Masquerade
Page 28
‘I’m ready,’ called Angelique to Aunt Portia and her father who were waiting for her in the central hall. Apparently, Orelia was feeling unwell and wanted to stay in. She’d been acting quite strange over the last few days, so it was probably best. As for Veronica, once she’d started painting again, she hadn’t stopped. The last time Angelique had checked on her, she had been absorbed in an unusual painting of a sitting room, nothing like the landscapes she used to paint. They had all decided that it was best to leave Veronica to her own devices, especially since they did not think she would miss the celebrations. So in the end it was just Angelique, Aunt Portia and her father heading out to St Mark’s Square. Angelique knew it would not be difficult to lose her father and aunt in the crowds. There was only one person’s company she desired.
That morning she’d sent a note with a messenger to the studio where Domenico worked, requesting that he meet her that night on Riva degli Schiavoni. Fearful that the note might fall into the wrong hands, she only signed ‘A’. She didn’t know if Domenico had received her note, but she was relying on it. She wanted to make the last night of Carnival count.
When Angelique boarded the gondola awaiting them, she was full of optimism. But that changed when she saw that, naturally, every person in Venice had taken to the streets and squares. It struck her that it might not be quite so easy to find Dominico, especially when everyone was masked.
The situation was far worse at St Mark’s Square. There was hardly room to move among the masked people all vying to see the fire jugglers, live animals, fortune-tellers, acrobats and every other amusement imaginable. A rope was still suspended from the top of the bell tower down to a stage erected below, where earlier that day performers had descended the tightrope in various daring fashions. When Angelique was younger, watching this display had been her favorite part of Carnival. This year she had missed it altogether.
Within minutes, Angelique had become separated from Aunt Portia and her father. She quickly headed for Riva degli Schiavoni and spent the good part of an hour walking up and down the busy promenade, searching for Domenico without any luck. What if he had not received her message? Or what if he had decided not to meet her? As far as he knew, she was still engaged.
She was about to give up when she saw a figure ahead of her near the entrance to the Doge’s Palace. She couldn’t see the man’s face but his height and orange hair were the perfect fit for Domenico. She made her way through the crowd. It didn’t take her long to catch up to the man. He was wearing a cloak so she couldn’t quite tell if he had the right build to be Domenico, but the hair, it was the exact shade of orange made even brighter by the streetlights. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. The man that turned around wasn’t Domenico. In fact, from the front he looked as much like Domenico as a pearl looked like an egg.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Angelique, quickly turning and walking in the other direction. She heard the man call out to her, encouraging her to come back, which only made her quicken her pace. Angelique sighed; this was turning out to be her least favorite night ever.
‘Angelique?’ said a voice.
She looked around. Domenico was walking towards her. He was wearing a loose white shirt and brown breeches. ‘I thought I saw you rush past,’ he said when he reached her. ‘I didn’t know if it was you.’
Angelique’s face spread into a smile. ‘Hello,’ was all she managed to say.
‘Hello,’ said Domenico, giving her a shy smile. ‘Did your sister enjoy the painting supplies?’
‘Yes, she did. Thank you so much for helping me with it.’
‘It was nothing,’ said Domenico with a shrug, ‘just some old stuff I was not using.’
Angelique looked around, trying to think of something to say. She saw a crowd of people gathered around the column of Saint Mark. ‘Have you seen the conjurer?’
Domenico shook his head.
Angelique grabbed his hand. ‘You have to see him.’
They joined the group of people who were clapping enthusiastically. The conjurer had finished performing a trick in which he made a walking stick disappear. When the applause died down, he bowed theatrically. ‘For my next act, I need a woman to volunteer her fan.’
A masked woman in an expensive dress eagerly passed her feathered fan to the conjurer.
‘What a beautiful fan,’ said the conjurer. He pretended to fan himself causing the audience to laugh. He closed the fan and threw it high into the air. It unfolded in its ascent and transformed into a white dove. The dove beat its wings and flew off.
There was an amazed silence before the audience erupted into applause, Angelique included. A moment later, Domenico joined in, but without any of the enthusiasm Angelique was displaying.
‘You seem distracted,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve just got things on my mind.’
‘Would you like to go somewhere less crowded?’
‘Is there such a place tonight?’ he said, as someone in the crowd bumped him roughly.
‘I think I might know somewhere.’ Angelique did not give Domenico a chance to protest; she grabbed his hand and led him across the square. She stopped to buy them each a stick of caramelized figs. As they sucked on the golden sugar coating, they made their way down streets, over bridges, and through passageways. Candles in lamps lit parts of the way. In truth, Angelique did not know where she was going, which made it all the more fun.
They crossed a bridge that opened out onto a deserted square. ‘We’re here,’ said Angelique, spreading her arms wide and twirling around.
Domenico looked around and nodded. ‘I didn’t think there was a quiet place in the city tonight, but you have proved me wrong.’
Angelique walked over to the wellhead in the middle of the square and leaned up against it. ‘So, what is on your mind?’
