The first week passed with tenant visits, staff meetings, and detailed planning sessions with Signora Benedetti. Lucia fell into bed each night exhausted but satisfied.
She wrote to Alessandro on the eighth day, keeping her tone professional but allowing small personal observations to creep in.
The Russo family sends their regards. Their youngest son asked if you'd brought back any Neapolitan pastries when you returned. Apparently you promised him some on your last visit.
Signora Alberti has stopped testing me, I think. Yesterday she asked my opinion on hiring additional kitchen staff. I suggested we wait until after harvest when we'll know the budget better. She looked almost pleased.
The southern section requires more extensive drainage work than initially estimated. I've consulted with three engineers. Their proposals are enclosed. I favor the second option for reasons I've detailed in the margins.
I miss debating with you over dinner. Signora Benedetti is competent but less inclined toward theoretical arguments about optimal crop rotation.
Yours in partnership,
Lucia
Alessandro's response arrived six days later, his handwriting bold and slightly messy across expensive paper.
Lucia,
Naples is insufferably hot and my business partners are insufferably tedious. I spent three hours yesterday listening to a merchant explain why his shipping delays weren't his fault. They were absolutely his fault.
Tell young Russo I haven't forgotten. I'll bring enough pastries for his entire family.
Your assessment of the drainage proposals is correct. The second engineer has the most practical approach. Authorize the work. The expense is justified by long term yield improvements.
I don't miss debating with Signora Benedetti either. I miss debating with you specifically. Your willingness to tell me I'm wrong about things is refreshingly rare among my acquaintances.
Five more weeks. I'm counting days, which is absurd and unlike me.
Missing you more than is probably appropriate for a business partnership,
Alessandro
Lucia read the letter three times before carefully folding it and placing it in her desk drawer. Then, annoyed with herself for the warm feeling in her chest, she went to approve the drainage work.
The second week brought unexpected complications.
"My lady, there's a problem." Signora Benedetti appeared in the estate office looking troubled. "The Ferretti family solicitor is here. He's demanding to speak with you immediately about estate expenditures."
Lucia set down her pen carefully. "Did he specify which expenditures?"
"The drainage project, the barn repairs, the adjusted tenant contracts." Signora Benedetti's expression was grim. "Apparently someone informed him you've been authorizing significant expenses without proper oversight."
"The count authorized me to manage the estate as I see fit. That includes necessary expenditures." But Lucia felt unease creep up her spine. "Send him in."
The solicitor was a thin man with calculating eyes and the demeanor of someone who enjoyed wielding bureaucratic authority. He bowed perfunctorily before spreading documents across her desk.
"Countess Ferretti. I've received concerning reports about your management decisions." His tone was polite but contained obvious disapproval. "Significant expenditures without consulting the family, contract modifications that alter longstanding arrangements, unauthorized agricultural experiments."
"Nothing I've authorized is unauthorized. The count left estate management in my hands explicitly." Lucia kept her voice level. "What exactly is your concern?"
"My concern is that a young woman with limited experience is making costly decisions that could damage the Ferretti holdings." He smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. "I'm certain you mean well, but estate management requires years of expertise. Perhaps we should wait until the count returns before implementing these changes?"
Lucia felt anger spike, cold and controlled. "You believe I lack the expertise to manage effectively?"
"I believe caution is warranted when someone inexperienced suddenly has access to significant funds and authority." He gestured to the documents. "The drainage project alone costs eight thousand lire. That's a substantial sum to risk on what might be an unnecessary improvement."
"The drainage project will increase yields on forty hectares of currently unusable land. The return on investment is clear." Lucia pulled the engineering reports from her files. "I've documented everything. The analysis, the projected yields, the cost benefit calculations. Would you like to review them?"
The solicitor glanced at the reports dismissively. "Numbers can be manipulated to support any conclusion. What matters is prudent stewardship, not ambitious experimentation."
