10-21-2013, 08:27 PM
"I'd already thought of that." Nazario smiled rather possessively down at the city and rubbed at his stubbly chin. "The wealthiest people live in that part of town there-- see all the gardens? You'll go there and start knocking at kitchen doors looking for jobs. Oh... and I even wrote you a reference."
The mock monk produced a worn and scraped scrap of parchment and held it out to them. "It says you're pious orphans who wish positions as servants to support yourselves. I gave you good characters, of course. I said you're from Sarno. Aside from that... I have some friends in town... I'll drift in and ask about to see if I can find the source of the Gabrielli's misfortune. I'll be in touch with you from time to time."
Marisa eyed the bit of parchment resentfully. All the times they'd been turned away for not having any character, and only now did Nazario make himself useful!? She turned away to hide her anger, and struggled with a recalcitrant knot in a shoelace. A misjudged tug caused the lace to break, and she bit back a cry of dismay. It's not that bad... I can wear my other shoes until we can get better ones.
With great care, Marisa retied the shoe, trying to arrange it so the knot in the lace wouldn't be too uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and sent a wordless prayer for calm. "We'd better get started, then. If the Gabrielli family doesn't need servants, we'll have to find a job somewhere else if we don't want to sleep on the street."
Turning her back on Nazario with a regal grace, Marisa took a few steps toward the city. At least in a place this large, it should be easy to find work...
Luciano gaped at the desecrated wall, filled with despair. There hadn't been a disturbance in four days-- not since Father Theo had blessed the house-- and he had allowed himself to hope the nightmare was over. Obviously it was not, and whatever foul spirits had infested the house seemed enraged by the blessing. Wearily, the young lord sat on a stiff bench in the hallway, burying his face in his hands.
The sound of footsteps behind him heralded the arrival of Alfonso, the majordomo, with several other members of the household in tow. The head servant looked around, taking in the situation in an instant, and began barking crisp orders. The hysterical maid was capably led away by the housekeeper, the potboy was sent racing to fetch a priest, and another maid was sent to bring a fresh breakfast to Luciano. The immediate issues dealt with, he came to stand quietly at his master's side.
"We shouldn't tell mother about this, Alfonso. Not if we can help it. There's no need to worry her further." Luciano took a deep breath and looked up at Alfonso gratefully. Sometimes the older man's strength seemed like the only thing keeping the household together. "Strange, though, that Ovidio didn't rouse during any of this..."
Frowning slightly, Luciano opened the door of the room his valet occupied, only to find it empty. Not the casual emptiness of a room whose occupant has stepped out, but the barren emptiness of one that lacks an occupant. Everything that was portable was missing, even down to the bedhseets. Luciano looked over to Alfonso, and the older man's furious expression confirmed what his eyes had told him. The valet had left, taking with him everything of value in what had been a generously appointed room. Turning to go, the lord convulsively clutched the majordomo's shoulder when he saw the wall opposite the servant's door.
"Lord Luciano? Is something else wrong?"
Luciano stepped across the hall and let out a sigh of relief. "No, Alfonso... I only thought there was for a moment. I thought he'd taken the madonna... I was mistaken, however. He just turned its face away. Probably couldn't steal everything with her watching." Reverently, Luciano took the painting and returned it to its proper position, murmuring an apology to the exquisitely lifelike Madonna and Child. He couldn't have said if the apology was for being hidden or for having to see the scene in the hallway, but he felt better for having apologized, even if it was to a painting. "You'd best see about hiring more servants... I imagine more of them will leave after this."
"I'll start today, milord. I can't say how long it will take, though. Rumor has fleet feet." The older man looked around the ruined hallway and crossed himself perfunctorily, then went to the kitchen to learn how many servants he would have to replace.
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