‘I am worried for you, Giulia, and for your baby. There are some, myself amongst them, who do not believe the act of conceiving a child is sinful. You and handsome Vincenzio have created a beautiful baby in the image of our Virgin Mother. Can anything be more pure?’ Elisabetta shifted her hold on the cloth parcel as she spoke, her fingers pressing into the soft bulge.

‘Have you looked upon the broken thing?’ Giulia’s voice was fearful. ‘What do you know of motherhood, anyway? You’re lucky to still be whole and as yet free.’ She sighed deeply. ‘This day was to be my glory and it has ended most monstrously.’

As though she’d heard her mother’s words, the baby cried again and so intimate was the sound, it made Giulia’s heart contract with a pain more fierce than that which racked her body. ‘I am spent. Go and do my bidding, I beg you.’

Elisabetta left the room. The wet nurse still waited with the newborn in her arms. Giulia silently cursed the exhaustion that threatened to drag her down with its intensity but she could not rest until the pair was gone. She considered the woman standing by the bed, no more than a girl, heavy breasted after the plague had taken her own babe, and now about to lose her chance at mothering the broken thing she held. The woman’s son had died swiftly, between dawn and dusk of the same day. A flicker of compassion stirred in Giulia but she took a deep breath; this was no time for weakness.

‘Take her away now. Do as I say, Livia. She will be well cared for at the convent and I will still pay you until the end of the month.’

‘Please, mistress, every whelp deserves a mother’s love. The foot can be hidden and her face is pretty enough.’

‘Quieten your tongue else I’ll cast you out at the same time. Foolish chit of a girl. You are too young to understand.’ Giulia turned to the window where the daylight was beginning to fade. ‘So much damage will come.’ Her voice was pained. ‘All because of this deformed babe. I have no doubt the good people of Florence will blame me. I would do ever so myself. They will paint me as a wretch who bore a demon in her womb. My husband’s eye will begin to wander and I will be turned out, the Fusili name lost to me …’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as she fumbled with her hair and rolled it into a knot. ‘Vincenzio has been working diligently to build his business so that we may enjoy a better life. What would this do to him … to our future?’ She clutched her hands together to still their shaking.