Chapter Six

Mariaisabella wakes up with temporary confusion. Her clothes are the same as the previous night. And she is not at home. Then she quickly remembers meeting her childhood friend and his sons. She also remembers staying the night at their small, but humble, place of living.

The woman is ecstatic to see her friend again. Every time she would visit, they would always meet. Whenever Mariaisabella's parents gave her away to her aunt, the first place they would go to is to Emerenziano.

Memories of playing in the fields and having fun fill her with joy. Although those days are now long gone, they still live eternally in her mind.

The bed she resides in is small. But it is just as comfortable as the one in her home. Reluctantly, she gets out of Emerenziano's bed and looks around. The early sun hasn't broken through yet. But she can still hear the murmurs of the father in the kitchen next door.

Once she enters the cooking space, she is surprised and happy to see that she is the last one to be awake. She catches a whiff of the sizzling meat, and her stomach grumbles in excitement and anticipation.

"Good morning, my friend," Emerenziano greets with a booming voice and expressed happiness. "Come, sit. I would be cooking for you, but your eldest insisted." With a nod, Mariaisabella sits on the closest seat surrounding the small, round, oak table.

Mariaisabelle is standing over the stovetop, making sure that the food is ready. Mariaisabella chuckles to herself. If anyone told her that her eldest would be cooking for others, Mariaisabella would not believe them in the slightest.

Beside her eldest on the counter, there are bowls of prepared oats. Mariaisbella remembers a time when porridge was the only thing that she would want to eat.

But that was before she was married off.

"Here you are, mother. Please be kind as it is my first time cooking," Mariaisabelle says while serving her the porridge and the cut of previously brined meat. Unable to resist herself, Mariaisabella asks the obvious.

"Why did you compel yourself to cook? You're not the type for any hard labor," Emerenziano chuckles at Mariaisabella's question. It is true. Mariaisabelle is a fair lady who relied on the castle's staff to do her bidding. She, like her father, refused to lift a finger.

"I knew it. You were fed with the teats from the rich," Emerenziano utters with a smug tone. Mariaisabelle, after giving everyone their ration, sits around the table.

"I can learn! I am not a snotty brat, and I can do everything you can do but better," Mariaisabelle rebuts. Emerenziano folds his arms and scoffs.

"I don't believe you. Why don't you prove it to me?" Emerenziano challenges. The poor woman internally sighs. Much like her father, Mariaisabelle refuses to be wrong. She is stubborn and will go to extreme lengths to prove that she is right.

"Fine. If I can prove that I can do your job better, both as a caregiver and farmer, then you have to admit defeat," Mariaisbelle wagers. Emerenziano nods. He then reaches his right arm to shake on the deal. Once they finish their handshake, Mariaisabelle looks down at her hand in disgust and wipes it on her clothes.

After they finish their squabble, breakfast commences. Mariaisabella takes a spoonful of the porridge and raises it to her mouth. The taste is definitely not good, but it is not bad at all. She takes a bite of the cooked meat and can taste the flames' smoke on it. Otherwise, it is wonderful.

For her first time cooking, Mariaisabelle did an excellent job.

As all eight of them eat, Mariaisabella glances to her left. The mother sees Emerenzian looking at her. She is about to ask why he is looking at her, but he opens his mouth to speak.

"My father talks about you quite often," Emerenzian states. The elder woman nods and responds with a thank you.

"Is it true that you can read and speak three different languages?" Mariaisabella sighs and nods at his question. Being from a high aristocratic standing, it was compulsory for her to learn English and French, along with Italian. Truth be told, her mother language is not, in fact, Italian. It is English.

"That is fantastic. I have always been on the farm and I never learned to speak English or even read Italian. Can you help me?" Emerenziano asks. The mother squints her eyes at the young boy. It was strange for people to ask Mariaisbella for help. So she doesn't know if it is a trick.

But it doesn't matter. She deserves to be appreciated for once in her life.

"I will help you. Come over to my home and I will teach you there," Mariaisabella agrees. The eldest son beams with genuine happiness. Mariaisabella doesn't know why but it makes her smile.

Around the table, there is familial commotion. After finishing their food, all four women bid their goodbyes and get ready to return home. To make things even better, they have about a ten-minute walk from them.

Once they get home, Mariaisabelle continues to complain about Emerenziano to her sister. Maria and Mary stay silent and follow their older sister into her room. And Mariaisabella sits in the office. She reads over a small piece of paper that her aunt left behind with the lease.

Mariaisabella then holds up a hand-held mirror and sighs. She pulls down the neck of her blouse, revealing the healing bruises around her neck. It is still tender and it is sometimes hard to swallow. But it is alright.

All she has to do is venture on.