Masquerade (26 page)

Orelia had been warned. But how long could it take to have a portrait painted? Several hours after Angelique had gone back into the sitting room for another session, she had still not emerged. Veronica, meanwhile, had shut herself away in her bedroom, as she had been doing a lot lately.

It had been days and Orelia had not found a way to prove Bastian’s deception to Angelique. The fact that she was having a portrait painted for him was making the task all the more difficult.

The large palazzo was quiet and empty. It was a beautiful day outside, having finally stopped raining, but Orelia did not feel like being amongst the crowds. She worried that someone would see through her masquerade and recognise who she really was.

The truth had not set her free; it had trapped her. If only her mother had been honest with her, Orelia would never have sought refuge in a city where the truth of her identity was dangerous.

Orelia wandered throughout the palazzo. She did not have to fear an awkward encounter with her uncle in the portego or on the staircase since he had been working long hours with the senate lately and was not home most of the time. When he was home, he avoided her. She had thought that when the truth was out in the open, it would bring them closer together, but instead it had pushed them further apart.

It was too much. Her mother’s past. Her fearful hiding. Bastian’s deception. All the secrets.

Catching sight of herself in the portego windows, Orelia stopped pacing. She took a step closer to the window. Her long red hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders, just like her mother’s had, just like Bastian loved. She didn’t want to be Orelia Rossetti. Even a mask couldn’t change that, but
she
could.

She went down to the kitchen and found what she needed. The cook gave her a funny look, but Orelia squared her shoulders and walked out of the kitchen as if there was nothing unusual about the act. She carried the knife to her bedroom and stood in front of her dressing table mirror. Watching her reflection, she picked a handful of hair and pulled it taut. With the other hand, she lifted the knife to chin level and pressed the blade against her hair. Just as she was about to push the blade through, there was a knock at her door and then Anna popped her head into the room.

Orelia quickly withdrew the knife and hid it behind her back.

‘Signorina Orelia, I have Claudia D’Este in the portego wanting to see you. Would you like to receive her?’

‘Of course,’ said Orelia. Other than Angelique and Veronica, Claudia was the one person Orelia had befriended in Venice, but even that friendship had not included visits. Perhaps she was in trouble.

‘I’ll place her in the downstairs sitting room.’

When Anna was gone, Orelia placed the knife beneath her pillow, then made her way to the sitting room. Claudia was already seated on the settee, staring into the contents of a teacup. There was another girl standing behind her, which Orelia guessed was Claudia’s lady’s maid. She and Claudia looked almost like sisters, except for the difference in their dress.

‘Buongiorno,’ said Orelia, trying to keep her voice light.

‘Ciao,’ replied Claudia.

‘Is something the matter?’ said Orelia, sitting down on the settee. ‘You look tired.’

‘I’ve come to warn you,’ answered Claudia. ‘I have overheard my mother talking with my brother. She knows your secret.’

‘My secret?’

‘About your mother.’

Orelia looked frantically from Claudia to her lady’s maid.

‘Don’t worry. We can trust Francesca. She won’t tell a soul. I won’t tell anyone, either,’ said Claudia. ‘I’m not sure I quite understand it myself anyway. But my mother knows and she won’t keep it a secret. I thought you should know too.’

Orelia dropped her head into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d kept the promises she’d made her uncle, played her part so well and still someone had found out the truth about her. Nay, someone had sought the truth. Orelia remembered Signora D’Este’s threats. It was because of Bastian’s attentions, all in the interest of his bet, that Orelia had become a target. She didn’t know how Signora D’Este had discovered her secret, when she’d only learnt the truth recently herself, but that was irrelevant.

Lifting her head, Orelia asked, ‘What should I do?’

‘You must leave Venice. I have arranged a private passage to the mainland. The boat will be leaving il Molo tomorrow at one hour to midnight. I’ll be aboard it. You could come too.’

Surprisingly, Orelia felt calm hearing this. She not only needed to leave, she wanted to leave. She wanted to be far away from Bastian and her mother’s past. It would solve all her problems. ‘I will think on it,’ she said. ‘Why are you leaving?’

