. Cecelia looked all over it.

He was waiting for someone, Gennaro, to make his appearance. “Signore, it is done.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Is that the Signorina’s work?”

He asked.

“Yes, I hope you can keep this quiet.”

“I read her work. It’s very moving.” Gennaro joked. “But yes, I will do so. As a thank you for everything.”

“I’m glad that you got it.” He smiled.

“I wonder, why do you bother with it this much?” He asked. “Why do you feel a need to ask me?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s knowing my own dreams can’t be heard. But it would be happy if I could help others do it.” He knew they were impossible. Or they were hard. “And I hate it when others don’t have time to fulfill them at all.”

It didn’t matter, but he felt for Gennaro. It was personal when he did it.

“But is yours all that difficult?” He asked.

“Yes, how should I put it? I want to change the world.” He looked on with conviction.

“That sounds like an impossible dream, and yet, you’re in the best position to remake the world.” He looked. “You have a lot of power.”

Lorenzo looked, though he knew that wasn’t the case. Most of their abilities laid with the Duke of Paserta.

“Among nobles, there are kings. Here I cannot decide. The power I seek can only come from a being a reigning monarch.” He admitted to him. “But perhaps I can persuade the Duke to follow my ideas.”

But even that sounded weak. He knew that this was a tiny duchy; it wasn’t the entire world. Far from it. He was inadequate, and his own plan sounded weak.

“I see,” Gennaro said. “But you have to start from somewhere. Just like my parents said. When you sow the seeds, it takes a while to grow. The ending will be beautiful, but you’ll have to work hard to cultivate before that. Then you’ll have a bountiful harvest.”

Gennaro told him a truth that he had to hear.

He turned around with a smile. “You’re right, I have to start from somewhere.”

Before Lorenzo turned back and got up. Cecelia’s eyes were glued to the street before them.

They had insisted on going first, to the confusion of their cousin, Antonia. But he needed to do this.

“I’ll restart it.” He whispered before disappearing.

Then he took a seat opposite her.

She turned around. “You’re back.”

Cecelia intimately knew why he had left.

“So, what did you see that got you so engrossed?” He asked his sister.

“The life of a commoner.” Cecelia turned around to meet her brother’s eyes. “It’s strange, isn’t it we seek what we cannot have? As much as I know, they will give up everything just to be in my place?”

“Indeed, that is right, they would,” he said, looking at them. “Its odd, isn’t it? They’re chained by their limitations to get food, and must work as much as they can to starvation, while we’re chained by the expectations that come of being of a noble house. One is at least allowed to grumble, but why can’t we?”

He was grateful to not be born a peasant, and never allowed to read. But it was odd.

“Yes, I think I’m glad that I wasn't born somewhere else. But is that why you want to change it?”

“It’s a sorry state of affairs,” he said. “But I want to see if there is another way.”

“Is this why you shipped that poem?” She asked.

“No, I did it for you because you’re my sister, and no matter what. I don’t think you shouldn’t have the chance to see your dreams come true.” He looked. “Even if mine may never be.”

“Don’t say that. You already did so much for me. After that, I think I have faith. I know you can.” Cecelia protested. “I dream of a world these days where I am free to pursue them. Where I don’t think I’m forced to do it. I’m only able to experience them slowly and only with your help.”

“But you’ll be able to act for yourself.”

“Not in this world. Only if I choose a supportive husband.” She opened the fan, hiding her own expression.

Even he couldn’t assure Cecelia’s dreams. He could only give fleeting moments of it. Seeing them all smile it would make this so much easier.

He was naïve as they went by. But Gennaro was right. The seeds must be sowed, and he will see the results.

They stopped. Lorenzo’s mind had to remind himself that he was supposed to dance today, instead of keeping his mind on what he could do. He had to shake it off, even if he was frankly terrible at dancing. But he got out, helping her down.

Antonia gave him a raised eyebrow. “So, something on your mind again? Or are you nervous?”

“Something on my mind.” He asked.

“Well, I guess I should take over for tonight. Besides, I was planning to do so, so that you may find someone that catches your eye.” Antonia gave a smile before putting an arm over Cecelia.

She was a little shorter than Cecelia, plumper too, already a mother of two children. Her hair was blonde though today powdered white, piled up high and tall, dressed in a gown of pale pink, with dark brown eyes. While he trailed behind them until he was in.

Antonia was serious, as though worried that he couldn’t do his job. But she led him away with a wink.

Lorenzo knew who was coming. It was her rakish husband. He had always been fond of speaking about his many escapades, and in the first letter that he came back with was asking whether he had become a man. If not, he had a brothel that could seal the deal.

He was too embarrassed to answer the question, and he didn’t wish for his first time to be with a prostitute who was only there because he paid her.

