Masquerade (30 page)

Orelia had arrived in Venice with little and decided to leave Venice the same way. Her belongings were laid out on the bed. A few plain dresses and undergarments, so different from the ones she had acquired in her new life.

In the light of a single candle, Orelia’s eyes travelled around the room, searching for anything she might have missed. Her gaze came to rest upon her bed, that bed which above all the luxuries of this life she would miss the most. Who knew what she would be sleeping on tomorrow night? Or where? Orelia shook her head to remove these thought. It was better not to think that far ahead or she would not be able to bring herself to leave this room.

She was about to turn away when she realised she
had
forgotten something.

Orelia lifted the pillow to retrieve her mother’s glass flower, the one Orelia’s father had made. But there was something else.

As she smoothed the covers of her bed, she noticed a red ribbon peeking out from beneath the mattress. Reaching in, she found that the ribbon belonged to a bundle of letters.

With her heart racing, Orelia pulled the first letter out from the pile. She held it with shaking fingers as she read its contents. It was another letter to her mother from her father, as Orelia presumed they all were.

The letter was filled with so much love it left Orelia with an aching heart. She longed to sit down and read every word of every letter to finally find out as much as she could about her mother
and
her father, but she had no more time now. The boat would leave at one hour to midnight, with or without her. And she knew she
must
be on it.

She put the letters carefully with the rest of her belongings. It seemed apt that she would leave Venice with all the knowledge she could possibly have found about who her mother really was – almost like the final scene in a play.

Her greatest regret was that she could not say goodbye. As far as everyone was concerned, she was feeling unwell and spending the night in. It occurred to Orelia that her mother had left in the same hurried and secretive way nineteen years ago. Orelia remembered the painful mixture of love and pain in her uncle’s eyes when he spoke about her mother. Orelia couldn’t bear to leave in the same way. They were her family, her only family now.

She walked to the writing desk and sat down with a heavy sigh. She had already written a letter to Angelique earlier that afternoon, exposing the truth about Bastian, including her involvement with him. Even that letter had been easier to write than this farewell.

Orelia stared at the blank piece of paper for several minutes before she picked up a quill and began to write.

To my dear family,

It is with great sadness that I leave Venice. I have put you all at risk by coming into your lives and I will not continue to do so. I feel so much gratitude towards you all.

Thank you for showing me what it means to be brave and bold, Veronica.

Dear Angelique, thank you for showing me how glittery

life can be, and the true meaning of friendship.

To my godfather and wise Aunt Portia, thank you for opening your home and hearts to me. It would have made my mother very happy.

It gives me great comfort to have you all in my heart.

Love Orelia

When Orelia finished writing, she folded the piece of paper and set it down on her pillow, hoping it would not be found until morning when she was far away.

Along with her belongings, all the masks she had acquired in Venice were laid out on the bed, everything from the black, sequined columbina mask she had worn on the first night of Carnevale to the white bauta mask she had traded for her jacket. Orelia didn’t intend on taking them all with her, she only needed one to get her to the boat unrecognised. It should’ve been an easy decision, but Orelia found herself considering which was the right mask. Each one held such strong emotion in its layers of papier-mache.

Her eyes settled on the mask she had bought on her last trip to the mascherari with Angelique. Half of the mask was gold, the other half green. Orelia had chosen it that day because the wearer could seem to be two different people, depending the way they faced. It seemed apt for the part she had being playing in Venice. And it was the only mask she had not worn.

Orelia tied it to her face and quickly packed her things into her bag. She took one last look at the bedroom. Traces of herself could not be erased; the stub of a candle on her bedside table she had burnt while reading before bed, the stain on the Persian rug from when she had spilt perfume, the impression she had made on the mattress. Orelia felt as if she was leaving a part of herself behind.

She checked that the portego was clear before setting off for the last time. On her way to the staircase, she stopped by Angelique’s room and left her letter next to a hairbrush on the dressing table.

Outside the land entrance, Orelia headed in the direction of Venice’s main campo. It had taken her nearly all of five months, but she had finally learnt to find her way to there on foot. When she reached the Piazza, there was barely space to move between the Carnevale-goers. She pushed her way through the crowds, across the Piazzetta, past the Palazzo Ducale to il Molo. She saw a figure standing beside a boat, and although she had never met Filippo before, she knew it was him. He looked as though he were anxiously anticipating the arrival of someone.

‘Filippo?’ she said when she reached him.

