Catalina Comes to the Salle

August 12th, 1712

Dear Diary,                     

I don’t know why I’m writing this, except that Nana gave you to me and you’re very beautiful, so I thought I had better use you. I don’t want to be ungrateful. Nana said to put down my thoughts and feelings, so...

          Nana and Papa told me at dinner tonight that I’m going to get a companion tomorrow. I don’t know what to think. It seems a little odd. Usually, it’s old ladies who get companions, not twelve-year-old girls like me. Why do I have to have one? And how do you just give someone a person? What if I don’t like her? Can I give her back? What if she’s just a spy for the grownups?

          I can’t let them find out about my fencing, or my jumping Achilles over hedges, or my tree climbing. I won’t be able to do anything around this new girl. Honestly, it’s like having another governess when one is already too many.

          Nana says that there are too many boys around the villa, and I need a feminine influence. Papa says I spend too much time alone.

          But I like being alone. Then I can do what I want, not what they want me to do. What’s so great about a feminine influence anyway?

          The real reason they’re doing this is because last year I punched the baron’s son, and then, there’s Geno. But Geno was hurting that cat on purpose, no matter what he said afterwards. And I warned him to stop, and he wouldn’t. Some people just need a good sock on the nose.

          Though after a week confined to my room, my hand still hurts from that punch.

          Anyway, we’ll see what this new girl is like tomorrow.

          Goodnight, Diary.

 


 

August 13th, 1712

Dear Diary,

          I hate her.

          Her name is Catalina. She showed up in a fancy silk dress with her pretty face and her long dark hair. She cried almost all day, saying she missed her mother. Then she looked at me like it was my fault! How is it my fault? I don’t even want her here.

          Nana tried to cheer Catalina up and spent almost all afternoon showing her around and helping her decorate her new room. Nana hardly said two words to me all day. How is this supposed to be more of a feminine influence when now I don’t even get to talk with Nana anymore?

          It looks like Catalina is going to be eating with us in the family dining room too. Sebi and Antonio spent all dinner staring at her like idiots. Yes, she’s very pretty, but so what. She doesn’t know the first thing about fencing or horses.

          So how do I get rid of her? Any suggestions?

          I thought not.

          You are no help, Diary.


 

August 13th, 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            I know you told me to be strong, so I’m trying hard not to cry, but I can’t help it. I know my being here is good for my education and for Enzo’s. I know that this will help Enzo’s career, but I miss you and I wish I could come home.

            Grandmother DiCesare, (Nana, as she asked me to call her) has been very kind. This morning when I arrived, she showed me all around the villa, which is very lovely, especially the silk drapes. Every time I complimented a piece of art or a decoration, she had the servants take it down and carry it to my room. We spent the afternoon decorating my room and she did her best to make me feel welcome.  I like her very much. She can’t walk very well, but she has a dry, sharp sense of humor that I think you would enjoy.

            I had dinner with Maestro DiCesare, Nana, the two sons, Antonio and Sebastian, and Francesca. Everyone was kind, but it felt awkward. Antonio, who is sixteen, and Sebastian, who is fourteen, both stared as if they’d never seen a girl before. The maestro didn’t exactly interrogate me, but he did ask a lot of questions about my education and habits. I think it was his way of showing interest and getting to know me. I expect it works fine with boys, but I wanted to crawl under the table.

            And Francesca, what can I say about her? This girl I’m supposed to be a friend to. Although never rude, neither was she welcoming. It’s clear that none of this was her idea. If anything, she seems suspicious of me. I don’t know what it is that she thinks I’m likely to do.

            While Nana gave me the tour, she followed behind, saying next to nothing. Papa would have told her to stop moping. While Nana and I decorated my room she seemed both bored and restless. She spent the entire time watching the students who were learning to fence in the courtyard below, hardly paying any attention to me and Nana. She said very little. I can’t tell if she’s shy, or just not interested in talking to me.

            I know she’s two years younger than me, and I’ll need to be patient. Nana took me aside and said as much. But I really don’t understand this girl. She doesn’t seem to want to talk about anything but fencing or horses.

            What if she doesn’t like me? What if I don’t’ like her? Does that mean I can come home? I miss you all so much.

             Thinking of you,

            Your loving Catalina

 

 

 

August 14th, 1712

Dear Diary,

          Catalina almost caught me fencing in my room this morning. She knocked on my door during fencing class while I worked on my low line parries. I barely managed to stuff everything under the bed before she opened the door. It was so close! Now I’m sure she’s a spy. I’m going to have to start locking my door during class.

