The Duke slapped a large, damp-looking hand to his shiny forehead. “Well I’m blessed! The people who make spells! I was thinking of sending for you. Have you come about this enchanter-fellow who’s got his knife into Caprona?” he asked Old Niccolo.
“My lord!” said the Duchess, her face rigid.
But the Duke broke away from her, beaming and gleaming, and dived on the Petrocchis. He shook Old Guido’s hand hugely, and then the girl Renata’s. After that, he dived round and did the same to Old Niccolo and Paolo. Paolo had to rub his hand secretly on his trousers after he let go. He was wet. “And they say the young ones are as clever as the old ones,” the Duke said happily. “Amazing families! Just the people I need for my play – my pantomime, you know. We’re putting it on here for Christmas and I could do with some special effects.”
The Duchess gave a sigh. Paolo looked at her rigid face and thought that it must be hard, dealing with someone like the Duke.
The Duke dived on Domenico. “Can you arrange for a flight of cupids blowing trumpets?” he asked him eagerly. Domenico swallowed and managed to whisper the word “illusion”. “Oh good!” said the Duke, and dived at Angelica Petrocchi. “And you’ll love my collection of Punch and Judys,” he said. “I’ve got hundreds!”
“How nice,” Angelica answered primly.
“My lord,” said the Duchess, “these good people did not come here to discuss the theatre.”
“Maybe, maybe,” the Duke said, with an impatient, eager wave of his large hand. “But while they’re here, I might as well ask them about that too. Mightn’t I?” he said, diving at Old Niccolo.
Old Niccolo showed great presence of mind. He smiled. “Of course, Your Grace. No trouble at all. After we’ve discussed the State business we came for, we shall be happy to take orders for any stage effects you want.”
“So will we,” said Guido Petrocchi, with a sour glance at the air over Old Niccolo.
The Duchess smiled graciously at Old Niccolo for backing her up, which made Old Guido look sourer than ever, and fixed the Duke with a meaning look.
It seemed to get through to the Duke at last. “Yes, yes,” he said. “Better get down to business. It’s like this, you see—”
The Duchess interrupted, with a gentle fixed smile. “Refreshments are laid out in the small Conference Room. If you and the adults like to hold your discussion there, I will arrange something for the children here.”
Guido Petrocchi saw a chance to get even with Old Niccolo. “Your Grace,” he barked stiffly, “my daughters are as loyal to Caprona as the rest of my house. I have no secrets from them.”
The Duke flashed him a glistening smile. “Quite right! But they won’t be half as bored if they stay here, will they?”
Quite suddenly, everyone except Paolo and Tonino and the two Petrocchi girls was crowding away through another door behind the red hangings. The Duke leaned back, beaming. “I tell you what,” he said, “you must come to my pantomime, all of you. You’ll love it! I’ll send you tickets. Coming, Lucrezia.”
The four children were left standing under the ceiling full of wrestling angels.
After a moment, the Petrocchi girls walked to the chairs against the wall and sat down. Paolo and Tonino looked at one another. They marched to the chairs on the opposite side of the room and sat down there. It seemed a safe distance. From there, the Petrocchi girls were dark blurs with thin white legs and foxy blobs for heads.
“I wish I’d brought my book,” said Tonino.
They sat with their heels hooked into the rungs of their chairs, trying to feel patient. “I think the Duchess must be a saint,” said Paolo, “to be so patient with the Duke.”
Tonino was surprised Paolo should think that. He knew the Duke did not behave much like a duke should, while the Duchess was every inch a duchess. But he was not sure it was right, the way she let them know how patient she was being. “Mother dashes about like that,” he said, “and Father doesn’t mind. It stops him looking worried.”
“Father’s not a Duchess,” said Paolo.
Tonino did not argue because, at that moment, two footmen appeared, pushing a most interesting trolley. Tonino’s mouth fell open. He had never seen so many cakes together in his life before. Across the room, there were black gaps in the faces of the Petrocchi girls. Evidently they had never seen so many cakes either. Tonino shut his mouth quickly and tried to look as if he saw such sights every day.
The footmen served the Petrocchi girls first. They were very cool and seemed to take hours choosing. When the trolley was finally wheeled across to Paolo and Tonino, they found it hard to seem as composed. There were twenty different kinds of cake. They took ten each, with greedy speed, so that they had one of every kind between them and could swap if necessary. When the trolley was wheeled away, Tonino just managed to spare a glance from his plate to see how the Petrocchis were doing. Each girl had her white knees hooked up to carry a plate big enough to hold ten cakes.
They were rich cakes. By the time Paolo reached the tenth, he was going slowly, wondering if he really cared for meringue as much as he had thought, and Tonino was only on his sixth. By the time Paolo had put his plate neatly under his chair and cleaned himself with his handkerchief, Tonino, sticky with jam, smeared with chocolate and cream and infested with crumbs, was still doggedly ploughing through his eighth. And this was the moment the Duchess chose to sit smiling down beside Paolo.
“I won’t interrupt your brother,” she said, laughing. “Tell me about yourself, Paolo.” Paolo did not know what to answer. All he could think of was the mess Tonino looked. “For instance,” the Duchess asked helpfully, “does spell-making come easily to you? Do you find it hard to learn?”
“Oh no, Your Grace,” Paolo said proudly. “I learn very easily.” Then he was afraid this might upset Tonino. He looked quickly at Tonino’s pastry-plastered face and found Tonino staring gravely at the Duchess. Paolo felt ashamed and responsible. He wanted the Duchess to know that Tonino was not just a messy staring little boy. “Tonino learns slowly,” he said, “but he reads all the time. He’s read all the books in the Library. He’s almost as learned as Uncle Umberto.”
“How remarkable,” smiled the Duchess.
There was just a trace of disbelief in the arch of her eyebrows. Tonino was so embarrassed that he took a big bite out of his ninth cake. It was a great pastry puff. The instant his mouth closed round it, Tonino knew that, if he opened his mouth again, even to breathe, pastry would blow out of it like a hailstorm, all over Paolo and the Duchess. He clamped his lips together and chewed valiantly.
And, to Paolo’s embarrassment, he went on staring at the Duchess. He was wishing Benvenuto was there to tell him about the Duchess. She muddled him. As she bent smiling over Paolo, she did not look like the haughty, rigid lady who had been so patient with the Duke. And yet, perhaps because she was not being patient, Tonino felt the rank strength of the unsaintly thoughts behind her waxy smile, stronger than ever.
Paolo willed Tonino to stop chewing and goggling. But Tonino went on, and the disbelief in the Duchess’s eyebrows was so obvious, that he blurted out, “And Tonino’s the only one who can talk to Benvenuto. He’s our boss cat, Your—” He remembered the Duchess did not like cats. “Er – you don’t like cats, Your Grace.”
The Duchess laughed. “But I don’t mind hearing about them. What about Benvenuto?”
To Paolo’s relief, Tonino turned his goggle eyes from the Duchess to him. So Paolo talked on. “You see, Your Grace, spells work much better and stronger if a cat’s around, and particularly if Benvenuto is. Besides Benvenuto knows all sorts of things—”
He was interrupted by a thick noise from Tonino. Tonino was trying to speak