For the next few days, the tenant visits began at dawn. Lucia dressed in her most practical clothing, ignored Paola's protests about appropriate countess attire, and met Signora Benedetti in the courtyard where a sturdy cart waited.
"We'll start with the Moretti family," Signora Benedetti explained as they set off. "They've been here longest, three generations. If we win their approval, the others will follow."
The Moretti farm sat at the northern edge of the property, tucked against hillside olive groves. As their cart approached, Lucia noted the sagging barn roof, the fence posts leaning at precarious angles, the general air of deferred maintenance that spoke of tight finances and insufficient support.
An older man emerged from the farmhouse, weathered face set in cautious lines. Behind him, a younger couple hovered in the doorway, watching.
"Signor Moretti." Signora Benedetti handled the introductions with practiced efficiency. "May I present the Countess Ferretti. She's come to meet all the tenant families, understand your situations."
Moretti's gaze traveled over Lucia with open skepticism. "The countess wants to understand tenant farming? Forgive me, my lady, but that's not been my experience with nobility."
"Then your experience has been limited to the wrong nobility." Lucia climbed down from the cart without waiting for assistance. "Your barn roof needs repair. How long has it been like that?"
Moretti blinked, caught off guard. "Two years, my lady. Since the last bad storm. Carlo said repairs weren't in the budget."
"Carlo was embezzling and is now dismissed." Lucia pulled out her notebook. "The estate will cover structural repairs. Send word when you've found someone to do the work, and I'll approve the expense."
Silence. Moretti stared at her like she'd spoken a foreign language.
"Just like that?" His wife had emerged from the house, hope and suspicion warring on her face. "No negotiations, no arguments about whose responsibility it is?"
"The contract specifies tenant responsibility for maintenance, estate responsibility for structural repairs. A roof is structural." Lucia made a notation. "What else needs attention?"
The visit lasted an hour. Lucia inspected their olive groves, examined their accounting, listened to concerns about market prices and harvest logistics. By the end, even Moretti's skepticism had softened into cautious optimism.
"You're different than expected, my lady," he admitted as they prepared to leave. "Carlo told us the new countess would be decorative. Concerned only with appearances."
"Carlo was wrong about many things. That's why he's unemployed." Lucia offered her hand, and after a moment's surprise, Moretti shook it. "I'll return in two weeks. I expect to see progress on that roof."
Three more farms followed similar patterns. Skepticism melting into surprise as Lucia discussed crop yields and irrigation with the fluency of someone who actually understood agriculture. By afternoon, word had clearly spread ahead of them.
At the fifth farm for the day, the Russo family had prepared refreshments and gathered their extended family to meet the new countess.
"We heard you dismissed Carlo," Signora Russo said, offering fresh bread and cheese. "Is it true he was stealing?"
"Systematically and extensively." Lucia accepted the food gratefully. They'd been traveling since dawn, and her stomach was protesting. "I documented everything before his dismissal. If any of you have records of suspicious charges or unexplained costs, I'd like to see them."
"There were charges," Russo's son spoke up hesitantly. "For fence repairs we never received. Carlo said the count had approved them."
"The count was in Naples and approved nothing." Lucia's anger simmered cold and controlled. "Bring me your records tomorrow. I'll review everything and adjust accounts accordingly. You won't be charged for repairs you never received."
By the time they returned to the villa, the sun was setting and Lucia felt like she'd run a marathon. Every muscle ached from the cart's rough ride, her head throbbed from concentration, and she wanted nothing more than a bath and silence.
Instead, she found Alessandro's study occupied by three men she didn't recognize and voices raised in argument.
"The contracts are clear," one man was saying, his tone aggressive. "The count agreed to exclusive shipping rights for our wine. This new arrangement violates that agreement."
"The count agreed to priority shipping, not exclusivity." Alessandro's voice was calm but firm. "And the new arrangement doesn't affect your priority status."
"It affects our profits when you're shipping competitors' wine alongside ours!"
Lucia paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Alessandro behind his desk, papers spread before him. Three merchants, expensive clothes and belligerent expressions. A business dispute turning hostile.
She should retreat, let Alessandro handle his own affairs.
Instead, she walked directly into the room.
"Gentlemen," she said pleasantly. "I'm Countess Ferretti. Perhaps I can help clarify the situation?"
All three men turned to stare. Alessandro's expression shifted from surprise to poorly concealed amusement.
"My lady," the aggressive one said, his tone dripping condescension. "This is a business matter. Contracts and commerce. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable elsewhere?"
"I'm perfectly comfortable discussing contracts and commerce. I've been reviewing tenant agreements all day." Lucia moved to Alessandro's side, scanning the documents on his desk. "These are your shipping contracts? May I?"
Alessandro handed them over without hesitation.