          She offered to do my hair, which I had already combed and tied back. Why would I want some fancy hairdo that means I can’t move my head all day? I may have laughed in her face, which probably wasn’t very nice, but honestly!

          She asked if I wanted to do anything fun today, so I suggested we go for a ride. “Oh, no.” she said. “I won’t go near one of those beasts!” Can you believe it? Afraid of horses! She doesn’t even ride! I asked what she does for fun, and she said she sews and plays card games. Sews! For fun! A spy and crazy.

          I got stuck spending the afternoon playing Briscola with her, Nana, and Signora Álvarez. The signora gushed over her dress, and her ‘deportment’ telling me I should take note. Great. Yet more things for the signora to lecture me about. Thank you so much, Catalina!

          At least I won three rounds and captured the Briscola card twice, so maybe some of it was fun, but not nearly as much fun as jumping Achilles over the hedges.

          At dinner Sebi and Antonio acted like idiots, trying to impress her. They nearly fell over each other to hold her chair and to pass her the potatoes or the salt. I was so embarrassed!

          This evening, I asked if she reads, and she said she did. Thank God, I thought, at least that’s something we have in common. But it turns out she only reads those silly pastorals like Cassandre where some handsome, but not very bright hero mopes after some useless lady who does nothing but slurp tea and will barely speak to him. How can anyone read that nonsense?

I tried to loan her Dampier’s book about his trip to the New World, but she looked at it like it was a snake that might bite her. At least that’s a book about something real and interesting!

Afterwards I pretended to be tired so I could get away from her and she gave me such a look!

How do I get rid of her? Thoughts? Suggestions?

 Goodnight Diary.

 


 

August 15th , 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            Please get me out of here!

            Francesca is impossible! The girl can’t sit still for more than two minutes. She has to be constantly doing something. Preferably something that she’s been told not to do. First, she wanted to ride horses, then trudge through the woods, then chase rabbits with one of the hounds, I hope she was joking when she mentioned climbing trees! Then she gets angry when I say no, as if I’m the unreasonable one.

            She could be a pretty girl if she put in the least effort. Instead, she wears plain linen dresses, pulls her hair back in a ponytail, and is brown from riding her horse daily. I suggested she wear a hat to keep her skin fair and she looked at me as though I had suggested she take her head off and leave it behind.

            Her brother told me that the reason I’m here is because last week she punched a boy. She hit him right in the face! She’s quite insane! If she tries to hit me, I’m coming home no matter what.

            After dinner Signora Álvarez told us that she is leaving next week to go take care of her sick mother in Cascina. She’ll be gone indefinitely. The poor dear thing. I hope her mother recovers, but it doesn’t sound likely. 

            The signora has been kind for the most part, if a bit critical. I’ll be sorry to see her go and leave me here with her.

            When can I come home to visit?

            Love,

            Catalina

 

 

August 15th, 1712

Dear Diary,

          Signora Álvarez is leaving. She must be relieved. She’s criticized everyone and everything around here for the last two years. I’m happy, but also a bit worried. Nana likes to say, “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.” Still, how could a new governess be any worse?

          Now I just need to figure out how to get a new companion. One that doesn’t just sit around all the time doing boring sewing and reading boring books. She never wants to do anything. I suggested an outdoor activity might put some color in her cheeks and she looked at me as if I’d suggested a swim in a lake of lava.

          Nana lectured me again about making friends with Catalina. Well, they can make me sit around with her, but they can’t make me like her.

          Goodnight, Diary.

 

 

August 18th, 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            I lost my head today. I was so angry with her.

            For the last few days, whenever we’re not in class, she locks herself in her room or gallops off on her horse, so she doesn’t have to spend time with me. I’m supposed to be her companion, but she makes it impossible! If things keep up like this, Enzo and I will be sent home, and while I would love to be home, I don’t want to ruin Enzo’s future because this infuriating girl won’t talk to me.

            Today, I saw her sneaking into the house with grass stains all down one side of her dress. When I mentioned it, she accused me of being a spy, for heaven’s sake! I, of course, said that was ridiculous, but she wanted me to prove it. How do you prove you are not something?

            Anyway, we shouted at each other until Nana came and sent us both to our rooms. I was so ashamed of myself.

            I expect I may be home tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ve failed our whole family.