Claudia’s face lit up. ‘I’m leaving with Filippo, my family’s gondolier. We are in love and the only way we can be together is to leave Venice. He is hoping to get a job as a stableman for a French banker. Horses are not that much different to gondolas.’

‘Does your mother know?’

‘No. If she did, she would lock me up in a convent. Please don’t tell anyone.’

Orelia squeezed Claudia’s hand. ‘Of course not.’

‘I should be on my way,’ said Claudia, standing up, followed by her lady’s maid. ‘I wish I could stay longer, but my mother doesn’t know I’m here. She thinks we’re at the Merceria.’ She pulled Orelia into an embrace. ‘Please be careful.’

Orelia held on longer than she normally would. ‘I owe you my life.’

Bastian was known around Venice for having impeccable timing, among other things. He could escape from the bed of a nun and be out her window seconds before the abbess burst in, and he could disappear from a dull conversation like a magician.

If anyone had cared to ask Bastian how he achieved such feats, he would have told them most of it came down to luck. Bastian often wondered when his luck would run out.

With the arrival of two envelopes on the third last day of Carnevale, he could conclude that moment would not be any time soon.

The first envelope contained a note, a pink diamond ring and a pile of ashes. The note read:

I cannot marry you. I am very sorry. I hope you find true love. Angelique.

Bastian had re-read those three sentences several times before the meaning became clear. He had been wondering how he would break off his engagement to Angelique when the time came and now she had gone ahead and done it for him. Sure, he was happy, but at the same time he wondered why she had done it? What made someone use a love potion and then break off an engagement to the very same person?

He didn’t want to think about it too much, so instead he focused on another piece of luck that had come his way. The King of Austria had arrived for a visit without warning, sending the Palazzo Ducale into chaos. His father was concerned with nothing else than ensuring the king’s stay ran smoothly and with the utmost fanfare. For Bastian that meant his father did not need to know about his broken engagement until after the king left.

Then the second envelope had arrived. Inside was a single note.

I need to see you. I will be at the ball at Ca’ D’Este tonight. Meet me on the balcony at midnight. Your Orelia.

This was more than luck; this was destiny. Bastian had thought that he had ruined all chances with Orelia, but there was now a glimmer of hope. He no longer cared about the bet; the only thing he cared about was Orelia. He loved her, as extraordinary and unforeseen as the feeling was. He couldn’t imagine touching or loving another woman ever again. He wanted Orelia and only Orelia. He wanted to tell her this but she had been refusing to receive him when he visited her palazzo and she hadn’t replied to any of his letters, until now. Her note said she needed to see him. She had even signed with a promise.

He planned to tell Orelia the truth about everything that night, the bet, the engagement, his love. It meant risking losing her forever, but he could not build their relationship on lies. He hoped she loved him enough to forgive his mistakes.

He imagined their future together. Venetian law would not allow them to marry, so they would leave Venice together. They’d find a way to get by. Even the thought of getting a job was not so disturbing when coupled with the thought of a life with Orelia. They might even have children.

The rest of the day passed impossibly slowly. Bastian looked at the clock so often that a minute hadn’t even passed between glances. He considering calling upon Marco to distract himself, but then he decided against it. He hadn’t seen Marco since the night at the tavern and even before that things had been tense between them.

Night finally came and Bastian dressed for the ball. He chose a red dress-coat that Orelia would recognise and a plain black columbina mask. He arrived at Ca’ D’Este at ten o’clock, entering with a party of three who looked like they had come from another ball.

When Bastian stepped into the crowded ballroom, he grabbed a wine glass from the hand of a man engaged in a conversation with a woman. Bastian tipped his head back and swallowed a mouthful of bitter wine. It did little to calm his nerves.

He walked through the hauntingly familiar space, hoping to lay eyes on Orelia, but she was nowhere to be seen. When he had received her note, he couldn’t quite understand why she had chosen such a public place to meet, but as he watched a couple dancing the minuet, he realised the significance of this ballroom. This was where it all began and hopefully not where it would all end.

