What was he thinking, anyway? He’d been wandering around with a vague notion in his head of “making it all work out with Maria.”
The thought finally came into clear focus. He was too surprised to keep from blurting out the words.
“Well, then, you and me should get married. Maybe,” he added hastily, seeing the storm signals.
There was a long silence.
“I mean . . . you wouldn’t have to work or . . . and Dorma and my grandfather said they’d set me up. Um . . . Get some experience in trade. One of the colonies . . .” he trickled off into uncertainty.
“You’re proposing to me,” she said flatly. “To get me off the canals.”
“Well, yes.” Benito said awkwardly, flushing. “I thought it would be best.”
“I don’t.”
“But . . . but you’d be rich and comfortable and . . .”
“And a canaler in the Casa Vecchie. No thank you. I won’t marry for that reason.”
Benito was bright red. “We could go to Corfu. Or Negroponte . . .”
“Oh, excuse me. Where Venice can’t see me?” Maria’s voice would have cut steel.
“I thought you would want to marry me. You don’t have to,” said Benito, beginning to get angry himself now.
His anger was nothing to her white-hot sarcasm. “Oh! What a favor the next Doge’s brother-in-law’s younger brother is doing me! A poor little canal-drab like me should be so delighted at his attentions. Well listen to me, Benito Valdosta . . . Va’funcula.” And she turned and walked off to her gondola, leaving Benito still gawping at the obscenity. A few moments later she set off, a lone vessel heading up the Grand Canal into a virtually deserted Venice.
* * *
Benito wandered back. There didn’t seem much point in staying here. He was not concentrating on his footsteps—or where he was going. It took severely disturbed concentration to walk into someone the size of Manfred. Benito managed it.
Manfred looked more amused than anything else. “Ah. My crazy young friend from our visit to the Dandelos, and a little assault in court-house! Dressed like a princeling, today, not an urchin, or a Dorma servant. What are you doing walking around with a face like your girlfriend just gave you some really bad news. What’s wrong?”
Benito shrugged. “Women,” he said trying to sound casual about it.
Manfred laughed. “I know what you mean. My uncle seems too fascinated by Francesca for her to have any time for me either. Can’t figure it out. He’s not even staring at her cleavage.” His shrug was a massive copy of Benito’s. “Women, just as you say. Let’s go and find some wine. Wine always has time for us. And wine doesn’t mind if you have another goblet of wine either.”
THE GRAND CANAL
It came to Maria that someone had been whistling to her for some time. She looked up. Valentina. And Claudia. With a very suspicious-looking bag.
“Maria Garavelli, I wish the Schioppies were as dreamy as you,” said Claudia from the fondamenta. “Give us a lift, will you?”
She pulled up. They slung the bag in. It clinked. “A good time to be shopping,” said Valentina cheerfully. “Everyone is at the celebration.”
Claudia looked curiously at Maria. “Why aren’t you?”
“I didn’t want to stay,” said Maria, curtly.
“I would have thought Benito would want your company?”
“There is nothing between me and . . .” Her lip quivered. “Benito. He doesn’t love me. And I don’t need him. Anyway, I’m going to marry my cousin Umberto. I just made up my mind. My family’s been pestering me about it for weeks. They’ve got it all set up.”
There was a startled silence from the two thieves. “Oh. That’s very sudden,” said Claudia. “We thought . . .”
“It’s not exactly something that can wait,” said Maria bluntly.
Valentina and Claudia exchanged glances. “How long . . .”
“At least two months,” said Maria, shortly. “And, no—I don’t know who the father is. Probably Caesare. Um. Maybe not. I always took precautions with him, after the first few days. The other thing happened too quickly—”
She broke off, squaring her shoulders. “What difference does it make? It’s either Caesare or one other, and either way if I don’t get married it’s a bastard.”