Emilia’s face was blank. She gave no sign she had even heard Anna’s speech.
‘We need to get you better or else you will soon be discovered. Maria came very close the other day. It’s only a matter of time and when that time comes, we’ll both be out on the street. This is the only way.’
With her head still resting on her pillow, Emilia gave the slightest nod. Then she began to sit up, rising inch by inch. Anna stared at her sister with a disbelieving smile. Her eyes began to fill with tears.
‘My meeting is not until midday, but my duties start at the sound of the Marangona bell. I will have to send you downstairs then, as it might be too difficult to swap places later. You will report to Maria. There are some things you should know about her. You must do whatever she says and do not ask questions. She does not tolerate slowness or sloppy work.’
Half an hour later, Anna had finished preparing and dressing Emilia. She stood back and looked at her sister. Color had already begun to return to Emilia’s cheeks. For the first time in a long time, it was like looking into a mirror.
All around the city the Marangona bell rang.
Anna had worn her best dress, a lilac affair adorned with ribbons and bows that had been given to her by Angelique when she had deemed it too frilly. She sang softly as she walked down the street, warming up her voice. She wondered if Signor Canterello would ask her to sing a particular song or one of her choosing. What if he chose a song she didn’t know? Most of the songs she knew were her own creation borrowed from the title of an opera.
Anna crossed the Rialto Bridge into San Polo. It was busier than normal being the second last day of Carnival. Everyone was out making last minute purchases to make tomorrow night the most memorable yet. Anna had not even given a single thought to what she would be doing tomorrow night. Last year, she had let Angelique take her to the celebrations in St Mark’s Square but they had quickly gotten split up and Anna had spent most of the night looking for her. This year, she might actually have something to celebrate if things went to plan with Signor Canterello.
She walked quickly past the shoppers. She had left the palace at eleven o’clock, but she had lost track of how long she had been walking for. She decided to stop and ask for directions, instead of walking around in circles for hours as happened to even the most street-wise Venetian. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said to a man pushing a cart of freshly printed books. ‘Can you please direct me to Calle dell’Agnello?’
The man gave her a strange look. ‘Are you sure that’s where you want to go, miss?’
Beginning to feel uncertain, Anna nodded. She listened to the man’s instructions, thanked him and hurried off. She made her way through a part of San Polo she had not visited before. Her trips to this neighborhood had never extended beyond Campo Rialto Novo and the Erbaria to purchase food for the palace’s kitchen. She knew of the area beyond markets, of course, which was made famous for the common prostitutes who worked there. Surely, the theatre owner’s house was in a more reputable part of San Polo.
As Anna continued on, following the bookseller’s instructions precisely, her certainty began to diminish. In fact, by the time she reached the infamous Bridge of Tits, she was ready to turn back. But there at the bottom of the bridge was Calle dell’Agnello. Anna decided that she’d come this far, she might as well see it through.
She walked slowly down the narrow street. Her heart hammered in her chest, as she looked at the names on the doors she passed. This couldn’t be the place. She must have heard Signora D’Este incorrectly. And then, right before the end of the street, she saw a sign on a door that read: Canterello.
The wall of the ground floor was bricked, while the floors above were covered in red plaster. Window frames that rose to peeks dotted the facade. It was a nice building in comparison to its neighbors.
Anna lifted the elaborate doorknocker and waited. When the door opened, she found herself facing a woman encased in red silk with gold embroidery. A ruby necklace sat high around her neck. Her breasts were only just covered. The woman smiled at Anna. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Signor Canterello.’
‘I am Miss Canterello. There is no Signor Canterello. Are you after employment?’
Anna nodded eagerly. ‘Are you the owner of Teatro di San Cassiano?’
Miss Canterello laughed and lifted one of Anna’s arms. ‘No, but I can offer you work here. You’re very thin, but you have a pretty face. Are you a virgin?’
Wrenching her arm back, Anna turned and ran. Tears streamed down her face. Signora D’Este had deceived her. Worse still, Anna had been taken for the fool she was. She should have known. She should never have trusted Signora D’Este. She should never have betrayed Orelia.
This was her punishment.
Anna kept running. She could hardly see where she was going through the curtain of tears. Suddenly, she slipped on the wet stones and fell forward into a muddy puddle. She cried out in pain and frustration. Laying there on the street, she considered never getting up.
Then she remembered Emilia back at the palace. Her sister was probably tired and afraid, if not already thrown out on the street as the imposter she was.
Using every ounce of effort, Anna picked herself up but soon realized that she could not put weight on her left ankle. She looked down at her dress. It was muddy and torn. Completely ruined.
It was a long, slow walk home, limping the entire way. With each painful step, resolution started to build in Anna. This was the last time someone would treat her like she was nothing. She would make Signora D’Este pay for deceiving her. A woman like her would have a wealth of secrets that could bring her down. And Signora D’Este had taught her one thing: do what you need to get what you want.
