“What happened to you?” he asks, knowing not to expect an answer. “Let me help you, please. Please, please let me in.”
“I never did to Leandro,” she says to Guy as if in a trance. “I never did let him in, so I can never forgive myself because I couldn’t give him anything, be a wife to him or love him, truly love him as a woman is supposed to love a man.” Her voice chokes. “I couldn’t, not even after everything he did for me. Not when he saved me and Bryony and loved me and helped me understand and"”
I don’t know any other way. It’s too deep in me to undo.
Her voice seems to be coming from some otherworldly place. “I don’t know how to touch a man or kiss a man, Guy,” she says. “It sounds so ludicrous. I haven’t touched a man or kissed a man, really kissed a man because I wanted to, for nearly twenty years. Twenty years. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He shakes his head slowly, tears spilling out of his eyes and trickling down his cheeks. Her fingers are still on his face, and she wipes the tears away as sweetly as Annabeth had done to Matteo when he thought she would disappear forever.
“I love you,” he whispers. “I don’t want to"”
She leans over and kisses him so suddenly, so deeply, that he thinks he must be dreaming. He puts his arms around her and kisses her back until he can no longer breathe. Then she pulls away, and he realizes she’s trembling.
“What have I done? I can’t do this,” she whispers. “I can’t do this to you.”
“Don’t go"”
“I can’t do this to you, don’t you understand? I can’t I can’t I can’t.”
Guy is afraid to move.
“I need Tomasino,” she says, a rising note of panic in her voice. “I need him, quickly.”
“I’ll find him,” Guy says, fearful still of what happened the last time he came to find me after a confession of love. “Wait here and I’ll find him. Do you promise me you’ll wait here?”
Belladonna stares at him, her eyes wide and pleading, and he hurries off. I’ve been expecting him, I must say, so we’re back in just a minute. “In the library,” she tells me, her voice flat. “Pompadour’s Bible.”
I know instantly what she’s talking about. What a clever girl is my darling Belladonna. A Bible’s the last place I would have looked for it. I run as quickly as I can to the bookshelf, climb up the library ladder, pull the Bible down, and run back. Guy is handing her a drink, and gulping one down himself.
I don’t need a drink. I need an entire distillery.
She gestures toward Guy. “Certo?” I ask.
“Give it to him,” she says tonelessly, and gets up. “Then he’ll understand.” She looks at Guy, but she no longer sees him or me or anything in this house. I am suddenly terribly afraid. I can’t leave her alone; she can’t be left alone. I press the emergency button near the mantel, and Orlando soon comes hurrying in.
“Would you mind escorting the Contessa to her room?” I ask, keeping my voice perfectly conversational.
“With pleasure,” he says, knowing I’ll explain all as soon as I can. First I need to call Matteo in New York. He’s going to have to drop everything and get down here immediately. Guy, in the meantime, is clutching Pompadour’s Bible to his chest and looking utterly bewildered. Only a minute ago, the woman he loves was kissing him with a passion he’d dreamed of all his life, and now it’s as if she’s vanishing before his very eyes.
“Tomasino, help me,” Guy says, sinking down into his chair.
“It’s a diary,” I say, trying to keep a tremor out of my voice. I pour myself a drink, spilling most of it, my hands are shaking so. I haven’t seen the diary since I secretly copied it over for her in that house in Belgium. “Hidden inside.”
“Did she write all of it?”
“Yes. She asked me to copy it so it would be legible, but I didn’t change a word. It was written in the third person. It could only have been done that way. You’ll understand afterward.” I’ve finished my drink already, and pour myself another. “I’m not going to tell you anything else, except that no one’s read it but me. I told my brother the worst of it She gave it to Leandro at Ca’ d’Oro; she begged him to read it, but he refused.”
Guy looks pale and weary as he runs his fingers around the softly bound edges of Pompadour’s Bible. I wonder if he thinks I’m being melodramatic. But I’m not.
“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, your life is forfeit,” I say. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Your word, as a gentleman.”
“You think I’m a gentleman?”
I smile, glad that he can try to joke, because my heart is so heavy I think it is going to pull me down to the floor and I will never be able to rise again.
“I know you are, because of what you must have said to her.”
“She is Belladonna,” Guy says in some wonderment, knowing without doubt that his hunch is correct He gets up, still clutching the Bible so tightly I think his hand is going to fall off.
It is the diary, copied over in my strong, sure handwriting, that is rattling my nerves. Triggering too many memories I’d rather forget.
There will be no sleep in la Fenice tonight.
PART IV
The Secret in
Pompadour’s Bible
(1935 – 1947)
Belladonna comes from where?
Hiding in her secret lair
Locked away from days so fair
Brooding with the night’s despair
Cruelly stolen, filled with lies
Belladonna left to die
18
The Diary Of
Despair
SOMEWHERE IN THE COUNTRY,
MAY 1935
"Who are you?
It was a man’s voice, deep and calm. Not the man who said he was going to slit her throat. Not Hogarth. Someone else. She didn’t know what to say. She was too terrified.
"Who are you? he said again. Who are you? Why are you here? What shall you do? Answer me. Who are you?
