Page 26 of The Royal Governess
Lacing his hands together, Marco abandoned his meal, his attention drawn to his struggling teenager. “Tell us, my son, about this book.”
Gregorio’s eyes lifted to mine. I nodded. He liked the book and he seemed to get it.
“It’s about a bootlegger named Gatsby.”
“Bootlegger.” More distaste on Gabriella’s side. “What is this bootlegger thing? So he makes shoes?”
“Smuggler.” Marco supplied the word as if every well-bred Royal should know what that meant. Ama’s eyes sparkled, as if she wanted to hear more.
Eating had slowed, the food forgotten. “Well, Gatsby loves a girl named Daisy.”
Gabriella sent a simpering smile in Marco’s direction. “So Gregorio is reading a love story, eh?”
The teacher in me roared to life. “Of sorts,” I said in my best academic voice. “The book is about class differences and how they affect relationships––the fabric of society.”
To my delight, Gabriella slouched back and reached for her wine. She’d been chastened. And she didn’t like it.
“Daisy falls in love with Gatsby, but he has to go off to war, so she marries someone else.” Lexi joined the discussion.
Marco shrugged his broad shoulders as if he understood perfectly.
“But when he comes back, he decides to make a lot of money so Daisy will love him again.” Gregorio jumped back into the fray.
“He makes money,” Marco said the words as if he were trying to understand. “So he has no estate. No trust?”
“No, Father. He is a poor man,” Gregorio said softly.
“But she is married now, no?” Gabriella had picked up that key point. I was beginning to enjoy this lively discussion. In class, my students often pointed out the similar conflicts. But now I had the royal point of view.
“Daisy loves Jay Gatsby,” Gregorio says with wonder. “Her husband hasn’t treated her well.”
“Yes. Poor Gatsby. He doesn’t get it.” Lexi says. “And he gets killed.”
“Does the husband take his vengeance?” Marco asked, eyes sparking. “Does he challenge Gatsby to a duel?”
My mind went to the assortment of swords, knives and daggers displayed on the walls. Well, I couldn’t help it. My laughter spilled over the table. Marco was applying his own life, his own set of social standards to this classic tale. One look at the group and I swallowed my laughter. They were taking this very seriously.
Gabriella had fallen silent. All this talk of strange marriages might have caught her by surprise. And she might not like it. Wearing a sly smile, Ama regarded Marco and her grandson. Gregorio had gone back to his gnocchi.
“So much for these fairy tales. What about the mathematics?” Marco waved a knife in the air.
Did men always go back to numbers?
“He’s doing very well.” But I was getting ahead of myself.
Gregorio understood the concepts. I could see that. But I sensed that his heart wasn’t in trigonometry, so calculus might be a slog. This passion I’d seen today during our discussions? No, he didn’t hold this keen interest in math.
Sitting back, I thought that over as the servants deftly exchanged empty plates with a fresh salad.
This had been a long morning, beginning with my lessons with Rudolfo and ending with a tour of the lower chambers. As I devoted myself to the salad, I looked forward to stretching out on my bed, drawing up the soft comforter. I could sink into a food coma while the breeze wafted through the open doors of the balcony.
“Lexi and I are going to town this afternoon,” Gregorio announced.
My head snapped up. “What?”
Lips tight, Marco looked from Gregorio to me. Ama looked equally alarmed. When had the two of them cooked this up?
My employer’s eyes drilled into me. “You will accompany them, of course.”
