Venice

by Lynne Connolly

  “How do you know that?” Richard stood and took a few paces about the room, coming to rest standing behind his chair, gripping the back rail.

  “I have my sources.” Mr. Ravens tapped the side of his nose in a knowing gesture. “I had enquiries made about you, and your problems are well known to many of the houses in Venice.” They should be, we’d paid enough to circulate the rumours.

  “You associate with such people, my lord?” I asked, in as cold a manner as I could muster. It wasn’t hard to pretend this time. Miss Golightly, the daughter of country squires, was appalled by debts of such magnitude. In the great gaming houses of London, however, the sum would hardly have merited a second glance. Ravens had been clever, keeping the sum just the other side of payable to a man whose money would be tied up in stock.

  “Your husband associates with them, Mrs. Locke,” Ravens said. “Can it be you are unaware of his visits to the gaming tables?”

  “No.” I glanced away. “It has come to my notice before.”

  Mr. Ravens looked through the pile of notes. “Your debts amount to five hundred pounds. Your husband’s account for the rest.”

  I stared at Richard reproachfully, biting my lip and trying to cry, but not quite succeeding. “You promised,” I wailed, entreaty colouring my voice.

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” I had never heard him so miserable

  How terrible it must be to be married to the kind of person who regularly gambled away his income and possessions. It was a disease among the British. Every day stories circulated about this person or that being ruined and tales were legion over the Continent about the insanity of gambling. One would never know if the roof over one’s head would still be there in the morning. How much worse if you loved that person.

  Richard raised his head. “It must be obvious to you I can’t clear this debt at once.”

  Mr. Ravens frowned. “Perhaps you should not have gambled so much if you knew you could not honour your debts.”

  “Oh, I can honour them,” Richard assured him quickly, “but I will need time.”

  Mr. Ravens tutted and shook his head. “I do not know how long my wife and I will choose to stay in Venice. I can only give you a certain amount of time.”

  I was beginning to wonder. Were they going to force us to give this man his money, or would he take matters further? He might, after all, pursue the quick kill but the false information we fed him about the Lockes indicated they couldn’t put their hands on that kind of money for some time. He couldn’t, surely, leave it at that and give us the time we asked for?

  Mr. Ravens picked up his cup when, trembling, I refilled it for him and sipped at mine, giving us time. I now knew exactly how a fish on a hook felt, not knowing if I was to be reeled in or released. Ravens thought himself completely in control and he would reel us in.

  Richard kept his head down as though ashamed. I didn’t look at him, only staring at our tormentor.

  “There is something,” Ravens said reluctantly, after a while.

  “Name it.” Richard raised his head to meet Mr. Ravens’ eyes. “I’ll do anything.”

  Ravens sighed. “It’s only a small matter. It might not commute all of the debt.”

  Richard spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I would be grateful for any small reduction of what I owe you my lord. A debt like this could ruin me. All my capital is in stock or investments which I cannot easily turn into ready money.”

  “I think your debt may be much more than you suppose, sir. There is the matter,” murmured Mr. Ravens, “of the draft you signed last night. I may not have emphasised the time scale of the project enough for you.” Ravens fixed Richard with a harsh stare, his fish hooked and wriggling. “It could be ten years before any returns are seen and until then the principal must be paid every year.”

  Richard blenched. “Ten years! I thought it a single payment! I can’t sustain that amount of money over that length of time! “

  “Dear me, we are in a pickle, aren’t we?” Ravens tapped the side of one thin hand on his leg and then reached into his pocket and produced his snuffbox. “Still, I’m sure we can come to a gentlemanly agreement. Does your wife have to be here while we discuss this?”

  Richard shrugged and glanced at me. “She runs the business. Her money started it up and keeps it going when we’re—over-stretched. She has to know.”

  Ravens stared at me, wide-eyed. He hadn’t expected that, at least. “You have a personal fortune, ma’am?”

  “Had,” I said bitterly.

