The Girl Behind the Mask (32 page)

I got down on my hands and knees and began to scoop up the beads. Possibly thinking this might be his chance to sneak a kiss, the Duke joined me on the carpet and gathered as many beads as he could see. I left the pearl for him. When he picked it up, I saw his brow crease in confusion. Of course he recognised it. It was, as Ernesta had promised me, a jewel quite unusual and rare, with its glimmering surface blazing pink, orange and yellow like a sunset reflected in the lagoon.

The Duke held the pearl in his hand and stared at it. I threw back my veil. When I reached to take back the pearl, we locked eyes. I knew the Duke remembered where he had seen that pearl before. He also remembered where he had last seen me. We remained on the carpet, just staring at each other. I touched my fingers to my forehead as though I were tipping a cap. Such a masculine gesture cleared the fog of the Duke’s memory absolutely. He got to his feet and looked down at me as though I had suddenly grown a horn. Or, more specifically, a tricorn.

‘Oh, whatever’s happened?’ said Maria. Having loaded her plate with enough cake to satisfy even a girl of her appetites, she was ready to play chaperone again. And in the split-second her back had been turned, the Duke and I had ended up on the floor.

‘I broke my worry beads,’ I explained. ‘The Duke has been so kind, picking them up for me.’

‘What a lovely man he is,’ said Maria, as though the Duke were not right there in front of her, glowering in my direction. His look was pure murder. ‘What a wonderful husband he’ll make.’

‘Wonderful indeed,’ I said.

My father returned. His face was flushed from having hurried back but he looked happy.

‘My biggest competitor just lost a boat in the straits of Medina. It has doubled the value of my cargo. What do they say about an ill wind? What a wedding we shall have for you now, my dear daughter!’

‘Thank you, Papà. I can’t wait!’

‘I must go,’ said the Duke. ‘I thank you for your hospitality, Signor Giordano, but I have business of my own to attend to.’

‘I understand,’ said my father. ‘I hope this afternoon has convinced you of my daughter’s charms.’

‘She is a woman of many surprises,’ said the Duke. He smiled in my direction, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It was more like the baring of teeth Umberto the monkey deployed to warn you he was minded to take a bite from your ear.

‘We will see you again soon,’ said my father as he escorted the Duke from the room. ‘As you know, there will be no problem with the dowry. And I am certain you will not be disappointed. Luciana is a fine girl. Amiable. As intelligent as she needs to be. A musician and a seamstress. She has quite prodigious talents.’

‘Indeed,’ I heard the Duke respond. ‘I need no convincing of that.’

With a curt bow, he left the room.

‘Well, I think that went well,’ said Maria. ‘But you saucy minx. I know you threw those beads on the floor quite deliberately.’

I shivered at the thought that my trick had been uncovered, but it was soon clear Maria had no real idea why I’d tossed my beads to the ground.

‘You wanted to test his manners, of course. And what a clever way to get a little closer to him. Did you smell his perfume? It’s really quite exquisite. And his hair! Could you see if that’s his natural colour?’

‘I learned everything a girl needs to know,’ I responded.

‘Quite,’ said Maria. ‘You must be happy for the match to go ahead?’

‘Oh yes,’ I said, secure in the knowledge that it would not go ahead under any circumstances. The Duke would not want me now, knowing that I knew about his passion for Ernesta. I only wondered what excuse he would give my father. Poor Papà. When he came back into the room, he clasped both my hands in his.

‘A wonderful match,’ he said. ‘I can tell you are going to be very happy. The Duke was very quiet as we walked to his gondola. That’s a sign, I tell you. You have quite disconcerted him. I was exactly the same when I met your beloved mother. I do believe the Duke is in love.’

Of course the Duke was not in love. Not with me, at any rate. Though it was certainly possible that some passion had been aroused in him. As I got ready for bed that night, Maria asked if I wanted her to help me pray for a quick resolution to the matter of my engagement. I agreed, though I was hoping for a very different outcome.

With Maria gone to bed, I prepared for my nightly excursion. Dropping from the window held no fear for me now and I could cover the distance to Giacomo’s house in a fraction of the time it had taken me before. He was back from his business and waiting for me. I told him about the Duke. He laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh.

‘Clever girl,’ he said. ‘But I do not think you should thank God for having delivered you just yet.’

‘What? You mean he might still want to marry me?’

‘He might still want to marry your father’s money,’ my teacher said. ‘Worse still, he might want revenge. He’s not a man who takes humiliation lightly.’

‘I didn’t humiliate him. I warned him,’ I said.

‘Same thing.’

Chapter 47

By ten o’clock the party was in full swing. The palazzo’s garden, which had been such a haven of tranquility the first time I walked through it, was now as busy as any Ibizan nightclub in high season. The sound of the band was almost drowned out by chat and laughter. More liveried servants circulated with food and enough prosecco to drown a horse. After a whole bottle, Nick decided that he was drunk enough to dance. Bea joined him. Having begged me for mercy with an extravagant dumbshow, she had swapped the
servetta muta
for an ordinary mask with elastic to hold it to her face while she boogied. I hung on to Marco’s mask now, though I still could not bring myself to wear it.