Bastian headed straight to the balcony to wait for Orelia there. When he emerged into the night, he saw that he wasn’t alone; a couple were entangled precariously close to the balustrade. The man’s lips were brushed up against the woman’s ear. Bastian was pretty sure he knew exactly the sort of things the man was whispering. Normally, he wouldn’t be one to spoil another man’s fun, but tonight he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin the last chance he had with Orelia. Bastian stopped at the balustrade close by the couple, looked out over the Canal Grande and began whistling. The couple separated.

‘Can I help you?’ said the man in a tone that suggested the only thing he would help Bastian do would be to find a ponte to jump off. Behind the man’s back, the woman in a gold columbina mask winked at Bastian. Not long ago, Bastian would have accepted this invitation, pursuing the woman all night. Now he didn’t even return the woman’s gesture with a smile. ‘Don’t mind me.’

But they did mind and they soon went inside. Bastian rested his elbows on the balustrade and looked up at the sky. He was rehearsing his speech in his head when the back of his bare neck prickled. He turned around and saw a cloaked woman, her face hidden by the hood. The smell of rosewood hung in the air. Bastian’s heart quickened. All the things he wanted to say to Orelia rushed to his lips.

The woman raised her head and pulled back the hood. Bastian’s face fell. It was Marco’s mother. Her mouth spread into a smile. Bastian had to stop himself from cringing. He would’ve thought he would be practised at it by now. Signora D’Este was always smiling at him in a way that made him uncomfortable. Maybe some men enjoyed the company of older woman, but he was not among them.

‘Expecting someone else, are you?’ she asked.

‘Not for a while. I’ll come back.’ Bastian began to walk off.

‘Stupid boy,’ snapped Signora D’Este. ‘You’re not meeting Orelia tonight. I sent you that note.’

Bastian stopped and turned around. ‘Why?’

‘To give you a chance to protect her.’

‘What are you talking about?’

The sounds coming from inside the ballroom filled the space between them. ‘Orelia is not who she says she is.’ Signora D’Este moved in close to Bastian and added in a whisper, ‘She is the daughter of Isabella Contarini.’

‘Who is Isabella Contarini?’

Signora D’Este rolled her eyes. ‘I thought being the Doge’s son you would know what that means, but clearly you’re as ignorant as you appear. Orelia is the daughter of a witch and not just any witch, but the witch who publicly cursed all of Serenissima nineteen years ago. She fled Venice before she could be captured and hung. Now her daughter Orelia is living in the city, pretending to be someone else.’

Bastian pulled off his cloak, feeling as if he were choking. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he said.

‘That would be a grievous mistake that Orelia would pay for.’

‘What makes you think everyone else will believe you? Do you have proof?’ asked Bastian, staring darkly at Signora D’Este.

‘Orelia is the proof,’ she said, walking alongside the edge of the balcony, a picture of serenity. ‘She lives in the same palazzo the witch grew up in. She has the same red hair. I’m surprised that no one else has seen the resemblance, but then again, Isabella is part of Venice’s past that everyone has been determined to forget . . . until I reveal this shocking truth. And then poor Orelia will be arrested, and possibly even hung for her mother’s crimes.’

Bastian’s muscles twitched. It wouldn’t be difficult to push the evil woman off the balcony into the canal below. ‘What do you want for your silence?’

‘I have two demands. I want my family’s name admitted into the Golden Book, and then I want you to marry my daughter, Claudia.’ Signora D’Este pulled a white envelope out from beneath her cloak. ‘Unless you prefer I take this to the Lion’s Mouth.’

‘If I accept your offer, you’ll leave Orelia alone? You’ll never reveal her secret?’

‘You have my word.’

Looking over the balustrade, Bastian imagined himself falling through the air, the force of breaking the surface of the water, then the nothingness. What he would give to feel nothing. Not love, not despair.

Bastian reached his hand out and snatched the envelope from Signora D’Este. He stared off into the distance, as if he were watching something beautiful disappear forever.