LADY of VENICE

by Siobhan Daiko

  ‘That’s why you asked for the priest?’

  I nodded. ‘And now I can’t wait to return to Cecilia and see Lorenza again. It feels as if she’s my baby too.’

  ‘Only natural, I suppose.’ Vanessa gave me a sympathetic look. ‘You went through the birth with her.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m scared, though. Cecilia had a premonition of fire. I’m more and more convinced that’s how she died, and I couldn’t bare it if Lorenza died with her. It would be like losing my own baby all over again.’

  ‘I can understand your concern.’ Vanessa shook her head. ‘It’s a case of damned if you do and damned if you don’t.’

  ‘What do you advise?’ I asked in desperation. ‘Should I go back to London earlier than I’d planned?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you, my dear. It’s your decision. Perhaps you should come and stay here for a couple of days? It might give you some respite from Cecilia, and also a chance to reflect. You say she only comes to you in places associated with her…’

  ‘That’s right. It’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘Are you sure I won’t be a bother?’

  ‘Not at all. I’d be delighted. You can repay me with one of your watercolours. Luca told me how good they are.’

  And so, it was decided. I went back to Auntie’s to collect an overnight case. She was happy enough for me to stay with the Contessa. ‘As long as you’re back in a couple of days,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I’ll feel like you’re abandoning me.’

  Trust Auntie to be so forthright!

  ‘Luca’s mother wants me to paint her a watercolour of the villa,’ I said. It was a good excuse. ‘It shouldn’t take me long.’

  I ran upstairs to pack my things, deliberately leaving my print of The Tempest behind in my room.

  It took the three days I’d been staying with Vanessa for my breasts to more or less return to normal. I spent the time helping Luca’s mother organise her genealogical research, taking the dogs for walks, riding with Chiara, and painting.

  The Goredan family tree had so many branches, my head spun as I helped sort through myriad shoeboxes full of notes. Chiara rode with me in the mornings, but after lunch she would leave to spend the rest of the day with Federico, only returning in the early hours of the next day. Vanessa had given up insisting her daughter be home by midnight but was firm about her coming back to sleep. ‘As long as I’m paying for your upkeep,’ she said. ‘You have to follow my rules.’

  In bed, at night, while I lay waiting to drop off to sleep, I could hear the ghost of the lute-player strumming a centuries-old tune. And, just like Vanessa had told me the first time I’d met her at the Cipriani Hotel, the sound wasn’t frightening. I found it quite soothing, in fact.

  Luca was still at his architectural conference, and I was glad of that. He was an added complication I could do without. If he should catch sight of the occasional wetness on my blouses, I’d die of embarrassment. Thankfully, the leakages occurred mostly in the evenings when Chiara was out; I would have found them impossible to explain. Gradually, I’d needed to replace the sodden Kleenex less often and now I was almost dry.

  Whenever thoughts of Lorenza came into my head, I made myself think of something else, just like I’d done when I’d lost my own baby.

  The mind was a powerful instrument…

  Finally, on my last evening at the villa, Luca returned from Vienna. ‘Let me see the painting you’ve been working on,’ he said, after he’d greeted his mother. The excuse for my visit had been given to him as well. He followed me to the covered part of the patio, where I’d improvised my studio. My watercolour was on an easel in the corner. I’d concentrated on depicting the central part of Luca’s ancestral home, suggestive of a Roman temple with its Ionic columns. ‘What do you think?’ I asked him, suddenly nervous.

  What if he hates it?

  But his face reflected his admiration, and he stood back in obvious awe. ‘It’s amazing. I don’t know why you want to go back to working in a bank. You have a great talent, Fern. You should focus on your art.’

  ‘Wish I could,’ I chuckled. ‘But I have a mortgage to pay.’

  ‘Rent your flat out and use the income to live off here. You know it makes sense. London rentals are much higher than Asolo ones.’ His deep blue eyes burned into mine. ‘You’d probably cover your mortgage and have enough left over to live on while you get established.’

