‘You sound like my step-mamma.’ Luna mused at how the notion soothed her. She smelt the faint reminder of Mamma Lucrezia’s favourite pheasant dish.

It was warm in the kitchen despite the icicles on the window ledge. Partridges roasted in the oven alongside a dish of mutton stewing in wines and spices—a tight fit, but there were many estate workers to be fed. Eels broiled on hot coals and pikes roasted on the spits. The fish still had to be ground into the meatballs that were one of the professor’s favourites and the eels would be added to the creamed leeks. Luna watched the dish of leeks turn golden as Elisabetta added a pinch of saffron. There was bread aplenty and enough wine to send them all away happy. Bowls of candied nuts and spices were ready to offer alongside the pigeon crostata.

The estate workers were invited into the main hall and Luna sat with the hosts as the room filled with people merry and free from chores. They ate and drank and celebrated the Novaras’ generosity. Luna thought Nicolaus would fit in well with these revellers. She wondered if he’d have asked her to dance.

The feast lasted till dawn but Luna retired early, lulled to sleep by the warm memory of her papa’s deep voice as he recited the Novena to his children.

*

The January days following Epiphany brought with them an enveloping cosiness of rugs and fires, and the household slowed to a relaxed pace. Professor di Novara was distracted by the business of the estate. It was planning time for the coming spring and he disappeared early each morning to inspect the fields with his estate manager, checking the vines and discussing what seeds they would sow first.