The Unveiling

The studio seemed too full with bustling bodies. Vinca stood quietly by the easel containing the portrait still hidden from view. Papá stood near the door greeting the Vettori family as they entered. Luca led the way chattering excitedly, followed by her mother, Imilia Soletti, and finally by Domenico. His expression remained respectful as he greeted Girardus’. When his gaze settled on her she felt her throat tighten and her heart pound wildly in her chest. He noticed her nervousness and though the expression was fleeting, she felt like the twitch of his mouth and the slight lift of his brow was certainly a smirk.

Papá’s words came back to her, reminding her nobody would believe in her work if she didn’t. She drew up proudly and held his gaze until he nodded politely to her and looked away. She clenched her hands at her side and swore not to let him see her so nervous again.

“Is it beautiful?” Luca stood next to her eyeing the cloth covered canvas, eyes bright with excitement.

“In a few moments, you will tell me.” She smiled at the girl and motioned her to step back from the canvas.

She noticed Fina and Pietro standing in the back of the room grinning like fools and she felt a surge of warmth and confidence just from knowing they were there. Certainly there was plenty of room in Papá’s studio for more people. The room was primarily used for when he wanted to bring in a group of people to see his works on display. Today, however, his were covered and he had carefully arranged it so hers would be the focus of all eyes. Because of this, it felt far too small for her comfort. She was not used to bearing so much attention.

The room quieted and she met the eyes of each person present as she spoke. “Welcome. I have no great flair for presentation but I would like to take this moment to acknowledge the great honor of allowing me to paint a daughter of the House of Vettori.” She smiled directly at Luca. “It was truly a pleasure.” She turned then and Papá stepped up to the other side of the easel when she reached for the corner of the cloth. She tried to hide her shaking hands as she grasped her side of the cloth. On her nod, her father helped her smoothly flip the cloth away from the portrait.

Too nervous to watch the initial reactions, Vinca stepped away and stared at the floor. After several moments of silence she couldn’t stand it and glanced up at her father. His expression was certainly one she had seen before; the artist evaluating the work of a student, however she saw him nodding in approval and when he caught her eye, he offered her a smile of pride. She released a nervous breath, realizing his opinion was the one she most valued. With his approval she could face any stones thrown at her work.

She turned to Luca, who stood gaping at the portrait, her eyes wide. Finally she said, “Oh! Oh, Vinca! You made me beautiful!”

She reached a hand out to the child who took it without glancing away from the portrait and pulled her closer to examine the painting. “I did not make you beautiful, Luca. God did. I simply put it on canvas.”

Smiling down on herself, the Luca of the portrait still held the unique shapes of the girl’s face but softened slightly. Vinca had carefully smoothed out the sharp lines and softened the face that appeared harsh in adolescence but would blossom into a beautiful young woman. The dark green velvet of her dress lay perfectly against her pale skin and the waves of golden hair flowing from the crown braid atop her head caught the light and held the eye as it draped about her shoulders. The pearls and gems caught up in her hair and around her neck shone in the light of the painting as if they were real and Vinca felt a surge of pride in that particular detail. So well done were they, one almost wanted to reach out and touch them to see if they were real.

Luca squeezed her hand and turned to her mother. “Mama, do you like it? I do!”

Vinca turned to glance at Imilia Soletti awaiting her opinion of the piece. Imilia met her gaze and smiled in approval. “Very nice. You take after your father.”

The simple statement washed over Vinca and released yet another band of tension from her shoulders. The matron of the Vettori family approved and her voice would carry a great deal of weight despite being a female. The woman had a keen mind and though she would deny it with great modesty, she was a force in the political world of Siena to be reckoned with. One did not want to be on her bad side. Equally so, anyone that wished to be noticed wanted first to be noticed by her. Vinca still suspected she had been the one to first see and admire Papá’s work.

Finally she turned her gaze to Domenico. He still studied the painting, his thoughts his own and his face neutral. Luca squeezed her hand again and Vinca took comfort from the girl. Luca knew that her brother’s opinion was the one they all waited to hear and offered comfort where she could.

When he turned to Vinca he remained silent for so long she began to wonder if he were playing a game. Nervous fear gave way to irritation and the early stirrings of anger as they all waited. Unable to withstand anymore waiting she raised her head proudly, almost in defiance of his silence, and spoke directly to him.

“I hope it does meet your approval, Signore Vettori.”