            Missing you,

            Your loving Catalina

 

 

 

August 18th, 1712

Dear Diary,

          I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

          Today a fox spooked Achilles while we were jumping the fallen log in the sheep pasture, and I spilled and slid halfway down the hill. I snuck back with a twisted knee, limping, and the first thing Catalina says is “You’ll never get those grass stains out.” 

          I was mad, so I said, “Thank you so much for your concern for my dress. I can see why you’re such a good companion.”  Then she said something about how would I know if she’s a good companion when I keep avoiding her. I told her she should go spy on someone else. She claims she’s not a spy, as any spy would.

          Anyway, with all the shouting, Nana found out about the dress and confined me to my room all day tomorrow. Thank you so much, Catalina. At least she got sent to her room as well.

          And, I’ve got my revenge. I found a way to get rid of her. While Nana was out in the garden I snuck into her room and borrowed her favorite necklace (the one with the cameo of my mother) and hid it among Catalina’s stockings. Now it is just a matter of time before Nana misses it and the search begins. Catalina will be sent home in disgrace not long after.

          I can’t wait to be on my own again.

          In the meantime, I guess you and I are spending the day together, Diary.

 


 

August 23rd, 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            A new governess arrived today with nothing but a small satchel. Her name is Signora Bianchi. And so far, I don’t much care for the woman. Where Signora Alvarez was pudgy and round, this woman is rail thin and very sever in her dress and hairstyle. She makes Francesca, who dresses very simply, look positively lavish by comparison.

            The first thing she did was take all the art and decoration out of her new room, (Signora Alvarez’s old room) and leave up just one crucifix on the wall. She says that art and decoration are merely distractions from one’s duty. I didn’t like the sound of that! So, not an art lover.

            Then she asked all sorts of questions about our education. Worst of all, she took away my books! She said that pastorals fill girls’ heads with unrealistic ideas about romance and that she discourages reading in ladies in general since it distracts them from their duties. Just what duties is she talking about? I’m worried.

            Francesca didn’t even get to meet her today since she was confined to her room for one thing or another. Not a great first impression, I’m sure.

            I miss you more and more,

            Love,

            Catalina

 

 

August 25th, 1712

Dear Diary,

          How do I get Signora Alvarez back? This devil I didn’t know is indeed much worse!

          First, Signora Bianchi tried to forbid me to ride Achilles!

          Well, I couldn’t let that stand. I went straight to Papa, who sided with me. He said it was good for my constitution to go for a ride regularly. She had some foolhardy notion that it would make me barren, which Papa dismissed out of hand, looking rather embarrassed about the whole thing.

          Then, she tried to take my books. When I pointed out that they were Papa’s books and that my brothers had both read them, and that they were teaching me geography, she eventually relented. But not before ordering me to spend a day working in the kitchen as punishment for arguing with her. Honestly!

          She has our entire day scheduled now. From sunup to sundown, if we’re not in class, Catalina and I are scheduled to be either spinning and carding wool, or sewing, or praying, or doing our schoolwork. We don’t have ten minutes to ourselves. How am I supposed to practice my fencing? Why do we have to work all day?

          I’ve complained to Papa and Nana, but they just say that every governess has her methods and that I should give her a chance. A chance to do what, work us to death? Or worse, bore us to death?

          Nana asked if I had seen her necklace today. I said no. In a few days I’ll mention that I might have seen Catalina with it.

          Goodnight, Diary

 

 

 

August 30th, 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            I know I’ve complained about Francesca, but at least she has a sense of humor. Signora Bianchi does not. Not at all, as far as I can tell. It’s been over a week, and I have yet to see her laugh, or even smile for that matter. She prays, she lectures about duty, and she orders us about. Yesterday I was humming as I sewed, and she reprimanded me.

            She and Francesca are constantly bickering, like two billy goats butting horns. And while Francesca may occasionally deserve punishment, Signora Bianchi seems to enjoy inflicting it over petty things. I almost admire Francesca’s tenacity in fighting back. Almost. I would, if she weren’t just making it harder for both of us.

            I’ve had just about enough of this woman, and I think I might do something drastic. If she can be petty, so can I. At least it will make me feel better.

            Sending all my love,

            Catalina.

 

 

 

August 31st, 1712

Dear Diary,

          Today was the best day ever. Well, the second best. The best will be the day Signora Bianchi leaves for good. But today was special.

          First off, tired of the signora making us spin wool every day, I got up last night and did a little maintenance on the spinning wheel. I took the wheel apart and replaced the bolt in the hub of the wheel with a shorter one.

          When Catalina and I finished our history lesson we were assigned to meet the signora in the sewing room. For once, I was eager to go. It worked out perfectly. She had just sat down at the spinning wheel when we entered.

