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The letter arrived during a rare dinner where only the family was in attendance. Emilia brought it in, which sparked Cosimo’s attention—normally the valet would bring correspondence, and only to him. Instead, Emilia went directly to his wife and handed her the envelope. He watched the change in her expression intently; as Contessina read, her normal easy composed expression fell to shock, and then morphed into white faced resolution. Her hand trembled as she brought her napkin to her tightly pressed lips.
Their eyes met briefly as she rose from her seat. “Excuse me.” She said, but didn’t wait for a response before she left the dining room, the letter dangling from her fingertips.
Piero and Lucrezia looked to Cosimo. He met their gaze as he finished chewing. “Do you know what might have been in that letter?” He asked, knowing Lucrezia was a confidant of his wife.
His daughter in law shook her head, eyes wide and alarmed. That wasn’t a good sign. Nothing was more dangerous than unexpected news. Appetite ruined by gut clenching concern about what could have so upset his wife, Cosimo pushed his chair back abruptly and followed the path Contessina took out of the room and up the stairs.
The bedroom chamber door was latched when he tried to open it, and, trying desperately to keep a handle on his impatience, he knocked loudly three times. Silence from inside. “Contessina, let me in.” His voice was louder than he would have liked, but little decomposed his wife in such a visible manner. It had rattled him.
Finally, the door opened softly, but Cosimo was barely able to catch a glimpse of her face before she turned away and strode to stare out the window. Uncomfortable and alarmed, he closed the door behind, and slowly approached her.
“What has happened?” He asked the back of her head.
She took a deep breath, and finally turned to face him. “I apologize for alarming you.” She said, voice measured but strained. “My father has passed.”
Cosimo felt his own heart sink at the tear tracks on her still pale cheeks, evident before she dropped her eyes to the floor. He gently grasped her shoulders with both hands, hoping to be able to give some sort of comfort. Contessina met his eyes, more vulnerable than he had seen her in a very long time. She brought her hand to cover her mouth as a sob threatened to escape, and he pulled her into his chest.
“I’m sorry, my love.” He whispered against her hair, feeling her warm tears wet his neck. They stood like that for a long while, him holding her firmly until her shuddering breaths had steadied. Carefully, he disentangled his arms just enough to guide her to the edge of the bed, where she sat, keeping her eyes on his all the while as though he could fix this pain she was in.
“I met your father for the first time when my father and he were negotiating our marriage.” He told her, sitting gently next to her and covering her hands with his. “Your father was quite the negotiator.”
That got a small twist of humor in her lips. “What was the final deal?” She asked.
“Your father rejected an offer of 50,000 florins, despite my father reminding him of how opinionated you were.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, then hesitatingly admitted, “If anything, your intelligence and courage should have demanded a larger dowry.”
That had pleased her; he could see surprise and careful joy warm her eyes.
Cosimo reached out to cradle her face in his palm, and leaned forward, wanting to be as close as physically possible. “In the end, your father agreed to the marriage for some debt purchases and a dowry all worth over 80,000 florins.” He could feel his own throat getting slightly tight at the memory. “Contessina, that was the best deal my father had ever made, and I am so grateful for it, and you, every day of my life.”
His wife’s small chuckle may have sounded more like a sob, but she too leaned in to press her forehead against his, and when he kissed her, he could feel the small upturn of her lips.