The Devil in Music (37 page)

"How
delightfully novel that will be, Signor Commissario," said the
marchesa.

"I'm
going to Milan with you," Carlo told Grimani. "I have a
right to know what you're doing to solve my brother's murder."

"To
my knowledge, there are no restrictions on your movements in
Lombardy-Venetia," Grimani said coolly. "As yet."

"May
Signora Argenti and I return to Venice?" asked Valeriano.

"It
wasn't my idea to bring you here in the first place," said
Grimani.

It
was agreed that the whole party would stay for the festival tomorrow,
and disperse the following day. "I must say, this has been a
disappointing visit," sighed de la Marque. "Not that you
all haven't been enchanting company, but when one expected high drama
and blood-curdling revelations " He shrugged disconsolately.

"You're
very quiet, Signor Kestrel," the marchesa observed.

"I've
had a thought, Marchesa. Signor Commissario, you can't approach Bow
Street until you've obtained the approval of your superiors in Milan
perhaps of officials in Vienna as well. It may be days or weeks
before you're able to leave for England. In the meantime, I could
write to Peter Vance, my friend among the Bow Street Runners, and ask
him to begin making enquiries about Orfeo informally, as a favour to
me. That would speed your investigation when you do arrive, and in
the meantime you won't have overstepped your authority, because I and
not you will be responsible for whatever Bow Street has done."

Grimani
thought this over. "That's a sensible plan," he allowed.
"Very well, you may write to this Vance. But leave my name out
of it. And keep the request personal and unofficial."

Fletcher
nudged St. Carr, who was fiddling with his neck cloth which, ever
since Julian's remark about the courage it required to dress
effeminately, he had taken to wearing in an extravagant bow. He and
Fletcher rose to take their leave. Julian and MacGregor offered to
walk with them to the end of the garden and lock the gate after them.

"I
won't say goodbye," Fletcher said when they came to the gate,
"since I daresay we'll see you at the festival tomorrow."

"Shall
you go to Milan after that," asked St. Carr, "or to
England to help the Runners find Orfeo?"

"If
Bow Street finds anything but a mare's nest, I shall be much
surprised."

"Then
why did you offer to set Vance hunting for Orfeo?" MacGregor
wondered.

"Because
if there must be an investigation in England, it had best be got over
as quickly as possible." Julian looked out across the lake,
with its rippling reflections of gold boat lanterns and silver stars.
"Depend upon it, if the solution to the murder is anywhere under
Heaven, it's here."

Next
morning a fleet of garlanded and beribboned boats brought the
marchesa and her guests and servants to Solaggio for the festival.
Even MacGregor had overcome his aversion to Catholic rites
sufficiently to attend. A glorious day, so clear that hardly a trace
of mist clung to the mountaintops, had attracted visitors from all
around the lake, and even from as far away as Bergamo, Brescia, and
Milan. The harbour was so full of boats that the marchesa's party
could hardly find a place to disembark, though the podesta ran about
the pier frantically adjuring people to make way for them.

Once
on dry land, they were swept up into the crowd surging toward the
church. Many young women carried baskets adorned with ribbons and
silk flowers, and filled with meat pasties, game birds, fruit, cakes,
wine, and even live rabbits. These would be placed in the church to
be admired, then sold at auction.

"You'll
be expected to bid on one of them, you know," the marchesa
murmured to Julian, as they walked arm-in-arm. "And to bid
quite high, because the English are reckoned rich."

"May
I give the basket to the poor afterward, or would that be a slight to
the young lady who prepared it?"

"It
would be a very graceful gesture, and only insulting if you were the
girl's sweetheart."

"You
aren't contributing a basket?" he asked, smiling.

"No,
but Nina is." She glanced behind her to where Nina was walking
happily, one arm in Dipper's, the other bearing a dainty little
basket decorated with sky-blue ribbon and silver lace.

"I
shall make sure Dipper is aware of his duty," Julian promised.

As
they neared the church, Julian caught a glimpse of Fletcher

craning
his neck above the crowd and elbowing his way now in one direction,
now in another. Julian guessed he had lost St. Carr, and not for
the first or last time today.

The
marchesa's party entered the church. It was transformed, its austere
columns swathed from top to bottom in red damask, its archways hung
with gold festoons and pictures from the life of the virgin saint.
Santa Pelagia's shrine could hardly be seen amid the flowers,
candles, and gold-paper decorations. The aisles were lined with
baskets of every size. Nina placed hers among them, lovingly
spreading out the blue bow and arranging the ribbon ends.

There
was a commotion in the shuffling, gazing throng behind the marchesa's
party. Rosa, the girl from the Nightingale, fought her way through.
She looked luscious, her black hair done up with silver pins, her
crimson and gold bodice pushing up her magnificent breasts so that
they pointed like artillery. She came to a stop before Dipper, her
lips parted, her eyes lit up alluringly.

Nina
abandoned her basket and hurried to Dipper, slipping her arm through
his. Rosa glared. Then her black eyes travelled to Nina's basket.
She laughed, tossed her head, and shoved her own basket in beside it.
Her basket was immense, covered with scarlet ribbons and silk roses.
Beside it, Nina's looked like one of the tiny baskets carried by
pedlar dolls.

Nina's
lip trembled. Dipper gave her waist a reassuring squeeze. When Rosa
saw that, she turned on her heel in a fury. Her foot shot out and
knocked over Nina's basket, spilling out apricot tarts and almond
biscuits.

