Page 43 of The Vagabond Viscount
His own plans were a little less grand, but still meaningful. He was going to join with the hundreds of pilgrims who flocked to the Vatican today. On Good Friday, he had walked over to the nearby Colosseum and stood outside waiting with the faithful while Pope Pius VII was inside saying a prayer at each of the fourteen stations of the cross designated around the ancient stone arena.
Experiencing the holiest of days in the eternal city was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he wasn’t going to miss any of it. He had been gifted a second chance at life, and Flynn Cadnam intended to live this new existence to the fullest. At least as far as his poor purse would allow.
Reaching the church of Santa Maria de Loreto, with its large brick and marble dome, he stopped and crossed over to Via della Pilotta. He made his way north, glancing at the ornate doors of Palazzo Lazio as he passed it by. The heavily armed guards who stood outside put paid to any thoughts he might have of calling in to see Augusta’s friend, Serafina de Luca. He doubted she would remember him from her short time in England, but he made a mental note to leave a letter with the guards before he left for home.
ChapterTwenty-Four
The same morning.
Palazzo Lazio, Rome
“What is going on? And why are we not sailing for home?” demanded Augusta. She stood, hands on hips, and glared down at her mother. She wasn’t normally one for speaking so plainly to the duchess, but lately it seemed the only way to get through to her was to be blunt to the point of rudeness.
“Nothing is going on. I thought you were enjoying your stay in Rome,” replied Lady Anne.
She was. Rome was wonderful. But it wasn’t home. They had been gone from England for nigh on eight months. What had started out as a bit of an adventure, with the private hope of it being a way for her to deal with her grief over the loss of Flynn, had now become somewhat akin to a long war campaign. One which didn’t seem close to coming to an end any time soon.
I want to go home.
“Rome is magnificent, it exceeds everything I have ever read about it, but it is not my home. I want to see Papa. I miss my brothers and sisters. Don’t you also want to see our family again?”
Augusta gritted her teeth as the duchess let out a tired sigh and rose from her chair by the sitting room window. Anyone would think she was asking too much of her mother.
“It’s Easter, Augusta, my dear. Go and enjoy yourself. Rome is full of people from all over the world. Find them and make new friends.”
She was tempted to throw up her hands in disgust, but Augusta was fast discovering that her mother’s temper lacked somewhat of its usual balance. Lady Anne had developed an unfortunate habit of flinging what could only be described as a tantrum whenever her daughter questioned her actions.
“If you are bored with Rome, don’t forget we are off to visit Tivoli this coming week. I am sure that the change of scenery will do you the world of good. My friend, Signore Arosio has been most generous in inviting us to stay with him at his villa. And I hear the ancient ruins are particularly fine,” added the duchess, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
This is ridiculous. Anyone would think I was asking the impossible.
While they were out walking near the River Tiber late yesterday afternoon, Serafina had raised the issue of their long-overdue departure. Her friend’s question had concentrated Augusta’s mind ever since.
Why are you and the duchess still in Rome?
She didn’t have an answer to that thorny question, or at least not one to which she wanted to give voice. The longer she remained in a state of denial, the better. But the time was surely coming, and soon, when Serafina’s mother, Donna Francesca, would make it plain that her guests had overstayed their welcome.
It was late March. Her mother had promised they would be home in time for Christmas. What the Kembal family were making of their extended absence Augusta didn’t wish to consider.
She had diligently written to Victoria every week since their arrival at Palazzo Lazio. And in the earlier part of their stay, her sister’s letters had arrived frequently from England. But since Christmas, she had received no word from her beloved sibling. Not even a quick note to wish her a happy new year.
They must have gone to Strathmore Castle for Hogmanay and not returned to London until later in January. I am sure that is the reason for Victoria’s correspondence being delayed.
She missed her connection to her family at home. The longer she heard nothing from her siblings, the heavier the silence settled in her heart. It was almost like experiencing a second form of grief.
I want to go home. I want my father, and my brothers and sisters.
Augusta didn’t wish to go to Tivoli. She wanted to remain in Rome and be here when Victoria’s long-expected letters finally arrived. She couldn’t be bothered mustering any interest in the prospect of visiting yet another set of ancient ruins; she’d had more than her fill of temples, churches, and relics. Tivoli might be wonderful, but it held little appeal.
“I would appreciate you giving me some sort of indicative date for when you plan for us to set sail. If you are unable to do that, then perhaps I should write to Papa and ask him to come and fetch me?”
The wordunwillingsat on the edge of her tongue, but Augusta held it at bay. She was carefully trying to draw her mother out, to get the duchess to tell her the real reason why they were still in Rome. And why she wasn’t making any moves to leave.
I know you and Papa had a falling out, but you can’t stay mad with him forever.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and a flush of red appeared on her cheeks. Augusta flinched as Lady Anne wagged a finger in her face. “Don’t you dare threaten me, young lady. I am your mother, and I will be the one who decides when we leave for home. Now run along before I lose my temper. I am sure Serafina is waiting for you.”
Hands clenched into fists, Augusta did a quick turn about face and marched out of the sitting room. As she headed back to her own bedroom, she was left to ponder her mother’s sudden show of temper. Her words had struck a nerve with the duchess, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
