But after, when I caught Giacomo’s glance, I was surprised to see his eyes looked sad. I think he realized I was being corrupted, and that he had led me to this point.
CHAPTER 77
“I am sure Monsieur de Bernis will be here soon.” I saw Marina steal a glance at the green cupboard set against the wall.
It was the next night at the casino. My stomach felt hollow. We had been waiting for the ambassador for close to an hour. Supper was late.
“I will not be disappointed if he does not come,” said Giacomo, who joined us by the warmth of the fireplace. I noticed he seemed to grow more at ease as the minutes passed. He had taken off his silk jacket, and unbuttoned his linen shirt at the cuffs. One long arm was draped over the back of the sofa. He had the forearms of a musician—lean and muscular. I watched him hungrily, then offered a coy smile. I adore your dimples when you smile, he had said. He answered me now with an appreciative flame in his eye.
As the hands on the table clock inched along and Monsieur de Bernis still did not show, I began to wonder if my real dream was going to come true this night. If the ambassador was not coming, did this not mean Giacomo was all ours—mine—for the night? My heart raced along deliciously. I dreamed only about myself, excluding Marina from my fantasy.
“Shall we eat?” I suggested. “Maybe Monsieur de Bernis will join us later.” I said it to the far wall. I felt sure he was hiding behind it, in the secret room.
“Yes—let’s,” said Marina. “The food will all get cold.” Her clipped tone told me that Monsieur de Bernis had surprised her, too, with whatever game he was playing. She liked to be the one in control of all the games. She stood to get a handbell to call the servant.
Giacomo leaned forward as soon as she left us.
“I am almost beside myself, my little charmer,” he whispered. His eyes traveled over my décolletage. “It is like I am seeing you again for the first time. You have reached the perfection of your beauty.”
I squeezed my thighs together at his words and felt a wave of pleasure overtake me.
Marina sat back down in her chair. Giacomo sat back. She adjusted the folds of her habit and shifted around uneasily. I hoped I looked calm and my most beautiful beside her. I had worn a flattering dress with just this intention: She was covered in black wool, while my cream-colored dress was cut deep with wide, pink silk bows sewn down the bodice. The tight sleeves exploded in flounces of lace and more silk bows. I wore a lace and ribbon collar at my neck—most fetching.
There was a light knock at the door and the servant entered with a simple supper of eggs, cold meats, bread, and wine. We ate and drank like wolves. Eventually, Marina, too, started to relax. She pulled out the silver pins that held her veil and let loose her chestnut hair.
“Doesn’t our Caterina look beautiful tonight?” she asked Giacomo. She rose and tucked herself next to me in the wide chair. “She is irresistible.” She had drunk too much, her words falling loosely from her wine-stained mouth. My own head was spinning.
“She is,” said Giacomo, regarding us both with a gleam in his eye. “Why don’t you show me how irresistible she is to you, Marina?”
“Would you like that, Caterina?” Marina asked, beginning to kiss my ear softly.
My first instinct was to stop her—did I not hate her? I longed only for my husband . . . for Giacomo. That was why I had come this night. But some part of me must have loved Marina, too. I could not resist her. I surrendered to misguided desire.
Oh! How tender is a woman! Her lips, her skin, her breath, her tongue—I dissolved at what I was feeling as she made love to me. The next thing I knew, Giacomo had sprung up from his chair and gone down on his knees. He lifted my skirts and buried his head between my legs. He kissed me where the body knows no reason, and together they brought me to the most intense climax of pleasure I have ever felt. The exquisiteness of it made me cry and never want it to stop at the same time.
When it was over, I begged for more.
We went over to the bed. Marina and I undressed Giacomo, all the time giggling and covering him with kisses. We held him down to make him ecstatic with desire. When it was clear he could stand it no longer, we released him and he flung himself on top of me. I was thrilled I was the one chosen to receive him. I opened my arms and in less than a minute he gave up his soul to me. I experienced my second little death of the night. Marina pleasured herself after. She seemed to have no jealousy in the bedroom—it was all love to her, all just a game.
We three finally gave in to Morpheus and slept.