          As we took our seats to work on repairing the salle’s napkins, the signora threaded the yarn and put her foot on the treadle. I held my breath, watching. She worked the pedals and the wheel started to spin as she fed the wool into her yarn. She had a few yards of new yarn on the bobbin when the wheel started to wobble, then, to my delight, it came loose, spun off across the floor and out of the room and down the hallway, dragging the bobbin, unrolling behind it.

          I tried my best to keep from laughing, but I heard Catalina snort with laughter, and I gave in, fits of laughter making my sides ache.

          You should have seen the signora’s purple face as she chased after the wheel. Catalina looked at me and raised an eyebrow, asking if I did it, and I gave her a nod.

          Once the signora had caught the wheel, rerolled all her yarn, and examined the bolt, she demanded to know who had done this.  We both played innocent perfectly. With no damning evidence, she was forced to merely punish us for laughing with three more hours of kitchen duty. Ha! We can do that in our sleep.

          But the fun wasn’t over yet. Unable to do her spinning, the signora pulled out her knitting. Catalina gave me a wink and a head nod toward our governess. I watched from the corner of my eye as I sewed.

          Signora Bianchi seemed to be having difficulties. The needles kept slipping from her fingers, gliding through her knitting, and falling onto the floor. She picked them up and examined them, started again and the same thing happened.

          I raised an eyebrow to Catalina, and she gave me a nod. She mouthed the words duck fat.

          The signora tried three or four more times as Catalina and I tried our very best not to laugh. Catalina’s face turned bright red, and her sides shook. I’m sure I looked much the same as I bit my lip to stop the giggles.

          Eventually she gave it up, put away her knitting, and pulled out her needle and thread. I looked at Catalina, and she gave me a wicked smile. Sure enough, Catalina had greased that needle too. Every time the signora tried to pull the thread the needle squirted out of her fingertips.

          We both had to fake coughing spells to cover our laughter and the signora huffed and told us to go get a drink of water.

          We made it halfway down the stairs before we fell into each other’s arms in hysterics.

          Catalina is the best companion ever. I’m sorry I doubted her. I can’t wait to see her in the morning. Tomorrow I need to put Nana’s necklace back where it belongs.

          Good night, Diary.

 

 

 

September 1st, 1712

Dearest Mamma,

            This afternoon, I came into my room after lunch and caught Francesca digging through my stocking drawer. I was annoyed, but we were doing so well together after yesterday’s pranks, I didn’t want to spoil the mood, so I didn’t yell at her. She didn’t hear me open the door, so I  just leaned against the frame and said, “If you need stockings, just ask.”

            To be honest, I expected some excuse, or denial, but she looked at me, the corners of her mouth twitched down, she looked thoroughly miserable, and she started to cry. She’s always been so fierce, that tears were the last thing I expected. Then she held up a gold chain with a cameo hanging from it. She said, “I’m so sorry Catalina, I’ve been so awful to you! You should hate me.”

            I was confused as she sat down on my bed and put her face in her hands. It wasn’t my necklace, so she wasn’t stealing from me. Was she giving me a necklace? Then I realized. Heat flashed through me and I said, “You’re trying to make me out to be a thief, aren’t you! ”

            She shook her head and wiped at her tears and said, “Yesterday I was, today I was trying to undo it.” She looked up at me with those bright emerald eyes. “I’m sorry Catalina, I thought you were like all the rest of them.”

            I didn’t understand. “The rest of who? ”I asked.

            “All of them. Everyone. All the people who are constantly watching me, lecturing me, scolding me, punishing me. All the people who want me to be anyone other than who I am.” The hope in her eyes caught my breath as she said, “But you’re not them. You’re on my side.”

            That was when I realized how terribly alone she has always felt. Why she’s constantly fighting the whole world. Why she’s always so fierce, and how strong she is to never give in, or give up and be who they want her to be. Maybe things would have been different if her mother hadn’t died. Maybe then she would have been someone else, someone who wanted what the world wanted of her. Who knows.

            But this afternoon, I realized that I couldn’t give her a mother’s love, but I could give her a big sister’s. I told her, “They may have brought me here, but they brought me here for you. I’m on your side, Francesca, always.”

            Well, the hug she gave me nearly broke my ribs. I guess she loves just as fiercely as she fights. So, I guess this time, I’m not hoping or asking to come home. Francesca needs me, and this is where I belong.

            Love,

            Your Catalina