Venetian Mask

by Rosalind Laker

  When the nun returned, Louise explained the purpose of her visit, and Sister Sylvia lifted the lid of the box to look at the plain black half-masks that filled it.

  “You have made a most unusual request,” she said. “Our singers and musicians never perform masked.”

  “I know that, but I thought, as it is to be such a special occasion for me, with everybody in costume and the last night of Carnival, just for once the choir and the orchestra could enter into the spirit of the occasion.”

  Sister Sylvia could see no harm in the young woman’s wish, but this was not a decision she felt able to make. “Leave the masks with me, Madame d’Oinville. I will have a word with the Maestro.”

  “But I must know one way or the other,” Louise said firmly, able to match anyone with her imperious air. “Please ask him now.”

  Sister Sylvia left her for no more than five minutes before returning to say that the Maestro had given his permission. Triumphantly Louise went straight to Florian’s where Alix was waiting. That night he would arrange everything with Marietta.

  At the Pietà, Marietta was alone in the largest of the music rooms working on a new composition when the door flew open and Elena, flushed and excited, rushed into the room and burst into tears of joy.

  “It has happened!” she cried, flinging herself at Marietta’s feet. Governor Tradonico sent for me and Cardinal Celano was with him. Marco wants to marry me!”

  Marietta felt a deep qualm. “What answer have you given?”

  “None yet. That is to come.”

  “What do you mean?” Marietta took Elena’s head between her hands and raised the blissful tear-stained face. “Tell me.”

  Elena caught hold of Marietta’s wrists, jubilation in her voice. “They thought I would leap at the opportunity, but I told them I would give my answer only to Marco after a proper courtship. I will not fall into his palm like a ripe plum. This is the biggest gamble of my life!”

  “The pride of such a man will not let him risk rejection by an ospedale girl. You may never hear anymore.”

  “Then I should know he would never have given me the love I want from the man I marry.”

  “You are showing wisdom and courage,” Marietta said admiringly.

  “I am, am I not!” Elena sprang to her feet again and flung her arms wide. “Oh! I do hope he comes!”

  When Alessandro returned to the Palazzo Celano with what he had to report, only his mother and Marco were there to listen. Lavinia had gone out on a charitable mission and the rest of the family had departed to their respective homes, all having taken for granted the result of Alessandro’s visit to the Pietà. In the rooms that Signora Celano occupied when visiting her son, still furnished with many of her fine possessions, she and Marco received the news of Elena’s ultimatum in entirely different ways. Marco said nothing, folding his arms and mulling over what he had heard. His mother displayed fiery outrage.

  “How dare this chit of a girl behave in such a high-handed manner!” she exclaimed. It was years since she had felt so offended on her son’s behalf, even allowing for clashes with the Torrisis. It was unpardonable that Elena had not accepted immediately the official proposal put to her on behalf of a nobleman who was the apple of his mother’s eye. Pacing up and down, Signora Celano let forth a shrill-pitched tirade against Elena. Marco continued to keep silent while his mother’s unceasing and vindictive outcry drummed discordantly in his ears, jarring his already jangled nerves. Finally she went too far.

  “That settles it then, Alessandro,” she declared in her most implacable voice. “The unappreciative Pietà wretch is dropped as of this instant. Teresa will be my daughter-in-law after all. There shall be no changing now.”

  It was then that Marco turned on her like a maddened lion. Too late she saw she had roused his temper to a pitch that had never been directed against her before.

  “Be silent, woman!” With a sweep of his arm he sent her priceless collection of antique glass smashing from a cabinet to the floor. There was something close to murder in his blazing eyes. “You’ve been dictating to me for far too long. I’ve had enough! No more!”

  She believed that if she had not been his mother he would have seized her by the throat at that moment. Alessandro stepped forward to stand by her protectively. “But you and the name of Celano have been slighted!” she shrieked in self-justification.

  “You have taken offense where none is intended!” he roared back at her. “Elena is a Pietà girl, not a noble heiress steeped in our mercenary ways and more than ready to give herself to the highest bidder! It will surprise you to know that I have fallen in love with Elena! It took you and all the rest of my family to make me see that she is all I want in a wife. Now that she has sent this simple request, natural to any romantic-minded young woman, I realize what it would mean to me if I should lose her. I truly believe she might change me for the better. You know what they say about reformed rakes.” His jaw clenched. “Do not dare to scorn or I fear I might strike you and that is something I never want to do. This is hard for you, is it not? You do not wish to see me break out of the mold you created for me. I was always to put you first, was I not? To remain the devoted son and, when I married, to have a wife for whom I cared nothing.”

  “That is not true! I always wanted you to share some true affection with the woman you married.”

  “But only because you thought she would prove to be a passing fancy like all the other women I have known. You believed that nothing would change between you and me, that I would still be the devoted son guided by you with my wife following suit to the end of your days. How satisfied you must have been that I should have named a Pietà girl to marry. You were sure she would prove as docile and malleable as Teresa would have been.”

  “What is wrong with those virtues?”

