My heart missed a beat. ‘That’s crazy.’
‘Is it? As crazy as burnt wood appearing and disappearing?’ He shook his head. ‘As crazy as feeling the labour pains of a girl long dead?’
‘Point taken. What about when I’m asleep? She comes to me in my dreams sometimes.’
‘Well, I think you should stay at the villa. The only time you had a vision of Cecilia there was when she was out with the hunt. I’ve discussed it with my mother, and she agrees it would be a good idea if you spent a few days with us.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. And you can lend a hand with Chiara.’
‘I still want to learn what happened to Lorenza,’ I said in a determined tone.
‘You can come to my apartment for that, and I’ll keep an eye on you. Make sure nothing untoward happens.’
I opened then closed my mouth, weighing the pros and cons in my head. Luca only had my best interests at heart.
‘You know it makes sense,’ he confirmed.
‘All right. Thanks. I’ll tell my aunt then I’ll go and pack a bag and my art things.’
I went to Luca’s room in the villa after everyone had gone to bed. Our lovemaking was as tender as before. I was getting used to this. The long, languorous kisses, the feel of his hard chest against my breasts. The way he ran his fingers through my hair, the way he cupped my buttocks, the way he brought me to orgasm so slowly that when I reached my climax, I thought I would explode with pleasure.
I spent the night with him and when we woke, Luca reminded me it was our final rehearsal this evening for the re-enactment, which would be tomorrow. I kissed him. ‘Can we go back to your flat after the practice?’
‘If you insist,’ he groaned, knowing full well what I intended.
Despite my misgivings, I was adamant I wanted to find out what had happened to Lorenza. It was the only way I’d find peace.
‘Thank you, Luca,’ I said.
‘It’s very kind of you to come and give us a hand,’ Vanessa said at breakfast. ‘And I think Luca’s right. You’re probably much safer here. Would you mind keeping Chiara company while I go to the pharmacy and pick up some prescriptions?’
‘I wouldn’t mind at all. She can watch me paint. People tend to find it quite soothing. I know I did when I first started art therapy.’
Chiara’s room overlooked the vineyards at the side of the villa. There was a small church in the foreground, and gentle hills dotted with woodland behind. A perfect landscape for a watercolour artist. I’d done more painting over the past few weeks than I’d done in months in London, I realised. And I felt proud of the work I’d produced. Having Cecilia in my head and watching Zorzo must have improved my technique. I couldn’t wait to show my art to an agent.
Chiara was asleep, her leg raised up on cushions. I tiptoed across the room, set up my portable easel, dipped my brush in the glass of water I’d brought with me, and proceeded to wet the paper. I mixed a jade green tint and set to work. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard Chiara say, ‘Can I have a look?’
I unclipped my painting and took it over to the bed.
‘Very nice,’ Chiara said, scrunching up the sheets to her chest. She frowned. ‘I hate Federico for what he did, you know. He’s made a complete fool of me. I’ll never forgive him.’ She burst into great, heaving sobs.
I put my arms around her. ‘Cry it out, sweetie. Cry out your pain. Cry out your frustration.’ As I said it, my own bottling-up gave way, and I found myself sobbing with Chiara, crying for Harry, for my lost baby, for the future we’d never have. And, as I cried, I felt my guilt being washed away by my tears.
After a couple of minutes, Chiara said, ‘You’re right.’ She sighed. ‘I do feel a lot better. But I’m still very tired. I think I’ll go back to sleep now.’
She closed her eyes. I gazed at her; she appeared so young, lying there, her long dark brown hair spread over the pillow. I waited until she was breathing regularly then slipped from the room.
Vanessa had returned from the farmacia and was nursing a cup of coffee in the sitting room. She smiled as I approached. ‘How’s Chiara?’
‘We had a good cry together. My therapist was always urging me to un-bottle my emotions. It might take a little time, but I think Chiara will get over the hurt.’
Vanessa put down her coffee. ‘I’m sure she will. Now fill me in on everything that’s been happening with Cecilia.’
