The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [72]
At that point, Gregorio of Asti said, “Demoiselle. Forgive me.” And left the room quickly and in time not to vomit before her.
He knew he would do her no service by going back before he was ready. When he returned, he knew what to say and to do, and knew from her face that she was arrested by what had clearly happened, and thought differently of him because of it. He said, “After the morning you have had, such a lapse was an impertinence. Forgive me. But let me make you a promise. This is the last weakness that you or I will show in this matter.” He paused. “It is, I assume, Catherine’s half-inheritance he is after?”
“I should think so,” she said. “Nicholas, as you know, falls heir to nothing.”
He frowned. “But even Catherine’s share will only fall to him after you have gone. And Nicholas may still be there to manage it.” He looked up. “Nicholas was in Florence over the winter. If Doria didn’t know that, or was careless…Your next letter could be from Nicholas, to say he has her safe.”
She shook her head wearily. “No. Read the letter yourself. It is the work of a silly, cruel man. He knew Nicholas would be in Florence. He hid Catherine from him. By the time he wrote this letter to me, she was married and they had left Florence. He has promised her, he says, a messa del congiunto in Sicily.”
Gregorio took the letter and held it. “Why is he going to Sicily?”
“Oh, read, and you will see,” said Marian de Charetty. “It is only a trading stop. His real destination is Trebizond. He has been made Genoese consul. He wants to get there before Nicholas, and give him, he says, a stepson’s embrace.”
They looked at one another, and this time nothing was said. Then Gregorio said, “I shall go there.”
She shifted a little in her tall chair. “Perhaps,” said the demoiselle. “Later. Just now, I need you to look after the business. I have sent off a message already to tell Nicholas what has happened. It may never reach him. At best it will take months. You could be no quicker. Meantime, the harm has been done; the marriage has taken place; they have consummated it. And at least in Trebizond he cannot hide her as he did in Florence. Sooner or later Nicholas will find out what has happened, and will do what he can.”
“So? But you are going away?” said the lawyer.
“Quite a long way. To search out the marriage,” she said. “It took place in Florence. I shall go to Florence. And Thibault de Fleury signed the documents. I shall go by way of Dijon, and see him, and get copies of all the papers I can. Don’t you think that would be wise?”
“Yes, I do,” he said. It was probably wise. If she could prove to the world that Doria’s marriage was false, then he would probably abandon Catherine. He would certainly have lost hope of her fortune. But neither of those things would help Catherine now. Indeed, they might do the opposite.
Then he saw why she was doing it; and perhaps the only reason she was doing it. With his marriage invalid and Catherine freed, Pagano Doria would have no reason to tamper with Catherine’s protectors. She feared for Catherine. She feared as much, because she knew him, for Nicholas.
She said, “I shall go as soon as I can, and I shall write you from Florence. Wait a reasonable time. You have a good staff, but they need a little more training. But if you fail to hear, or feel you must stand where you may be needed, you have carte blanche to go where you wish. In Venice, we have funds, and there news will come to you fast. Take lodgings, an office. It was what he meant to do anyway. And if you have to go to Trebizond, go.”
He said, “The office can manage without me. Take me with you to Dijon.”
She smiled, almost as she had done when Nicholas was there. She said, “I am so lucky to have