Venice in the Moonlight Read Free Page A

better than most, but the biting insults and degrading looks her mother-in-law cast her way on a daily basis still cut to the bone.
    “All I ever asked from you was an heir, and you couldn’t even do that.” She shook a crooked finger at Marietta. “Now, we have no one to carry on the family name.”
    At the callous reminder, Marietta’s hand found her belly. Two babies lay buried under the weeping willow tree, and her heart would forever ache from the losses. Though she had entered the marriage kicking and screaming, she had hoped for children. Fate just wasn’t on her side.
    She learned long ago not to show any emotion in front of La Signora , so she breathed deeply to control her temper. When an acrid smell filled her nose, she crossed the room to peer out the floor-length windows that ran along the side of the villa. A dozen or so large rectangular objects burned in a pile near the carriage house. When the groundskeeper poked at one of them with a rake, sparks shot high into the air. Her mouth suddenly dry, she asked, “What is Fredo burning?”
    La Signora tilted her head. “Your paintings.”
    The words hit her like an icy bucket of water and her body jerked backward. Her love of painting was the only thing that kept her sane over the lonely years. To Dario’s credit, he allowed her the best materials the family’s money could buy. She had spent countless hours roaming the countryside for the perfect scene to capture, and now this spiteful old woman had destroyed her treasures. Marietta grabbed the nearest chair and dug her fingernails into its back. “Why . . . why would you do that? How can you be so cruel?”
    La Signora ignored the question, her black eyes flashing with hatred. “You are no longer welcome in our home and will leave today. Signor Gatti insists on giving you a yearly stipend of 6,000 ducats.” The old woman flicked her wrist as if her husband’s offer was an offending odor that needed to be dispelled. “If it were up to me, you’d have nothing.”
    Marietta silently promised to light a candle for the old man the first chance she got. It was far from a lavish amount of money, but it would ensure a roof over her head and food on the table. After Dario’s death, she had sent her father a letter addressed to the lodgings in Venice where they last stayed before her marriage, but so far, there had been no reply. If the letter reached him, perhaps he would welcome her home.
    Another gust of wind entered the salon and brought Marietta to her senses. Hampered by the weight of her widow’s weeds, she hiked up her skirts and ran from the room and her vicious mother-in-law. She headed for her paintings, knowing it was already too late.
    When she reached the bonfire, she gave in to the choking sobs welling up inside her. Ashes from the ruined creations swirled up in the air until gravity forced them down and onto her tear-stained cheeks in a sooty goodbye kiss.
    Fredo rubbed a sleeve across his eyes and then pulled his hat down low. “ Mi dispiace, Signora . They were pretty.”
    Marietta wrapped her arms around herself and nodded at his kind words, but as paper curled and paint melted, her heart hardened. Her life here had ended and so would her false mourning. She grasped the bodice of her black gown and tore it open until the gown slid off her hips.
    Perhaps fearing she intended to join her paintings, Fredo took a quick step toward her. In his haste, he tripped over the spikes of his rake and landed on the ground with a thud. He scuttled on all fours trying to reach her. “No, no, Signora!”
    With a final cry, she threw the heavy dress on top of the remains of her landscapes. The wool quickly burned as the fire raced across the coarse fabric. She shivered in her undergarments, listening to the fire crackle and pop, until all that remained were burning embers, and then the world went black.

    hen Marietta’s eyes opened, she was in her own bed. The smell of smoke on her shift and in her hair