Free Nun (9781609459109) by Simonetta Agnello Hornby

she corrected him: “We aren’t wealthy.” He looked at her, baffled, uncomprehending. “Not at all. In fact, we’re poor,” she reiterated, and stared at him—a doleful, challenging stare. Unsure what to say, he murmured: “The Padellanis are a great Neapolitan family,” and kept his eyes focused on her. He was waiting for a reply, and it came. Agata believed that she had detected genuine compassion in this foreigner and, dismissing her natural reserve, she spoke to him about her beloved father, cadet son of his family, the economic hardships her family had suffered in order to scrape together her sisters’ dowries, the opposition of the Lepres to her love for Giacomo, and the desperate attempts the elderly notary had made to obtain her hand in marriage for his grandson, and even her mother’s scornful rejection of those overtures. “We really are poor women,” she said, with simplicity, and added: “Poverty itself wouldn’t frighten me if I only had some books: I could read and educate myself, and then seek employment as a governess; that would be nice work.”
    â€œBooks?”
    â€œMy mother put up for sale those of my father’s books that could hope to find a buyer. There were many other books, but he hadn’t reported owning them, in violation with King Francis’ law, so those books will have to be destroyed. Otherwise we’ll have to pay large fines. I hid a few of them in my trunk, but only a very few. I wish I’d taken more of them with me.” She looked around her disconsolately, and added: “All of the English books were left at home, to be sold.” She fell silent, suddenly aware of how impudent she’d been, and did her best to steer the conversation back to a proper drawing room tone: “You must be very contented; before long now you’ll see the love of your life again!”
    â€œIt’s true, my fiancée is waiting for me in Naples . . . ” Leaning against the railing he looked out over the sea:
    Â 
    If ever any beauty I did see,
    Which I desir’d and got, ’twas but a dreame of thee.
    And now good morrow to our waking soules,
    Which watch not one another out of feare;
    For love, all love of other sights controules,
    And makes one little roome, an every where
. . .
    Â 
    Agata had a very acute sense of hearing. Love. That was exactly what she had been thinking about all night long. She thought she’d figured out what it was, love: to feel one with one’s beloved and to want only their happiness, even more than your own happiness. She looked out at the sea, one vast glittering field of waves caressed by the glancing rays; then her wandering gaze fell on the Englishman’s blond hair and muscular silhouette: he too was looking out at the dawning of the day.
    An orange ball was hanging just over the line of the horizon: the sun, whole and round, was gleaming gloriously over a sea that was finally bright blue. Agata relaxed into a long, closed-mouthed smile, and their eyes met. Then came a guttural clamor from inside the cabin: “Why is that door hanging open? Shut it now!” Nora had just awakened, and she wanted an explanation and an apology from Agata for the cold air pouring in through the open door.

5.
Autumn in Naples.

The scathing humiliations of poor relations.

Agata can’t understand what her mother wants from her
 
    O n a sun-drenched day, the steamer chugged slowly into Naples harbor, steering for the Molo Angioino, and moored at the foot of the looming mass of the castle that was built at the behest of Charles of Anjou. It had docked at Sorrento where Donna Gesuela, as previously agreed, had sent word to the Padellanis of their impending arrival. Anna Carolina was weeping bitterly in the cabin; she had never wanted to leave Messina and she abhorred Naples. Agata, in contrast, had only the finest memories of the place. The first time she’d been