him an extra glare from Ian.
“Your judgment about women is not exactly above reproach,” Francesco added, coming to his partner’s aid and sending Ian into a fit of muttering.
“Just wait, you will see my maligned judgment vindicated. You think you know her better than I do? What about this?? Look what she tried to use on me!” Ian pushed the strange instrument he had liberated from Bianca the previous night across the desk toward his uncles.
“Surely not.” Roberto shook his head vehemently. “No, certainly, you must be mistaken. She would never use this as a weapon. For one thing, it is broken. For another, it must be her prize possession. It was given to her father by King Henry the Third when he passed through Venice, and it’s all she has left of her father’s tools. That’s correct, isn’t it, Francesco?”
“Oh yes, the rest were auctioned off by her brother. There’s a bad one for you, that brother of hers. If you are looking for someone with the Salva surname to suspect of murder, I suggest you try him.” Francesco picked up the scissors and eyed them wistfully. “I would say this is the only tool not accounted for in the inventory. It’s a lovely piece, but it is a pity that it is broken. How did that happen?”
Ian goggled at his uncles. Surely they could not have been so quickly swayed to Bianca’s side that she could persuade them to tell a lie of that complexity.
“So she told you that story too, and you believed it?” Seeing Roberto again shake his head, Ian challenged, “How else could you know all this?”
Roberto spoke slowly, hoping his measured tone would help penetrate Ian’s thick skull. “We learned the story when we were lucky enough to be the highest bidders for her father’s instruments, shortly after his death.”
“And the scissors are quite famous. They were left to her in her father’s will, so they could not be sold with the rest of the lot, although they would have fetched far more than all the other tools combined. Look at this workmanship.” Francesco extended them for Ian’s admiration but he just pushed them aside. “You didn’t say how they got broken…?”
“Ask her.” Ian stood and strutted toward the window, taking care not to knock over Crispin’s precious specimens. He needed to be alone, to think about what he had just learned, not to mention the failure of his plan. That his betrothal was not having the desired effect was clear, and became even clearer when his uncle resumed speaking. Francesco’s voice seemed to be coming to him from a thousand leagues away.
“About the betrothal party, Ian. We were hoping you would talk to the Council about having the sumptuary laws lifted for the occasion. It is only right that Bianca wear the Foscari topaz, and you know it is valued at far more than the measly thousand ducats prescribed by the laws as appropriate for a bride-to-be. Roberto has already seen about the fabric for her dress, and the jewels will be just marvelous, if only—”
“Yes, fine, I will see it is done. “ Ian responded with his back to them, restraining himself to sound civil.
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Francesco plowed ahead enthusiastically. “In that case, we were thinking that we could send to your place in the mountains for one of those delectable wild boar—”
“Don’t forget about the special musical piece we were thinking of,” Roberto reminded him.
“I was getting to that, but first the peacocks for the garden. We were planning to cover them in gold leaf, just the tails of course—” Ian’s patience had reached its limit. “Do whatever you want, spend whatever extravagant sum you need, invite whomever you please, I do not care. I doubt whether I will even be there.” He hoped his tone was brusque enough to remind them there was a door available for their use. It appeared to do the trick, for instead of argument Ian’s ears were greeted with the blissful sound of that apparatus shutting firmly behind
“Your judgment about women is not exactly above reproach,” Francesco added, coming to his partner’s aid and sending Ian into a fit of muttering.
“Just wait, you will see my maligned judgment vindicated. You think you know her better than I do? What about this?? Look what she tried to use on me!” Ian pushed the strange instrument he had liberated from Bianca the previous night across the desk toward his uncles.
“Surely not.” Roberto shook his head vehemently. “No, certainly, you must be mistaken. She would never use this as a weapon. For one thing, it is broken. For another, it must be her prize possession. It was given to her father by King Henry the Third when he passed through Venice, and it’s all she has left of her father’s tools. That’s correct, isn’t it, Francesco?”
“Oh yes, the rest were auctioned off by her brother. There’s a bad one for you, that brother of hers. If you are looking for someone with the Salva surname to suspect of murder, I suggest you try him.” Francesco picked up the scissors and eyed them wistfully. “I would say this is the only tool not accounted for in the inventory. It’s a lovely piece, but it is a pity that it is broken. How did that happen?”
Ian goggled at his uncles. Surely they could not have been so quickly swayed to Bianca’s side that she could persuade them to tell a lie of that complexity.
“So she told you that story too, and you believed it?” Seeing Roberto again shake his head, Ian challenged, “How else could you know all this?”
Roberto spoke slowly, hoping his measured tone would help penetrate Ian’s thick skull. “We learned the story when we were lucky enough to be the highest bidders for her father’s instruments, shortly after his death.”
“And the scissors are quite famous. They were left to her in her father’s will, so they could not be sold with the rest of the lot, although they would have fetched far more than all the other tools combined. Look at this workmanship.” Francesco extended them for Ian’s admiration but he just pushed them aside. “You didn’t say how they got broken…?”
“Ask her.” Ian stood and strutted toward the window, taking care not to knock over Crispin’s precious specimens. He needed to be alone, to think about what he had just learned, not to mention the failure of his plan. That his betrothal was not having the desired effect was clear, and became even clearer when his uncle resumed speaking. Francesco’s voice seemed to be coming to him from a thousand leagues away.
“About the betrothal party, Ian. We were hoping you would talk to the Council about having the sumptuary laws lifted for the occasion. It is only right that Bianca wear the Foscari topaz, and you know it is valued at far more than the measly thousand ducats prescribed by the laws as appropriate for a bride-to-be. Roberto has already seen about the fabric for her dress, and the jewels will be just marvelous, if only—”
“Yes, fine, I will see it is done. “ Ian responded with his back to them, restraining himself to sound civil.
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Francesco plowed ahead enthusiastically. “In that case, we were thinking that we could send to your place in the mountains for one of those delectable wild boar—”
“Don’t forget about the special musical piece we were thinking of,” Roberto reminded him.
“I was getting to that, but first the peacocks for the garden. We were planning to cover them in gold leaf, just the tails of course—” Ian’s patience had reached its limit. “Do whatever you want, spend whatever extravagant sum you need, invite whomever you please, I do not care. I doubt whether I will even be there.” He hoped his tone was brusque enough to remind them there was a door available for their use. It appeared to do the trick, for instead of argument Ian’s ears were greeted with the blissful sound of that apparatus shutting firmly behind
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