Masquerade (18 page)

When Orelia stepped into the Sala Grande of the Ridotto, she was met with an atmosphere of intense silence that seemed out of place in the city of bells, singing gondoliers and endless hustle. It felt more like a church, than a public gambling house, despite the dense crowd.

Around the outside of the large room were long rectangular tables surrounded by men wearing powdery white wigs in the groppi fashion, a mass of curls that surrounded their heads like a storm cloud. Piles of money and rows of cards sat upon the tables. Multiple doorways led into salons, in which more gambling tables were in operation.

Following Aunt Portia, Veronica and Angelique, Orelia stepped forward, weaving her way between men and women engaged in whispered conversations.

‘I’m going to find a place at a table,’ said Veronica.

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Aunt Portia, ‘and see to it that you don’t lose your father’s entire fortune.’

‘I never lose,’ muttered Veronica under her breath as the two of them walked away. When they were out of earshot, Angelique turned to Orelia. ‘Can you see him anywhere?’

Orelia looked around at the unfamiliar faces and shook her head.

‘We must find him. He is expecting you and if he doesn’t see you, he will suspect something,’ whispered Angelique, tousling Orelia’s hair, which fell loose around her shoulders, as per Bastian’s request. ‘Unless the moment he sees me, he proposes,’ Angelique added with an optimistic shrug.

Orelia couldn’t understand why this statement made her feel like she had rocks in her stomach. This was the last place she wanted to be tonight, though she did not have any choice in the matter. Angelique could be very persistent.

‘We should split up to search for him. You check the rooms on this side and I’ll check the rooms on the other side.’

Orelia nodded and watched in the mirror as they parted. At Angelique’s suggestion, neither of them had worn masks, which made Orelia’s face feel strangely bare. Although she had resolved not to avoid Bastian forever, she would not intentionally seek him out, no matter what Angelique asked of her. She decided to find somewhere to wait unnoticed for Angelique to return. The light of the chandeliers danced upon the red terrazzo floor like a spotlight following her across the room, prompting Orelia to quicken her pace.

‘Signorina Orelia, if I remember correctly,’ said a voice behind her. Orelia stopped and turned around.

‘How delightful to see you again.’ It took Orelia a moment to realise that this woman was Signora D’Este. Her gown was made of a stiff black material. In her hand, she held a gold oval mask, the type that was held in place by gripping a short stick with the teeth.

‘Buonasera,’ said Orelia, politely.

‘Are you here to gamble?’

‘No, I’m here with my friends,’ answered Orelia, avoiding the woman’s darkly lined eyes.

‘Do you know how to play faro?’

Orelia shook her head, fearing that even whispered words would sound like they were shouted.

‘It’s something you must know. Come.’ Signora D’Este strode off in the direction of a card table, her wide skirt creating a path through the crowd.

With no one to save her, Orelia followed the woman. They came to a card table at the far end of the room, at which there was space to stand. In the middle of the table were cards laid out in two rows, Ace to King, all spades. They appeared to be stuck to the table. On top of the cards were various sized piles of coins.

‘Do you have money to bet with?’ asked Signora D’Este.

Orelia shook her head. ‘I’m happy to just watch, really.’

‘How about this, then? I’ll give you a sequin. If you win, you keep the winnings. If you lose, you’ll owe me a
favour
.’

The word ‘favour’ hung in the air. Orelia bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to be in debt to this woman. Before she could protest, Signora D’Este produced a coin and laid it on the table in front her.

‘The banker will draw two cards per round, first a losing card, then a winning card. Place your money on the card you think will be the winning card. There are other types of bets but the flat bet is the simplest.’

Orelia stood there for a few moments looking at the cards, not knowing where to place her bet.

‘Some people like to choose significant numbers,’ interrupted Signora D’Este, a hint of impatience tugging at the corners of her smile.

Finally, Orelia placed her bet down on the three. She watched closely as the banker dealt two cards. The first was a queen; the second was a six.

