Chapter 18: The Hunting Lodge
As soon as the excitement over La Contessa's puppet show has died down, the household is plunged into another whirlwind of activity. It's Julia who catches me in the kitchens one morning and excitedly explains.
"La Contessa's announced that we are going to her hunting lodge in Piedmont. She goes every winter and returns to Venice in time for the Carnevale. This year she's sprung it on us suddenly. We're to make preparations and leave in a few days-time!"
"Is this to her country estate?"
"One of them," Julia explains." She's a villa overlooking Lake Garda I've been to and various other estates. The hunting lodge is one of the highlights of the year. You'll love it there, and she's sure to come up with interesting ways to entertain herself! And, with a bit of luck," she looks around to make sure nobody else can hear, "we should get time to ourselves."
She winks at me. Julia has lovely hazel eyes, which complement her olive skin and chestnut hair perfectly, especially when she's animated. They light up the room. I'm pleased to see her in such a bright mood. The puppet show has lifted her spirits. There's been no adverse reaction to my fucking of Becky in full view of La Contessa's guests. Indeed, it seems mistress was full of praise for the enthusiasm with which Julia entered into the role. This has restored her confidence, making her less paranoid about how La Contessa is treating her.
Julia explains we are to be part of an advance vanguard to prepare the lodge, with La Contessa and her slave girl joining us when everything is ready. Mademoiselle La Tour, who has become a confidante of La Contessa since the card game, has also been invited as her guest. This means we'll get a few days together on our own, and no Lucio snooping around after us.
Julia's role is to prepare La Contessa's wardrobe for the trip. It can't take too long I think, naively. Several days later I stand at the landing stage surrounded by a mountain of trunks and hat boxes, watching the fleet of gondolas hired to carry them. I realise this is more like a military expedition. The gondolas convey staff and luggage across the lagoon to the mainland where a line of coaches await us for the arduous journey across country. The trip, along the bumpy roads of northern Italy, is made pleasurable by the opportunity to share the journey with Julia. We snuggle up together in the coach. Along the way we stop at coaching inns where, though we have separate rooms, we contrive to spend the nights together for sex.
Eventually we arrive at Villa Perosa, La Contessa's hunting lodge. I'm surprised at the modesty of the house. I say this in relative terms, making comparison with both the Palazzo Cavelli in Venice and other hunting lodges of the Italian nobility, which I know can resemble palaces. At the heart of the estate is a handsome single-storey log-built lodge. It's a commodious rural retreat containing a great hall with its fireplace, a study, other reception rooms, and suites for La Contessa and her guests. It's more homely and welcoming than the luxuriously grand I expected and know she could afford. There are smaller wooden lodges at the rear, the accommodation for her household staff, along with stables and kennels. The lodge itself is nestled in a dip and surrounded by pine woods and woodland paths. To reach the hunting lodge, we take an avenue running through the farm and olive groves. This must be where La Contessa produces her olive oil, which I've seen in rows of bottles in the kitchens at the palazzo decorated with her livery of the black swan.
Julia immediately sets to work directing the other staff in unloading the coaches, and I muck in by helping carry the trunks to La Contessa's suite. Julia is on a mission to get the work done as soon as possible so we'll get time to ourselves before La Contessa and her entourage arrives. The staff waste no time in fetching logs and lighting fires in the rooms to warm the place up. By early evening, the lodge is comfortable, the glow of the fires giving it a homely atmosphere.
Julia's pleased. The other staff are busy with chores, and it's her place to unpack La Contessa's trunks containing her clothes and personal effects. I'm nestled in a most commodious armchair in the corner opposite La Contessa's four poster bed as Julia unpacks.
"How long are we staying here?"
"It depends," says Julia, "two to four weeks usually. La Contessa is capricious; if she gets bored I've known her leave at a moment's notice. That would be bad, Roberto, after all you and her slave girl are here to entertain her so if we leave early it'll reflect badly on you," she scolds.
"She needs all this stuff for a few weeks!" I exclaim, as I get up to drag another trunk along the floor for Julia to unpack.
"Roberto, have you learnt nothing? Of course, she needs it all! She has to look magnificent at all times as you know. Each garment is carefully chosen and has its place."
Julia empties a trunk containing La Contessa's underwear. There are silk knickerbockers, satin corsets, and lace stockings. She dangles a shiny, ivory basque from her fingers.
"You ought to try it on!" I suggest.
"Oh no, I shouldn't. If she were to find out she'd be furious. Maybe you should try it on," she taunts.
Julia picks up a pile of knickerbockers in various colours: white, cream, red, black, and purple, buries her nose into them and breathes in their aroma.
"Julia! That's a bit kinky."
"No it's not. They're freshly laundered. They smell delicious. They smell of roses and lavender, and her."
I can't help thinking it wouldn't bother her if they were soiled, and she inhaled the odour of dried piss. She'd still be waxing lyrical about her mistress's scent.