"Isa … Isabella. She said it so faintly it sounded like Bella.
"No. You are no longer Isabella. That life is over. That Isabella is gone from the world. You belong to me now.
His voice was getting closer. Closer and closer, and she felt him very near. She tried to pull away but she was paralyzed with horror.
"Your life has been reduced to something very simple. Perfectly simple. He touched her cheek with one finger. He was still wearing a glove, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching in fear and disgust.
"Your life means nothing, except what I say it is worth. Your world is my world, however I choose to define it. Your sole purpose in this life is to please me. You have no other life but to please me. His breath was hot on her neck. You are mine.
"No. She tried to shake her head. No no no"
"You’re all alone in the world, and no one cares about you but me. No one can touch you but me. You are mine.
She felt him move away. Then she heard ice cubes in a glass. He must be pouring a drink. Then he laughed.
"I bought you for a rather ridiculous sum, don’t you, agree? A bit vexing, that outlay of capital. He didn’t sound vexed at all.
His voice was coming closer again.
"Are you worth it? Shall you be worth one million pounds? That is the sum I must pay to you. Yes, you shall be allowed to have it one day. It is in the Swiss Consolidated Bank, account number one one six dash six one four. Can you remember that? Hogarth must have mentioned that to you already. Never forget those numbers. They are your future.
She felt him near her. He was staring at her. She could feel it even through the blindfold.
"Yes, your future, he said. But not your present. Your present belongs to me, and me alone. And so when I ask you who you are, the only thing you shall ever be allowed to say is, “I am yours, my lord.” You are here to do what I say. For all the time that you remain here as my guest, you shall never be allowed to know who I am, or
anything about any of the other members of the Club. You are forbidden to ask. You are forbidden to know what I look like. He pulled up one of her hands and held it briefly to his face, brushing her fingers so she could feel his mask. You belong to me now. I am your master, and you are my slave.
"I’m not a slave, she whispered. She couldn’t help herself.
"But of course you are, my sweet. None of that American nonsense, if you please. There are millions and millions of slaves, all over the world. There always have been and always will be. From wars, from famines, from stupid bad luck. Working for slave wages as slave labor, chained, metaphorically speaking, to their masters. Most women think that of their husbands, you know. That he is the master of the household, who must be obeyed.
He was taking off his gloves as he said this. He traced the line of her jaw with them, then slapped her lightly with the smooth leather. She turned her head away, and he turned it back.
"Yes, obeyed, he said. I don’t suppose you’ve seen the Kama Sutra, a sweet innocent virgin like yourself. Well, you will, trust me. Part of your training, my dear girl, most useful. For all of us. The members of the Club. Especially should one become bored with the usual.
He wanted to talk, she realized. He wanted to talk to drag it out and out and out and torture her more"
"The Kama Sutra says that if a man wanted to marry a girl who was unwilling, he merely had to ply her with drink so she would be unable to fight him off. Or, even simpler, he might kidnap her instead Once the dear lady had been kidnapped, she was available for what those filthy moghuls called enjoyment. Her opinion of the whole matter or of the man who ‘d drugged her with drink or kidnapped her, was of no importance whatsoever.
"I’m not for sale, she said.
"But of course you are, my dear girl. Every woman is, whether she likes it or not. All women are whores. I’m sure Hogarth’s said that to you; he told me he did. That you rebutted him. Yes, my dear girl, most women are grateful for their degradation, to be treated like whores. It merely serves to confirm their own low opinion of themselves and their station. He laughed to himself. The sooner you admit it the happier you’ll be.
"Happy? What? She wanted to kick out at him, to fight him off, to stop his horrible mouth and the horrible things coming out of it. You bastard Who do you think you are?
"I am His Lordship, he said calmly. I am your master, and you belong to me.
"I don’t! I don’t! Let me go! Let me go! I’m not for sale! Let me go! She could no longer bear the thought of how they’d tricked her and what they were doing to her, and she started to scream at the top of her lungs, trying to get free, though she knew it was futile. She was struggling and struggling against the chains, until she felt him come up behind her, his arms pulling her close, too close. He was pressing insistently against her back. She could feel the outline of his body underneath the robe.
"One million pounds, he said. I bought you for one million pounds. Therefore, I have quite rightly assumed that you were for sale. He pulled away from her, just a little. He wasn’t ready yet, not for that. The pleasure from talking to her and watching her struggle was much too intense to stop.
"You see, my sweet, nearly every relationship"whether between man and woman in the realm of the bedroom, or man and man in the realm of business"is based upon this struggle for power and mastery, and this alone. It is a simple barter system. A man such as myself has very plain needs. Money, and the power it buys. Status, and the power he derives from it. And sex, of course"and the pleasure it gives him. Most men are foolish enough to be ruled by their sexual needs, and will do anything in their power to satisfy their lust. We, the members of the Club, have found a rather unique manner in which to satisfy ours.
He moved even closer, and she felt his hands on her body. No man had ever touched her like that. No man had ever. She started to shudder violently at his touch, his hot, dry fingers trailing up from her belly to stop on her breasts.