‘Does that mean I’ve lost?’ asked Orelia.

‘You only lose if your bet is the same as the first card drawn. Since, your bet neither wins nor loses, it is unresolved. You can leave it where it is or move it to another card. I would strongly suggest leaving it where it is.’

Picking up her coin, Orelia looked at the layout of cards. She turned the coin over and over in her hand. Signora D’Este’s fingers tapped on the table, marking each second Orelia took choosing where to place her bet. Orelia tried to stop a smile from appearing on her face. Now, she was enjoying herself. Finally, she laid her bet down on the king.

The banker dealt the cards for that round; neither was a king.

‘Oh dear, I shall have to change my bet,’ said Orelia perhaps too cheerfully. Taking her time, she placed her bet down. She could have happily continued this all night. She hadn’t thought about Bastian for some time and she quite liked watching the cracks appear in Signora D’Este’s facade.

‘It appears you’ve won,’ said the woman.

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Orelia, clapping her hands together, as she’d collected two sequins from the banker. She handed one out to Signora D’Este. The woman smiled thinly. ‘Keep it. That was the deal.’

‘Grazie,’ said Orelia, feeling somehow as if she hadn’t won.

‘Oh, I’ve heard you’ve been seen with Mr Donato at the opera. I thought I warned you not to get in my way.’ Her voice made the nape of Orelia’s neck feel cold.

‘You have nothing to be concerned about,’ said Orelia. ‘I have no interest in Bastian.’

‘Very wise, but remember, I’ll be watching.’ Signora D’Este placed her mask back on, turned and walked away.

Orelia headed in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between her and this woman as she could. As she passed an open doorway, she felt a hand grab her upper arm and pull her into the room. The door closed behind her.

She found herself in a dark, empty room lit only by the light coming in through the window. Orelia’s heart quickened when she noticed the man in a sinister mask with a long slender nose standing in front of her.

‘Let me out!’ cried Orelia, trying to find the door handle.

‘Sshhh, bella,’ the man whispered.

Orelia froze. She recognised that voice. It was a voice she had been trying very hard to forget since that night in the garden.

‘How did you find me?’ whispered Orelia.

Bastian untied the ribbons of his mask and tossed it behind him. It landed with a soft thump on a divan. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. ‘I knew you were here the moment you stepped into the entrance hall.’

‘You’re spying on me?’ Orelia said.

‘Not as such. The owners of this establishment have ways of knowing who is coming and going. And it is in their interests to feed me information about certain individuals if I ask them.’

‘That’s not very honourable,’ said Orelia, glaring at Bastian.

‘I tell you what’s not honourable. Inviting a man to a caffé and sending someone else in your place.’ Bastian stepped forward and whispered into her ear. ‘I know that wasn’t you this morning.’

His breath was warm and soft. Orelia stepped back from him until her back was against the door. ‘What you don’t know is that you were given a love potion.’

Bastian laughed. ‘If love potions really worked, I would already be married with a couple of children.’

Orelia moved her mouth, but no words came out and then she started laughing, too. ‘I’m curious, how did you know it wasn’t me?’

‘Everything; the way she moved, the way she talked. But most of all her eyes. I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like yours.’

Orelia pressed a black-gloved hand to her cheek to hide the blush she could feel growing.

‘So this love-potion wielding friend of yours, Angelique, I presume, is the reason you think we can’t be together?’

‘Si, among other reasons.’

‘What other reasons?’

Tipping her head back, Orelia looked up at the frescoed ceiling depicting a scene of war. ‘I came to Venice to discover the truth about someone. I can’t afford any distractions.’

Bastian stepped forward and pressed his palms against the wall on either side of her shoulders. ‘You know what, bella? I think you’re afraid of your feelings for me.’

‘I certainly am not. You just cannot accept that I have no feelings for you.’ Her voice wavered, but she squared her shoulders and tried to hold his gaze.

‘Prove it. Kiss me.’

‘You’re crazy.’ Orelia tried to wriggle out from between his arms, but there was no escape, or maybe she just didn’t try hard enough.

