Masquerade (20 page)

Luca gently took her hand and pressed a kiss upon it. She felt its warmth through her glove.

‘I owe much of it to you . . . for helping to find my notebook, I mean.’

‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’ asked Anna, lighting a stumpy candle in an attempt to bring light and an illusion of warmth to her cold, dark room.

Emilia did not answer or lift her head from the pillow. She stared straight ahead as if Anna were not there at all. Moving aside the plate of uneaten food that she had smuggled upstairs for Emilia, Anna sat down on the edge of the bed and continued as if Emilia
had
answered. ‘Let me think . . .’

Although Anna could not read, she had collected stories in the way a fisherman’s net catches fish. The stories came from her life – songs she had memorised, snatches of puppet plays on the calle, pieces of gossip heard around the wellhead in the nearby campo.

Gazing out the small window that framed a starry night sky, Anna sifted through her mind for something from which a story could grow. Her thoughts kept returning to one thing, one troubling incident, and from there she began her tale.

‘In a kingdom far, far away, there was once a girl called Belle who served a kind and gracious princess. Belle dreamt of dancing in the king’s court, but she kept her talent hidden, knowing that no one would allow a plain servant to dance for the king. Belle’s older sister also worked in the castle until one day she fell out of favour with the king and was banished to the dark forest.

‘Each day, Belle pleaded with the king to allow her sister to return, but he ignored the servant girl. Then one night, Belle decided to leave the castle and go in search of her sister. The dark forest was a big, fearsome place, and the chances of finding her sister were slim.

‘Before long she was too hungry to go on. She had no money for food or goods of any worth to trade, so she stopped in the village, laid down her cloak and began to dance.

‘Villagers stopped to watch her, mesmerised by her dancing, but not one laid down a single coin for they were poor and had no money to spare. Finally, too tired to dance any more, Belle picked up her cloak and began shuffling away when a voice stopped her.

‘ “I’ve seen you at the castle,” said a woman with the unmistakable appearance of a witch. “You work for the princess. Why are you dancing on the street?”

‘Belle wanted to run away, but something stopped her. “The king has banished my sister to the dark forest. I am dancing to earn money to buy food for my journey to find her.”

‘The witch’s lips curled into a smile. “I can help you. I have not money but magic. My magic is not strong enough to find your sister or change the king’s mind, but I can help you make the king listen to you. The only way she will have her life back is if he allows her to return to the castle.”

‘ “How can you make the king listen?” asked Belle.

‘ “I can make you into a dancer.”

‘ “But I can already dance.”

‘ “Indeed, but I can make you into a dancer that the king will notice, one that he would welcome at his court, one that would enchant him, one that he would offer anything to, including the return of your sister.”

‘Belle looked down and saw her brown dress slowly transform into red silk. She had never seen anything more beautiful.

‘ “That is just the beginning. I can provide you with a musician and instruments, fine clothes and jewels, all the things you need to catch the king’s attention.”

‘Belle looked up warily. “And in return?”

‘ “All I require is the key to the princess’s room.”

‘When Belle asked why, the witch replied, “Let’s just say, she has something I want.”

‘Belle shook her head sadly. “I cannot betray the princess.”

‘ “What about your sister? And what about your dream of dancing at the court?” ’

Anna stared out the window and was silent for some time, her mind replaying her own recent meeting with an uncertain destiny.

‘Then what happened?’ said Emilia, speaking for the first time in days.

Anna blinked her eyes several times. ‘I don’t know yet. That’s enough for tonight. I’ll finish the story another time.’

She stayed beside Emilia for a few more minutes, heavy with the realisation that she would have to decide how the story ended. Maybe the price would not be as high as she thought? Perhaps Orelia would not get hurt? But even if she did decide to help Signora D’Este, how would she find out Orelia’s secret, if she even had one? She was so guarded, as if she were always wearing a mask. The only time Anna felt she had glimpsed behind it was when she had told Orelia about the letters.

At that thought, Anna jumped up and rushed to her wooden chest beneath the window. She pushed her hands to the bottom of it and rummaged around until her fingers found the folded sheet of paper. She had intended to give it to Orelia but Maria’s threat had changed all that.

Anna unfolded the paper and stared at the lines of scrolling writing that she could not read. She considered giving the letter directly to Signora D’Este, but it probably was not what the Signora meant by Orelia’s secret. For all Anna knew it could simply be a love letter between two people from long ago. Then it struck Anna. The only person the letter might mean something more to was Orelia. She was searching for the truth about something and that indeed could be useful to Signora D’Este.

In a way, by giving Orelia the letter she would be helping her. She clearly wanted the letters, or letter as it now was. If it contained any clues that would help Orelia in the search for what she was looking for, she would surely follow them. All Anna had to do was follow Orelia.

There was still the risk that Maria might find out, but she suspected that Orelia would be secretive about the letter. The risk of not doing anything and Emilia being discovered was far greater. The witch’s offer was the only way.