Then Antonia’s husband, Francesco, appeared. “You should try to find someone, put your parents’ mind at ease about the succession and assure them. I can show you a few tricks.”

He was quite a charmer, and able to sweeten them. But Lorenzo thought about it. How he didn’t exactly think it would work for him.

“So, what do you seek from partner? Obedience, spiritedness or who shares your intellectual pursuits,” he said.

“Neither,” he said. “I’ll have neither, thank you very much. Just let me do it.”

Francesco looked before patting him on the back. “Take it easy and let your natural suaveness do the trick. Your wealth would handle the rest.”

He was nervous, but it couldn’t be too hard.

“Also, do you need me to find an older woman for you? Or is it because you desire that first time to especial?”

“What?” He asked.

“I think it’s the latter. You’re too sentimental to not want that. A woman wants a man who knows what he is doing in bed, but you want to fall in love first before giving yourself away. You’ll need as much practice as possible. You could have an affair if being with a prostitute, as you feel, is not true to yourself, perhaps with a charming older lady looking like a lover. I even know just the right person.”

Francesco was already giving a wink. “Her, with the old man as her husband. He’s never going to fulfill her at all. She’s more a nurse than a wife. And she won’t tell.”

He looked at a woman a few years older than he was. Her gown was a deep vivid red, with the prettiest green eyes, reminding him of grass.

“I’m surprised you didn’t go through it. Just what were you doing with your friend?”

“Talking, speaking, he never thought about brothels or even spoke about them.” Placido never needed it at all, and Lorenzo always had other ideas.

Francesco gaped. “So, you both went to the city with the loosest morals and did nothing there?”

“Yes, I was more interested in the intellectual circles.” He looked. “I mean, all nobles are debauched everywhere.”

Francesco picked up his call card from his pocket. Lorenzo was reaching to grab it back. But he was faster, being a soldier.

He jotted down a name. “Dance with her at least once. You both have a lot in common.”

And there, he could see that she was the Baroness of Florgamo, and Francesco going over. He was ready to bury his hands right in his face. But he still went to dance with her, but he would not do so.

The Baroness had come over to dance, with a beauty mark just below her cheek. Her gown was a light blue, and it went low. Though she was far from the most richly dressed, she was still a beautiful woman, with doe-like eyes and small, thin lips. She offered her hand, and he kissed it.

Though, his first foot was already wrong. The Baroness had only subtly sidestepped back into the routine, as though knowing what to do.

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“My apologies.”

“You’re just an amateur to this. No matter, just follow what I do.” And he found it easier to follow.

“Francesco told me about you, and that you desire someone.” He told her. “You need a teacher.”

There was a sophistication.

“What do you do during the salons?”

“Listen to the eminent men, of course, literary lions. And ideas that are rarely said. I hear a lot of them, whether it is them talking about inequality, about rights, about learning,” she said. “I preside over them all. For it is what I desire to know.”

“I see. So, a genuine hunger for knowledge?” He asked.

“Do you find it amusing or terrifying?”

“Neither,” he said. “It’s your choice, after all.”

“You don’t seem thrilled despite being handed what so many men dream of and spend a lifetime to work for.” Then they stopped. She took a break.

Francesco gave him a wink. He shook his head.

“So, are you in need of learning how to love?” She asked., her arm going over him. “Do you want me to show you?”

“No, I find your interests more intriguing.”

She looked at him. “Men are so quick to jump right into my arms the moment I hint interest. So, what does interest you?”

“I wonder, why do you choose to indulge in all these dalliances?” He asked. He had a clue. But he wanted to ask her.

She raised her eyebrow, hesitating over the line of questioning that was being raised.

“Well, you mean, apart from the fact that I’m stuck in an unhappy marriage not of my own choosing.” She looked. “Most women can console in that their men are great, or they’re handsome. Mine was a great man. He is kind to me, but I tire of that. But this is a marriage that I’m stuck with, till death do us part.”

“I see. It’s sad, isn’t it, that you don’t have the choice to do it?”

“Your unusual,” she said. “Why do you say so?”

“I know what it’s like to force to live a life where you can only console yourself that your needs are taken care of. But otherwise, you’re hollow. But the dalliances are your option to rebel against that.” He looked at her right into her eyes.

She only gives a scoff, but one of surprise. She does lean closer. “You seem to get my pain. But I do not understand where you share mine?”

“I’m forced to live a life of an heir, when I think all I wanted to do was to become a philosopher. I relished philosophy when I was young, and that was taken away from me. But I can’t lie to myself or console myself. All I feel is rage at what could have been. And through that, a desire for a better world emerges.”