‘If afterwards you have no feelings for me, I’ll promise never to bother you again.’

Orelia stopped wriggling and stood perfectly still. ‘You already made a promise like that, which you have broken.’

Bastian tilted his head and gave her a soft look. ‘You pretend to meet with me when you said you didn’t want to see me, so I think we are even. I give you my word this time.’

Biting her lip, Orelia looked into his sea blue eyes. She had no romantic notions about the perfect first kiss. This might be the only way to make him forget her. She lifted her chin.

Slowly, holding her gaze, Bastian leaned forward, pausing when their lips were a whisper apart. Then he kissed her. His lips moved against hers like gentle waves, salty and warm. Orelia moved her hands to the back of his neck and kissed him back, completely losing her sense of time and place. Bastian’s hands travelled down her back, sending shivers down her body. It was good, almost too good. She pulled her mouth away. ‘This is not right,’ she said, breathing heavily.

Bastian cupped her face in his hands and that was all he needed to do. Orelia fell against him and brought her mouth to his. With each passing minute, the kiss became deeper and more feverish. She moaned when his lips moved to her neck and his hand grazed the top of her breast. His hands and lips continued to explore parts of her she didn’t even know were sensitive. Her back was pressed up against the door, a hard, pleasant sensation. She never wanted her moment with Bastian to end and yet she knew it must.

Her lips continued to move against Bastian’s, finding it impossible to stop. She felt Bastian pulling her away from the door. Over his shoulder, she saw a divan shrouded in moonlight. She imagined Bastian’s weight on top of her and a hot wave rushed over her.

And then she remembered Angelique.

Behind her back, her hand found the door handle. Swiftly, she pulled her mouth away from Bastian’s, opened the door and slipped through it with a quick, ‘Buonanotte.’

As she walked back into the Sala Grande, flushed and still breathless, she felt that somehow, in the kiss, Bastian had imparted some of his strength and confidence. Orelia knew she would never be the same girl again.

It was after midnight when Anna stepped onto the calle dressed not unlike one of the young Signorinas that she served. That was because she was wearing one of Angelique’s dresses. It fitted Anna, mostly.

It was a clear night and the stars were reflected in the inky black water of the canals like polished ducats. Anna wrapped her arms around herself and scurried down the calle, passing palazzi of imposing size and grandeur. The triple-flounced lace sleeves of the gown prickled against her skin, perhaps a sign that, even though Angelique had not worn it since the last Carnevale season, and even though it would be washed and put it back among Angelique’s things, it was utterly wrong for Anna to be wearing this gown. Worse still, in the silk-lined pocket was a coin purse containing the ducats Signor Boccassio had given her, the ducats she should never have accepted.

Anna was thankful for the white bauta mask she wore on her face. It felt stiff and cold against her weary cheeks, but with it she would not be recognised by anyone. It was also her only way into the Ridotto, for only those who were of noble birth or hiding behind masks were allowed entry. But the true reason Anna was thankful for the mask was that it meant she did not have to look at her own face. One did not have to take too many steps in Venice before they were faced with their own reflection either in the water of a canal or a pane of glass.

Tiredness began to overwhelm her, but she kept walking. She imagined what life would be like with her own personal gondolier, a life filled with gowns made of the finest materials that weren’t stolen or handed down after they were no longer fashionable.

Finally, Anna turned down Calle Vallaresso and stopped in front of the Palazzo Dandolo, which housed the Ridotto. None of the people entering and exiting the building paid the slightest attention to Anna, confirming her long-held belief that she was invisible to the rest of the world. But Anna paid attention to them, fearing she would run into Signor Contarini’s daughters and their great aunt, who had also come here tonight. There were over seventy or so gambling houses in the city, but Anna had chosen this one because it was owned by the government, which made her feel less like she was committing another crime.