His eyes narrowed and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and her anger bloomed even more. He had been playing a game. A game meant to get her ire up and prolong her nervousness. He turned then to her father and spoke. “Payment will be made upon delivery, as previously agreed.” With that he bowed to Vinca with as much respect as she had ever seen him pay her father and turned to leave the studio.

Imilia regarded her for several moments as if seeing her for the first time. Her gaze was considering and thoughtful, both of which made Vinca nervous. When she nodded politely, Vinca she was sure some decision had been made about her and feared ever finding out what it might be.

“Come Luca. It is time to go.” With another nod to Papá she turned and left the room in a rustle of brocade. Luca scrambled after her seeming suddenly like a child again rather than the young woman she was becoming.

Once they were gone Pietro rushed over to Vinca with a whoop of glee. He caught her up in an embrace that knocked the wind out of her and spun her around in a circle. When he set her down Fina rushed in and threw her arms around her as well.

“Oh Vinca! It is beautiful! The finest piece you have ever done!”

She felt her cheeks grow warm and her hands start to shake as the built up tension began to ease. “I think I need to sit down,” she muttered.

She felt a chair pressed to the back of her legs and she sat down heavily. Apparently Papá had anticipated her need before she expressed it. Fina knelt beside her clutching her hand while Pietro rubbed her shoulders. Papá came around and knelt in front of her with a smile. He reached out and laid his hand over her free one.

“You do me proud,” he said with a smile. “Such a fine piece. I knew you had gifted hands.”

“Thank you, Papá.”

He patted her hand firmly once more before he rose. “Now to find your next client.”

“What? Papá, no!” She scrambled to her feet. “I cannot. This was a fluke. I am just a woman. I cannot sell art.”

“Pah! Of course you cannot if you take that attitude!” He turned to her and shook a paint-stained finger in her face. “But you are my daughter and I know you would not back down so easily! You have painted for Vettori, one of the most powerful families in Siena, and been complimented by them.” He shrugged as he walked over and stood as if studying the portrait. “And I have a good eye for art. Once this piece is seen, and spoken of by Signora Soletti, you will be on your way to being an artist in your own right.”

Hope bloomed in her, a hope she never dared to let see the light of day. Never would she have admitted out loud that what he said she wanted. She wanted it more than anything. Was it true there was hope for a woman painter with the right support and backing? Could she carve a name of her own in the world of art in Siena?

“There is more I need to learn, Papá,” she said. She knew there were areas she was still weak in. Surely he would see it too and help her.

“Of course,” he said, already deep in thought. “You need a teacher. I will find one for you.”

“Papá, why can you not teach me?”

He laughed. “Because you are my daughter! The same things you have less skill in, I also have less skill in! I will find you a teacher that will make you a better painter than I am.”

“Papá!” She threw her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder. “Do not say that. I can never be better than you.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her out to arms length looking her in the eyes. “You nearly are already, child. Modesty has its place, now. Remember that. But not in art.” He patted her on the cheek then turned to Pietro and Fina. “Now the lot of you begone. I have to think.”

Fina grinned and grabbed Vinca’s hand and tugged her from the room with Pietro right behind them. She bounced excitedly when they entered the sala and threw her arms around Vinca again. “This is so wonderful! Such a beautiful painting! You will be an artist like Papá!”

“Do you really think I can?” She could hardly believe it might be possible. She wanted to but it seemed like such an impossible path.

“I do!”

“Papá would not tell you it was possible if it were not,” Pietro said. Then a slow smirk spread across his face. “Once you are a famous painter you will have even more musicians singing under your window.”

Her cheeks flamed instantly and she turned on her brother in shock. Fina covered her mouth but didn’t quite hide the giggle. He grinned and backed slowly away from her as she stepped toward him. “How did you--?”

“How did I know? Who did not know! He made enough noise to wake the dead.” He clasped his hands together and held them against his chest while casting his gaze skyward. “Oh my beautiful Vinca. I will sing to you and make noise and pretend nobody else can hear…” He grinned at her and she saw once more the brother teasing her to ease away the last of her tension of the day with laughter. Ever the dutiful sister she knew her part and played it, enjoying the game of their youth.

“You had better not tell anyone!” She hissed, smiling as she advanced on him.

He laughed and skirted around the trestle table set up for meals. “I think I shall only tell Anna! Surely she will keep your secret!”

“She would not remember it long enough to be a concern!” Vinca giggled.

“Really? Let’s find out!” Pietro dashed for the stairs and Vinca squealed, running after him. Fina laughed and followed, the sounds of their feet thundering up the stairs echoing through the palazzo.