  “Ah.” He leaned back, sure of us now. A smile spread across his face. “Now I think we might see a way of—losing that document, leaving you only with the original debt. Do I make myself clear?” We nodded miserably. “I have a mind to start a small business of my own in Venice.”

  I asked, “Surely, my lord, you don’t need to do that? You’re a peer of the realm, you can’t be short of money.”

  He smiled indulgently. “The title is a courtesy one. A man still has to make a living, my dear. Besides,” he added insouciantly, waving his hand in the air, “it amuses me.”

  I bit my lip. Richard looked away, towards the window where Gervase sat concealed, listening. “What would you have us do?” Richard’s face was drawn and serious, unlike the false Lord Strang, who was now smiling in a most unpleasant way.

  “I would like to settle a house in Venice. Not the Palazzo Barbarossa, but a smaller establishment, with fewer rooms but still elegant in tone to suit the most exacting—visitor.” He tapped the side of his nose again, in a gesture that looked rather unusual for someone trying to pose as my husband. Richard nodded slowly. “The house I can manage for myself, but I know few people in Venice and you seem to be acquainted with many. If you saw your way to introduce some of those people, we could arrange a commission, which would see your contract torn up after a certain amount of money came the way of the house.”

  I interrupted him. “What if they win?”

  His smile changed to one of pity, the eyes open wide and amusement in them. “They won’t.”

  We let this information sink in. “Did you do that to us?” Richard demanded. If this had been real, I would have begun to worry, hearing that steady tone.

  “No. With your reputation, I hardly needed to.” He assumed we were stupid enough to take him at his word.

  I met his gaze stare for stare. “If we do this, I want it in writing.”

  “Madam!” He seemed shocked by any such proposal, but I was supposed to be a businesswoman. I could hardly let him take us completely without a fight. “And what if any such document should fall into the wrong hands? What then?”

  “We will both have a copy. At the appointed time, they can both be torn up.”

  He pursed his lips. “I don’t think that would be advisable. A handshake must suffice.” I sighed, giving in. After all, he had all the cards, as usual.

  He smiled, knowing we were defeated. “We can, however, agree to a rate. Shall we say, ten percent of the profits of the clients you bring to me will go towards clearing your initial debt?”

  “What about the contract?” I said. It seemed Richard was taking the part of the weaker partner, the one who depended on the other. It was up to me to make the deal with Ravens.

  “How many people can you bring me?” he demanded.

  I gave the matter a moment’s thought. “Perhaps twenty,”

  He nodded. “That would be sufficient. After twenty profitable clients then, we’ll tear up the contract.” I sighed in relief. “You never know,” he went on, smiling in a more friendly way, “you might get a taste for the gaming business, rather than losing, you could turn hunter instead of coney. There’s much more profit on the other side of the table.”

  I frowned. “I cannot approve of your activities, my lord. You bring disrepute to the peerage of the realm.” I sounded like Richard’s father. It would not be the peerage my husband concerned himself with but the people.

  Mr. Ravens smile
d again and I tired of his superior attitude. I could place one needle under his skin. “I heard that Lord and Lady Strang appeared at the reception of the Contessa Marini the other night. It was the same night we first went to your house, wasn’t it?”

  He cleared his throat. “We decided, the night being young, we would make an appearance. It was a most agreeable evening.”

  “Then why can’t you introduce these people to your house?”

  He put up his chin. “I’m hoping that the clients you introduce won’t be of that class of society. We do not wish to attract attention to our little enterprise.”

  I let him go. “Of course. But I was thinking of Lord Thurl.”

  He put up his brows. “I don’t know the gentleman very well, but I understand his fortune is considerable. His presence would be acceptable.”

  I nodded frostily. Richard lifted his head.

  “May we agree to the terms, as gentlemen?”

  He stood up and offered his hand to Mr. Ravens who took it. They shook hands solemnly. Now he was on his feet, our visitor thought it incumbent on him to take his leave and he was soon ushered out, Richard seeing him to the door.