By the time she found herself outside the palace’s land entrance, the sun was dropping out of the sky. She climbed the grand staircase to the main floor. No one saw her come up or cross the central hall. It was that time of day when the ladies would be getting ready for their night out and the servants were busy preparing dinner. She wondered where Emilia was. She could not hear Maria shouting, which was a relief. But then, maybe her worst fears had come true.
Her heart beat rapidly as she crept towards the stairs. Before she could look for Emilia, she had to get up to her room and change out of her torn, muddy dress. If by some miracle, Emilia had pulled the charade off, it would all be ruined if Anna were to be seen like this.
As Anna made her way through the hall to the servants’ staircase, she heard a laugh come from Angelique’s bedroom. Although unheard for a very long time, it sounded like Emilia’s laugh. Anna stopped outside the room and pressed her body up against the wall. Voices floated through the door slightly ajar.
‘I love it!’ cried Angelique. ‘When did you become so good at arranging hair? Can you please fetch Orelia? She has to see it!’ Anna heard footsteps coming her way and then Emilia stepped out of Angelique’s bedroom.
The two sisters stood face to face in the vast space. Emilia took Anna’s hand and smiled, her eyes bright. In that one enchanted smile, Anna knew that her sister could recover from whatever it was she had suffered from. The Jewish doctor had been right; Emilia’s condition could cure itself. Perhaps pretending to be someone else for a short time had been just what she needed.
Anna quickly disappeared upstairs to her room before anyone saw the two of them together. She stood in front of her small window and looked out over the Grand Canal. Maybe this didn’t have to be the last time her sister took her place. Anna was now free. Signora D’Este had not crushed her dream. She would become Giselle da Quaterno. But first she would get her revenge.
Light burst into Veronica’s bedroom like fireworks. She cursed and rolled away from the window, pulling the blanket over her head. During the last few days, she had come to learn the advantages of not getting out of bed.
‘Time to rise,’ sung Angeliqu
e as she swept aside the long curtains, letting the offending light into the room.
‘Go away,’ muttered Veronica.
‘It’s time to get up. I’ve got a surprise for you.’ Cheerfulness oozed out of Angelique. It made Veronica feel sick.
‘I thought you wanted me dead? Luca has no interest in marrying me, so you can’t marry Bastian.’
Angelique waved her hand, as if she were dismissing the idea of increasing the height of heels. ‘I gave the ring back. I won’t be marrying Bastian.’
Veronica sat up abruptly. ‘Why?’
‘It didn’t feel right. Something was missing,’ said Angelique, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
‘You mean that love was missing from the love potion?’
Angelique’s mouth fell open. ‘You knew?’
Veronica nodded.
‘Why didn’t you stop me? I thought you disapproved of love potions.’
‘I do. I didn’t stop you because I didn’t think it would work . . . I’m making quite a habit of being wrong about things.’
‘I hate to admit it, but you were right. I never should have used it. Look what I had to do to my poor hair to release Bastian from the spell.’ Angelique reached behind her neck and pulled out a handful of hair only a few inches long. ‘The witch said to burn a few strands of hair and send it to him, but I didn’t want to take any chances.’
Veronica laughed. ‘That will teach you to meddle with love.’
‘What about your love affairs? What are you going to do about Luca? I know you love him.’
‘I will do nothing. I will simply continue my present course,’ she replied, pulling the bed sheet up to her chin.
‘The Veronica I know would never hide.’
Veronica picked up a pillow and threw it at Angelique. ‘When did you become the wise sister?’
Angelique caught the pillow. ‘Do you want to know another pearl of wisdom? I know just what you need.’ She waved her arm in the direction of the windows where a triangular easel was set up with a fresh sheet of canvas. Paints and brushes sat on a low table beside it.
‘Where did all this come from?’ cried Veronica, jumping out of bed. She ran to the easel and began picking up brushes and equipment excitedly.
‘I found some of it downstairs in storage,’ answered Angelique. ‘The rest of it came from a new friend I’ve made. You’d like him. He’s an artist. I remembered how much you used to love painting. You used to paint such wonderful landscapes and then you just stopped. I thought you might enjoy it again. If you’re going to hide in your room, at least you can do something productive.’
Veronica laughed and pulled her sister into a hug, twirling around. ‘Thank you, thank you.’
‘You were willing to marry someone just to make me happy,’ said Angelique with glistening eyes. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
A whole day of sitting here and this was the result! Veronica slammed the paintbrush down and stared at the blank canvas. She could paint someone else’s secret so easily but when she had no one’s secret, she couldn’t think what to paint.
Every time she lifted the paintbrush to the canvas, her idea changed. She was in the sitting room, as the windows here provided the best light. Come on, she told herself. Just paint something, anything. This time when she lifted the paintbrush to the canvas she kept going. A few hours later she has a rough painting of the very sitting room she was in. It was just a painting of a room but when she looked at it all she could think of was Luca.
He didn’t love her, he had made that quite clear, but she was certain she could change that. After all, she had done everything she could to make him not love her. She could do the opposite.
With new determination, she picked up a paintbrush and dipped it into the white paint. She fashioned a chessboard on the table in the center of the painting. Although it was too small to make out individual pieces, it was clear that a game had been begun but was not yet finished. They were not yet finished.
