She stood up and walked across her bedroom. Her footsteps were light. She opened the drawer and reached her hand to the back, feeling around until her fingers found a small glass vial. It was cold beneath her fingers. She held the vial up in the moonlight. The dark liquid shimmered.
It could have been a love potion or perfume or an elixir for sleep, but Claudia knew that it was none of these things. It was belladonna. Normally, it was used in minute amounts to brighten the eyes and enlarge the pupils, but when ingested, it was poisonous. Deadly.
Tossing her head back, Claudia laughed out loud with the irony of the situation. Her mother had given her the belladonna at the beginning of Carnival, but Claudia had never used it on her eyes, having heard of the pain it caused. She had put it at the back of the drawer and forgotten about it.
Until now.
Claudia caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked at her dark arched eyebrows upon which Filippo had laid kisses many times. She looked at the sharp line of her jawbone that Filippo had once stroked. She looked at her moist lips that would never smile again.
With trembling fingers, Claudia removed the glass stopper.
Bastian couldn’t keep up with his own affairs. Standing on the second floor arcade overlooking St Mark’s Square, he took a swig of wine straight from the decanter. He was done with the glass hours ago.
First, he had bet he could make Orelia fall in love with him to win a large sum of money.
He took another swig. Then, he had become engaged to Angelique to spare himself from being sent to Padua. And now, he was being blackmailed into marrying Claudia D’Este to protect Orelia, whom he had fallen in love with.
Below him, carefree celebrations filled the square. Under normal circumstances, he would be down there with Marco fare welling the last night of Carnival. No doubt there would be some bet involving the rhinoceros. And the night certainly would have ended in an apartment, lying in bed with a beautiful woman, or two beautiful women, if last year was anything to go by. It seemed like a decade ago, rather than just a year. Nostalgia turned to anger as Bastian thought of what had brought him to this point, or rather who.
Marco D’Este.
Bastian still couldn’t believe that his best friend had betrayed him, but there was no other explanation. Marco was the only person who knew about his feelings for Orelia. Signora D’Este could only have found out from her son. Maybe their friendship was nothing more than a well-devised plan set in motion years ago to elevate Marco’s family. Maybe Marco and his mother had always planned to ensnare Bastian, waiting for the moment when he cared enough about something or someone. He should’ve pushed Signora D’Este over the balcony when he had the chance.
Better yet, he should never have fallen in love. If he’d never made the bet with Marco he probably would’ve forgotten about Orelia when the next woman caught his eye, and neither of them would be in this mess. But then he remembered her smile, her laugh, her touch and he knew if he had the chance to do it all over again, he would..
That didn’t mean he hadn’t spent hours trying to think of another way out of this situation. He even thought about telling Orelia he loved her and asking her to leave Venice with him, as he had planned to do that night. They could go somewhere where no one knew who she really was. But it was just a fantasy. Even if Orelia did love him enough to forgive him and start a life together somewhere else, Signora D’Este would find a way to stop them.
Hearing a noise, Bastian turned around expecting to see his father, but the arcade was deserted. Shadows hung on the wall behind him. Even his father was probably enjoying himself tonight. Bastian hadn’t told him about marrying Claudia D’Este yet. He decided to wait until after Carnival. When that dreaded moment came, he would explain his change in affections not in terms of love, but in terms of politics. Bastian would promise to commit himself wholeheartedly to his university and political life if his father agreed to the marriage and the rest of Signora D’Este’s terms.
It was the same argument he had been going to use if he’d lost the bet with Marco. Indeed, he had lost, and now he would have to marry Claudia as well. Again, the thought of his deal with Signora D’Este sent him into a rage. He threw the tear-shaped decanter at the wall, enjoying the sound of the glass breaking, the sight of it raining down. It wasn’t enough. His anger still threatened to drown him. He had to cut to the core of his anger. It was time he saw Marco. What other way was there to spend the last night of Carnival?
Bastian hijacked a gondola at the water entrance of the Doge’s Palace, telling the gondolier who was asleep on the floor of it to go and enjoy himself. With the determination of two men, Bastian rowed himself towards Marco’s house. There was only a slight chance that his former friend would be at home, but if he weren’t Bastian would wait, even if that meant waiting until the sun rose.
He moored the gondola in a canal close to Marco’s house and walked the rest of the way. As he approached the land entrance, he saw a figure coming towards him.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Marco when the two came face to face.
Bastian did not answer. He strode right up to Marco and shoved him in the chest with both arms. Marco stumbled backwards.
‘Do you think you can just play with people’s lives to get what you want?’ shouted Bastian into the night. Before Marco could regain his footing, Bastian punched him hard in the face, sending him to the ground. Pulling the ruby ring off his finger, Bastian threw it on the ground next to Marco.
Marco picked himself up. Blood ran from his nose and he used his sleeve to wipe it away. ‘You think this is just about a stupid bet? You’re pathetic, Bastian. Even your father thinks so. You have everything and you want none of it. I am sick to death of hearing your whining.’
Bastian stepped forward, grabbed handfuls of Marco’s waistcoat and pulled him close. ‘It’s always about you. Life is so unfair to poor Marco. You lie and cheat yourself to the top, no matter who gets hurt. Did you ever think about Orelia? She’s innocent in all this.’