Nina
jumped at her. "You did that on purpose!"

"I
didn't!" Rosa's mocking eyes belied her words. "How is
anyone to notice such a poor little dab of a basket as that? No
wonder you're such a scrawny thing. Perhaps if Signor Dipper asks me
nicely, I'll give him something to feed you from my basket, to put
some flesh on your bones."

"He
wouldn't need a basket to feed you!" exclaimed Nina in a
trembling voice. "He could just take you to the meadow to
graze!"

"How
dare you?" shrieked Rosa. "Slut!"

"Cow!"

"Bitch!"

They
flung themselves at each other, kicking and pummelling. Rosa got her
hands well into Nina's hair and pulled for all she was worth. Nina
screeched and tore off Rosa's necklace, scattering garnets all over
the aisle.

Dipper
and Julian got hold of Nina, while other onlookers pried Rosa's hands
from Nina's hair and dragged her back. Don Cristoforo, resplendent
in his holiday vestments, came thundering down the aisle. "Fighting
in the church!" he cried. "And on Santa Pelagia's day!"
He looked imperiously from one girl to the other. "Are you not
ashamed?"

Nina
hung her head contritely. Rosa sullenly shuffled her feet.

"I
shall expect to see you both in church before the end of the day to
confess and receive penance," said the priest. "In the
meantime, I won't sully our festival by taking any more notice of you
unless you give me cause!"

He
stalked back to the altar, leaving Nina to put her basket to rights,
while Rosa gathered up the garnets from her necklace, stealing little
melting glances at Dipper from time to time.

Julian
prudently removed him a short distance. "Did you think things
weren't lively enough, and it might be amusing to cause a second
murder?"

"No,
sir. I'm knocked acock blow me if I ain't! I never knew Rosa was so
took with me."

"I
wonder you can have missed it. You talk with her often enough."

"That's
just being civil, sir."

"The
devil it is. No one has made so many conquests in Italy since
Napoleon. But never mind: fortunately or perhaps unfortunately it
isn't I you'll have to convince."

"You
love her!" Nina wailed.

"I
don't," said Dipper.

"You
think she's prettier than I am."

"She
can't hold a candle to you."

"You
think I'm little and scrawny, just as she said!"

"That
only means a cove can get his arm around you proper." He suited
the action to the words, in case she failed to understand his
pastiche of English and Milanese.

She
sobbed into her handkerchief. Dipper could see that her tears were
very real. These Italian girls certainly took things to heart.

"Come,"
he coaxed, "all's well as ends well, ain't it? The church was
rigged out to the nines, the auction was bang-up, and we've got the
fireworks come night mans He reached into her basket, for which he
had paid an extravagant price. "Have a biscuit. You ain't ate
nix my-doll since we come back from church."

"I'm
not hungry. How can I bear to eat, knowing you may be thinking of
her this very minute, and wishing you were with her instead of me!
And after I gave you what I never gave any man before!"

Dipper's
experience of women told him this was not true, but he thought it a
lie that girls were entitled to tell, and men ought to pretend to
believe. "Who'd want to wrap his arm round a great swinging gal
like that, when he could have one as light-timbered as a willow, with
hair like silk, and eyes as soft as velvet?"

She
nestled a little closer to him and looked up in his face. "Swear
that you love me."

"I
love you." Dipper had said this to many girls and often meant
it, as he did now.

"But
swear by the Madonna no, no, swear by your God, the God of the
heretics."

"I
swear."

He
gathered her into his arms and kissed her. She flung her arms around
him, pressing her lips and body ardently to his. "You must keep
your word!" she breathed. "You must! Because if you were
untrue to me, I don't know what I'd do!"

The
marchesa did not return to Solaggio for the evening celebrations,
preferring to watch the fireworks and hear the music from the terrace
of Villa Malvezzi. All the servants had the evening free and quickly
made off for Solaggio. The marchesa gave her guests carte blanche to
follow suit, but most of them declined. MacGregor wanted no part of
an Italian village carouse, Donati would not have felt safe, and
Grimani took no interest in such foolery, except to warn the local
gendarmes not to let the revels get out of hand. Carlo, Francesca,
and Valeriano likewise elected to remain with Beatrice. Only de la
Marque had other ideas.

He
stopped Julian in the Hall of Marbles at nightfall, just as Julian
was on his way to join the rest of the party on the terrace. "A
word, man vieux. What would you say to coming with me to the village
to see what sorts of primitive pleasures are to be found?"

"I'm
afraid I'm obliged to decline. I still haven't written that letter
to my friend at Bow Street, and I want to be in time for the next
post."

"Write
it in the morning."

"You
seem to have in mind the sort of evening that would leave me in no
condition to write it in the morning."

"Then
the devil with it. You know it's all nonsense anyway."

"What
do you mean?" asked Julian curiously.

"Oh,
man vieux." De la Marque looked at him with fond reproach.
"They will never find Orfeo in England. They will merely be
wasting their time, as you are wasting this magnificent night
scribbling rubbish and hobnobbing with men too old and bloodless to
appreciate those black-eyed goddesses I saw in the crowd today. Now,
you and I are young enough to worship them with the vigour and
thoroughness they deserve. Surely you don't mean to let them
languish for want of a cavalier?"

"I
have great confidence in your ability to console them. Why are you
so convinced that Orfeo won't be found in England?"