Veronica leaned back and assessed the painting. A smile began to play at the corner of her lips. Before she could deliver it to Luca’s home, the paint needed time to dry a little. Veronica walked over to her bed and lay down. The moment her head rested on the pillow, she closed her eyes and instantly fell asleep.
She didn’t open her eyes again until it was dark and the sound of music awoke her. Remembering her painting, she got up and inspected it closely. It was dry enough, she concluded. This time she did not put on a cloak or mask, but she did go through her usual process of wrapping the painting. With a fine tip paintbrush, she wrote a message across the brown paper. Another painting to hang on your wall. May it also help you sleep at night.
Veronica exited the house and not far along was met with the Carnival in full force. The atmosphere was mesmerizing. There were musicians, dancers, acrobats and fire jugglers. And she was not even at St Mark’s Square where the real celebrations were.
None of it bothered her. Not the noise. Not the young boys pushing past. Not the lovers in plain sight. She made her way to Luca’s house enjoying the spirit of Carnival. She was so caught up in it all that she didn’t see a man cross in front of her path until they collided.
‘Veronica!’ cried the man, recognizing her before she recognized him. He pulled off his mask and smiled. It was Alessandro. She’d never picked him as someone who could dress as a harlequin but it was the last night of Carnival, after all. No one was themselves. Alessandro looked at the wrapped painting under her arm. ‘You’ve been painting? But I’ve not seen you in weeks.’
‘I’ve been unwell and the doctor ordered me to stay home. It turns out the rooftop is a lovely place to sit and paint,’ said Veronica.
Alessandro grabbed her hand. ‘I’m glad you are feeling well again. My gondola is moored just around the corner. Let’s find a quiet canal and catch up on missed time.’
‘I can’t. I’m sorry,’ said Veronica, slipping her hand out of his. ‘I have somewhere I need to be.’
‘Where could you need to be tonight?’ he asked, gesturing to the people passing by who had absolutely nowhere to be.
Veronica realized that tonight or any night, her answer would be the same. She needed to end things with Alessandro now and by incredible luck she was wearing the same dress she had worn the last time she had visited his apartment. It had not yet been washed and the key was still in her pocket. ‘I have something to return to you,’ she said retrieving the key.
Alessandro looked at her outstretched hand and nodded sadly.
‘Thank you for letting me into your world,’ she said. ‘You will never know how it saved me.’
Placing a warm kiss on her cheek, he folded her fingers over the key in her palm. ‘Keep it in case you need to return.’
She watched him go and then continued on her way, not finding nearly as much amusement in the celebrations going on around her. When she arrived outside Luca’s palace, Veronica raised her hand to the door, but before she could take a hold of the bell chord, the door opened to reveal Luca. He was moving so quickly he almost walked straight into Veronica.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stepping back. He was wearing an unadorned coffee-colored dress-coat. A white columbina mask rested on his forehead. He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow.
Veronica’s smile vanished. This was not how things had played out in her mind. She was supposed to give the painting to a servant and quickly escape before she could embarrass herself. She tried to hide the incriminating object behind her back, but she was too slow.
‘Is that for me?’ asked Luca, looking at the painting.
‘No,’ snapped Veronica. ‘It’s, it’s . . .’
Luca reached for the painting, but before he took hold of it, he looked to her for permission.
Veronica sighed and nodded. ‘Take it.’ She studied him as he read the message. After a moment, he
laughed.
‘It’s just an old painting I had sitting around,’ said Veronica, not meeting his eyes.
Luca pulled away the brown paper.
‘You don’t need to unwrap it now!’ cried Veronica with a look of complete devastation.
If Luca heard, he did not acknowledge it. He kept pulling away the paper. He looked at the painting for a long while without saying anything. Then he turned his eyes to Veronica, studying her even more intensely. ‘I’m heading over to St Mark’s Square, would you care to join me? I’ve heard there’s a live black rhinoceros there and I would like to see it for myself.’
Veronica smiled, knowing she was exactly where she should be tonight. ‘I heard it is a white rhinoceros.’
Luca gently placed the painting inside the entrance room and stepped forward so that he was close enough to kiss her. ‘You’re probably right.’
Angelique Contarini’s least favorite night of the year was the last night of Carnival. It was like saying goodbye to a dear friend, knowing that you would not see them for six months, unless you counted the two weeks of Carnival forty days after Easter for the Festa Della Sensa, which Angelique did not because it was too fleeting.
In another few months, her family would be heading to the mainland to spend the summer at their villa in Dolo, along the Brenta Canal. Sure, summer time was just as manic as Carnival. Anything was possible and permitted. But Angelique missed Venice in those summers. There was nothing secretive or mysterious about the open land and fresh air of Dolo.
Tilting her chin up, Angelique looked at herself in the mirror. She affixed a black lace mask over her eyes. It was a more subtle statement than she would normally make, especially on the last night of Carnival, but on this night she wanted to be easily recognizable. Anna had done another fabulous job with her hair, which after many afternoons spent on the rooftop had achieved golden glory.
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