Masquerade (22 page)

Having missed the midday traghetto, Anna arrived back at Ca’ Contarini an hour after her curfew. Imagining all sorts of punishments Maria would impose, Anna hurried upstairs as quickly as her legs could carry her, weighed down as she was with Orelia’s dark secret. She could not quite believe what she had heard and yet she knew it must be true. What she didn’t yet know was what she would do with the information. If her secret was found out, Orelia could be in great danger. Then again, Signora D’Este might not reveal the secret; she might only hold it over Orelia. That was, after all, how a secret would be used by a woman like the Signora.

Anna managed to reach the fifth floor without being seen. Perhaps she could quickly change and make it downstairs before Maria noticed her lateness. The moment she opened the door to her room, she knew that something was amiss. Emilia was standing up. ‘Thank goodness you’re back,’ she said, collapsing onto the bed.

‘What happened?’

‘Maria came in here. She yelled at me and told me to go downstairs immediately. I didn’t know what to do.’ Emilia began to sob. ‘I told her I’d be there in a minute. I was hoping you’d come back in time. I couldn’t go downstairs, I couldn’t.’

Anna pulled her sister into a hug. ‘I’m back now.’ Though her sister needed more than a quick embrace, Anna needed to get downstairs before Maria returned and discovered the two of them.

As she hurried off to find Maria and beg for forgiveness, Anna realised that this near disaster had proved she could not hide Emilia forever. Any indecision about whether or not to share Orelia’s secret with Signora D’Este was now gone.

Angelique added another dab of honey and sweet orange oil to her glossy pink lips and let the sides of her mouth blossom into a smile that resembled a perfect rose bud. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to judge whether this smile, or the hundred others she had practised, was the right one for when Bastian proposed. She wanted to look surprised, yet not so surprised that she might seem to have not expected such an offer.

Slowly, she relaxed her face and sighed. It was so very demanding and exhausting. If only Bastian would hurry up, she would not have so much time to worry about the nuances of a smile. What was taking him so long? A week and one day had passed since she had overheard his conversation with her father and she had not received so much as an expression of his love in flowers. Her father had also not uttered a word about it.

The only person she had told the exciting news to had been Orelia, knowing it was bad luck to speak of an engagement before a proposal had been made. Telling Orelia had satisfied her urge to tell someone without incurring too much bad luck. In order to keep her lips sealed, she had been forced to lock herself away in her bedroom.

But if Bastian made her wait any longer she would not be able to keep it secret. It was the day before Christmas Eve, meaning if Bastian did not propose today, it would be unlikely that he would propose before Carnevale resumed at the Feast of the Epiphany. That was nearly two weeks away!

On her bed sat a white silk gown so heavily beaded it glittered like a thousand ladies winking. It had been delivered by the tailor that morning and she intended to wear it to the first ball she attended with Bastian as her fiancé.

She considered sending Bastian a note asking him to spend the afternoon with her, but the notion seemed far too desperate, even for her.

She stood up and crossed the room, imagining that when she looked out the window she would see a barge decorated with flowers, upon which Bastian stood, ready to shout his love for her to the world. But before she could reach the window, there was a knock on her bedroom door.

Angelique ran to the door and flung it open. Anna looked a bit startled to see Angelique so exuberant.

‘Signorina Angelique, a note has arrived for you,’ said Anna.

Angelique hastily unfolded the note and read its contents.

Please join me for a ride down the Canal Grande at three o’clock. I will be waiting at the water entrance of your palazzo. B.D.

Angelique squealed and spun around in a circle, the bottom of her red gown billowing around her.

‘Is everything all right?’ asked Anna.

‘Never better,’ replied Angelique, leaning forward and kissing Anna on the cheek.

When Angelique hurried down to the water entrance at a few minutes before three o’clock, a gondola with gilt decoration on the felze sat bobbing alongside the water steps. The only gondolas in the city that were allowed any form of decoration were those in the Doge’s fleet, a law that was taken much more seriously than the sumptuary laws. The curtains of the felze were drawn closed, so Angelique could not see if Bastian was inside. She preferred to think that the gondola would deliver her to a secret location where he was waiting with a magnificent proposal.

The gondolier helped Angelique into the vessel and she backed herself into the felze. Just as she was about to sit, a hand caught hers. Angelique looked up and saw Bastian sitting across from her.

He looked especially handsome in a loose white shirt beneath a heavy wool cloak and with his blond hair falling over one eye. ‘I’m so glad you could join me.’

Angelique laid her hands in her lap. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’

They made general conversation for the next few minutes, discussing the weather, the latest banquets and balls, renovations of palazzi they passed. All the while, Angelique was very conscious of where the gondola was going, to what special place it was taking them. The problem was that it seemed to be going nowhere in particular, a fear that was confirmed when the gondola reached the end of the Canal Grande and turned around.