Stepping up to the brightly lit entrance, Anna took out her coin purse. It would only take one ducat if luck was on her side, but Anna was not leaving things to luck. Even if she were to double her money or triple her money that would not mean her life would change, but her sister’s life might change, and that was enough for Anna, for now. With this thought, she entered the palazzo.

In the Sala Grande, Anna stopped and looked around at the masked men and women. So these were the sorts of people who spent the better part of their lives awake in the early hours of the morning, completely carefree. Anna took a tentative step forward. An attractive man in a colourful dress-coat walked in front of her and winked as he passed. Anna felt her cheeks redden and was, once again, thankful for the mask hiding her face. No one had ever flirted with her before. She wondered what it would be like to wink back or press a half-open fan to her lips, a not-so-subtle invitation, as Angelique would do. Instead, she hurried in the opposite direction to the nearest card table to avoid any more sinful thoughts.

She sat down between two older gentlemen. The banker nodded at her and proceeded to lay down the two cards for that round. Anna decided to watch the first few rounds to reacquaint herself with the game. The gondoliers often liked to play faro in the unused storage rooms on the ground floor of Ca’ Contarini. Anna had joined in when she could. That was before Emilia had arrived. This version of faro was very different to the version she had played with the servants. It was much quicker, too. Cards were laid down and money exchanged at dizzying speeds.

‘Are you going to place a bet or not?’ huffed the banker, looking at Anna as if he could see through the mask.

Anna nodded like a child and withdrew her coin purse, afraid she would be sent away. She fixed her eyes on the table, placed a coin on the queen and held her breath.

It was a few hours later, in the diminishing light of the chandeliers, Anna finally lifted her eyes from the table. She had nothing left, not a single coin. There had been a few wins, but mostly losses. With every loss, Anna had made another bet, sure that her luck would turn around. Only, it hadn’t.

The silk hood secured around her face suddenly felt like it was choking her. She pulled it off along with her mask, without caring who saw her. She had to get out of there.

The few remaining people lingering around the gambling tables did not so much as glance at the girl dashing across the room, losing her fight to hold back tears.

In a dark corner near the entrance of the Sala Grande, Anna passed a man wrapped around a woman whose gown was pulled up above her knees. Anna had heard stories of women, even noblewomen, who would give themselves to a man only a few metres away from the gambling tables, so they could return with money to continue gambling.

Tears now streaming down her face, Anna kept running; she could never commit such an act, no matter how desperate she was. She flew down the stairs and through the land entrance. She didn’t see the woman standing on the calle and collided with her.

Anna stumbled back as a tall, striking woman spun around and glared at her.

‘You reckless girl!’

‘Mi dispiace, Signora,’ said Anna, reaching out her arm. ‘I did not see you there.’

The woman stepped forward into the light spilling through the entranceway and grabbed Anna’s forearm. ‘Clearly,’ she hissed between lips that blazed red. ‘What is your name?’

There were many ways Anna could answer that question. Anna Pisani, the penniless servant. Anna Pisani, the gown thief. Anna Pisani, the sister with the dark heart.

The answer that she eventually gave was one that hadn’t occurred to her until she opened her mouth. ‘Giselle da Quaterno, the opera singer.’

The woman threw her head back and laughed. ‘Do you think I can be so easily fooled? I can see by the poor fit of that gown and the appearance of your hands that you are not someone of distinction. Lie to me again and you will regret it.’

The woman’s fingernails dug into the flesh of Anna’s arm. How had her night gone so horribly wrong?

‘My name is Anna Pisani. I’m a servant,’ said in a voice without any fight left in it.

‘Now that’s a name that seems more . . . fitting. And who do you work for?’

‘The senator, Signor Contarini.’

The woman suddenly let go of Anna’s arm and she smiled. ‘Clearly you are very tired and in a hurry. Have you had an unpleasant night?’

Anna nodded.

‘Well all is forgiven,’ said the woman, her voice overly tender. ‘Ca’ Contarini is not a short walk. Allow me to take you home.’ She motioned towards the end of the calle where a gondola was bobbing alongside the water steps.