‘It’s silly. I’d rather not say,’ answered Domenico.
Angelique widened her eyes imploringly. ‘You can tell me anything.’
‘My master wants me to paint a woman tomorrow.’
‘What’s the matter with that?’
Dominico gave her a serious look.
‘Oh,’ said Angelique.
‘How can I be expected to do my job with a naked woman lying in front of me?’
Angelique had no answer.
For a while they stood in silence. Finally, Angelique asked, ‘Will you be heading to the mainland for the summer?’
‘No, I’m staying in Venice. Summer is a good time to paint landscapes with the smaller crowds and fewer people commissioning portraits.’
Angelique did not hide her disappointment.
‘Did your fiancé like the portrait?’
‘Actually, I never gave it to him. We are not engaged anymore.’
‘That is his loss,’ whispered Domenico.
Angelique felt her heart leap. ‘I’d like to see more of your paintings,’ she said. ‘The ones of Santa Maria della Salute.’
‘Now?’
‘Why not? Is your studio far?’
Angelique followed Domenico up a narrow staircase of an apartment building nearby to the shipyard in a part of Venice unfamiliar to Angelique. The small room they entered at the end of the hall was definitely an artist’s studio. There were paintings stacked along the walls, equipment scattered around, and a divan for modelling. A fire was still burning in the fireplace, filling the room with a pleasant warmth that made it necessary for Angelique to remove her cloak.
‘This is the one I’m working on at the moment,’ said Domenico, walking over to the triangular wooden frame in the center of the room.
Biting her lip, Angelique studied it. It was a nice painting. Domenico clearly had a lot of talent. She wanted to say something intelligent, something Veronica would say. ‘I like the colors of the sky,’ said Angelique, immediately feeling silly.
D
omenico smiled. ‘I know which one you’ll like.’ He walked across the room to a stack of paintings leaning up against the wall and he began to look through them.
‘Paint me like Venus,’ whispered Angelique.
Domenico stumbled and knocked over the paintings. He turned to face Angelique. ‘Like Venus?’
Angelique nodded and glided over to him. She put her hands on his chest. ‘It will help prepare you for tomorrow. But first, you have to help me get out of this,’ she said, indicating to her clothes.
‘Are you sure?’
Angelique untied her mask and nodded.
With shaking fingers, Domenico undressed her layer by layer, loosening the leather ties of her stays, removing the wooden frame of her pannier until all that was left was her thin white chemise. The layers of clothing pooled around her feet. She stepped away from them and stood in front of Domenico. Her heart beat so quickly she thought she was going to faint. All her confidence had dropped away with her clothing. She had never been seen naked by a man before.
It was clear from the way Domenico’s arms sat gentlemanly by his side that Angelique was going to have to remove the last bit of clothing.
Taking a deep breath, she reached down and grabbed the bottom of her chemise. She lifted it over her hips, her breasts and finally her head. She let it fall to the floor.
‘You have spoiled all other women for me,’ whispered Domenico, his eyes never leaving her body.
Letting out a soft laugh, Angelique felt herself relax. ‘Where should I...’
Domenico pointed to the divan. Angelique walked across the room on shaky legs. She was glad it was only a short walk. There was a white sheet draped over the divan. It was smooth beneath Angelique’s skin. She rearranged the pillows and then propped her elbow up. ‘Is this right?’
Domenico was now half-hidden by the fresh sheet of canvas that he was setting up on the frame. ‘Move your hand . . . down a little.’
Angelique let her hand slowly travel down from the curve of her waist to the space where one thigh crossed over the other. She tilted her head slightly to the right and put on the smorfia, that not quite haughty, not quite come-hither smile.
‘Perfect,’ said Dominico, breathlessly.
The room was quiet as Domenico painted. It remained that way for several hours. The only sound that could be heard was the scratching of the paintbrush against the canvas or the rustling of sheet when Angelique moved her body to wake her numb limbs. She tried to move as little as possible, but she found it increasingly hard to sit still.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked Domenico, peering around the side of the canvas with a look of concern.
‘It’s nothing; I’m just a bit cold.’
Domenico stood up. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t notice the fire had died. You should put your clothes back on.’
‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ said Angelique, but Domenico was already walking over to the pile of her clothes. He picked them up and carried them to the divan. Angelique sat up and massaged her elbow. Domenico laid down the clothes and sat next to her. He took her arm in his hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her elbow, his eyes locked on hers. Angelique shivered. He placed another kiss further up her arm and another on her shoulder. Angelique moaned when he placed a feathery kiss on her neck. Her skin burned like it was on fire. Domenico’s lips reached her chin. He pulled away slightly, so that their faces were only inches apart. Angelique reached her hands to the back of his neck. She pulled his head towards her until their lips met. He kissed her back, his hands moving over her body, tracing her curves like a sculptor. Angelique pulled his shirt over his head and pressed her body against his, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. She found his lips with a new urgency. Arms wrapped around her, Domenico gently pushed her back onto the divan and slowly lowered himself on top of her. Even with his weight, Angelique felt as light as air. She tipped her head back, inviting his lips on her neck.
