The Plague Doctor's Daughter

Epilogue

She nodded out of respect for the acknowledgement rather than concurrence. "Thank you, but it is my father who is being awarded for his service to the Republic. It is the Rienzo name being exalted today and as you yourself just said, I am a Visconti."

The jailer smiled. "Oh, my dear child. As a widow, it is true that you would be considered the head of your own household if your late husband would have had anything to leave you besides his name. But since he was a soldier with no property nor other valuables, you have the choice to return to your father's side and enjoy the benefits of his newfound status," he said.

Giovanna stared at the man in surprise, not having realized that this was a possibility. "You are certain?" she asked, unaware of the intricacies of civil law.

He bowed his head. "I swear to you, Madonna," he said, using the same honorific reserved for gentle ladies as the man before him. "And before I go, I would like to also convey my sympathies to you about the way Signore Visconti met his end."

Suddenly flustered, Giovanna blinked rapidly and looked for a way out. "The plague has taken too many from this fair city," she said as her eyes fell to the door.

"The plague?" asked the jailer, the confusion in his voice drawing her attention back to him. "That is not how your husband died."

"It isn't?" she asked, feeling as if the floor had been pulled out from under her. For weeks, she had convinced herself that the blanket she had given Stefano had brought the fatal illness upon him. "But I thought—"

"Stefano Visconti was a free man on his way out the jail's door when another prisoner strangled him in a deranged fit. It was an unprovoked attack from a lunatic, nothing more," he said. Seeing Giovanna in a state of shock and unable to respond, the man bowed in farewell. "I am sorry for your loss, but a good day to you, Madonna."

When he stepped away, the void revealed that an equally astounded Matteo had been standing behind him.

"Stefano was killed by another inmate. It wasn't because I had—"

"I heard everything," said Matteo, stepping forward.

Giovanna held back tears. "Did you know?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. How can you even ask? If I had known that you didn't directly cause his death, I would have told you at once to save you from all the pain your guilt has inflicted," he said, touching her arm.

She sniffled, ready to bow into is waiting embrace for much needed comfort when curious looks caught her attention. "Why is everyone staring?" Giovanna asked, unnerved by the eyes upon them.

"Because you look magnificent. But here, if it is bothering you, then come," he said, before leading her toward a group of dancers. Waiting for the right beat of the ongoing song, they seamlessly joined in.

"You are too kind, but apart from the gown—which is still more modest than any other here—I am no different than I was yesterday or the day before," Giovanna said between steps, glad for the distraction. "And I've never gotten a reaction such as this."

"That is because yesterday—or any day before then for that matter—you were not worthy of their stares," Matteo replied before he assisted her in a twirl. "According to them, that is."

Giovanna hopped in rhythm toward him. "So they only care because my father has received a title of nobility?" she asked.

"That is correct," he answered during a flourished bow. "With the flick of a quill, the Doge has made most of the single men in this room want to marry you and the women to want to be you."

Giovanna scoffed, but continued to step forward and backward several more times as the flutes and harpsichord played.

"Count yourself lucky. I assume that you had little choice in your first husband, but now you have the pick of any eligible noble in Venice," he said, mirroring her moves.