  “Nothing when directed toward the husband, but everything if the mother-in-law is to control. But all has been turned upside down for you. You will meet your match in Elena. Never again shall you dominate this house with your bitter tongue and your savage nature! I will be proud to put a wedding band on Elena’s finger on the day that has been arranged. The betrothal shall be announced tomorrow!”

  With that he slammed out of the room. Alessandro took his mother by the arm to help her to a chair, but she shook him off furiously.

  “Let me be! What a mess you have made of this whole affair! Why did you not keep to yourself what the young woman said and simply tell Marco she had refused him?”

  “Mother, I think you are forgetting my calling.”

  “Bah! Get out of my sight. Go back to Rome!”

  He went to order his servant to pack, thankful to be leaving. His mother would try the patience of a saint and he had not yet reached that elevated status.

  At the Pietà Elena was informed that Marco had arrived to see her. As she made her way to one of the smaller reception rooms where he awaited her, the smiling faces of the other girls appeared at corners, over bannisters, and peeping through cracks in doors, accompanied by a cacophony of giggles and whispers and envious sighs.

  Marco was on his feet at the sight of her. This meeting was to be far more than the first step of a courtship, as she instantly discovered. He had brought with him a betrothal ring, a rare blue sapphire to match her eyes, set in diamonds and gold. Sister Sylvia, acting as chaperone from the other side of a half-open door, overheard nothing beyond his initial greeting. Drawing the rapt girl to a seat at his side, he whispered of his undying love. Then recklessly he swept her into his arms and kissed away all her fine plans to keep him waiting for her answer. Speechless with happiness, Elena watched him slide the betrothal ring onto her finger.

  Chapter Seven

  SIGNORA CELANO’S REQUEST THAT ELENA BE REMOVED FROM the Pietà into her direct charge was being considered by the governors. Not until a girl of Elena’s age was safely married in the adjoining church or placed in employment where her moral welfare was guaranteed did they normally surrender their responsibili
ties, but this was an exceptional case. In the meantime the first of the seamstresses, who were to measure and fit Elena for the extensive trousseau she would need, arrived with little fashion dolls displaying the latest styles and a selection of rich and delicate fabrics that filled her with delight. Nevertheless she was highly nervous and far less happy when Sisters Sylvia and Giaccomina came to take her to meet her future mother-in-law.

  “If only Marco were going to be there too, I would not have minded, but Signora Celano wants to see me on her own.”

  “I’m sure she will welcome you,” Marietta said encouragingly.

  Elena hoped the same, and the signs seemed extremely promising when Lavinia greeted her warmly upon her arrival.

  “I have been looking forward so much to meeting you, Elena. This palace has been waiting for someone like you, because I can see that all Marco has been singing in your praise is true.” Then to the nuns, whom she had invited to sit down, she added, “I will return after taking Elena to my mother, who wishes to talk to her alone.”

  Elena, although accustomed by now to the grandeur of the palaces on the Grand Canal, could tell from all she had seen so far that her future home more than ranked with the best of those in which she had sung. She was shown into Signora Celano’s own simply furnished apartment, which she guessed was in keeping with the ascetic taste of the thin-faced woman in black who was seated in a high-backed chair. Elena dipped in her most graceful curtsey. But when she rose again, no kiss nor even an invitation to sit was forthcoming. Instead there was only sarcastic abuse.

  “So you are the little upstart who had the audacity to tell my eldest son, a cardinal of Rome, that the head of the House of Celano must await your pleasure before receiving an answer to the great honor he was prepared to bestow on you! You changed your mind quickly enough when you saw the ring that would be yours!”

  Elena flushed angrily. “That is not true. It was Marco himself who won me over. There need not have been a ring at all.”

  “La! Pride and a waspish tongue do not become a young wife. Marco will be your husband and your master. The sooner you learn humility and submission the better.”

  “I choose to believe he will always love me as I am, whatever my faults.”

  Signora Celano’s nostrils flared as she checked a visible sneer. Marco would never remain faithful, no matter how good his intentions were now. It was not in his nature. And what did this young girl know of love? Faults that might seem enchanting in the first flush of passion would soon become irritants, even a cause for hatred. With a flick of her wrist she indicated with her fan that Elena was permitted to sit on a nearby chair.

  “So, Elena, what do you know of household management that equips you to be mistress of a palace of this size?” she questioned disdainfully.

  “At no time will there be as many living here as we accommodate at the Pietà,” Elena replied evenly, “and I have had my turn with the other senior girls in taking charge. Being on the musical side does not mean I was not taught every domestic task.”

  “Nevertheless you will need instruction from me as I have already informed the governors. This is a palace with a way of life that will be entirely new to you.”

  Signora Celano asked many more questions, wanting to know all that Elena could remember of her parents, her upbringing before going to the Pietà, and her late aunt. Finally, having extracted all the information she could from her future daughter-in-law, she turned to the subject of the marriage itself.

  “It is traditional for Celano brides to wear an heirloom gown too precious to be allowed out of the palace except for the wedding ceremony. At all other times it is kept in a secret mezzanine room known only to the family, where all the treasures and documents of the House of Celano are kept. I have had it brought out for you to see. When the governors allow you into my care, a seamstress will come to make any necessary alterations.”

