‘Of course,’ said the doctor immediately.
Anna knew she should feel relieved but she just couldn’t feel anything at that moment.
Dear Editor,
I have noticed that I have been putting on a lot weight recently. When I am at a party my dearest and oldest friend keeps bringing me the most delicious treats. Surely she cannot be trying to make me put on weight, can she?
Dear Madam,
In matters of the heart, politics and the stomach trust no one.
- Gazetta Veneta. Thursday 5 November, 1750
When in the mountains, sleep had come easily to Orelia. She would simply have to close her eyes and sleep would follow. But that had all changed since arriving in this watery city. Orelia lay in bed wide-awake, wondering why sleep had decided to elude her, yet again. It wasn’t the bed, for it was the most comfortable thing she had ever laid upon. Idle days, nights at the theatre, endless balls and banquets had left her simply not tired. It was as though Venice was a will-o-wisp that had swept her up and not fully put her back down.
With a sigh, Orelia rolled over, untwisting her feet from the tangled coverlet. She closed her eyes, but instead of blackness, she saw Bastian’s face. He had been on her mind since the street party over a week ago. He was so infuriating with his sure smile and arrogant attitude. Most infuriating of all was the way he had captured Orelia in his orbit. Even when she wanted to be far away from him, she felt like she could not pull herself free.
Orelia beat the feather pillow with her fist. Sleep was now an impossibility. She lay on her back, staring up at the scene of cherubs on the ceiling, when she heard the sound of something hitting the window. She lay still, listening.
When the sound came again, she jolted upright. Her eyes went straight to the row of long windows on the wall facing the Grand Canal. The third time the sound came, she saw something small and dark bounce off one window.
With her heart beating wildly, Orelia stood and tiptoed across her bedroom. The floor was cold on her bare feet. When she reached the windows, she peered through the glass, but could not see a thing. Hesitantly, she opened the door that led onto the balcony and stepped out into the night.
She had barely taken more than two steps when her foot connected with a small stone. Picking it up, she looked over the balustrade at the Grand Canal and saw a gondola, illuminated by a lantern, floating on the dark water just outside the palace.
The first thing she noticed about the man standing in the gondola, even from four floors above, was his sure smile. Orelia groaned.
‘Finally,’ Bastian called, lowering the arm he had raised above his head.
‘Go away,’ hissed Orelia.
‘Come down.’
Orelia waved her hands. ‘Be quiet.’
Bastian laughed. ‘You know you want to come down.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘If you do not come down, I shall call your name loudly until every last person on the Grand Canal is awake,’ said Bastian.
‘I cannot come down . . . I’m not properly dressed,’ said Orelia, folding her arms across her body, suddenly aware that she was only wearing a white cotton chemise.
‘So get dressed, or can you not dress without your lady’s maid?’
Orelia hurled the stone at Bastian. It landed well away from the gondola with a pitiful splash. ‘You are so infuriating!’ she cried, spinning around and walking back inside her room.
She stood for a moment, hands on hips, undecided as to whether to go back to bed or meet with Bastian. There was no choice really, unless she wanted him to wake the entire household.
In the light of the moon, she pulled on the loose white dress she’d worn to the street party. Anna had cleaned it, though she did question why it was so wet when she received it. Orelia had made up a lie about it falling off her balcony into the canal when she had left it outside to air.
Easing her bedroom door open, Orelia crept into the central hall that the other bedrooms, including Angelique’s, opened onto. Even though there was no one around, her stomach twisted with worry. How would she explain herself if someone found her sneaking out in the middle of the night? What would Angelique say if she knew it was to meet Bastian? Orelia reminded herself that she had no choice and she hated Bastian even more for that.
When she arrived at the water entrance, Bastian had already drawn the gondola up to the water steps, as if he knew for certain that she would come. He smiled at her as she approached. ‘Don’t be so happy with yourself,’ she said. ‘This ends tonight. We cannot see each other again.’
‘Come with me and if you still feel that way by the time I return you safely home, I give you my word that I will leave you alone.’
Orelia narrowed her eyes. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
‘You don’t; that’s why it’s called trust,’ he replied, reaching out a hand to help her into the gondola. After a moment of hesitation, she took his hand and stepped over the dark gap into the gondola. The motion of the rocking sent her off balance and she fell forward onto Bastian. He stayed steady and upright. Orelia immediately drew herself away, her eyes wide and vulnerable.
‘That is a move I would play,’ said Bastian with a wink. ‘Maybe we are not as unlike as you think.’
Since the gondola had no felze, Orelia settled herself onto the seat. ‘You and I are nothing alike,’ she said. ‘Now let’s get this over with so I can rid you for good.’
‘You sure know how to charm a man.’ Bastian brushed past Orelia to get to the stern. A shiver ran through her body, which she tried with all her power to hide. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and saw Bastian take a hold of the oar. A moment later the gondola began to glide away from Ca’ Contarini.
Orelia turned back around. She did not want to think about the way Bastian’s muscular arms moved under his white shirt or how his brass-colored hair fell across his forehead, so she asked, ‘How did you know which room is mine?’
‘I never reveal my secrets,’ he answered.
‘Where are we going?’