Angelique looked around as the gondola, with its drawn blinds and lack of colour, began to increase its speed, and her smile began to fade. This wasn’t the romantic gesture she had dreamt of. Where was all the effort? There was no musician. The gondolier wasn’t even singing. Angelique continued to think of the ways in which the situation did not meet her expectations until Bastian produced a gold ring with a pink diamond in the centre.

‘I know we do not know each other well, but the other morning I awoke and could not think of anyone else. I am deeply in love with you and wish to take you as my wife.’

Angelique couldn’t speak. She didn’t know which of her smiles she wore. The only thing she was conscious of was her hand reaching out so that Bastian could place the ring on her finger.

‘I have spoken with your father and he has given his consent, but he has also stipulated that we cannot be married until your older sister takes a husband.’

Now that the dazzling ring was on her finger, Angelique found her voice. She waved her ringed hand dismissively through the air. ‘Si, I know but don’t worry about that. I will sort my sister out.’

‘Until then, I think we should keep our engagement a secret.’

‘Why?’ asked Angelique, her voice rising an octave.

Bastian ran a hand though his hair. ‘People will expect us to marry immediately and when we don’t those people will talk. They will ignore the real reason for our delayed wedding and they will invent a far more exciting, far more scandalous reason. Do you want to attract a scandal?’

‘No,’ said Angelique, ‘but can we be seen in public together? Surely, there is no need to keep our love a secret.’

‘Si,’ he said, taking her hands in his. He slid the ring off her finger and threaded it onto a gold chain. Leaning close to Angelique, he secured the chain around her neck. The ring hung out of sight beneath her bodice.

Angelique pouted and looked down at her ringless hand.

‘It won’t be for long,’ he said. ‘How would you like to join me and my father for dinner tonight at the Palazzo Ducale?’

‘The Doge?’

Bastian nodded.

‘I’d love to,’ said Angelique, her mouth spreading into an unstrained smile, like a rose in full bloom.

She waited for a kiss, but it did not come.

For days, Anna had troubled over how she would arrange a meeting with Signora D’Este. She could not just walk up to Ca’ D’Este, knock on the door and be invited in like any other guest, even if she was wearing another gown pilfered from Angelique’s chest.

But as it happened, the Signora had sought her out. When Anna had answered the door earlier that morning, there was messenger with a note for Giselle da Quaterno. Anna had tucked the note into her pocket and said she would make sure it reached her. It was then that Anna saw just how calculated Signora D’Este’s every action was. Not only had she ensured that the note would not fall into the wrong hands, she had reminded Anna of the future that could be hers.

The afternoon passed by slowly. As she endured her task of dusting, Anna felt that the note would burn a hole in her pocket. She of course had not been able to read what was written on it and berated herself for not asking the messenger to read it to her, if he indeed could read. She smacked the dust cloth against the edge of the desk, accidentally letting go of it. Good ideas always came to her when it was too late.

She bent down to pick up the cloth, but before she took a hold of it, something else caught her eye. One of the lower drawers of Signor Contarini’s desk was slightly open and she could see a collection of letters within it. There was something familiar about them.

It was against the rules to go through any of her master’s private documents, but Anna found her hands reaching for the handle. She looked over the edge of the desk to check that she was still alone, then eased open the drawer. She withdrew the letters and quickly flicked through them, recognising familiar marks on the papers. Her suspicion was confirmed. They were indeed her letters, though she used the word ‘her’ rather loosely. Maria must have given them to Signor Contarini.

Without giving it a second thought, Anna picked up her cloth and wrapped it around the collection of letters and rushed out of the library. She climbed the staircase to the fifth floor, praying that she would not run into anyone.

Luck was on her side. When she reached her bedroom, she buried the letters inside the chest. Her heart pounded. What had made her so foolishly steal from her master? And for what? There was nothing more she needed to know about Orelia. What she had already discovered was more than enough for the Signora.

The answer to her questions was Orelia, Anna realised suddenly. She’d taken the letters for her. The first moment Anna got she would find a chance to secretly place them somewhere Orelia, but no one else, would find them. It didn’t change the fact that Anna would betray her and it didn’t ease Anna’s guilt. The letters belonged to Orelia, that was all.

Anna sat down at the end of her bed for a moment’s rest before she would have to return downstairs. Listening to her own breathing, Anna remembered the note in her pocket. She withdrew it and stared at it in dismay. She could not think of a single person who she could ask to read it to her without inviting suspicion. How could fate be so cruel?

‘What’s that?’ said Emilia softly.

Anna looked over at her sister, wondering if she’d just woken up or had been awake the whole time. ‘This?’ she said, holding up the card in her hand. ‘It’s a message I received, but it’s useless. I can’t read it.’ She dropped the note onto the bed.

Emilia raised herself up onto her elbow. ‘I might be able to.’

‘You can read?’ said Anna incredulously.

‘A little. Before I fell ill, my master’s son, Franco, was secretly teaching me to read. I’m not very accomplished, but I could try.’