Marco landed his fist in Bastian’s stomach. ‘Innocent? How well do you know her? Did she ever tell you who she really is?’
‘She didn’t need to,’ said Bastian, doubled over, clutching his stomach. ‘I trust she had her reasons. Just like I trusted you were my friend.’
Marco laughed. ‘You blame everyone but yourself. You always have. This is your fault. My mother knew about you and Orelia before I went to her. How do you think she knew your little witch’s secret? She was looking to eliminate her from that first night you danced with her. All I did was point out your weakness. You’re lucky I did. At least you get the chance to save her. If I hadn’t become involved, my mother would have taken Orelia’s secret straight to the Lion’s Mouth to get her out of the way. You should be grateful. She gets her freedom thanks to me.’
‘And I loose mine.’ Bastian tackled Marco to the ground but before he could punch him, a scream pierced the night. Bastian turned towards the sound, towards Ca ’D’Este. Marco pushed Bastian off and leapt to his feet. He ran to the door and fumbled through his pocket for the key. Finally managing to fling open the door, he disappeared into the passageway. Bastian followed close behind him up the stairs to a bedroom on the third floor where the screaming was coming from. Marco flew through the open door. ‘Claudia!’ he cried, disappearing into the room.
Bastian approached the doorway slowly. When he looked into the room, his heart stopped. On the floor lay Claudia. Her head hung limply to the side, her black hair fanning out around her. Next to her outstretched arm lay an empty vial, the clear glass gleaming in the moonlight.
Marco was on his knees beside Claudia’s body, shaking her shoulders. The servant who had been screaming now hovered in the corner sobbing. Bastian stood frozen in the doorway. He looked down at his hands. Shadows fell on the valleys of his palm like bloodstains.
Orelia had arrived in Venice w
ith little and decided to leave it the same way. Her belongings were packed in a small bag; a few plain dresses and undergarments, so different from the ones she had acquired in her new life.
In the light of a single candle, Orelia’s eyes travelled around the room, searching for anything she might have missed. Her gaze came to rest upon her bed, that bed which above all the luxuries of this life she would miss the most. Who knew what she would be sleeping on tomorrow night? Or where? Orelia shook her head to remove these thoughts. It was better not to think that far ahead or she would not be able to bring herself to leave.
She was about to turn away when she realized that she had forgotten something. Orelia opened the drawer on the dresser to retrieve the glass flower she had bought to Venice with her. She was surprised to see that there was not one glass flower there but two. Orelia picked them both up. They were identical. Where had this second one come from? Orelia sighed. It was yet another mystery. She put both flowers carefully in her bag. The action seemed so final. She was really leaving.
Her greatest regret was that she could not say goodbye. As far as everyone was concerned, she was feeling unwell and spending the night in. It occurred to Orelia that her mother had left in the same hurried and secretive way eighteen years ago, without telling a single person. Orelia couldn’t bear to do the same. They were her family, her only family now.
She walked to the writing desk and sat down with a heavy sigh. She had already written a letter to Angelique earlier that afternoon, exposing the truth about Bastian, including her involvement with him. Even that letter had been easier to write than this farewell.
Orelia stared at the blank piece of paper for several minutes before she picked up a quill and began to write.
To my dear family,
It is with great sadness that I must leave Venice. I have had a wonderful few months but I do not belong here. I feel so much gratitude towards you all.
Thank you for showing me what it means to be brave and bold, Veronica.
Dear Angelique, thank you for showing me how glittery life can be, and the true meaning of friendship.
To my godfather and wise Aunt Portia, thank you for opening your home to me. It gives me great comfort to have you all in my heart.
Love Orelia
When Orelia finished writing, she folded the piece of paper and set it down on her pillow, hoping it would not be found until morning when she was far away. She looked at the time, surprised at how late it was. The boat would leave at one hour to midnight, with or without her. The only thing left to do was to disguise herself.
On her bed, all the masks she had acquired in Venice were laid out, everything from the black, sequined columbina mask she had worn on the first night of Carnival to the white bauta mask she had traded for her jacket. Orelia didn’t intend on taking them all with her, she only needed one to get her to the boat unrecognized. It should’ve been an easy decision, but Orelia found herself considering which was the right mask. Each one held such strong emotion in its layers of papier-mache.
Her eyes settled on the mask she had bought on her last trip to the mask maker with Angelique. Half of the mask was gold, the other half green. Orelia had chosen it that day because the wearer could seem to be two different people, depending the way they faced. It seemed apt for the part she had being playing in Venice. And it was the only mask she had not worn.
Orelia tied it to her face and picked up her bag. She took one last look at the bedroom. Traces of herself could not be erased; the stub of a candle on her bedside table she had burnt while reading before bed, the stain on the Persian rug from when she had spilt perfume, the impression she had made on the mattress. Orelia felt as if she was leaving a part of herself behind.
She checked that the hall was clear before setting off for the last time. On her way to the staircase, she stopped by Angelique’s room and left her letter next to a hairbrush on the dressing table.