Lucia read quickly, her mind processing the legal language with practiced ease. The dispute was obvious within minutes.
"You're arguing about clause seven," she said, looking up at the aggressive merchant. "Which specifies priority boarding and preferential rates, not exclusive access. Count Ferretti has fulfilled his contractual obligations. Your complaint is that he's also serving your competitors, which is not prohibited anywhere in this agreement."
"That's beside the point," the merchant sputtered. "The spirit of the agreement implied exclusivity."
"Contracts rely on explicit language, not implied spirits." Lucia set down the papers. "If you wanted exclusivity, you should have negotiated it explicitly and paid the premium that would require. As written, you have no grounds for complaint."
The man's face reddened. "Now listen here, you can't just waltz in and—"
"She's not 'waltzing in,' she's reading your contract accurately." Alessandro stood, his tone hardening. "My wife's assessment is correct. You're attempting to claim rights you never negotiated for. I suggest you accept the current arrangement or seek shipping services elsewhere."
"Your wife?" The merchant's gaze swung between them. "You're letting your wife involve herself in your business?"
"I'm consulting my wife because she's more competent with contract analysis than most solicitors." Alessandro's voice carried warning now. "Do you have further legitimate concerns, or are we finished?"
The three merchants exchanged glances, clearly unused to being dismissed so thoroughly.
"We'll be taking our business to other shippers," the aggressive one finally announced. "Those who understand loyalty and appropriate business relationships."
"That's your prerogative." Alessandro's tone suggested he couldn't care less. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."
After they departed in a cloud of indignation, silence filled the study. Alessandro turned to Lucia with an expression somewhere between exasperation and admiration.
"That was either brilliant or catastrophic. I'm not certain which."
"They were attempting to renegotiate contracts through intimidation. You shouldn't reward that behavior." Lucia sank into a chair, exhaustion catching up with her. "How much revenue will you lose?"
"Perhaps three thousand lire annually. Not insignificant, but not devastating either." Alessandro moved around the desk, studying her with concern. "You're exhausted. How many farms did you visit?"
"Five. I need to see seven more this week." She rubbed her temples. "Signor Moretti's barn needs immediate repair. The Russo family was overcharged for services they never received. Everyone's cautiously hopeful but waiting to see if I'm genuine or performing for appearances."
"You're genuine. They'll realize that quickly." Alessandro crouched beside her chair. "But you need to pace yourself. You can't visit every farm in one week while also managing household operations and apparently rescuing me from aggressive merchants."
"I wasn't rescuing you. I was correcting inaccurate contract interpretation."
"Same thing." His hand found hers. "You've been managing since dawn. When did you last eat?"
"Signora Russo gave us bread and cheese around two."
"It's nearly seven. You're running on fumes." Alessandro stood, pulling her up with him. "Dinner first, then rest. Tomorrow you can resume terrorizing tenants and merchants."
"I'm not terrorizing anyone. I'm establishing clear expectations."
"Terrifying and establishing clear expectations aren't mutually exclusive." But his tone was fond. "Come on. Signora Alberti prepared something special since it's my last full day before leaving."
The reminder sent an unexpected pang through Lucia's chest. Tomorrow evening, Alessandro would depart for Naples. Six weeks before his return.
She'd wanted independence, had negotiated specifically for time alone to establish herself. Now the prospect of his absence felt heavier than anticipated.
"Six weeks," she said quietly.
"Six weeks. Then I'll return for two weeks before my next trip." Alessandro kept hold of her hand as they walked toward the dining room. "You'll write?"
"About estate matters, certainly."
"About everything. How you're managing, what problems you're facing, whether Signora Alberti has tested you yet." He paused outside the dining room. "I'll miss you. That's allowed in our partnership, isn't it? Missing each other?"
Lucia looked up at him, at the genuine emotion in his amber eyes. "Yes. That's allowed."
"Good." He brushed a kiss across her knuckles. "Because I suspect I'm going to miss you quite desperately, and it would be inconvenient if that violated our agreement."
Dinner was indeed special. Signora Alberti had prepared roasted duck with rosemary potatoes, fresh greens from the garden, and a chocolate torte that made Lucia forget temporarily about exhaustion and impending separation.
"This is exceptional," she told the housekeeper when she appeared to clear plates. "Please convey my compliments to the kitchen staff."
Signora Alberti's expression softened fractionally. "The count has always appreciated good food. I'm pleased you do as well, my lady."
"I appreciate competence in all forms. This meal demonstrates considerable skill." Lucia met the older woman's eyes directly. "I look forward to working with you while the count is in Naples. I suspect we'll find many opportunities for collaboration."
"Indeed, my lady." Signora Alberti's tone remained neutral, but something shifted in her bearing. A test passed, perhaps. "Will you be requiring anything else this evening?"
"No, thank you. That will be all."