  He came back in just as Gervase re-entered from the balcony. They looked at each other solemnly and then, somewhat to my surprise, they both burst into laughter. “Insufferable!” cried Richard when he could, wiping his eyes.

  “How many people does he think he can fool like that?” Gervase got out his handkerchief.

  “Oh, I don’t think he’ll use my name for much longer. Shall we get out of here and let the servants put the room back the way it should be?” He held the door for me and we went through to the music room. Richard excused himself to go and change his coat and waistcoat.

  “He really can’t bear those clothes for long,” I said to Gervase.

  “They’re very badly fitted,” Gervase remarked. “Probably uncomfortable.”

  I smiled. “Ah, you see, I’m wearing the clothes I used to wear in the country. So they were at least made for me.”

  Richard returned, himself again and we discussed the recent meeting. On the whole, it had gone very well. We could introduce our pigeons the day after tomorrow. Ravens now thought we were well and truly under his thumb, so he would be eager and ready to take on all comers, looking forward to a fat profit.

  Chapter Sixteen

  NOTHING OCCURRED TO prevent Gervase taking me out the next day, as after the visit from Ravens, it had grown too late to go that day. In the morning, Richard sent word to the Palazzo Barbarossa we would be bringing two gentlemen to the house the following evening and word came back that would be satisfactory. Richard said he was quite happy staying in and after Freddy came to see him and they settled down to cheating at cards, Gervase and I set off.

  I wore jonquil silk and pearls, the delicate colour reflecting my sunny mood, very frilly and frivolous. I found a straw bergére hat to set off my unpowdered hair and protect my complexion from the sun, which grew fiercer every day. We settled into the boat and set off down the Grand Canal, towards the Lagoon.

  Gervase told me about most of the great buildings we passed; who lived there now, who had lived there in days gone by, what they meant to the history of this great city. I enjoyed myself hugely.

  Many other gondolas dotted the Canal, some grand ones, gilded barges with room to seat a small orchestra. These belonged to the great nobility and were the Venetian equivalent of a coach and six, used on the great festival days when all Venice came out to view and be viewed. One or two people bowed to us, or rather, inclined their heads, for to get up and bow in a boat was to invite disaster. We didn’t stop, but nodded civilly in return. “Some of these people will think you’re Richard,” I said to Gervase.

  “All of them, I hope,” he replied. “If they don’t expect to see us together they sometimes do so, despite the differences in our appearance, particularly if they don’t know us well. We had to get used to it again when I came back from India. We’d spent ten years apart, never being mistaken for anyone else and then it all started again.”

  “But you look very different now.” Gervase put his hand up to his face ruefully. “No,” I went on, “not just that. You dress differently, your style of talking is different, even the way you move.”

  Gervase glanced at me. “You know one of us very well. You would notice that.”

  “I suppose so.” We were passing the Palazzo Barbarossa. The shutters were still up, but with the traffic on the Canal increasing the nearer we got to the Lagoon, it would have been difficult to pick us and our little gondola out from the crowd. “And I first saw you together,” I went on, my eyes on the blind building we were passing. We passed by and on to the Canale di San Marco, further than I had gone before in Venice. I looked around.

  There was nothing like this place, nothing anywhere. The wealth of free men built the beauties of Venice. The great men of the Republic, instead of building to their own glory built to the glory of God and their state, spiritual and temporal, macrocosm and microcosm. Across the Canale di San Marco lay an island, holding San Giorgio Maggiore, gleaming like a jewel in the Lagoon, its Campanile a deliberate echo of the one by St. Mark’s. I sat in the gondola for some time after we had come to a halt, just looking, while Gervase wisely stayed silent. Eventually I stood and we disembarked, facing the Ducal Palace.

  The upper part of the building was pink and the lower comprised two rows of Gothic arches. The tracery was so fine it resembled fine lace. The whole building had an air of feminine frivolity but with a solid inner construction that gave it form and solidity. Gervase told me the history of the Palace while I studied it.