"What matters is improving estate profitability while treating tenants fairly." Lucia's tone hardened. "I've reduced operating costs by identifying fraudulent expenses. I've improved tenant relations by addressing legitimate maintenance concerns. I've planned strategic improvements based on sound agricultural principles. If you have specific objections to my methodology, state them. Otherwise, stop wasting my time with vague concerns about my competence."
The solicitor's expression went cold. "The Dowager Countess shares my concerns. She believes the count made a hasty decision in granting you such extensive authority. She's asked me to review all expenditures and provide oversight until his return."
There it was. The real issue. Not Lucia's competence, but the Dowager Countess's resentment at being bypassed in favor of Alessandro's new wife.
"The Dowager Countess has no authority over estate operations," Lucia said quietly. "The count was explicit about that. I manage the estate. Signora Benedetti implements my decisions. You provide legal services when requested. Those are the boundaries."
"Boundaries can be renegotiated when circumstances warrant." The solicitor stood, gathering his documents. "I'll be conducting a thorough review of your recent decisions. If I find evidence of financial mismanagement or imprudent spending, I'll be recommending the count rescind your authority upon his return."
After he left, Lucia sat very still, rage and fear warring in her chest. This was exactly what she'd feared when entering this arrangement. Being undermined, questioned, having her authority stripped away because men decided a woman couldn't possibly know what she was doing.
She pulled out paper and wrote to Alessandro immediately, her handwriting more controlled than her emotions.
Alessandro,
Your family solicitor visited today with concerns about estate management. He claims to be acting on the Dowager Countess's behalf, reviewing all expenditures and questioning my authority to implement changes.
I need clarification on the extent of my decision making power. Can he override my choices? Does he have authority to halt approved projects? What recourse do I have if he attempts to undermine estate operations?
I'm not asking you to return early. I'm asking for clear legal boundaries so I can manage this situation effectively.
Every decision I've made has been documented and justified. I'm not operating recklessly. But I need to know the full extent of my authority before this escalates further.
Lucia
She sent the letter express, paying extra for rapid delivery. Then, because sitting still felt unbearable, she went to inspect the drainage work personally.
The southern section was already transformed. Workers had begun excavating channels, installing the pipe systems that would redirect groundwater away from the fields. The engineer overseeing the project greeted her with respectful competence, walking her through the progress without condescension.
"We're ahead of schedule, my lady. Weather's been cooperative, soil composition is as expected. Should be finished within four weeks."
"Excellent. Let me know immediately if you encounter any problems." Lucia surveyed the work with grim satisfaction. This would succeed. She'd make certain of it.
Two days later, disaster struck.
Lucia was in the estate office reviewing accounts when Signora Benedetti burst in, her usual composure shattered.
"My lady, there's been an accident. One of the workers on the drainage project. The trench collapsed."
Lucia was on her feet immediately. "How bad?"
"He's alive, but his leg is badly injured. They've sent for the doctor." Signora Benedetti's face was pale. "The other workers are saying the collapse was caused by poor engineering. That the project is dangerous and should be halted."
"Show me."
They rode to the southern section at speed. The scene was chaos. Workers clustered around the collapsed section, arguing loudly. The injured man had been pulled clear and lay on the ground, his face grey with pain while someone attempted to stabilize his leg with makeshift splints.
Lucia dismounted and went directly to the engineer, who looked nearly as pale as his injured worker.
"What happened?"
"The soil composition changed. We hit a section with more clay, less stability. The walls collapsed before we could shore them up properly." The engineer's hands were shaking. "I should have caught it sooner. Done more extensive testing before excavation."
"How serious is this? Will it affect the entire project?"
"We'll need to modify our approach. More extensive shoring, slower excavation in unstable sections. It'll add time and cost." He met her eyes with visible distress. "I'm sorry, my lady. This is my responsibility."
The injured worker groaned, and Lucia turned her attention to him. A young man, perhaps twenty five, his face contorted with pain. His right leg was clearly broken, bone visible through torn flesh.