The chime of the clock sounded to wake us an hour before sunrise. I was the only one who heard it: Giacomo and Marina slept on. I was no longer intoxicated by drink and desire. My mind was clear. What had I done? I wanted Giacomo for myself. I wanted Marina gone.
I rolled over and kissed Giacomo in my favorite spot, at the fine angle of his cheekbone.
“I long for your child again,” I whispered to him, surprising myself how deeply I felt these words. I dreamed he would wake, would pull gently on one of the ringlets hanging near my face. I dreamed he would beg my forgiveness, we would leave Marina alone and cold in the bed. We would run away and—
But Giacomo did not wake. I lay near him and wept silent tears.
CHAPTER 78
When you make a pact with the devil, he expects to be paid. It was clear, the more I reflected on what had happened at the casino, that Monsieur de Bernis had given Giacomo a night with me and Marina to enjoy by himself. Whether the ambassador had been watching from the secret room or simply not shown up, it had been a gift. And a gift demanded to be returned. I realized that Giacomo would have to absent himself the next time.
Only I had no intention of playing along.
“Monsieur de Bernis expects you to come,” said Marina. She stood over the desk where I sat in my room and prodded me with sharp words.
It had been about a week since our unexpected ménage à trois. I had returned at dawn regretful, exhausted, and at the end of my strength. Pleasure had conquered reason that night.
“I—I can’t,” I said, lowering my eyes back to the Bible I was reading. I couldn’t stand the thought of Monsieur de Bernis being anywhere near me. In my mind, I had set myself aside for Giacomo. My husband.
“You must come tonight,” Marina insisted. She knew where I was weak. “For Giacomo.”
“For Giacomo? Why?” I felt the opposite. For Giacomo, I had to remain pure. Be a good wife.
“If you do not go, Monsieur de Bernis will be convinced Giacomo made you stay away. He will appear jealous, ungrateful, and ridiculous. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
I got up with a sigh and started to dress.
I pulled on an old chemise that had a grease stain down the front. I paired it with my ugliest skirt, a mustard-colored one that made my skin look sallow. I didn’t comb my hair or wear any perfume. I hoped Monsieur de Bernis would be repelled by me: I counted on it.
“Ah—my two beauties!” He greeted us at the casino, where he sat on the sofa cracking open pistachios. He popped the little morsels in his mouth and licked the salt from his hands. There were piles of shells on the table.
“I’m afraid I have some unhappy news,” he said. “Come sit.”
He opened a few more nuts.
My heart jumped and I felt dizzy. Had something happened to Giacomo? Had he insisted he come tonight—and Monsieur de Bernis harmed him in some way? Giacomo was an ant compared to this fat, powerful ambassador.
“What is it, my dear?” Marina joined him on the sofa. She took his hand. He spoke his next words to her, as if I were invisible.
“I’ve learned I have to spend some months in Vienna on a matter of great importance to France. I cannot say more at this time—soon, it will set all of Europe talking.”
“But you will be back?” asked Marina. Her concern sounded genuine. Was she worried she would lose all her privileges? Her secret comings and goings, her jewels and gifts, the c
asino?
“I may not be able to come back,” he said. “I am not my own master in these affairs.”
Marina’s mouth tightened to a line. I saw her mind was working to calculate what this news meant to her. I wondered what it meant for me, too. If Monsieur de Bernis took away his money, his gondolier, his casino, Marina would be just another trapped nun. Giacomo might lose all interest in her. My heart soared at this possibility. Then, went cold. Might he forget about both of us trapped on Murano?
“Do not look sad, my pet,” de Bernis said to Marina, kissing both her hands. “There is no reason to be sad tonight, when we are all three together.” He turned to acknowledge me, finally.
“Shall we enjoy a little fun, Caterina?”
I was startled.
“Oh—Monsieur de Bernis—I could not think of trying to have fun at a time like this. We are both in despair at your news.”
“Nonsense, little one,” he said. “Nothing would cheer me more than to spend a last night together with my two beauties.” He began to unbutton his jacket and rose to move over to the bed. He picked up a book from a table on his way. The Academy of Women, I presumed.