So, I told her about my visit to Venice, the celebration of the Republic’s victory over the Emperor, and Cecilia posing for Giorgione’s Sleeping Venus. Then I recounted how Lodovico had been spying for the Duke of Ferrara.
‘I’ve just remembered something,’ Vanessa said. ‘Luca asked me to do some research at the library for him, to find out about Ferrara’s stance regarding Emperor Maximilian. I was going to tell him, but Chiara falling off her horse and breaking her leg put it out of my mind. Just a minute, I’ll get my notes.’
Vanessa went to the desk in the corner of the room. She rummaged in a drawer then padded back across the carpet. ‘On 10th December 1508,’ she read, ‘Representatives of the Papacy, France, the Holy Roman Empire and Ferdinand I of Spain concluded the League of Cambrai against the Republic. The Marquis of Mantova and the Duke of Ferrara also joined in, thereby isolating Venice.’
My pulse jumped, and a feeling of dread overtook me.
The final rehearsal for the re-enactment over, I strolled with Luca down Via Canova toward the palazzo where he had his flat. It was a warm night, the ever-present scent of honeysuckle from the town gardens perfuming the air. We climbed the wide marble staircase, and he let us into his flat.
In the kitchen, he poured us both a glass of Prosecco. ‘Cheers! How are you feeling?’
‘A bit nervous, given what your mother told me about the alliance against Venice. What if Lodovico has declared his true colours and has taken Cecilia with him to Ferrara?’
He took a sip of the wine. ‘Are you sure you want to go through with this?’
‘Definitely,’ I said, trying to sound positive.
‘It’s a little like conducting a séance.’ He gave me a wry smile. ‘Only we don’t need a medium.’
‘Indeed,’ I said, my stomach fluttering and my bravado of earlier in danger of toppling. ‘If I can, I’ll tell you everything as I experience it. Then you can try and pull me out if it all starts going pear-shaped.’
‘What if nothing happens? What if you don’t connect?’
I smirked. ‘True, we could sit here all night just staring into space.’
‘Is there something you can do to… oh, you know what I mean…’
‘Maybe if I think about her, maybe that’ll help.’
‘What about if you relaxed a little, sat back, closed your eyes?… Fern?... Fern?’
The Queen’s brother is visiting again and there’s the usual banquet in his honour. At least, on this occasion, he’s here with only a small entourage. Lodovico and I have been placed at the top table. Such an honour! I watch my husband circling around Giorgio Cornaro like a moth around a flame. Lodovico refills the Queen’s brother’s goblet from the flagon on the table. Why did he not wait for a servant to do it? What a toad he is, and to what avail?
Spring has arrived in this year of our Lord 1509, and peach blossom fills the vases lining the side of the banqueting hall. My true love is also here, the first time I’ve seen him since our tryst at the hunt. Zorzo strums his lute and sings:
‘I find no peace, but for war am not inclined;
I fear, yet hope; I burn, yet am turned to ice;
I soar in the heavens, but lie upon the ground;
I hold nothing, though I embrace the whole world.
Love has me in a prison which he neither opens nor shuts fast;
he neither claims me for his own nor loosens my halter;
he neither slays nor unshackles me;
he would not have me live yet leaves me with my torment.
Eyeless I gaz
e, and without a tongue I cry out;
I long to perish, yet plead for succour;
I hate myself, but love another.
I feed on grief, yet weeping, laugh;
death and life alike repel me;
and to this state I am come, my lady, because of you.’
The words are from one of Petrarch’s sonnets, I know, for I have read it. Zorzo catches my eye. My heartbeat quickens as I remember that day last autumn when I let slip that he’d fathered my child.
He’d smothered me with kisses and begged to see Lorenza before Lodovico’s return from Ferrara. So, I took him to the house in Asolo, and he swung her above his head just like the time when he sketched her for The Tempest. Then I showed him her paintings, where the mix of colours spoke of a maturity and skill beyond her years. ‘She takes after you in beauty and talent,’ he said, and I’d swelled with pride.