Bastian stormed down the second-storey loggia alongside the gothic archways. He’d been awakened at some ungodly hour by a servant with the order that his father wished to see him. Having only crawled into bed a few hours before after a profitable night at the Casino Venier, Bastian felt it was his right to stay in bed all morning. He had rolled over and pulled the coverlet over his face, but the insistent voice of the servant did not allow him to go back to sleep. This was so typical of his father, the mighty Doge.

As Bastian made his way to the private library where his father was waiting, strangely all he could think of was how he had managed to get Orelia to kiss him a few nights ago at the Ridotto. He would have liked more than just a kiss, but he did not want to make the mistake of moving too fast. Orelia was starting to fall in love with him; he could feel it in the way she had responded to his kiss. He was more certain than ever he was going to win his bet with Marco and collect the 50,000 ducats. Then he would be free to leave Venice and begin a new life.

‘You look like you’ve been dredged out of a canal,’ said his father, as the servant opened the door to the library.

Bastian turned and looked at himself in one of the gilded mirrors. His blond hair was standing up in all directions and he was still wearing last night’s clothes, but he didn’t look
that
bad. He chose not to respond to his father’s comment and instead looked around for any sort of liquid to relieve his dry mouth. He found a jug of iced water on the sideboard. The cold water cleared Bastian’s mind enough for him to ask, ‘Why did you want to see me?’

His father put aside the documents he was reading and motioned for Bastian to sit down. ‘I wanted to inform you that you are leaving for Padua after Christmas. Councillor Scini has volunteered to help you settle in to an apartment before university begins.’

Bastian clenched his teeth together and tried to restrain his anger. ‘What is the point? While you are the ruling Doge, no member of your family can hold office in the government.’

His father sighed. ‘You don’t need to educate me on the law. The fact is, I know I can’t be Doge for much longer with my health declining as it is. And it would comfort me to know that my only son might one day continue our family’s line of Doges.’

‘Allow me one more year and then I’ll go to university at Padua without argument or complaint.’

‘No, Bastian. You go after Christmas. I need you out of the public eye. I can’t keep hiding your mistakes. Salvador Oro has lodged an accusation to The Lion’s Mouth against you and Marco. It’s time you grew into a man and stopped acting like a boy.’ His father brought a heavy fist down on the arm of the chair. ‘I’m not asking; I’m ordering!’

Bastian glared at the life-size portrait of his father above the fireplace. It wasn’t the idea of university so much as the idea of Padua that he despised.

Padua was a dull old town that would slowly and painfully turn him into his father. Since there were no universities in Venice, he could not ask for a compromise. And since there was no use in saying he did not want to go to Padua, he had to find a reason why he could not go. ‘I can’t leave Venice because I’m in love.’ The words surprised Bastian himself, but it did not compare to his father’s surprise.

‘Oh, is that so?’ said his father. ‘I thought I would not live to see the day. Who is this woman you’re in love with?’

Bastian opened his mouth to say Orelia’s name when he realised that not only was she not of noble birth, but she wasn’t even Venetian. The law would never allow such a match, even with some of the exceptions that had been granted in the past years. Bastian said the only other name that occurred to him at that moment. ‘Angelique Contarini.’

‘The senator’s daughter?’

Bastian nodded. The muscles in his neck felt like lead.

‘Why have I heard nothing of this before?’

‘It’s . . . recent.’

The old man nodded thoughtfully. ‘It is a good match, despite the scandal the senator’s sister caused twenty years ago.’

Bastian raised an eyebrow. It was not the first time he been confused by the old man’s mutterings.

‘The Contarini’s are one of Venice’s oldest noble families and have since proved their loyalty repeatedly,’ his father continued. ‘Does this mean you are considering marrying her?’

‘I’d like to see how things develop first, take things slowly.’

‘Marriage is best when it is rushed. Propose to her before Christmas, otherwise you leave for Padua after the feast of the Epiphany.’

Bastian stood up and walked out of the room not at all with the gait of a man who had just declared his love for a woman. When he emerged onto the loggia, he leaned over the balustrade, pushing his upper body as far out as it could go. He looked down at the drop below. To fall did not seem like such a terrible thing.

He watched a seagull soar past, so free, so unburdened. Christmas was just over two weeks away. To satisfy his father, he had to marry Angelique. To win the bet, he had to lay with Orelia. How could he do both?

Bastian flicked a dried leaf off the top of the balustrade. Watching its graceful descent, he remembered the love potion Angelique had used on him. He laughed, not believing his luck. Orelia would believe that his engagement to Angelique was due to the love potion. Instead of hating him for choosing Angelique, Orelia would long for him. Perhaps she would become jealous and realise that she loved him. Then when the moment was right, he would snap out of the love potion trance and Orelia would fall into his arms. It was the perfect plan. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

Bastian strode down the loggia with the walk of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

The wall space smelt like dust and cobwebs. It had been many years since Angelique had been in the secret passage that ran behind the library. As a child she had often escaped her tutors by slipping into the cupboard and disappearing through the secret door behind. She had spent many an afternoon looking and listening through peep holes more for the thrill than for what she might discover.

Now at seventeen, she filled the narrow space, and her main purpose was to see what she might discover – as thrilling as it still was in this secret space.