He nodded.

‘But where is Claudia?’ asked Orelia, her eyes searching the waterfront.

Filippo ran a hand through his short black hair. ‘She was supposed to meet me here. One of the servants delivered the message just a few hours ago. She said that Claudia thought her mother suspected something and it was safer to meet here at the quay.’

Orelia felt a rush of panic. ‘Did the servant say anything else?’

‘It was very strange. She kissed me and then she apologised.’

‘Is it possible Claudia might have seen that happen?’

Filippo swore. ‘I have to find her.’

‘What’s the delay?’ asked the boatman, standing at the end of the jetty. ‘I’m leaving now and if no one is on my boat, that’s not my problem.’

‘You must go,’ said Filippo to Orelia. ‘I’ll find Claudia. We will arrange another passage somehow.’

Orelia looked over her shoulder at the entrance to the Canal Grande, where the inky lagoon stretched off into the darkness. Then she looked back at the city. Her city, she realised with a jolt. Somehow Venice had become a part of her that she could not let go.

It was time to stop running.

She didn’t know what would happen if the truth about her became known. Nor did she know how Angelique would react to the truth about her involvement with Bastian. Even if a tragedy were to unfold, Orelia was now a key player.

‘I can’t leave,’ she said. ‘I’ll help you search for her.’

‘Don’t be thinking you’ll get your payment back,’ muttered the boatman, turning away.

‘What’s the quickest way back to her palazzo?’ she asked Filippo.

Filippo scanned the crowded Piazzetta. ‘By gondola,’ he answered.

‘But I thought you walked here.’

‘I did,’ he said, eyeing the mass of gondolas bobbing along the edge. He grabbed a rope looped over a striped mooring pole. Orelia realised what he was doing, but didn’t protest. Filippo quickly helped her aboard and then steered out into the canal.

As Orelia sat on the cold seat, a shiver passed through her. She had a terrible sense of foreboding. Claudia was all she could think about.

A few minutes later, the gondola passed through the loggia of Ca’ D’Este and hit the water steps. Filippo was off the gondola and banging on the door before Orelia even had a chance to stand up.

The door was opened to reveal the last person she expected to see. Filippo pushed past Bastian and ran into the andron. Orelia stood frozen on the spot. ‘What’s happened? Where is Claudia?’

Bastian lowered his eyes to the ground. ‘She has poisoned herself.’

Orelia’s hand flew to her mouth as she let out a strangled cry. Bastian’s arms came around her, holding her tightly as her body shook. He picked up her bag and pulled her into the andron. When they reached the courtyard, Bastian untied her mask to let her tears flow freely.

They stood there like that for what could have been five minutes or five hours. Orelia felt completely numb. She thought about poor Filippo who had not come back downstairs and knew she should be at his side, if only she could be strong enough.

A series of bells tolled all at once, drawing Orelia out of her thoughts.

‘It’s midnight – the end of Carnevale,’ said Bastian. ‘We need to leave. We cannot be here when Signora D’Este returns and discovers what has happened to Claudia. The Inquisitors won’t be far behind, either.’

Still in a state of shock, Orelia nodded and followed Bastian to the land entrance. When they stepped onto the calle, it was clear that while Carnevale had officially ended, the celebrations had not. They walked in silence away from Ca’ D’Este, winding away from the noise and crowds.

They finally stopped in front of a church in a small quiet campo and sat down on the steps like two people with nowhere else to go.

Although, Orelia was not accustomed to speaking to God, she said a silent prayer for Claudia’s spirit. A cool wind blew through the campo. Next to her, Bastian shivered. ‘Do you think Claudia chose death over a future in which she had no choice?’

Orelia shook her head. ‘Claudia thought the man she loved had betrayed her.’

‘Claudia was in love with someone? Was it the man you arrived with?’

‘Does it matter now?’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Bastian lifted his eyes. ‘The world already seems darker without Claudia in it.’ His finger’s brushed against Orelia’s.

At his touch, Orelia remembered just who this man was and what he was responsible for. She stood up abruptly, grasping for her bag.

Bastian caught her hand and stood up to face her. ‘Please don’t go. I beg you,’ he said. ‘I love you, Orelia. There are so many things I must tell you.’

He looked at her so tenderly that if Orelia hadn’t known better, she would have believed him. She pulled her hand away forcefully. She opened her bag and rummaged around inside.

‘Where are you doing?’ asked Bastian.

