The Plague Doctor's Daughter

18. Giovanna

Giovanna was numb. There was no pain even though she wished for it. Of course there wasn't because then at least she'd have something to blame, something to resent, something to consider!

But there was nothing.

She had no grievance with her husband for surviving war because that's what a proper wife should have expected. She had no concern about Matteo seeing her in such a helpless state because he had returned in good faith. And she certainly had no bitterness toward her father for getting sick because the plague was practically unavoidable.

In this case, however, the nothing inside her didn't equal the absence of something, but rather the excess of lacking. And while a whole lot of nothing was something, a lack of something was also nothing. Her head hurt just for thinking about it, yet in spite of this vast emptiness within her, Giovanna persisted.

Ignoring Matteo's departing wishes to rest easy, she worked through the night harder than ever. After several trips to the courtyard well, she'd gotten the stone floors scrubbed, the dirty laundry washed, and several tinctures brewed before sunrise. The physical activity kept her mind off everything else, and after sharing a sparse breakfast of almond biscotti and chamomile tea with her father—who'd awoken long enough to eat, but thankfully had no recollection of the night's events—she set off.

Although Matteo had been curt about the location of their impending reunion, she'd assumed he'd want her to find him at his parents' residence. Yet when she'd tapped the bronze hoop knocker on the door of Palazzo Barozzi, she received unexpected news.

"Signore Matteo has gone to Ca' Calergi," said the boy who'd also been manning the entry on the night she tended to Matteo's upset stomach.

Giovanna was perplexed. Why would Matteo visit a place known for its card games now when he had explicitly instructed her to find him? But because standing on his doorstep would bring her no closer to a revelation, she thanked the boy and departed.

Left to her own devices, Giovanna quickly deducted that she had three choices.

She could go home while hoping that Stefano would be detained long enough for her father to recover. This choice Giovanna discarded immediately. For one thing, her husband's detention was a ruse. In a day or two the true details surrounding the end of his service would surely come to light. Knowing the long period of convalescence needed for people who survived the plague, Agostino would still exhibit symptoms upon Stefano's return.

Giovanna could also act: either move her father out to a safer location or, alternatively, find another place for her and Stefano to live. The former was easier in theory, but definitely not in execution. The only acceptable place for a plague victim was the lazaretto, which in this case was out of the question. Even if she could physically transport Agostino to another location, she couldn't trust anyone to keep his secret.

No, he had to stay in Campo San Polo.

Getting a new apartment for herself and Stefano was the idea she'd briefly toyed with last night before . . .. Giovanna's thoughts trailed off. She didn't want to recall anything that happened after her husband had resurfaced. But renting a private space—even a small room—needed money, which she didn't have ready access to. Luckily, there was one person Giovanna knew who did.

Leaving Piazza San Marco, she backtracked up the Canale Grande to Palazzo Michiel. There, a servant girl greeted her with a now familiar rebuttal.

"Signora Ottavia is not at home," she said, already shutting the door into Giovanna's face.

She put her foot into the gap, forcibly keeping it open. "Do you know where she went? Or when she'll return?"

The girl looked put out for the extra queries from someone barely above her station, but after a frown and a sigh, she answered. "The Rialto market."