“No—Monsieur de Bernis—” I called after him, “I—I—it is my monthly time. I cannot possibly join you tonight.” He turned to face me, and I willed myself into a fiery blush.
“I see.” His mouth twisted in disgust. I saw his desire for me die right then on his face. “Marina, please escort Caterina downstairs and tell the gondolier to take her back to the convent. I will wait for you in our alcove.”
“Of course,” she said, picking me up by the elbow like a smelly rag that needed to go out.
“I’m sorry—I couldn’t—” I said to her as she pulled me down the stairs. We reached the front door. I had a sudden strange feeling that I was leaving the casino for the last time.
“The next time—when Giacomo comes—of course I want to join you—” I flailed about, trying to keep my place with them. Stupid. The winds were shifting on me, but I continued to fight back.
She opened the door out to the garden. I imagined I could hear the trees whispering about me.
“I don’t need you anymore, Caterina,” she hissed. “Monsieur de Bernis is leaving—and I’ve decided I want Giacomo all to myself.”
She put her long nails on my shoulders and pushed me out into the night.
CHAPTER 79
After that night I became . . . unhinged. I’ve decided I want Giacomo all to myself. My mind would grind so ceaselessly on these words, that only at dawn, when I heard the early calls of the birds over the lagoon, would I realize I had hardly slept. Exhausted, I spent hours looking out my dormitory window, staring at the flat, iron-gray water, and crying. I knew I risked ruining my health if I kept on like this, but I didn’t care. I was broken.
One early morning as I sat there, I saw a single black gondola in the distance against the pink-tinged sky. The gondolier, wearing a windblown shirt and sash, was not in full control of the boat. It was moving from side to side in the water, and he struggled to keep on course. The boat drew closer to the convent. Now I could see that the gondolier was quite tall. He tied up the boat. Could it be? I squinted in the low light. Marina stepped out of the cabin. The gondolier gave her a last, parting kiss. It was Giacomo.
So—there it was. Monsieur de Bernis had left Venice, and they were continuing to use his empty casino. And Giacomo himself had turned gondolier for his whore.
I succumbed to rage such as I had never felt before. I paced my room in a frenzy. I wrote notes to myself like a madwoman. Finally, after several hours—the sun was well up, and I could hear clattering dishes downstairs from the refectory, for breakfast—a measure of calm returned to me. I wrote to my brother and asked him for help.
He hurried out the next afternoon, and brought Zulietta with him. I hadn’t counted on her showing up, too.
“Caterina!” she said in alarm when she saw me at the visiting parlor window. “Pier Antonio told me you did not sound like yourself in your letter—and you look . . . terrible!” She reached a hand through the bars to comfort me. “Are you sick? Do you need a surgeon to bleed you?”
“No—no. I am fine,” I answered. I took her hand. How good it felt to see her, even if it made what I planned to do more difficult. She was an angel before me with her auburn curls and worried brown eyes, but I felt she lived in another world from me these days. A world where no one ever told you they didn’t need you anymore.
“I’m—I’m not sleeping well, that is all.” I saw Pier Antonio at the other end of the room, strutting past all the nuns. I guess he figured by bringing Zulietta out to take care of me, he was done.
“What can I do to help you?” she asked. “My God, your hand is so cold.” She pressed it, together with hers, to her cheek. “You know I will do anything for you. You have helped me so much, cousin.” She smiled and blushed, and I felt her cheek grow even warmer beneath my hand.
“Oh—I hardly need anything,” I said, taking away my hand, as it only felt right to do, before my lies began. “I am embarrassed to tell you . . . that I have rats in my room.”
“Rats?” Her eyes widened. I felt terrible. I had never lied outright to Zulietta before. Omitted things, maybe. But never set out to deceive her.
“Yes—rats,” I continued. “I’ve been stealing sweets from the kitchen. Doughnuts, biscotti, marzipan—I wanted to keep some in my room just for myself.”
Zulietta nodded compassionately. This was going well. I got more animated in my telling.