‘That’s another secret.’
Orelia sighed and settled back into her seat. She should have been anxious or afraid, it was dark and no one knew where she was, but somehow she felt strangely calm.
They travelled across the Grand Canal, occasionally passing another gondola with a proper gondolier in his red scarf ferrying noisy revelers or quiet individuals hidden in the felze. They came to another canal several times wider than the Grand Canal. ‘Where are we?’ asked Orelia.
‘This is the Canale della Giudecca, and that,’ said Bastian, pointing to the island they were approaching, ‘is the island of Giudecca.’ He drew the gondola close to the pavement until they came to a complete stop. ‘We’ll have to walk the rest of the way, but it’s not far.’
Stepping out of the gondola onto the water steps, Orelia took great care not to let herself be thrown off balance again into Bastian’s waiting arms. She waited while he tied up the gondola and collected the lantern. She noticed that they were in front of a white church with a large dome and several smaller ones. It was impossible for her to make out any more detail in the dark. She cast her gaze further. This island was dark, silent and deserted. A shiver passed over her. The gentle ebbing of the gondola had lulled her into a false sense of security and even delight. Now, with her feet back on land, she realized how foolish she was to have agreed to go on this escapade.
Bastian came to stand at her side. ‘Are you cold?’
Orelia shook her head.
‘This way,’ he said, taking her hand in his.
After they turned off the street, Orelia lost track of where they had come from. She was now completely at the mercy of Bastian. A minute or so later, he stopped in front of a high grey wall. ‘I told you it wasn’t far.’
Set into the wall was a wooden door crossed with leng
ths of iron. Bastian took a key from his pocket and pushed it into the lock. With a reluctant creak, the key turned. He pushed on the door and it opened enough for a person to squeeze through sideways.
‘That’s as far as it opens. After you,’ he said, moving aside.
Orelia stepped back instead. ‘How do I know you won’t lock me in the moment I step inside?’
Bastian laughed and shook his head. ‘Do you mistrust everyone or just me? Actually, don’t answer that. Here, take this.’ He passed the key to Orelia and then squeezed through the doorway, taking the lantern with him. Orelia hurried after him, pushing the key into her pocket.
The moment she emerged on the other side of the door, she froze. They were in a garden. Vines twisted up the wall, hiding the grey bricks. Small trees in perfect lines disappeared into the darkness. Closed flower buds dotted small bushes and shrubs like kisses. Her eyes did not know where to settle; there was too much to marvel at.
Bastian stood ahead of her holding the lantern like a heavenly guide. He turned and started walking; taking the golden light with him so that Orelia’s only option was to follow. They weaved through the garden, following a path of stone past shrubs of larch and laurel, beds of verbena, and fruit trees with orange orbs hanging from branches.
Orelia would take a few steps before stopping to examine a flower or inhale its sweet scent. Bastian took her hand again. ‘Come on, there’s something else I want to show you.’
They came to the other side of the garden where there was a small, grassed area, behind which a wall rose into the darkness. A circular fountain adorned with statues of mythical water beasts sat in one corner, while in the other corner stood a cypress tree. Orelia turned to admire the tree when she noticed that hanging from its branches were birdcages. The silver wire of the cages shone in the moonlight. Within each cage was a canary like a ray of sunlight left behind to light the night. Her hand flew to her mouth. There were more cages than she could count. ‘You bought all these from the market?’
‘Every last one.’
‘Why?’ said Orelia, drawing her eyes away from the birds. She looked intensely at Bastian. It would be easy to fall for his messy hair and soft blue eyes.
‘So we could set the birds free, of course.’ He hung the lantern from a branch and took a few steps to the nearest cage. He whistled to the small canary and it whistled back. Then Bastian opened the door of the cage.
It took the canary a few moments to find the opening, but when it did it spread its wings and took flight. Orelia laughed joyfully and watched the flight of the bird with a wide smile.
‘Your turn,’ Bastian said, when the canary was out of sight.
Orelia looked from cage to cage, and found herself drawn to a small canary that sat quietly on its perch. She held the sides of the cage with both hands and stared into the bird’s small dark eyes. Then she opened the cage door. The canary looked at the window to freedom and did not move. Orelia could sympathize; sometimes even a cage can seem quite comfortable when compared to the unknown. She whistled, coaxing the canary bit by bit to the door, until eventually it extended its wings and took flight.
Moving quickly from cage to cage, Orelia and Bastian opened hatches and dodged the beating yellow wings ascending into the night sky. When the last cage door was open, they stood back, holding hands, and watched the canaries fly away until they were no bigger than the stars.
Bastian looked skyward with an intensity he reserved for watching women undress. He would never know freedom like these small, yellow birds. He would never know what it was like to fly away.
‘I hope they’re safe,’ said Orelia. ‘What if they can’t survive on their own?’
Bastian laughed, glancing away from the sky to look at Orelia. ‘They’ll be fine and even if they aren’t, isn’t it better to be free for a short while, than caged for life?’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Orelia, eventually.
‘And you’re beautiful,’ Bastian said. He plucked a white flower that gleamed like moonstone, and held it out to Orelia. A cool change seemed to pass over the garden as Orelia’s smile vanished from her face. ‘Is all this just to impress me?’