"The doctor?" she asked Signora Benedetti.
"Sent for. Should arrive within the hour."
Lucia knelt beside the injured man, forcing her voice to remain calm. "What's your name?"
"Marco, my lady." His voice was tight with pain. "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."
"This wasn't your fault. The soil conditions changed unexpectedly." She looked up at the surrounding workers. "Someone fetch water and clean cloth. We need to clean this wound before the doctor arrives."
For the next hour, Lucia supervised basic first aid while waiting for medical help. The doctor, when he finally arrived, was efficient and competent. He set the leg, administered laudanum for pain, and gave strict instructions about care and recovery.
"He'll need at least eight weeks before that leg can bear weight again," the doctor said quietly to Lucia. "Possibly longer. He won't be able to work."
"He'll receive his full wages during recovery, plus compensation for the injury." Lucia kept her voice firm despite her churning stomach. "This happened on estate property during estate work. We're responsible for his care."
"That's generous, my lady. Most wouldn't—"
"Most aren't concerned with basic decency. Make sure he has everything he needs. Send the bills to me directly."
After Marco was transported carefully back to his family's cottage, Lucia remained at the site with the engineer and Signora Benedetti.
"Can the project continue safely?" she asked.
"Yes, with modifications. But it'll take longer and cost more than projected." The engineer's expression was miserable. "I understand if you want to halt the work. After this accident—"
"We're not halting. We're adapting." Lucia kept her voice steady despite her racing thoughts. "Modify the approach as needed. Prioritize safety over speed. I'd rather spend more and take longer than risk additional injuries."
"My lady," Signora Benedetti said quietly after the engineer departed. "The solicitor will use this. He'll claim it proves you're not capable of managing complex projects safely."
"I know." Lucia stared at the collapsed trench, at the visible evidence of her ambitious plans meeting harsh reality. "But we continue anyway. Because halting proves his point just as effectively as the accident does."
That night, alone in her chambers, Lucia sat at her desk and wrote another letter to Alessandro. Her hand shook slightly as she described the accident, the injury, the mounting costs and complications.
I keep questioning whether I made the right decision authorizing this project. Whether my confidence in the engineering reports was hubris rather than sound judgment. Marco has three children and a pregnant wife. If his leg doesn't heal properly, his ability to work may be permanently compromised.
Your solicitor will undoubtedly cite this as proof I'm not competent to manage estate operations. Perhaps he's right. Perhaps I've been reckless, prioritizing ambition over prudence.
I don't know what I'm asking for. Reassurance feels like weakness. But I needed to tell someone, and you're the only person who might understand why this feels like personal failure rather than simple misfortune.
She sealed the letter before she could reconsider the vulnerability, sent it express, and then forced herself to review accounts until exhaustion made thinking unnecessary.
Alessandro's response arrived four days later by express courier, the poor rider having been driven hard to deliver it quickly.
Lucia,
I'm leaving Naples immediately. I'll be in Verona within three days.
Don't make any decisions about the project until I arrive. Don't let the solicitor pressure you into halting work or second guessing your judgment.
What happened was an accident caused by unpredictable soil conditions. It wasn't reckless planning or incompetent management. It was misfortune, and sometimes misfortune occurs despite careful preparation.
Marco will recover. His family will be cared for. The project will adapt and continue. You're not failing. You're managing a complex situation with the exact combination of compassion and pragmatism that made me certain you were the right person for this role.
Three days. Hold steady until then.
Yours,
Alessandro
Lucia read the letter twice, emotion threatening to overwhelm her careful control. He was returning early. Abandoning Naples business because she was struggling.
That should feel like validation. Instead, it felt like failure. Like she couldn't manage three weeks without requiring rescue.
She went to bed that night frustrated with herself, with the situation, with the entire complicated mess this partnership had become.
At midnight, unable to sleep, she rose and moved to the connecting door. It remained unlocked from that first night, her small promise to herself.
She opened it.