After dinner the court dances the saltarello. Bouncing on our toes, we appear merry. Such a farce. Pope Julius has issued an interdict against Venice and has excommunicated every citizen of the Republic for the non-restitution of the Papal States. Excommunicated! We are no longer to receive any of the sacraments, and, when we die, we won’t go to Heaven. Maria Santissima! This is serious and here we are, dancing as if we didn’t have a care in the world.
There’s a sudden commotion at the far end of the hall. Gesù bambino! The Queen’s brother has collapsed. A sick feeling washes through me and I shoot a glance at my husband. He’s smiling. Smiling! Quickly, Lodovico wipes the smile from his face and goes to Giorgio Cornaro’s side, helping to lift him from the floor to a chair.
The musicians have stopped playing and there’s a stunned hush. ‘Call my physician,’ the Queen commands. People start scurrying to and fro’ and the courtiers break into small groups to gossip.
I take advantage of the commotion and hurry to our quarters. My husband’s travelling chest is by the window, unlocked. I rifle through it, not knowing for what I am looking. If he has poisoned Giorgio Cornaro, Lodovico wouldn’t be so careless as to leave the poison lying around. Yet, I’m certain that’s what he’s done, for why else would the Queen’s brother collapse so soon after Lodovico poured his wine?
I let out a sardonic laugh, thinking of when I slipped valerian into Lodovico’s drink in Venice. The two of us are as bad as each other, although I didn’t go so far as to try and poison him. I’m angry with myself, for I was supposed to keep watch over my husband and have failed in my pledge to the Queen. I need to find evidence, but where?
Lodovico’s cape is hanging from a hook on the back of the door. I go to it and slip my hands into the pockets. At first, I feel nothing. Then my fingers encounter a small package. I pull it out and open it. Seeds. I take a couple from the package, which I then return to Lodovico’s garment before I dart back to the hall.
Giorgio Cornaro’s eyes flutter open and I cross myself. Praise God! He’s still alive. The physician is ordering an emetic to be prepared. Clearly, he suspects poison. What should I do? Should I point my finger, or should I keep quiet? No. The future of the Republic is at stake; I need to flush out the traitor in our midst.
‘I beg a word, Domina,’ I say to the Queen.
‘Yes, my dear. What is it?’
I show her the seeds I found in Lodovico’s pocket and start to describe what I’d witnessed at the banquet. From the corner of my eye, I spot my husband watching me. One minute he’s there, the next he has disappeared.
‘Guards!’ the Queen calls out. ‘Arrest that man!’
In the meantime, the physician tastes one of the seeds. ‘Apple,’ he says. ‘The fruit itself is perfectly harmless. However, apple seeds are poisonous and contain cyanide. If you swallow one or two seeds at a time it is unlikely you will feel anything at all. But crushed into a powdered form, they’re lethal.’
I put my hand to my mouth. This is terrible. Terrible! Such shame my husband has brought upon us. ‘Domina, I beg your forgiveness.’
‘Not your fault, my dear. The fault is mine for allowing that vermin anywhere near us. When you voiced your suspicions six months ago, I thought we were too strong for him. I’m sorry, Cecilia, but I’ve always considered your husband such a little man. More like an annoying flea than anything else. How wrong I was…’
I can’t help smiling at her description of Lodovico and cover my mouth with my hand.
The Queen’s guards burst into the hall.
I stare at them.
Where’s my husband?
‘Gone, Domina. The stable-boys report that his horse is missing,’ the most senior guard says.
The sound of retching comes from Domina’s brother. He’s vomiting. Praise the Holy Mother of God! The Republic needs him to live, for we are surrounded by enemies and Giorgio Cornaro is the only man with the experience to lead our army against them.
Zorzo has materialised at my elbow, his eyes wide with concern. ‘How are you, dolcezza?’
I take in a deep breath and straighten my back. ‘Ashamed of my husband and fearful of the future.’
The Queen must have overheard us, for she says, ‘Fear not, Cecilia. You are under my protection.’
I drop into a deep curtsey, relief washing through me. To live in her shadow will be an honour; I shall serve her for the rest of her days. ‘Thank you, Domina.’ I put to the back of my mind my worries about her health.
The future will look after the future.
