The Plague Doctor's Daughter

33. Giovanna

"I suppose it's just you and me then," Dilara said as she crouched behind an abandoned cart across from the convent they had first visited just a day and a half earlier. "I was hoping that handsome nobleman of yours would make this easier, but I'm glad you're willing to try again without him. What's the plan, then?"

Giovanna fidgeted, picking at a sliver of wood hanging off the cart's railing. She, too, had hoped Matteo could find a way to get to Ottavia by using evidence from their stake-out to cut Nicco's dealings off at the knees. But they had never gotten a glimpse at the contents of the mysterious crates loaded onto Dilara's brother's boat, which Hakan immediately transported to the mainland. With the way she had abruptly left him, Giovanna also could not even hope that Matteo had changed his mind about making another attempt at the convent tonight.

Not that he was in the right. The truth was the opposite, in fact. He'd greatly offended her by demanding she wear a fancy dress just so anyone who saw her leaving his residence would pay no mind. Because a commoner like her would never have a legitimate reason to be in Palazzo Barozzi other than serving the esteemed procurator's family in some way!

Hah. Giovanna scoffed at her own foolishness in thinking that Matteo could have felt anything more for her other than carnal desire. Yet her own recollection of the night they had spent together—of his tender caresses, his sweet whispers, and his satisfied moans—sent a shock through her.

It hurt. She thought he could be different from all the other men, but the way he was able to dismiss her feelings—no, her entire being—so easily had shattered her illusions. Matteo Barozzi had no greater intentions than to satisfy his own lust, and she had stupidly fallen for his charms.

No matter. Giovanna had as much need for him now as he did of her, which was none at all. She had been accustomed to relying on just a handful of close-knit family and friends, and cutting the procurator's son out of her life now was better than if she had gotten even deeper.

But she had gotten deep, and the ache she felt in her belly made that impossible to ignore.

She'd felt wanted, understood, and—most of all—loved when she was with Matteo, in spite of the extremely short time they'd known each other. It was as if God had brought them together just when they needed each other the most.

Or at least that's what she thought when she'd woken in his bed twelve hours earlier. Before he had belittled her standing within the rigid social framework they both navigated daily as Venetians. Before he had reminded her that a commoner could never have a life with a nobleman. Before he had broken her heart.

"A plan . . .," she began, realizing that she'd spent most of the day thinking about everything else other than how to free her best friend from the nunnery's stone walls and, eventually, from a lifetime of unhappiness with Niccolo Grimani. "Yes, well, let's see. I have heard of troops smoking an enemy out of hiding, so that could be a way, do you not agree?"

Dilara looked at her with skepticism. "I . . . I am not sure what you are suggesting."

"Fire, of course," Giovanna said as she began to get excited by her own idea. "We'd set a small one, just enough to get the attention of the sisters. They'd usher everyone outside as a precaution, and it is then that we'd pull Ottavia out of the crowd before disappearing into the night."

The other girl shook her head. "I don't think that is a good idea," she said, looking between Giovanna and the convent further down the alley. "My father kept hives full of bees in our garden in Istanbul and he would use smoke too subdue them. What if it has similar effects on the women inside those walls and instead of rousing them to attention, it makes them complacent? If our fire got out of hand while they fell into deep slumber, it could mean disaster for them all."

Giovanna looked down at the ground where a stray weed grew out from a crack in the stone. If that tiny plant could persevere in spite of its harsh reality, so could she. "You make a good point," she said, looking back at the Turkish girl. "We must go about this in a more thoughtful manner. What do you . . .."

The opening of the convent's door caught her attention, and Giovanna trailed off before she could ask for advice. Instead, she motioned for Dilara to also turn, and they silently watched as three people emerged from within.

An older nun dressed in the black and white habit of the Benedictine order stayed just inside the threshold as a man in peasant's clothes led a small girl out by the hand. Giovanna gasped as she recognized the child from their encounter in the Mestre woods. Like then, the tiny thing wore a light dress and her golden hair shone in the setting sun as she wriggled against her father's grasp.

"Thank you, Suora, for taking the time to see us," said the man, respectfully bowing to the nun. "We will be returning as discussed with the necessary dowry to secure my daughter's education."

The sister nodded before she stepped back and shut the door between them.

"Where are your manners, child?" asked the man as he tugged the girl back to his side, the previous courtesy gone from his expression. Instead, it had been replaced by a look of annoyance.

"I don't want to live here, Papi," pleaded the girl, pulling away with even greater effort.

"You have served your purpose. Our immortal disciples can now continue the work we've started, the Lord willing," he said while hastily crossing himself and glancing up at the sky. "After I've collected my due reward for putting everything in motion, the life of solemn contemplation among the Sisters of Saints Cosma and Damiano those coins will buy can hopefully also earn you a place in His heavenly paradise."

"No!" The child screamed, the look of anguish on her face nearly breaking Giovanna's heart. "You can't leave me in this awful place. I'd rather go back to the forest."

Kicking her father's shin, she used the distraction to wriggle free of his grip and flee down the alley.

"Wait! Marietta, come back," he yelled, hopping in pain on one leg before running after her.

"How peculiar," Giovanna whispered after both had disappeared from view.

"Oh? Is this not how your religion usually treats its girls? By locking them away until all of the flame of the fight in them is extinguished?" Dilara asked with an all-knowing cock of her brow.

Giovanna smirked. The basic tenets of Catholicism had obviously resonated with even foreigners. "Well, yes. But is your religion any different?" she asked, recalling what little she knew of the Muslim faith.

"Creating my own destiny aboard my brother's ship has let me worship my own way." Dilara avoided a direct answer, underscoring Giovanna's assumption.

"And I am glad for you. I hope to give Ottavia the same opportunity. But actually, that is not what I found strange about what we had just witnessed," she said.

"What then?"

"I've seen that child before," Giovanna admitted, recalling her recent excursion to gather herbs. "She protected me from an enraged fox not more than three days ago."

"She is small, but brave," Dilara noted, nodding in approval.

Although Giovanna wholeheartedly agreed, she considered all of the facts before her. "Well, that's the thing. The animal showed no anger toward her at all, as if they were already acquainted. Friends, even."

Dilara sighed. "Peculiar, indeed."

"What is peculiar?" asked a male voice from behind, making both women jump.

Turning her head, Giovanna let out an exasperated huff. "You?" she asked with unconcealed derision at the sight of Matteo. After the way he'd treated her that morning, he was the last person she'd expected—or even wanted—to see here now. "Come to watch the plebeians fail, did you?"

The look of self-satisfaction on his face fell into a frown. "The two of us certainly have a lot to discuss, but that can wait. For now, I am here to help, and I have a plan."