‘Here,’ Orelia said, pulling out her white chemise. ‘This is what you want. Take it.’

Bastian stared it. ‘You know?’ he said.

‘You really shouldn’t discuss your bets so openly in taverns.’ Orelia screwed the chemise into a ball and threw it at Bastian.

He let it fall to the ground. ‘I don’t want it. I want you,’ he said, stepping towards her.

Orelia laughed dryly. ‘You expect me to believe your lies?’

‘It’s not a lie. Si, it started as a bet to make you fall in love with me, but I ended up falling in love with
you
.’ Bastian took a step towards her. ‘Please believe me. I never meant to hurt you.’

Orelia backed away, a look of disgust on her face. ‘What about Angelique? How could you not have hurt her?’

‘I was desperate. My father wanted to send me to Padua. I acted rashly and then things got beyond my control.’

‘Your father is right; you need to grow up.’

Silence filled the space between them. ‘Do you love me?’ asked Bastian.

For a moment, Orelia thought she heard a snatch of a canary’s song, but there was only silence. ‘No,’ she said with a finality that invited no argument. ‘But take my chemise and leave Venice with your prize money because I’m done with running, and I could not bear to see your face every day.’

Bastian stared at her with so many unfamiliar emotions playing out on his face: sadness, longing, defeat. Orelia held his gaze for a few seconds, and then replaced her mask. She picked up her bag and turned away, crossing the campo with determined steps. She did not look back.

The light of the new day was beginning to appear over the rooftops. It was quiet; that magical time before Venetians headed home from a night of pleasure-seeking.

Orelia, too, was ready to go home.

She drew in a deep breath and started walking in the direction of Ca’ Contarini. Crossing a ponte, she paused to look at her reflection in the green and gold water of the canal. With steady fingers, she untied the ribbons of the mask and tossed it into the water. When the ripples faded, Orelia looked down at her reflection once more. The girl who stared back no longer looked afraid.

While much attention has been paid to the historical accuracy of this book, it is a work of fiction and some liberties have been taken for the sake of the story. One notable liberty regards society and women.

The rather ‘free and licentious life’ of the characters, in particular the young women, in this novel was characteristic of this period in Venetian history. In 1776, the Council of Ten stated, ‘The way the times are going, together with the great and universal alteration in manners whose full effect is with us now, demonstrate, to our profound and justifiable grief, the inevitable result of the free and licentious life our women lead. This was, and ever will be, the chief cause of the decline and ruin of the Republic.’

However, eighteenth century Venetian women did not begin living this pleasure-seeking life until
after
they were married. Prior to this, girls of a privileged background were educated in convents until a husband was found for them. It was once they were married that they flung themselves into the social whirl, not unlike the whirl the characters of
Masquerade
find themselves caught up in.

All the characters and families in
Masquerade
are a work of fiction, including the Doge of the time. The Contarini and D’Este palazzi are also works of my imagination – a combination of many palazzi I researched and visited, though the terms and layouts are as accurate as I could make them to work in with the story. Of all the other places described in
Masquerade
, only the impressive opera house, La Fenice, did not exist at this time, as it did not begin construction until 1790.

Venice, or Serenissima, as it is also known, is one of the most visually unique cities in the world. To give readers a glimpse into the world of this book and truly appreciate many of the places, objects and clothing featured in
Masquerade
, including 18th century paintings of Venice, fashion from the period, and of course, masks, I have created a Pinterest board under the title ‘Masquerade, a young adult novel’. You can find it at:
http://www.pinterest.com/kyliefornasier/masquerade-a-young-adult-novel/

There were many books and websites that were used in my research for
Masquerade
. Some of the books that I highly recommend include:

Venice: Pure City
by Peter Ackroyd;
Daily Life in Venice at the Time of Casanova
by Maurice Andrieux;
Casanova’s Venice: A Walking Guide
by Kathleen Ann González;
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova
by Jacques Casanova;
Francesco’s Venice
by Francesco Da Mosto;
Francesco’s Kitchen: An Intimate Guide to the Authentic Flavours of Venice
by Francesco Da Mosto;
Venice: Tales of the City anthology
by Michelle Lovric;
Private Lives in Renaissance Venice
by Patricia Fortini Brown; and
A Venetian Affair: A True Tale of Forbidden Love in the 18th Century
by Andrea Di Robilant.

Finally, I hope you love
Masquerade
as much as I’ve loved writing it.

Grazie.

Kylie Fornasier