  ‘Hmm, tempting.’ The idea was tempting, but now wasn’t the right time to go into it. ‘How was Vienna?’ I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  ‘Beautiful. We must go there together someday.’ He stopped as he caught sight of my frown. ‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’

  ‘I know you mean well, Luca.’ I touched my hand to his arm. ‘But you are a bit of a caveman…’

  He smiled. ‘Evolution hasn’t caught up with modern society. Remember our discussion?’

  ‘About tribal instincts. Yes.’ I laced my fingers through his. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief because I’ve missed you too.’

  I glanced around the patio. We were alone. So, I wrapped my arms around his waist and lifted my chin. When his mouth came down on mine, I knew what I was going to say next. ‘Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night? There’s something I need to tell you.’

  I would finally come clean with him about my past, I decided.

  I only hoped it wouldn’t make him hate me…

  The dining room of the Cipriani Hotel hummed with the low buzz of conversation. We were sitting at a table next to the picture window overlooking what had to be one of the most beautiful views in the world. The ancient buildings of Asolo marched along the crest of the hill in the foreground, toward an imposing villa which seemed as if it was perched on stilts, the loggia on the ground floor, and cypress trees standing sentinel at its sides. Sunset had caught the clouds, tinging them with pink, and the distant mountains rose up like guardian angels, spreading their wings over the landscape below.

  Luca handed me the menu. ‘I hesitate to make any suggestions, or you’ll accuse me of being a caveman again.’

  ‘Suggest away,’ I gave him a smile. ‘You know this restaurant.’

  ‘The spaghetti with ham is excellent, as is the fish. We could have the pasta to start then grilled sole. And a bottle of Pinot Grigio.’

  ‘Perfect,’ I said, glancing down at my breasts. Thankfully, everything seemed to be all right in that department.

  The waiter arrived and poured us a Bellini each before taking our order. I let out a sigh. ‘I’m going to miss all this so much when I go back to London.’

  ‘Then stay.’ His mouth twisted.

  I shot him a warning glance and he held up his hands. ‘Sorry!’

  While we ate, Luca filled me in with more details about the conference (boring) and the city of Vienna (fascinating). Butterflies fluttered in my chest. Maybe I wouldn’t tell Luca about losing my baby after all; I couldn’t bear it if it made him hate me. I finished my glass of wine and our waiter jumped to refill it.

  ‘Dolce?’ Luca asked when we’d finished our main course. ‘The Tiramisù here is delicious.’

  ‘Why not?’ I said, knocking back another gulp of wine.

  The dessert was delicious, but at the same time too rich and now I was feeling queasy. ‘I can’t eat or drink another mouthful.’

  ‘Shall we go for a stroll in the garden? We can have our coffee on the terrace. Then you can tell me about what’s been worrying you so much… you’ve had ants in your pants all evening…’

  I linked my arm through his; I was feeling more than a little light-headed. He guided me to a chair next to the low wall protecting guests from the drop into the valley below. ‘I’ll fetch you some sparkling water, Fern.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘Didn’t realise how much I was drinking.’

  I watched Luca striding across the garden, then, heart thudding, swivelled my gaze toward the castle.

  The plai
ntive cry filled my head.

  ‘Lorenza!’

  I sit in the Queen’s Asolo orchard, watching my daughter crawl toward me. Happiness fills all my empty spaces. She’s a sunny child, with dark eyes like her real father’s as well as her supposed one’s. It is good fortune they both have the same colouring. Her nature is like mine, however; she’s impetuous and always into mischief. Only yesterday, she grabbed one of my brushes, dipped it into my ultramarine blue, and daubed the canvas I was working on, a painting I was doing of her. Lorenza’s first birthday will be next week, and I’ve drawn and painted each stage of her development. Finally, I’ve been able to study a naked body, albeit that of a babe; I’ve learned much from observing then sketching my daughter.

  Today, I’ve brought Lorenza to visit the Queen. I needed to get her out of Lodovico’s way. His brother is visiting, and neither he nor Giovanni have any patience with my little girl. How can they fail to love her? Everyone else dotes on her… from the Queen, to Dorotea, to my sister. And I’m besotted with her too; to me, she’s perfection. I open my arms and she comes into them, giggling as I hug her to me. Lorenza’s soft cheek is like a peach and I give her a resounding kiss. She nuzzles at my chest; she’s thirsty.