After the housekeeper departed, Alessandro leaned back with a satisfied expression. "You've won her over. That was the test, by the way. The dinner. She was observing how you'd respond to exceptional effort."
"I don't understand why people insist on testing through subterfuge rather than direct conversation."
"Because direct conversation is terrifying. Subterfuge allows plausible deniability." Alessandro refilled their wine glasses. "You passed brilliantly regardless."
They lingered over wine, conversation drifting from estate matters to more personal topics. Alessandro told stories about Naples, the chaos and vitality of the port city. Lucia described her childhood in Venice, her mother's death when she was twelve, her father's gradual decline into illness.
"You've carried a great deal alone," Alessandro said eventually. "For years."
"Someone had to. Teodora had her own family. My father was incapable." Lucia traced the rim of her glass. "I didn't have the luxury of falling apart, so I became competent instead."
"That's not the same as being happy."
"No. But happiness seemed less urgent than survival." She met his gaze. "I'm not unhappy now, if that's your concern. This marriage, this estate, the work ahead, it's satisfying in ways I didn't expect."
"Satisfying is good. But I want more than satisfaction for you eventually." Alessandro's tone was serious. "I want you to feel safe enough to want things beyond mere competence. To allow yourself joy without immediately analyzing whether you deserve it."
The words lodged somewhere in Lucia's chest, warm and uncomfortable. "That's ambitious."
"I'm an ambitious person. We've established this." He stood, offering his hand. "Walk with me? One more evening before I leave."
They walked through the gardens in comfortable silence, the night air cool against Lucia's skin. Above them, stars scattered across the sky like scattered seed. In the distance, Verona glowed softly against dark hills.
"I'll send letters weekly," Alessandro said eventually. "More often if anything urgent develops. You'll do the same?"
"Weekly seems reasonable." Lucia squeezed his hand. "What if something goes wrong while you're gone? What if I make decisions you disagree with?"
"Then you'll have made decisions based on the information available to you, and we'll discuss alternatives when I return." Alessandro stopped walking, turning to face her properly. "I trust your judgment, Lucia. Completely. You're not going to accidentally destroy the estate in six weeks."
"I might antagonize local nobility. Or implement changes that prove disastrous. Or—"
"Or you might improve yields, strengthen tenant relationships, and establish yourself as a formidable countess who shouldn't be underestimated." He caught her other hand, holding both firmly. "Stop catastrophizing. You're brilliant at this. Have confidence in that."
"Confidence feels dangerous. Like inviting failure."
"Failure is inevitable regardless. Confidence just means you'll recover faster when it happens." Alessandro pulled her closer. "May I make a request? For while I'm gone?"
"That depends on the request."
"Use the connecting door. Not immediately, but sometime in the next six weeks. Even if it's just to talk, to share space without expectation." His voice was soft, sincere. "I want you to feel comfortable claiming access to me, even in absence. Does that make sense?"
Lucia understood what he was really asking. Permission to miss him, to acknowledge this partnership had become something more than contractual obligation. "I'll consider it. That's all I can promise."
"That's enough." Alessandro leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then finally her mouth. "I'll miss you. Desperately and probably inconveniently."
"I'll miss you as well. Which wasn't part of the plan."
"The best things never are." His arms tightened around her. "Six weeks. We can manage six weeks."
They could, Lucia thought, but it would be harder than anticipated.
And that realization, more than anything else, told her how deeply she'd already fallen into this complicated, unplanned partnership.
***
Alessandro departed the following evening as planned, his carriage disappearing down the hillside road while Lucia watched from the terrace. The estate suddenly felt larger, emptier, more daunting without his presence.
She allowed herself exactly five minutes of melancholy before squaring her shoulders and returning inside.
Work to be done. Tenants to visit. An estate to manage. Missing him was permitted, but wallowing was not.
Signora Benedetti waited in the entrance hall with maps and schedules.
"Ready for tomorrow's visits, my lady?"
"Absolutely." Lucia took the documents, scanning the planned route. "Let's make this efficient. We have seven more farms to visit this week, and I want time to review the southern section drainage situation before the count returns."
"Six weeks seems a long time to accomplish everything you've planned."
"Then we'll work efficiently and accomplish more." Lucia smiled slightly. "Besides, I need to prove I'm as competent as my husband claims. Can't have him returning to find I've merely maintained the status quo."
"Heaven forbid." But Signora Benedetti's tone held approval. "Tomorrow at dawn, then."
That night, alone in her chambers, Lucia moved to the connecting door. Her hand rested on the key, solid and substantial in the lock.
On the other side was Alessandro's empty room. No footsteps, no sounds of life, just absence.
She turned the key, unlocking the door but not opening it.
A promise to herself. When he returned, she'd use it. Cross that threshold literally and metaphorically.