The Queen’s brother staggers to his feet and is taken to his quarters. Domina orders the court to retire. I go to my room, and soon Zorzo comes to me.
Our lovemaking is unhurried this night. He kisses my hairline, the lobes of my ears, and my chin; his lips are soft and warm. His fingers probe my sex and then his lips are where his fingers were. It occurs to me that I should give him the same pleasure. How? He lets out a soft groan and runs his hands though my hair as I swirl my tongue over the tip of his manhood; it tastes of salt and of Zorzo. Then I swallow him further into the hot wetness of my mouth.
He moans and flips me over. And now we are loving each other together, and he’s thrusting into me, my legs wrapped around his body, and it is so, so good to reach our joy at the same time. Zorzo kisses me deeply. ‘I love you, dolcezza.’
My heart fair beats out of my chest with happiness, but I’m also afraid my husband will spoil everything.
‘I wonder if I’ll ever see Lodovico again?’ I ask.
Zorzo kisses my brow. ‘I expect he’ll not show his face around here anymore.’
‘Then you and I can love each other when we want.’ A smile splits my face. ‘And you can teach our daughter to paint. Make her your apprentice, when she’s old enough.’
Zorzo laughs. ‘And what if we have a son? Will you want that for him too?’
‘If he shows talent. Why not?’
‘Do you love me, dolcezza?’
‘With all my heart, amore mio.’
He enfolds me in his arms, and I snuggle against him. Finally, we shall have the time for love to take a firm root in both our souls. My body relaxes and, another smile touching my lips, I drift off to sleep.
‘Fern! Fern! Wake up!’ Luca was shaking me gently. ‘We should return to the villa.’
‘With all my heart, amore mio.’
‘Fern!’
‘What?’
‘The villa, we need to go.’
‘What time is it?’ I asked, dazed.
‘Past eleven.’
‘Isn’t it a bit late?’ I shook my head. ‘We could spend the night here at your flat.’
‘For you to continue your communion with Cecilia?’
‘You heard me tell you everything that was happening?’
‘Yes, Fern. Let’s go back to the villa and recharge our batteries. Tomorrow is another day, as they say.’
‘You sound worried.’
‘Hmm.’ He frowned. ‘How did you think I would feel when you told me about making love with the painter? And the treachery of Cecilia’s husband does
n’t bode well.’
‘It wasn’t me with Zorzo, Luca. Please don’t be jealous. I need to see this through.’ I forced a smile. ‘If I leave Italy without finding out what happened to Lorenza, Cecilia will be waiting for me when I get back from London.’
He kissed me on the forehead. ‘You plan on returning?’
‘I love it here, despite everything that’s happened.’
‘Oh? And what about loving the people?’
‘Them too,’ I nodded. ‘Especially a certain person.’
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. ‘And who might that be?’
I lifted my chin and his mouth came down on mine, kissing me so thoroughly my knees began to give way. He ran warm kisses across my cheek and down my neck. ‘You, of course, Luca. I love you,’ I said.
And I did. I knew that now. A warm feeling spread through me. Harry would want me to be happy. It wasn’t my fault that he’d died. A tragic accident that took the life of so many. I owed it to him to live mine to the full.
‘Lorenza!’
My heart stuttered. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Yes, amore mio,’ Luca said.
‘Cecilia wants us to see this through.’
And I would.
I’d find out what had happened to Lorenza.
Both Cecilia and I need to know the truth.
Chapter 24
Chiara was out of bed and sitting on the patio, plugged into her Walkman while Vanessa and I sorted through boxes of correspondence that the Contessa had found stored in the villa’s basement. ‘These date from the time when the family had its palaces on the Grand Canal,’ she said. ‘I never knew they were here until the other day.’
I picked up a dusty old folder. ‘Do you think we’ll find anything useful for your genealogical research?’
‘Hopefully. Oh, and, by the way, when I was sitting with Chiara last night, I read an old book in Italian that was stored with the letters.’ Her eyes glowed. ‘I found out a lot more about what happened in 1509. And I’ve translated some of it for you.’
LADY of VENICE Page 21