She had one thought before she gave herself over to him entirely. She would never need a love potion again.
Claudia’s suitcase had been packed in her mind since she was fourteen. Long before she’d even met Filippo, she had dreamt of leaving. Now with her escape so close, she had the awful feeling that something would go wrong.
During a late rendezvous with Filippo last night, Claudia had learnt that he had tracked down the French banker and convinced the man to give him a job as a stable-hand. With the help of Francesca, Claudia had managed to find a discrete boatman and had arranged their passage to the mainland. They would be leaving from the quay at one hour to midnight. Claudia dearly hoped Orelia would take her advice and join them.
Earlier that day, Claudia had gone to say goodbye to her father. She had not intended to reveal that she was leaving, but when he had asked whether she was making good on her promise, Claudia could not help tell him the truth about her and Filippo. Her father had smiled and given his blessing. As she had paused in the doorway on her way out, her father had promised that her secret was safe with him, not that she ever questioned that.
All that was left to do now was to pack her suitcase, wait for the hours to pass and hope that nothing would go wrong. It was nearing eight o’clock when Claudia looked around her room to check if she had forgotten anything important. She was surprised to find that she felt not even the slightest sadness to leave the room she had grown up in, with all its luxuries and pretty things.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ said a voice behind her.
Claudia turned around. She hadn’t heard the door open, but there was her mother, standing only a few meters behind her.
This was exactly what Claudia had wanted to avoid. She searched for a believable response, but found she had no more lies left in her. Besides, her mother could not stop her now, why pretend any longer? ‘I’m leaving,’ she announced, squaring her shoulders.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Yes I am. What are you going to do, mother? The only way you can stop me from leaving is to lock me in this room forever.’
‘This is about the gondolier, isn’t it?’ said her mother tiredly.
Claudia was momentarily surprised. ‘Filippo and I are in love.’
‘I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I see no other option than to tell you the truth about him.’
Claudia felt herself walking into a trap, as was often the case with her mother, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, ‘What truth?’
‘He does not love you. He never has. He has . . . other women.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘See for yourself. Look from your balcony. He meets with Francesca this exact time every night.’ The certainty in her mother’s voice filled Claudia with dread. She looked over her shoulder at the door onto the balcony. It couldn’t possibly be true.
‘Go on,’ said her mother.
Claudia obeyed, hoping, praying that her mother was wrong. When she emerged onto the balcony, the cold wind whipped against her face and pulled strands of hair from her chignon. She reached the balustrade and looked down at the water entrance below. Standing on the landing quay was Filippo, but he wasn’t alone. Claudia could see the back of a girl with black hair, who could only be Francesca. The two were facing each other talking, as two friends do.
Claudia let out a sigh of relief, feeling foolish for letting her mother get inside her head and most of all, for doubting Filippo. She turned away, not needing to see more, when from the corner of her eye, she saw Francesca step forward. Claudia turned back towards the scene, watching as Francesca wrapped her hands around Filippo’s neck and kissed him, long and passionately.
Before Claudia could watch any more, a hand gripped her arm and pulled her away from the balcony. ‘I wish you did not have to see that.’
Tears filled Claudia’s eyes, as if they could erase what she had seen. Her mother led her over to
the bed and pushed her down with a firm hand. All strength left Claudia’s body and she curled into a ball. Her body shook as she cried.
Her mother patted her head twice. ‘There, there.’
‘It can’t be,’ whispered Claudia. ‘He said he loved me. He said we would leave Venice together.’
‘He told you what you wanted to hear. He was never going to leave with you. You are too trusting. Your lady’s maid told me all about how you sent her in your place to the Contarini banquet. She has betrayed you many times; you were just too blind to see it.’
Claudia remembered the rose incident. Francesca had told Filippo that it had been on her dresser. She’d driven a wedge between Filippo and Claudia. There were other signs she should’ve seen too. Filippo and Francesca spending so much time together. Francesca often returning from downstairs quite flushed. And then there was the time that Filippo had accidentally called Claudia by her maid’s name. How had she been so blind?
‘The best thing you can do now is marry Bastian Donato. Forget the gondolier.’
Sitting up, Claudia looked through the window at the balcony. ‘How can I forget?’ she said in a far-off voice.
Her mother slapped Claudia across the face. ‘Open your eyes. No daughter of mine will mourn a gondolier. You are going to marry Bastian.’ She took her exit, leaving Claudia helpless on the bed, one side of her face hot and red.
For the next few hours, Claudia lay there. Outside her window, the last night of Carnival was in full spirit, but inside her bedroom there was only darkness and silence.
All Claudia wanted to do was sleep, but the pain would not let her drift off. She stared straight ahead at a shaft of moonlight that shone through her window and landed on her dressing table. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, not taking her eyes off the silvery beam.