‘I would rather it were you in the painting. I’m sure Papa would better prize your painted image. I wish Mamma had listened when I told her I was an odd choice of subject for this gift. Then I could have spent all these wasted hours in the monastery library instead. Friar Bartolomeo told me Papa shared with him his new book of astronomy. If I’d been there, I would have seen it.’

‘I think that sounds very dull.’

‘Then it is just as well it is I who has a curiosity for learning.’ Luna stroked her sister’s blonde tresses. ‘Your soft beauty will see you through this life well enough, whereas I must find some other talent to recommend me.’

‘It does not matter, for we all know Papa will keep you close. How lucky you are, Luna.’

‘You will have handsome young men falling at your feet and Papa will find the perfect match for you when it is time. You will marry and live in a fine palace and have lots of little Marias who will fill your heart and your days and I will visit often. I should be excited if I were you!’ Luna made her voice sound bright. Maria’s future was set; her mamma talked about the fine match Papa would be able to make on account of his daughter’s looks, so it was as well she was prepared. Luna, on the other hand, would never marry.

The girls went through to the main room where their parents and brother were already seated at the table. Luna lay her crutch beneath her chair. Steam rose off the roasted pheasant and her mouth watered at the smell. Other dishes were placed along the centre of the table, though the children and Mamma Lucrezia waited for Papa’s permission before reaching for any food. Luna watched him dig his hands under the thick body of the bird and tear off a thigh joint, snapping the leg bone easily. Even though he was a man of books now, he’d never lost his shop-floor appetite.

‘How much did this fine bird cost me?’ he asked as he spat a mouthful of gristle into the basket.

Mamma Lucrezia pushed the platter closer to his reach and ignored his pointed question. ‘Have you begun on the dyed cloth for Margherita Palagio?’ she asked. ‘I’m curious to see how the crimson colour comes out. I do so want to ensure she is pleased, for it is my reputation at stake as much as that of the business.’

‘It is a time-consuming and costly process and I’m sure your friend would not wish my dyers to rush, else a remnant of insect wing remain in her bolt of cloth.’