For days she had thought of little else other than Bastian Donato, so when at noon that day Maria had announced that the very man who occupied her thoughts was at the door, wishing to see her father, her mind had been sent into a frenzy.

Despite her father’s unreserved disdain for Bastian, he had agreed to see him and asked Maria to escort the young man to the library. Meetings in the library were always private.

At that moment, Angelique had an important decision to make. She could stay where she was in the sitting room and wait to find out the meaning of it, if indeed her father was willing to tell. Or she could be spy on them.

It had not been a very hard decision to make, which was how she came to be in the small dark space, her eye pressed against the peephole looking into the library.

Questions floated through the air like the golden dust motes illuminated by the tiny hole of light. Why did Bastian want to see her father? Was it business or something more? Had the love potion worked? Could he possibly be here to ask for her hand in marriage?

Angelique was so caught up in her fantasy that she did not notice Bastian come into the library until she heard her father begin speaking.

She quickly pressed her eye to the peephole.

Her father who had been sitting behind his desk stood to greet Bastian, who looked unusually formal in a braided periwig, closed scarlet dress-coat and black silk breeches.

‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ asked her father.

‘Please’ was Bastian’s only response. He fidgeted with the gold buttons while her father poured their drinks from a decanter resting near the edge of the desk. When both men had a drink in hand, they took a seat.

‘To what do I owe this visit?’ asked her father.

Angelique held her breath while Bastian took a full mouthful of wine. ‘I would like to marry your daughter.’

A hand flew to Angelique’s mouth, barely concealing her squeal. The love potion
had
worked. It should not have come as a surprise, but it did.

‘Which daughter are you referring to?’ asked her father, suspiciously.

Angelique was not beyond rolling her eyes even when there was no one to see the gesture.

‘Angelique.’

Her father’s grip on his wine glass visibly tightened and he took in a measured breath

‘I am in love with her,’ said Bastian, filling the heavy silence. He quickly took another mouthful of wine. The poor man was so nervous, Angelique wanted to throw her arms around him. Instead, she pressed her hands to her face, feeling the skin of her cheeks go taut as a smile blossomed on her face. She could hardly have felt happier if Bastian had said those words to her in person.

‘I believe it is her wish to marry me,’ said Bastian.

Her father nodded. ‘I have certainly heard her speak of you . . . fondly. But there is a problem. I have a strict condition that my eldest daughter, Veronica, must marry before my younger daughter.’

‘No!’ whispered Angelique, her body heaving. She’d never heard her father say this before.

‘In no way do I wish to insult your family,’ continued her father. ‘Therefore, you may become engaged to Angelique, but there will be no contracts drawn up, no dowry negotiations made, no wedding until Veronica is married.’

Bastian nodded and smiled. ‘I understand. I am happy to become engaged and wait.’

Angelique pounded her fist lightly against the inside of the wall. This could not be happening. Bastian was in love with her, he wanted to marry her, but there was one thing standing in their way: Veronica.

Her father looked to the place along the wall where Angelique was hidden. She quickly drew back and heard him mutter, ‘We shall see. Would you like me to seek Angelique for you to tell her the news yourself?’

‘No!’ said Bastian, reaching out a hand in protest. ‘I mean, I’d like to wait . . . to find the right moment.’

‘Very well.’

Bastian was halfway to the door when he turned around. ‘If my father speaks with you, please let him know the conditions of this . . . arrangement. He may want to hear it from you.’

Her father nodded and Bastian left the room, closing the door with a soft thud.

Angelique quickly gathered up the bottom of her gown thinking that, if she hurried, she might beat Bastian’s long strides to courtyard, where she could pull him into a dark corner and express her feelings for him in every way possible.

She was about to move away from the peephole when she heard the door open again and someone else come in.

‘Ah, Aunt Portia, come and listen to an old man’s troubles.’

Angelique paused.

‘If you’re an old man, what does that make me?’

Her father laughed. ‘My very dear
old
aunt.’

‘What did that
boy
want?’

‘He wants to marry Angelique.’

‘What answer did you give him?’

‘What answer could I give him? To say no, would be to insult the Doge. This family cannot afford that given our family’s past. So I told him that he could marry her, but not until Veronica is married.’

Aunt Portia nodded. ‘Very wise.’

‘In this way, if his intentions are true, he will wait. Perhaps, in the meantime, he can convince me of his good character. If he has some other motive, we will know soon enough.’ There was a glint in her father’s eye that was evident even from the peephole.

It took a few minutes after her father and Aunt Portia had left the library for Angelique’s fists to stop shaking and unclench. She stayed hidden in the wall, deciding her next move.

Her first instinct was to run into the library, drop to the floor and let loose an almighty tantrum until her father gave in and withdrew his ridiculous condition. That was not something a girl who might one day be the Dogeressa would do. She had to act in a more civilised manner now.

There was little point in trying to change her father’s mind. She would have to work on Veronica.

Angelique let out a happy laugh. She would soon be engaged to Bastian Donato, the man every girl in Venice wanted, and at this moment that was enough.