“So, what do you think of me?” She asked. “I seek love outside now instead of doing the dutiful thing of waiting for my husband to die so that I can hopefully remarry before I get too old. I have dalliances because they give me something, some contentment. My husband knows, he’s too tired these days to fulfill his duties to me. And so, he knows that I will have them, as long as I keep things discreet.”

Lorenzo listened, nodding his own head.

“I can’t fault you. Besides, you chose. We all choose, regardless. Some may call me a madman, for choosing to change a world that rarely changes, if at all. But if it is so, I guess I’ll do it gladly.”

“You’re most interesting. I’ll send someone to invite you to my salon. I want to know you better, to hear of your thoughts.” She noted. “But I know for sure that you’re a man who wants to fall in love. You fell deeply in love or not at all. It’s a dangerous gift, and I don’t think you’ll find me that appealing a lover.”

“Thank you for guiding me back there.” He told her. “I was unsure.”

“Count little on it. It’s not an issue for me at all.” She turned around. “But I thank you for dancing with me, and being honest. Amusing, and you’re a very interesting man to know.”

“So, better than Francesco?”

“He’s a typical rake.” The baroness rolled her eyes. “There is not much you can do with that. He’s just a man whose chasing a new skirt, gets bored and move on. No woman will get his undivide dattention—he cares about their flesh more than their minds. I did it with him when I was younger, when all I hungered for was just the arms of a man who was not old and feeble.”

There was an honesty to her words, and he liked that.

Lorenzo felt a little charmed by what she said to him, much more so than he believed. She had a way with words.

“But now?”

“Someone who can understand me,” she said. “A lover is more than just the one you share them with. You can’t choose your husband, but you can always choose your lover. That is what my parents told me when they sold me like a broodmare to this old man, all so I could play nursemaid.” She let out a sigh, folding out her fan.

He wanted to ask her something.

“What did Francesco make a deal with you for?” He asked. “You couldn’t have been so kind to oblige him.”

She didn’t seem like the sort to be fair.

“You’re smarter than I thought. It’s just a favour for a favour. I get a favour from him, one that I can call him to teach his young cousin the way of love,” she said. “Or at least don’t make him completely unable to do the chase.”

Lorenzo gave a nod, before glancing at Francesco, who was talking with some of the young girls.

“Do you hate it?” She asked. “Do you hate having your cousin do something like that to you?”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I want to tell him something, but that’s for later. I am glad to have talked to you. And if so, I’ll like to see you again too.”

He had to go; he desperately wanted the conversation to continue. But he found her charming.

“You can send a caller to me. I’ll like to see you in my salon. It’s going to be here in Paserta.” She smiled. “I’m staying here for a while.”

And he would need a excuse here too.

“Well, he will ask you my name, since he’s assuming that I’ll induct you into the ways of love tonight. It’s Lavinia.”

“Call me Lorenzo, in that case,” he said. “Did he really say that?”

“He already has a room. The host for this party is one of his dearest friends. It’s easy.” She shot him an unimpressed look.

“Did she tell you her name?” Francesco asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

“It’s Lavinia.” Lorenzo told her.

Francesco grinned. “Great, sounds like it went great. Did she tell you where to meet later?”

“She’s inviting me to her home, to be in her salon.” Lorenzo smiled.

Francesco had a disbelieving look before asking. “How do you end up making these things completely useless?”

“I don’t think I want pleasures of the flesh, but she and I, we’re both similar in our circumstances.” He looked down.

Francesco looked at him, disbelieving. “You both are nothing alike. You’re a man and she’s a woman. I do not see what you both share in common.”

“Plenty of things,” he said, not wanting to tell it to the oblivious Francesco. Or rather, how he comprehended things simply as they were, whether he could seduce them or teach them how to seduce.

“Did my father put you up to this?” He asked. Maybe it was too embarrassing.

“It’s a rite of passage, and I do that with all my brothers and all my male cousins, He continued with a sigh. “Now I see why you survived, Sarponne.” Then he leaned in. “But to be sure, you don’t prefer men, right?”

“No, I don’t. I never really thought of them that way. But I want to talk to her again. She’s sincere with me.” Lorenzo returned with a dreamy smile, his eyes looking at her as she danced again.

Francesco relaxed. “Maybe this isn’t completely hopeless after all.”

Lorenzo looked. "I should find Cecelia to go home."

His eyes were observing, before picking out his sister dancing with a suitor.

"No, you aren't. She doesn’t have a lot of time, so she has to make the best of now." He looked. "You're not leaving till the day turns dark and you’ve acquainted yourself with a dozen girls."

He could walk out, but it wasn’t so easy. And Francesco would continue to pick his dancing partners, and that, to him, was not good. If he was going, it’ll be by his own choices.

"This time, I pick who it is." He went before Francesco could change his reaction on him.

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