"A man who is ruled by his sexual needs demands his satisfaction, he was saying, and, most usually and most unfortunately, the lady he desires will balk. The man, thwarted in his conquest, must do something so that his needs will be satisfied. Bestow gifts upon her, such as jewelry or a house or cold hard cash. A wedding ring, and all that. These gifts give the lady an illusion of security, and then, quite naturally, she feels obliged to give in. The man takes what he wants, but soon is bored. She, in the meantime, has all the material satisfaction she asked for, and a grudging obligation to this man, her lord and master. He is free to find his satisfaction elsewhere, safe in the knowledge that she and any brats she might spawn are utterly dependent on him and his whims. Yet the more he wants, the more she demands in return. So he decides something must be done about this unfortunate situation, and he looks elsewhere for the pleasuring of his needs.
His fingers were cupping her breasts, and he began to trace lazy circles with them, holding her closer. Blinded and helpless, still she tried to struggle away from him, and he suddenly let her go. She heard what sounded like a belt being unbuckled, and then he was back, exactly as he had been a minute before. The more she strained to pull away the tighter he held her, and she realized he ‘d tucked the front of his monk’s robe up into the belt. So she could feel him against her. Exactly as he wanted her to feel him.
"This is your new life, he said, and it has but one purpose: to serve me. Your life before, where you were free to be silly and stupid and lead a boring, sheltered, do-nothing existence, is over. Wouldn’t you rather be privy to one of the great experiments in human behavior? My own experiment. An endless source of pleasure, tucked away from the world to serve me. Mine and mine alone.
His voice was so calm and conversational.
"You are here to serve me, he went on, and to serve whomever I choose. It is a higher calling. I should think you would consider yourself fortunate to have been singled out so.
"What? Are you mad?
"No, not mad. Not mad at all, he replied. Mad only with desire to recoup my investment. Mad only to have you trained, and trained properly. The training will be long and slow and exquisitely sensitive.
With that, he pinched her nipples so hard that she cried out; then moved one hand down to her belly. The other slowly drifted up to encircle her neck.
"You see, my dear, only a man who is immensely clever and immensely rich and immensely powerful, such as myself, could allow himself such a luxury as yourself, he said in her ear, pressing his head close to her own. The rare luxury of possessing a woman to whom he can do anything, anything at all. To have found and bought his own slave, who with the proper training can become anything he wants her to be, and do anything he demands of her. Only a man such as myself could possibly afford to buy the silence necessary to procure her and make all the necessary arrangements. To keep her from the world, to do anything he wants to her and with her, for the period of time we must obey as members of the Club. The length of time is dependent on the sum paid, as you know. And as you have no doubt already realized, I am allowed to have you for a very long time. He sighed happily. He was so close to her. She couldn’t breathe.
"Now, I ask you again, and if you are the clever girl I think you are, you shall tell me what I want to hear. Who are you? Mine, you are. You are mine. Say it.
"No.
"When I say, “Who are you,” there shall be one reply, and one reply alone, because you are mine. You say, “I am yours, my lord.” I am your lord and master. Understand that very clearly and you will understand who I am and why you are here. The servants have been instructed to call me Your Lordship, and you shall do the same. You shall refer to me either as my lord, or Your Lordship, or His Lordship. That is my name: His Lordship. I have no other. I am your master, and you are my slave, to do with as I please. I trust I have made myself perfectly clear.
He let go of her again and got up from the bed. She could not hear what he was doing. The carpeting was so thick it muffled his steps.
No no no, he had come back an
d now was sitting behind her. His horrible hot, dry fingers were cupping her breasts above the corset, his breath in her ear once more. She was trembling uncontrollably.
"You see, my sweet, you cannot win. There is no escape, no one to save you. If you resist, then your struggle will en-flame me, as you have felt it already. And if you succumb, then I shall bask in the pleasure of your complete capitulation. So you see, you have no choice but to do as I say. No one can hear you scream. No one knows where you are, that you are here, alone with me and all I desire. And if they did, would they care?
"June, she said in barely a whisper.
"June? That ridiculous little guttersnipe? That hopeless, foolish twit of a girl? He laughed sharply. No, my sweet, June will be on her way home, and soon. She will be ever so miffed when she receives the phone call from Hogarth and the letters from you telling her you’re far, far away with a splendid specimen of manhood you met the weekend of a magnificent costume ball, when she was home with a stomach ailment. Yes, you’ve met the most wonderful man in the world, and you’re madly in love and soon to be married. Hogarth will see to all the details. No, June will be quite put out, and will return stateside in a huff, and she will no longer be burdened by her more beautiful and more accomplished cousin with the dazzling green eyes. Nor will you have your dreadful cousin to worry about anymore.
A sudden rage of pure fury sprang out of her. She struggled violently against him.
"Just get it over with, she screamed at him with hysterical passion. Go on, do it. You bastard, you mad, revolting bastard. Go ahead, rape me. It’s what you’re waiting for, isn’t it? You bastard you bastard you bastard"
"Ah, I knew it. He laughed delightedly. I knew it. You have pleased me very much. A fighter. One of his hands moved off her breast and trailed down her thigh.
She tried to kick out at him with the leg that was free, but he was too strong for her.
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