Flinging herself across the bed, Anna hugged her sister tight. ‘You are amazing.’ Eventually she let go and grabbed the card. ‘Here. What does it say?’

Emilia rubbed her eyes and stared at it for a few moments without saying anything. In those moments, Anna did not breathe, fearing her sister’s skills were not enough for the task.

‘Mee . . . t me,’ began Emilia, stretching each word, ‘at San Gio . . . va . . . nni Gri . . . sos . . . tomo at mid . . . night. Do not be l . . . ate.’ Emilia looked up. ‘That’s all it says. Who are you meeting?’

‘Someone who can help us,’ answered Anna, smiling sadly. She walked over to the window and opened the shutter. She tore the note into small pieces and let the wind lift them from her hand and carry them away. The sight of her betrayal on paper made her feel more ashamed than she could bear. It was for the same reason she had avoided Orelia since the trip to Murano. Every time she thought she could no longer go through with her betrayal, she remembered how close Emilia had come to being discovered by Maria that same afternoon. And then there was the small voice at the back of her head that whispered the name, Giselle.

One hour before midnight, Anna slipped through the door of the land entrance. There were mounds of snow collected in the calli and for a brief moment Anna stopped to marvel at the sight of the snowflakes dancing against the dark sky. Wrenching herself back to reality, she pulled her cloak tightly around her and quickly headed in the direction of Cannaregio.

A short while later she found herself in front of San Giovanni Grisostomo. There was something about churches and graveyards that made her uneasy. Of all places, why did D’Este have to choose a church? Even the thought of being trapped with the Signora in the felze of a gondola was less unsettling.

Anna stepped up to the heavy wooden door. Staring at the circular pattern of dark glass on the door, she wondered if she should perform the sign of the cross before she entered, but then abandoned the idea. Nothing could save her dark soul now. It was little wonder that she hadn’t been struck down on her way here.

The interior of the church was designed in the shape of a cross. Candles flickered in alcoves within the walls, giving the space an orange glow. It was quiet and empty except for the tall, slender figure cloaked in black, sitting in the second row.

Holding her breath, Anna walked down the centre aisle. If Signora D’Este heard her footsteps, she didn’t turn around. Even from behind, the Signora had a threatening presence; the unnatural straightness of her back and the length of her neck all gave her a formidable viciousness. A shiver ran down Anna’s body. This was what evil looked like, making its mark on the body after years and years of selfish deeds. Anna touched her soft plump cheek. How long before she would be a portrait of evil, too?

Anna stopped. Maybe it was not too late to turn round and leave.

‘Beautiful night, is it not?’ said a voice like dripping candle wax.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Anna answered, ‘Si.’

Signora D’Este turned her head to look at Anna and patted the spot on wooden bench next to her. ‘How’s my little song bird?’

Those words made Anna feel like a caged bird. She sat down and folded her hands together piously. ‘Bene.’

‘Don’t you just adore this church? I happen to know something the priest would rather be kept secret, and in order to keep my lips sealed, he allows me to use the church whenever I have a need.’ Signora D’Este dangled a key from her finger. ‘Blackmail is a marvellous thing . . . So, what did you find out for me?’

Anna looked down into her lap and tried to recall the speech she had practised. ‘Orelia is not who she says she is,’ she began quietly. ‘But before I tell you any more I want something from you: a guarantee that you will uphold your part of our agreement.’

‘Dear child,’ said Signora D’Este, laying a cold hand on Anna’s shoulder. ‘I have already arranged a meeting for you with the owner of Teatro di San Cassiano. Once you tell me what you know, I’ll tell you the time and place of the meeting.’

Anna lifted her eyes to the marble altar expecting to see a heavenly light shining down through the roof. Her dream, Emilia’s salvation, all seemed possible. Maybe the Signora could be trusted. What reason did Anna have to mistrust her in the first place, other than her fierce demeanour? Anna felt her shoulders relax slightly.

‘Well?’ demanded Signora D’Este.

‘She is the daughter of Isabella Contarini.’ Anna did not need to say another word. Recognition flashed across the Signora’s face. ‘Of course,’ she whispered. ‘I should’ve seen it. This is too perfect.’ She laughed, the sound echoing throughout the church. ‘Does anyone else know?’

‘Only Signor Contarini, and perhaps one of his servants, Maria.’

‘Why has Orelia come to Venice when she hides a secret so scandalous?’

‘She came to find out the truth about her mother. Until a few days ago, she did not know about her mother’s past.’

Signora D’Este nodded and stood up. ‘Your information is . . . satisfactory.’

‘My meeting . . .’

‘Oh yes, your meeting is with Signor Canterello, owner of Teatro di San Cassiano. He wants to meet you at midday on Monday at his casa on Calle del L’Agnello, Santa Croce.’

‘Midday? But I’ll be working then. Maria won’t let me leave the palazzo since I was late –’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way,’ interrupted Signora D’Este. And with a triumphant smile, she ended the conversation.