“And then these rats came. Right from the walls. Huge. Each one as big as half my leg. I hear them all night, scratching and scurrying across my floor.”
“How awful! Poor you!” I imagined Zulietta’s skin was crawling. She hated anything dirty: pigeons and garbage and rats.
“What can I do to help you?” she asked again. Before I could answer, she turned and motioned furiously for Pier Antonio to come over. He put up a finger to tell her to wait, bowed in front of one of the barred windows, and made his way over to us. Slowly.
“Buon giorno, little sister! Is Zulietta taking care of everything?” He dropped into a chair and pulled out his watch to check the time.
“Pier Antonio!” Zulietta chided him. She was clearly intent on getting him to focus on my problem. My plan was working.
“Caterina has an infestation of rats in her room. It doesn’t matter how they got there. We have to help her.”
“Rats?” My brother cocked a brow at me. I saw now he would be the obstacle, not Zulietta.
“Yes—” I said, “I am ashamed to tell the abbess—she will only yell at me, and tell me I have brought them on myself. I was thinking—you could bring me some arsenic—I hear it is a very good rat poison—”
“Rat poison, eh?” I didn’t like the way Pier Antonio was looking at me. Studying me. I felt my color rise as I tried to hold his gaze.
“In the ghetto,” I suggested, “Casa degli Speziali is a well-stocked pharmacy.” Elia’s uncle’s pharmacy, where no one would know who had purchased the arsenic. “I don’t need much—enough for a few rats, maybe ten—”
“Ten?” I noticed Pier Antonio’s mouth tighten, and his jaw tense.
“She said ten,” said Zulietta. “She needs poison to kill ten rats. Of course we will help you, Caterina.” She took Pier Antonio’s watch and studied the time.
“Come—” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get going now. We can stop in the ghetto on the way home.”
She stood and leaned through the bars and kissed both my cheeks. Pier Antonio just sat, watching me.
CHAPTER 80
Venice, 1774
“But—” said Leda to Caterina, “surely—you didn’t intend to take the arsenic yourself? Or give it to someone else? To Marina?”
They had gotten home from Burano at dusk and Caterina had finished her story—more than she had meant to reveal—seated in their favorite armchairs overlooking the sea. Night had d
escended around them.
Caterina reached to light a lamp, but on second thought, laid the tinderbox down on the table. She decided she didn’t need any light on her right now. She had been testing Leda, maybe, when she had talked about the arsenic.
“Oh—I meant no real harm,” Caterina reassured her. She managed a shaky smile. “I knew Pier Antonio saw right through me. I was acting crazed from no sleep, and from despair.”
Leda breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned back in her chair and rested a hand on her big belly.
“Sometimes I feel crazy, too,” she said. “You feel, when you are forgotten, suddenly all alone in the world.”
“You feel forgotten by Filippo, do you mean?” Caterina asked her, gently.
“By Filippo,” said Leda, “and by my father. Cast off and forgotten.” She did not cry, as Caterina expected her to do. It was as if these were such constant thoughts for her, they came into the world already worn.
They sat for a while in close silence. Something they had learned to do, the more comfortable they became with each other.
“I half-believed,” Leda went on, “that one day Filippo would come find me here. He knew I was being sent to a convent in Venice.”
“There are over fifty convents in Venice!” Caterina reminded her. “It would be nearly impossible for him to find you.” But even as she said it, she was thinking, would it? Did Filippo ever love Leda, or was it a quick affair that meant nothing to him?
It was as if Leda read her mind.
“You once told me—love knows no bounds.”
“Did I?” Caterina was disturbed to hear her own words repeated back to her. Yes, her love had known no bounds. At some point, it had crossed into a kind of madness. “I don’t remember,” she said, wanting desperately to change the subject. She pretended to yawn, though in reality, she felt hideously awake.
“Do you know,” Caterina said with forced cheerfulness, “that a letter from Bastiano arrived this morning, addressed to both of us? I waited to open it, since we were on our way out to Burano.” She got up to fetch the letter from the entrance hall. Returning, she lit the lamp, broke the seal of the letter, and read out loud to Leda.
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