  The court is taking an afternoon rest; I glance around to check we’re alone. I unlace my kirtle and pull off my chemise, which I drape around my shoulders. Lorenza still suckles from my breast, once or twice a day. I place her next to me, on the other side of my raised leg, and her mouth latches onto my nipple. A tickling sensation arrives as my milk lets down, and then my daughter begins to suck greedily.

  ‘Dolcezza,’ comes a voice from behind the cherry tree.

  I give a jump and my pulse quickens. ‘Zorzo! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Searching for you,’ he smiles his beautiful smile, the corners of his lips rising. ‘Your maid told me you were here.’

  I make a move to cover my nakedness.

  ‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘Your babe will not thank you if you stop the feed.’ He delves into his bag and takes out a rolled-up parchment and a stick of charcoal. Then he removes a board and ties the parchment to it. With quick strokes he starts to draw. ‘I’ve a commission for a painting from a wealthy Venetian nobleman and have been searching for the right Madonna for it. Should have realised I didn’t need to look far.’

  My heart is jubilant at the sight of him; it has been far too long. His theory that I’d have had more freedom as a married woman has come to nothing because of my pregnancy and motherhood. Nevertheless, I don’t regret Lorenza, not for one minute, she’s everything to me.

  I gaze at him while he works. My body has filled out since last he saw me; I’m no longer a nubile girl but a woman who bears the signs of childbirth. I try to pull my chemise around my nether parts, but Zorzo tells me to leave them uncovered.

  ‘Dolcezza,’ he says, his eyes drinking me in and his voice approving. ‘I would have come to Asolo sooner, except work has kept me busy. Your Zorzo is much in demand of late.’

  My Zorzo!

  ‘The babe is delightful,’ he adds. ‘Hidden behind your leg, no one will realise she isn’t a boy. A cherubic Gesù bambino.’

  After a while I need to change Lorenza over to my other breast, but by then Zorzo has finished sketching her and has moved on to roughing out a drawing of my face and body. ‘I don’t need to spend much time on your countenance. For it is in my heart and soul.’

  When my babe has drunk her fill, she sits back and regards her father. Neither she nor he will ever know of the relationship, I’ve sworn to myself, yet seeing them together makes me feel proud of them both. I hand her to him to hold while I dress, and he lifts her in the air. ‘Look at you! The reflection of your mother.’

  He whirls her above his head, making her unleash a stream of giggles.

  ‘I think she’s more like her father,’ I say, smiling to myself.

  Zorzo frowns. ‘Does he treat you well?’

  ‘Well enough.’ I will not tell him of Lodovico’s rough handling of me in bed, of the many bruises I’ve had to endure. Fortunately, of late, he scarcely bothers to visit me at night. I think he must have a woman in Ferrara. He goes there, supposedly on the Duke’s business, more and more often. ‘Although I do wonder why he wanted to marry me,’ I say. ‘There’s no love in him.’

  ‘Granted, you’re the most beautiful woman at the Queen’s court, but I have my suspicions about where Ferrara stands with respect to the Pope’s alliance with the Hapsburg Emperor.’

  I remember the brief visit of Maximilian at the banquet, when I was first introduced to Lodovico. ‘He looks at the Venetian territories with envy,’ the Queen said at that time. My husband has never made any secret of the fact that he’s a man from Ferrara first and foremost. Could he have married me for my closeness to Caterina Cornaro? She doesn’t involve herself in the highs and lows of politics, but her brother, Giorgio, is in charge of the Venetian Army.

  My heart thuds and I close my eyes to dispel the disquiet invading my mind.

  I blinked my eyes open and glanced around for Zorzo, but he’d vanished along with the child. My head spun, and I felt sick. A man was approaching with a glass and a bottle of something in his hand; I’d seen that man before.

  ‘This should help.’ The man froze and stared at the outline of my breasts. ‘Fern! The front of your dress is damp.’