Dropping the flower, Bastian ran his hand through his hair. ‘It was at first . . . but then when I saw the canaries in their cages, I felt for them and I had to do something. It’s nice to be able to free something, since I cannot free myself,’ he said, surprised at his honesty.
Bastian pulled a small bottle out of the pocket of his dress-coat, removed the stopper and took a mouthful. The alcohol burned his throat.
‘What is that?’ asked Orelia.
‘Jamaican rum. I had it at a wedding for the first time a few weeks ago. Have some.’
Orelia looked at it from the corner of her eyes. ‘I’ll pass. If you think you can get me drunk to lower my inhibitions, you are wrong.’
Bastian put the bottle back into his pocket. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’ he said.
For a moment, Orelia almost looked sorry. She sat down on the edge of the circular fountain. ‘Anyway, about what you were saying. You strike me as the freest man in Venice, dashing about breaking hearts, crashing banquets with stolen identities, and taking innocent girls on midnight dalliances in walled gardens – and I’m sure that’s not the least of it,’ said Orelia. ‘What do you know about being trapped?’
‘I live in the seat of the government,’ answered Bastian, sitting down beside her. ‘If that’s not enough, my father wants me to follow in his footsteps one day. Can you imagine me being the Doge?’ Bastian shook his head. ‘The illustrious Doge is the most trapped man in all of Venice. He can’t even open his own mail or leave the palace without an escort. My mother couldn’t bear the life as Dogaressa. She ran off with a Spaniard when I was a child. It’s not the life I want either, but I have no choice. In a few years, when I turn twenty-five, I will have to take a seat on the Great Council like all noblemen. In the meantime, my father wants to send me to the university in Padua. He thinks he can change me into the man that the council will elect as Doge one day.’
‘What’s so terrible about going to university or being on the Great Council?’
‘It’s not what I want to do.’
‘What do you want to do, then?’
Bastian looked down at the blades of grass.
Dipping her fingers in the water, Orelia flicked cold droplets at him. ‘Tell me.’
‘I want to explore the world like Marco Polo. I love the sea. When I was a child, I taught myself to command a gondola. I used to pretend I was the captain of a ship. I want to sail to all corners of the world and savor its delights.’ He spoke quickly, so she would not have time to laugh at him. ‘But if I refuse to follow the path my father has laid out for me, I’ll be cut off. I’ll have no money and without money, I can’t do anything.’
‘There are plenty of women to savor in Venice or have you savored them all?’
Bastian shrugged. ‘I don’t deny that I’ve made pursuing desire my main quest in life, but that’s not who I want to be forever. That’s one of the reasons I love this garden so much. I feel like I can be a different a person when I’m here, as though I can leave part of me on the other side of the wall.’
Orelia narrowed her eyes as she looked at his face, as if she was seeing a rare flower opening for the first time. ‘Take off your cloak.’
Bastian grinned, suddenly remembering the real reason he had brought her here. Somehow, between the excitement of freeing the birds and revealing himself to her, he had forgotten about the bet.
‘I usually get a kiss before I begin taking off my clothing,’ he said, with his trademark cheekiness that usually had women melt like wax between his fingers.
Orelia rolled her eyes and grabbed his cloak, pulling it from his back. She laid it down upon the grass and then lowered herself onto it. Suppressing his smile, Bastian lay down be
side her, their bodies touching at the shoulders as they looked up at the starry sky. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils filling with the scent of lavender, jasmine and rose. ‘This garden is amazing. Who could believe that a place like this exists in a city of stone and water?’ whispered Orelia.
‘They exist; you just have to know where to find them.’
‘How did you come to own this place?’
‘I won it in a bet. I have to say it is the best bet I’ve ever won.’
‘How many other women have you brought here?’
‘None. You are the first.’ Bastian propped himself up on his elbow so he could look into her eyes. ‘Tell me about your life.’
Orelia took a deep breath and said nothing for a few minutes. ‘There’s not much to tell. My parents recently died of smallpox. The only family I have left is my godfather, which
is what brought me to Venice.’
Bastian pushed a wave of hair away from her forehead. ‘You’re very brave.’
‘Courage didn’t bring me here, fear did. If I were brave, I would have stayed and rebuilt my life but I ran.’
‘Well, I’m glad you ran here,’ said Bastian gently. He wanted to kiss Orelia so desperately, but he was afraid of scaring her off.
‘So am I. As much as I miss . . . Rome, I feel like I belong here, somehow.’
‘They say Venice sings to its blood. Maybe some distant relative of yours was Venetian?’ Bastian felt Orelia stiffen beside him.
‘I better get back to home now,’ she said, sitting up. He stared at her, taken aback. He had been so close. What had he said wrong? ‘Stay a bit longer.’
Orelia shook her head.
‘As you wish,’ said Bastian with a sigh. ‘Race you to the door!’ He leapt to his feet and pulled the cloak out from beneath Orelia. She laughed and jumped up. He took off first, holding the lantern in one hand and his cloak in the other. Orelia followed in close pursuit, weaving through the garden. Their laughter filled the night.
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