Outside the land entrance, Orelia headed in the direction of Venice’s main square. When she reached St Mark’s, there was barely space to move. She pushed her way through the crowds, across the square, past the Doge’s Palace, to the quay. She saw a figure standing beside a boat, and although she had never met Filippo before, she knew it was him. He looked as though he were anxiously anticipating the arrival of someone he loved.
‘Filippo?’ she asked when she reached him.
He nodded.
‘Where is Claudia?’ asked Orelia, her eyes searching the waterfront.
Filippo ran a hand through his short black hair. ‘She was supposed to meet me here. One of the servants delivered the message just a few hours ago. She said that Claudia thought her mother suspected something and it was safer to meet here at the quay.’
‘Maybe she is on her way. It’s not yet midnight.’ Orelia added an optimistic shrug but her skin prickled with anxiety. What if Claudia’s mother had found out about their plan to leave Venice? What if she was the reason Claudia wasn’t here?
‘I thought that too,’ said Filippo, ‘but something doesn’t feel right.’
‘Did the servant say anything else?’
‘No but she kissed me. I was so taken by surprise that I didn’t stop her, not for a few moments.’
‘Is it possible Claudia might have seen?’
A look of realization flashed across Filippo’s face. He kicked at the air. ‘I’m such a fool! I have to find her and explain what she saw.’
Orelia watched poor Filippo. Then her thoughts turned to poor Claudia. Orelia knew exactly how it felt to know the man you loved had betrayed you, but in this case it was all just a mistake. Part of Orelia felt relieved knowing that this was the reason Claudia had not shown up instead of the other alternatives Orelia had begun to imagine.
‘Are you coming or not?’ asked the boatman, standing at the end of the jetty. ‘You will pay me either way so I suggest you get on.’
‘You should go,’ said Filippo to Orelia. ‘Claudia and I will arrange passage for another time, if she’ll even talk to me.’
Orelia looked over her shoulder at the entrance to the Grand Canal, where the inky lagoon stretched off into the darkness. Then she looked back at the city. Her city, she realized with a jolt. Somehow Venice had become a part of her that she could not let go.
It was time to stop running.
She didn’t know what would happen if the truth about her became known. Nor did she know how Angelique would react to the truth about her involvement with Bastian. Her uncle was right. Venice was a stage. A comedy or a tragedy, everyone was a character and Orelia was now a key part of it.
‘I’m not ready to leave, after all,’ she said. ‘I’ll come with you. She might be more willing to hear you out if I’m there.’
Filippo paid the boatman, then scanned the crowded Piazzetta. ‘It’ll be quicker to reach her house by gondola.’
‘But I thought you walked here.’
‘I did,’ he said, eyeing the mass of gondolas bobbing along the edge. He grabbed a rope looped over a striped mooring pole. Orelia realized what he was doing, but didn’t protest. Filippo helped her aboard, then steered out into the canal.
A few minutes later, the gondola passed through the covered gallery of the D’Este residence and hit the water steps. Filippo threw a rope over a mooring pole and jumped off the gondola. Immediately Orelia knew something was wrong. Shouting was coming from inside the house.
Filippo opened the entrance door and ran through the dark passageway. Orelia followed slowly. When she reached the staircase to the first floor, she froze. Bastian was coming down the stairs. He looked as though he’d been in a fight but it was his absent expression that made Orelia fear the worst.
‘What’s happening? Have you seen Claudia?’ she asked when Bastian met her at the bottom.
He lowered his eyes to the ground and said nothing.
‘Tell me,’ Ore
lia demanded.
‘Claudia is dead. She has poisoned herself.’
Orelia’s hand flew to her mouth as she let out a strangled cry. Upstairs there was more shouting. Bastian’s arms came around Orelia, holding her tightly as she shook. He seemed as heavy and broken as she was but somehow he managed to hold her up. They stood there like that for what could have been five minutes or five hours. Orelia felt completely numb. She thought about poor Filippo who had not come back downstairs and thought she should be at his side, if only she could be strong enough.
A series of bells tolled all at once, drawing Orelia out of her thoughts.
‘It’s midnight – the end of Carnival,’ said Bastian. ‘We need to leave. We cannot be here when Signora D’Este returns and discovers what has happened to Claudia. She will look for someone to blame.’
Still in a state of shock, Orelia nodded and began to follow Bastian to the land entrance when she remembered that her bag was still in the gondola. The letters Orelia’s mother and father had written to each other were in there and Orelia could not let the wrong person get a hold of them.
‘I need to get my bag,’ she said, starting towards the water entrance.
Bastian put out a hand, stopping her. ‘I’ll get it.’
Orelia did not move from her spot until he returned a few minutes later, holding her bag.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, taking Orelia’s cold hand.
When they stepped onto the street, it was clear that while Carnival had officially ended, the celebrations had not. They walked in silence away from Claudia’s house, winding away from the noise and crowds.
They finally stopped in front of a church in a small quiet square and sat down on the steps like two people with nowhere else to go. Although, Orelia was not accustomed to speaking to God, she said a silent prayer for Claudia. A cool wind blew through the square. Next to her, Bastian shivered. ‘Do you think Claudia chose death over a future she did not want?’
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