Alessandro's room was dark and empty, his absence somehow more pronounced when viewed directly. The bed was neatly made, his personal items minimal, everything organized with military precision.
Lucia stood in the doorway for a long moment, then returned to her own room and climbed back into bed.
Three days until he returned. Three days to prove she could handle this without falling apart.
***
The solicitor returned the following afternoon with the Dowager Countess in tow, both wearing expressions of grim satisfaction.
"We've heard about the accident," the solicitor began without preamble. "This confirms our concerns about your management approach. Reckless spending on dangerous projects, inadequate oversight, workers injured due to your inexperience."
"The accident was caused by unpredictable soil conditions, not inadequate oversight." Lucia forced herself to remain seated, to project calm authority despite her churning anxiety. "I've already made arrangements for the injured worker's care and modified the project approach to prevent future incidents."
"You've made arrangements?" The Dowager Countess's tone dripped disdain. "You've committed estate funds to compensating a common laborer for his own carelessness. That's hardly sound financial management."
"Marco was injured performing work I authorized. His care is the estate's responsibility."
"His care is charity you can't afford." The solicitor spread more documents across her desk. "I've completed my review of your expenditures. In three weeks, you've committed the estate to over fifteen thousand lire in expenses. Drainage projects, building repairs, contract modifications, now medical care and lost wages. The count left you in charge of maintaining operations, not fundamentally restructuring them."
"The count left me in charge of managing the estate as I determined best. Every expenditure I've authorized is justified and documented." Lucia kept her voice level with effort. "If you disagree with my decisions, take it up with the count when he returns."
"The count is in Naples and has no knowledge of your recent recklessness." The Dowager Countess leaned forward. "As the senior member of this family present in Verona, I'm exercising my authority to halt all current projects pending Alessandro's return and review."
"You have no such authority."
"I have every authority to protect my late husband's estate from a foolish girl playing at being a countess." The Dowager Countess's smile was cold. "I've already instructed the workers to cease operations on the drainage project. I've informed the tenants that your contract modifications are suspended pending review. And I've directed Signora Alberti to require my approval for all household expenditures going forward."
Rage flooded through Lucia, hot and overwhelming. "You have no right—"
"I have every right. Alessandro made a mistake marrying you. A mistake that's become increasingly obvious." The Dowager Countess stood. "Until he returns to correct his error in judgment, I'll be ensuring you cause no further damage to family interests."
They left before Lucia could formulate a response that wasn't simply screaming.
She sat frozen at her desk, documents scattered before her, the full weight of the situation crushing down. Everything she'd worked for, every careful plan and justified expense, dismissed as reckless inexperience. Her authority stripped away, her competence questioned, her entire position undermined.
Exactly as she'd feared from the beginning.
Signora Benedetti appeared in the doorway, her expression troubled. "My lady, the Dowager Countess has instructed me to report all your decisions to her going forward. She claims authority as senior family member in the count's absence."
"She has no such authority. The count was explicit."
"She's claiming emergency circumstances warrant temporary oversight." Signora Benedetti's voice was carefully neutral. "What would you like me to do?"
It was a test. Signora Benedetti was asking whether Lucia would fight or fold, whether she'd defend her position or retreat in the face of opposition.
Lucia met the steward's eyes directly. "You'll continue reporting to me as the count instructed. The Dowager Countess has no authority over estate operations. If she attempts to interfere further, document everything and inform me immediately."
"And if she dismisses me for insubordination?"
"Then I'll rehire you the moment the count returns and dismiss her from the property entirely." Lucia's voice was hard. "I was given authority over this estate. I'm not surrendering it to family politics and wounded aristocratic pride."
Signora Benedetti smiled, genuine and approving. "Yes, my lady. I'll inform the workers to continue their assignments as you originally directed."
After she left, Lucia sat alone in the office, hands shaking with suppressed emotion. Three more days until Alessandro returned. Three days to hold everything together against active opposition.
She could manage three days.
She had to.