  All the time Signora Celano was talking, her loathing for her future daughter-in-law increased. She admitted to herself that Elena was pretty enough, clearly quick to learn and spirited enough to survive whatever she might have to face, but all this could not eliminate the stark fact that she was the cause of the first rift between a devoted mother and her cherished son.

  MARIETTA’S PREPARATIONS FOR marriage were proceeding along lines very different from those of her friend. She would be able to take only a minimum of baggage, which she would hand to Alix the night before her flight. It distressed her to be leaving behind her lovely Columbina costume, but Elena had promised to take care of it until such time as it could be delivered to her in Lyon. It was Elena’s hope that she might take it to Marietta herself on the way to Paris since Marco had spoken of such a trip sometime in the future. The love they both had for their future partners made it easier for them to face the separation that was looming before them. They had made promises to write and never to lose touch, even planning that the children they both hoped to have would visit each other and thus carry their friendship into the next generation.

  “We have been like sisters all this time,” Marietta said to Elena one evening when her departure was only two days away. “Whoever would have thought when you came to the Pietà that one day we should go our separate ways in this manner?”

  Elena nodded, remembering. “How proud Great-Aunt Lucia would have been to know I was betrothed into the Celano family. If only she could have seen me in my wedding gown.” Then her mouth began to quiver uncontrollably. She thrust the music sheets she was holding back onto a stand and pressed her hands to her eyes as a sob shook her body.

  Marietta went to put a hand on her arm consolingly. “Don’t cry. I’m sure I’ll feel the same about my mother on my wedding day, although I’ll not be gowned as you will.”

  “It’s not that,” came the tearful reply. “I’m so afraid!”

  “Of what? Or should I say of whom? Is it Signora Celano?”

  Elena raised her troubled face, her eyes wet. “No. She’s jealous of me, but she has no power to come between Marco and me. Even my wedding gown is beautiful beyond my wildest dreams. As for Marco himself, he loves me so much.”

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “Everything seems too good to be true!”

  Marietta’s face cleared with relief and she gave a little laugh. “But it is true and all is going to be well.”

  Her cheerful reassurance had some effect. After a few more words of encouragement, Elena’s naturally buoyant spirits began to revive. She wiped her eyes and smiled again.

  “You’re right, Marietta. I’m being foolish. Everything is going to be splendid for both of us.”

  “From now on we’ll only look forward to all that the future holds!” Marietta declared. And Elena happily agreed.

  ON THE EVENING when Marietta was to leave the Pietà forever, she looked once more around the room that had been hers. Earlier she had spent half an hour with Bianca, playing simple games. There was no way Marietta could let the child know this was a farewell visit, but she had left a letter for her with Elena and also the gifts of a necklace of pink beads and a thimble, which were from her own childhood. Elena had promised to explain Marietta’s departure to Bianca and, after her own marriage, to see her regularly.

  Marietta drew together the cords of the drawstring bag she would carry under her cloak. In it she had a few necessary toiletries and nightwear as well as her moretta mask, which she thought would be a better disguise than the one she would be wearing in common with the rest of the choir. The Columbina mask had gone in the piece of hand-baggage already given to Alix, who would have transferred it by now to the cabin on board the ship with his own. Like her, he was having to leave most of his possessions behind, to avoid arousing his tutor’s suspicions.

  “I have kept my promise, Mama,” Marietta whispered to the silent room. “I have stayed here until I was grown, just as you wished.”

  Then she went down to the entrance hall where the choir had gathered to leave for the performance. Ele
na gave Marietta a little nod of encouragement. They had already said their tearful farewells, for there would be no chance from now on.

  The great ballroom of the Palazzo Cuccino was crowded with guests in a multitude of splendid and exotic costumes, beaded, sequined, and bejeweled. Alix was one of several Harlequins, but Marietta would have picked him out even if he had not waved to her. At the end of her song she saw him slip from the room. She knew he would change out of his costume into traveling clothes and await her in the courtyard that led into a calle at the rear of the palace.

  The final applause was thunderous. After taking their bows, the choir passed from the salon into a side room where the usual refreshments awaited them. Marietta forced herself to eat and drink a little. When still in their masks, they had all donned their cloaks, and the girls began to move toward a narrow staircase normally used by servants, which was well away from the festivities in the rest of the palace. Elena and Marietta managed to be the last to leave the room. As the rest of the choir went tripping down the stairs, laughing and chattering, a door in the wall of a landing was opened and Louise beckoned to Marietta. As she disappeared through the door, Louise’s Venetian maid, masked and hooded and of similar height, emerged to take her place at Elena’s side. The exchange had been made without a hitch.

  In the light of a single candle Marietta and Louise faced each other as they listened to the choir’s footsteps fading away down the stairs. When the girls were counted into the gondolas none would be missing. Later, as soon as it was safe, Elena would unlock the door into the calle with the key Marietta had left, and the imposter would leave the Pietà. With the extra hour in bed that the girls were allowed after a late performance, Marietta’s disappearance would not be discovered until she and Alix were on board ship, sailing out of the lagoon and away from Venice.