1 - Interrupted Aria by Beverle Graves Myers

master’s sister-in-law has seriously overstepped her bounds. She resides in this household as Signora Viviani’s companion and is charged with helping her sister with a multitude of domestic duties. Unfortunately, the companion casts herself in the role of champion and protector. The lady invents troubles, takes offense at trifles, and is determined to create a crisis at least once a day. I say this in explanation, not to excuse her behavior.”
    Adelina listened gravely, her face a lovely, unsmiling mask with a fading splotch of red on one cheek. She broke her stillness with a shudder and nodded at Bondini.
    “Can I get you something, Signora? A glass of wine? Brandy?” He kept his eyes on Adelina but snapped his fingers at the footman, who had been hovering anxiously.
    “No, Bondini. I don’t need anything. I’ll be fine.” The soprano smoothed her hair, adjusted her glittering necklace, and continued in a firm voice. “Isn’t it about time for the duet?”
    Bondini’s expression barely flickered, but I thought I detected relief in Viviani’s right-hand man. It would surely not have gone well for him if he had been forced to report that one of his master’s jewels couldn’t sing because of Signora Albrimani’s outrageous conduct.
    Adelina swept through the door and started up the stairs, her head held as regally as the queen of the gods she was to portray. If she had qualms about performing after what had happened, she gave no outward sign. We followed in single file, even the temperamental Orlando humbled and quieted by the soprano’s full measure of grace and dignity.

Chapter 8
    Looking back on that night, the performance and its aftermath seem like a blurred jumble of events. The preliminaries flashed by in the space of one nervous heartbeat. As the rest of us waited outside the high, crimson and gold salon, Torani crossed the marble floor to the harpsichord that nearly filled a bay at one end of the long room. He introduced our duet with an icy calm. Then, a bearish Orlando plowed through the salon and took his seat at the keyboard. Adelina and I followed to the fluttering of polite applause. Mild interest registered on the faces of the brilliantly clad patricians seated on the spindly chairs that had been brought forward by the footmen. The less important guests had to make do with standing in small groups or hugging the wall behind the seated nobility.
    A few faces amid the crowd leapt out at me as we made our way across the room. Here, a comically tall wig crowned a man who must be struggling with drowsiness brought on by an overgenerous dinner. He could barely keep his heavy-lidded eyes open. And there, an enticing pair of feminine eyes the color of emeralds was peering at me over a skillfully manipulated fan. Domenico Viviani sat directly in front of the harpsichord. His face could have been chiseled from the same marble that graced so many of the surfaces in his palazzo . His piercing, brown eyes sent us the message that he was expecting nothing less than perfection. Finally, I caught sight of Annetta’s proudly beaming face over the sea of powdered curls: a steadying sight if there ever was one.
    Adelina and I began with a piece of fluff designed to put our listeners in a receptive mood. Then we sang a lengthy duet that Orlando had originally written for Crivelli and Caterina. With less than two days to produce a finished, well-rehearsed piece, Orlando had taken some liberties with the poetry of the libretto and reworked the duet for my character to sing with Adelina. I had been given a generous allowance of vocal leaps and flourishes, even some passages that stretched the flexibility and stamina of my voice to its limit. I realized Orlando must have added these at the last minute, as I knew Crivelli couldn’t sing them anymore. Adelina also had plenty of material to showcase her talents, and she plunged into the music with a spirited gusto that kept the audience enthralled.
    I kept trying to