  I felt the cold wetness seeping through my chemise. Only it wasn’t my chemise; it was my work dress, the white one I’d worn to the opera with Auntie, that I’d put on especially for my dinner with Luca. Dammit! Cecilia wasn’t supposed to come to me here. This villa hadn’t been around in her time.

  I glanced down at myself; Luca deserved an explanation. ‘Cecilia has given birth,’ I whispered. ‘And my body thinks I have too.’ I took in a deep breath and let it out again slowly. ‘I know who Lorenza is.’ I paused. ‘She’s Cecilia’s daughter…’

  Luca’s eyes widened. ‘Wow!’

  I decided to go all in. ‘I was pregnant once.’

  ‘Oh?’ His jaw literally dropped.

  ‘I lost the baby,’ I blurted out.

  Luca looked deep into my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Fern.’

  ‘All my fault,’ I said, rocking in my seat.

  ‘How could it have been your fault?’ His tone was gentle.

  And then, I told him. About my so-called wonderful career, about my ambivalence toward my pregnancy, about my refusal to take care of myself. In a quiet voice, I told him about the guilt. The dreadful, unrelenting guilt. And how Harry’s death was my punishment.

  ‘You’re being far too hard on yourself,’ he said, putting his arm around me.

  ‘No, no. Don’t you see?’ I clutched at my hands. ‘It’s why Cecilia chose me. She didn’t miscarry, but she lost Lorenza all the same. I think she’s searching for her.’ My mouth trembled. ‘I’ve decided I’ll have to follow her story to the end. I need to find out what happened to Lorenza…’ I shivered.

  He took my hands and rubbed them. ‘It’s getting a bit chilly out here. Why don’t we go back to my place for that coffee?’

  I shot him a look and he smiled. ‘No strings.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’

  The words had come out of my mouth before I’d even thought about them.

  Chapter 20

  Luca’s flat was only a couple of minutes’ walk from the Cipriani, at the top of an old palazzo. The views from the roof terrace stretched as far as the Dolomite mountains to the north and the Venetian plain to the south. ‘It’s stunning,’ I said, gazing at the panorama. ‘Have you lived here long?’

  ‘About a year. I moved in just after I split up with Francesca.’

  I met his eye and risked asking, ‘Why did you break off with her?’

  ‘The chemistry wasn’t right. Something stopped me from introducing her to the family, so they never knew about her. In any case, we weren’t together long.’ He shrugged. ‘Are you ready for that coffee?’

 
‘Have you got any herbal tea?’ I gave him a smile. ‘I’ve had my caffeine allowance for the day.’

  ‘Let’s go through to the kitchen,’ he said, taking my hand and leading me inside.

  I watched him fill the kettle, his long lean hands grasping the handle. I remembered how those hands had touched my body and how they’d unravelled me. Don’t think about that, I told myself, but I couldn’t help it.

  Luca reached up to the cupboard for two mugs, his shirt rising to expose his flat belly. Designer jeans, Armani, tight against his buttocks. I swallowed hard and made myself glance away.

  ‘Sugar?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I croaked.

  He trapped me in his deep blue gaze. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine.’ But I wasn’t fine; I was burning with the need to press my lips to his, to run my hands down his chest, and for him to do the same to me.

  And, and…

  I sipped my drink in silence and he did the same. We put our mugs down, and I fought the urge to go up to him and rest my head on his chest. He seemed to be keeping his distance from me, and I suddenly felt a tad shy.

  ‘Regarding Cecilia,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘I read in the book Auntie loaned me about Caterina Cornaro, that the Queen was in Venice when the Barco was destroyed.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘The book doesn’t give much information about the whys and wherefores.’

  ‘I’ll try and find out for you.’

  ‘I’m interested in knowing where Ferrara stood. I mean, if the Duke supported Venice or the Emperor.’

  ‘More likely the Pope. And he had a hatred of the Venetian Republic.’

  I crinkled my brows. ‘Oh? Why?’

  ‘Because the Serenissima had taken control of several of the Papal States.’

  ‘The Serenissima?’

  ‘The Most Serene Republic. Venice.’

  ‘And the Pope wanted the Papal States returned?’