Every instinct told Anna not to get into the gondola with the fearsome woman, but before she realised it, she was taking the gondolier’s elbow. She lowered herself into the black-curtained felze and a few seconds later, the woman sat down opposite her, closing the curtains. ‘Ca’ Contarini, Canal Grande,’ she called over her shoulder. Immediately, the gondola began to move.

Anna relaxed a fraction, thankful to be getting ferried home, for she didn’t think her tired legs and heavy heart would have carried her.

‘Do you know who I am?’ asked the woman.

Anna shook her head, knowing that it was probably the wrong answer.

‘You should know me. My name is Lodovica D’Este. I was born into a family of no significance. But growing up, I knew I was destined for a far superior life. The first opportunity a young woman gets to better her position is through marriage. Though I aspired to marry a patrician my lowly background meant it was impossible, so I settled on a middle-class gentleman who had inherited a fair sum of wealth and a crumbling palazzo from his merchant father.

With my husband’s money, I made more money. We had everything except membership in the aristocracy, so I planned to buy our family name into the Golden Book for 100,000 ducats. Before that plan could be realised, my husband started to gamble. Then one day, he had gambled away our entire fortune; all that remained was the palazzo we lived in. Five years later, we have risen from nothing through my own determination and sacrifice. I am respected, feared even. Soon, I will have the means to buy my family’s name into the Golden Book. I will rise to my rightful place in the aristocracy, as I planned all those years ago. Do you know why I am telling you this?’

‘No,’ whispered Anna.

‘Because when I was your age, I also told people who I wanted to be, not who I really was. You and I are alike. You are destined for a life of greatness, too. I can see it when I look at you. You can rise from your lowly position to become the opera singer you pretend to be, and I want to help you.’ Signora D’Este let her words hang in the air like a rope for a drowning person.

‘How?’ asked Anna.

‘I am friends with many influential people, including the owners of several opera houses. I can put in a recommendation for you and arrange a meeting. But first, you must prove to me that you can sing.’

Anna was still not convinced she could trust this woman, but then there was a small voice in the back of her head, a voice she knew she should not listen to.
A career in the opera means money, good money, said the voice. And money is what I need to help Emilia, especially since I have just lost everything.

Lifting her chin, Anna closed her eyes, trying to imagine that she was looking out of her bedroom window, singing for her sister. Taking a measured breath, Anna opened her mouth and let out a clear, sweet sound. It danced through the night air. She could feel warmth beginning to spread throughout her body and her voice rose higher, giving wings to the words of her song. In those moments, she forgot where she was and all the money she had lost.

When Anna stopped singing and opened her eyes, Signora D’Este clapped slowly three times. ‘You are very good. With my help, you will have a bright future ahead of you. But for me to help you, I would require your help with something in return.’

‘How could I possibly help you?’

‘I want you to find out everything you can about one of your Signorinas. The girl called Orelia.’

Anna felt a cold shiver run through her body. ‘You want me to spy for you?’

‘Si. I want to know who she was before she appeared in Venice. I want to know all her dark secrets.’

‘Why?’

‘Let’s just say, she’s standing in the way of something I want.’

Anna looked down into her lap where her fingers were tightly entwined. ‘I cannot,’ she whispered.

‘You cannot what?’

‘Orelia has shown nothing but kindness to me, I cannot betray her.’

‘She will never know. No one will,’ said Signora D’Este with the wave of her hand. ‘It will be our secret.’

‘I don’t want her to get hurt.’

Signora D’Este leaned forward and said with a much softer edge, ‘She won’t get hurt, I promise. Think about yourself, your talents, your future.’ She had timed her speech perfectly for at that moment the gondola stopped at the water entrance of Ca’ Contarini.

‘Grazie,’ said Anna with a quiver in her voice, ‘for returning me home.’

‘With the money you would earn on the stage, you could have your own fleet of gondolas one day. Just report to me with the information I seek and I will make you into Giselle da Quaterno.’