  We went inside. When the Council weren’t sitting, genteel visitors could view the rooms and as I passed through the richly gilded and decorated building, slowly one thought took possession of my mind. This must be what true colour looks like.

  The gilding around the building showed how rich the city was, as it was meant to, but the paintings in between showed the life of the place.

  It was the bravery in using the colours, so rich and so close to each other, the careful way they were placed in the paintings, the firm inner structure of the painting keeping everything together, much as the building outside had its feminine elements underpinned by the strength of its basic design.

  When I saw the great Council Chamber, I could have wept when Gervase told me that a fire had destroyed the original decoration soon after completion. The existing hall, with huge paintings by Veronese and Tintoretto amongst others, was very fine and showed the colours that held me captive. When I mentioned my reaction to them to Gervase, he told me the Venetian painters were famed for their use of colour. They were one of the earliest users of the new medium of oil paint, which could be made transparent and glazed, layer on layer, to achieve a richness and depth not achievable in fresco or tempera.

  “What would they have made of the ladies today?” I wondered, looking at the carefully draped figures in front of me.

  “Women don’t change very much,” Gervase said.

  “Then it’s a shame we haven’t got anyone today who could flatter us like this.”

  I heard the amusement in Gervase’s voice. “You can be sure of one thing. If Richard can find someone like that to paint you, he’ll do it.”

  I laughed and took his arm. “I had a miniature done in Exeter for him. I see I’ll have to have something better done.” I sighed. “It must have been terribly exciting, living here in those days.”

  “You don’t seem to have done so badly yourselves, since you got here,” Gervase commented dryly. “Richard could have had the Ravens quietly removed, you know, but he never resists a challenge.”

  Someone hailed us and when we turned, we saw Miss Crich with an older lady who she introduced to us as her mother. Mrs. Crich looked at us through narrowed eyes. “It’s not Richard Kerre at all, is it? It’s Gervase.”

  Miss Crich laughed. “I said it couldn’t possibly be, but Mama said she was sur
e of it.”

  I glanced at him in alarm, but Gervase’s expression remained bland. “Gervase arrived the day before yesterday, late. We would appreciate discretion at his presence here.”

  Mrs. Crich sniffed. “Up to something are you? If it’s anything disreputable I will not countenance it.”

  “Nothing like that, ma’am. Merely a desire to keep our presence here relatively quiet.”

  Mrs. Crich eyed him doubtfully. “Very well, but if I hear a breath of scandal, I consider our discretion at an end.”

  Gervase bowed. “We are very grateful for your help, ma’am. Richard has entrusted me to guide his wife around the beauties of Venice.”

  “And how do you like the art here?” Mrs. Crich asked me.

  “It’s very fine,” I said cautiously.

  “Listen to Lady Strang,” Mrs. Crich told her frivolous daughter. “Take your opinions from these people and remember them. Mr. Kerre is a connoisseur and his opinion can be trusted.”

  Miss Crich put up her chin and spread her fan with a sharp snap. “I can’t help it, Mama. I can’t like it and I won’t. The figures are too distorted, and there are too many of them.”

  “It’s art,” Mrs. Crich told her. “Come and see some more.” She turned to us and bowed. “No doubt we will see you again. My compliments to your mama, Gervase.”

  She went off at quite a pace, towing her bored daughter in her wake. When she was out of earshot, I laughed softly.

  “She’s a very indulgent mama, for all her vaunted strictness,” Gervase commented. “Miss Crich is her only daughter and she tends to get her way in most things. I should hate to have the governing of her.”

  I turned to him. “Will you ever marry, Gervase?”

  I knew him well enough by now to be comfortable with who and what he was, a man who preferred his own sex, but would do his best for the house of Kerre if the duty fell on his shoulders. If Richard had never existed, Gervase and I would still have been friends. He didn’t take offence at my question and understood my meaning. “I’m hoping you and Richard will produce what the estate requires. That would be the only reason for me to marry.”