I was glad to see my friends enjoying themselves, but I was not yet able to relax. We had been at the party for two hours and Marco had still not revealed himself to me. Several times, I was sure that I had worked out which of the masked men was my secret lover, only to be disappointed when I got close and heard an English accent or saw that the eyes behind the mask were blue and not Marco’s deep warm brown. Three times, I was asked to dance. My heart leapt upon the invitations, only to deflate when I discovered within seconds of having taken to the floor that my partner was not my secretive Italian billionaire but an accountant from Rome, a Mercedes dealer from New Jersey or, most memorably, the fishmonger from the Campo Santa Margherita.

‘I never thought I would see the inside of this house,’ he said. ‘But when everyone’s in a mask, class goes out of the window.’

I agreed. Though the fishmonger had the manners of a duke compared to the car dealer, who had tried to cop a feel through my voluminous skirts.

The dance ended. I excused myself from the fishmonger’s company and went to find Nick and Bea again. Nick was loading another plate with
cichetti
, stuffing one in his mouth for every one he carried.

‘Where’s Bea?’ I asked him.

‘I thought she went to look for you,’ said Nick through a mouthful of food. ‘Last time I saw her she was heading over there.’

Nick waved a frilly cuff in the direction of the door that led to the library. If Bea had gone there, then I wanted to go with her.

I slipped into the library corridor just in time to see Bea – or rather the train of the Dior dress – disappear through the library door. I followed. If I’m honest, I was a little disappointed that the library door was open. It was my space. I felt proprietorial. I wanted be the one who showed Bea the room’s treasures. I was surprised that she would go in there without me.

I put my hand on the door handle, ready to go in after her, but paused when I heard two voices. One was Bea’s. The other was a man’s voice. Without thinking, I put my ear closer to the door as I tried to get a sense of what was going on. Had Bea in fact arranged an assignation in the library? I didn’t want to interrupt her if she had. Alas, the library door was too thick to allow me to hear much of the conversation inside. I turned the handle as slowly as I was able, so that the bolt slipped from its catch, then I leaned my weight against the door so that it opened just a crack, giving me the peephole that I needed.

Bea had her back to me. I was struck anew by how beautiful she looked in the dress, from every angle. The strict boning of the corset lent her perfect posture. The low cut of the neckline revealed the tips of her shoulder blades. Like me, she was wearing a wig, and its pigtail hung down the middle of her back, just waiting to be pulled.

The man I had heard speaking stood at the fireplace. He was wearing a long black cloak over black breeches and boots. On his head he wore a tricorn. On his face he wore a white mask that covered his features almost completely, with just holes for his eyes and a curve that revealed his mouth. He was tall but stooped. He was leaning on the mantelpiece but his pose was not casual. He seemed to be using the fireplace for support. He had one arm upon it while his other arm dangled loosely by his side, with an extravagant white lace cuff reaching beyond his fingertips. He had his head dropped low, as though he were looking into the flames.

As I watched, Bea arranged herself to best effect. She fluffed out the skirts of her dress. I could see that she was still wearing her mask.

‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,’ she said. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’

The man at the fireplace did not look at her.

‘This is a beautiful house,’ Bea continued. ‘And a wonderful library. I have been wanting to get a look at this library for years. Why all the secrecy? And then a party like tonight? Fabulous party, by the way.’

Still, the man kept his masked face turned towards the flames. I could almost hear my heart pounding as I watched Bea try to engage with him. Of course I knew who she thought the stranger could be. Did he know that she wasn’t me? A curious stand-off seemed to be developing. The man would not look up.

‘Come on,’ said Bea. ‘This is getting ridiculous. You’re Marco Donato. You must be.’

The man shook his head.

‘Then who are you? Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?’

‘I work here,’ said the man.

‘You work here?’

I tried to get a better look through the gap. As far as I knew, the only person who worked at the house full-time was Silvio. Was it him? The voice hadn’t sounded like Silvio’s. It was deeper and it also sounded laboured. Rasping. As if the speaker couldn’t fill his lungs.

‘What do you work as?’ asked Bea. I could tell from the way she asked the question that she wasn’t convinced by the stranger’s explanation.

‘I work in the garden. I’m the gardener.’

‘Really.’

I struggled to place the voice. I still couldn’t. But it definitely wasn’t Silvio. He wasn’t that tall.

Taking off her mask with a flourish, Bea stepped towards the gardener and, before he could protest, she took up his free hand.

‘Oh my God!’

Bea dropped the stranger’s hand as quickly as she had taken it up.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry.’

The stranger turned his back on her, hugging his hand to himself like an injured child.

‘I’m sorry. That was so rude. I didn’t mean to—’

Bea gave a gasp of distress and made a run for the door. I just had time to jump out of the way before she wrenched the door open and dived through as though the Devil were on her tail. She did not see me before she ran off down the corridor. I ran after her.

‘Bea! Bea!’

She did not turn around.

Chapter 48

I finally caught up with Bea at the end of the corridor. Not knowing the house, she had run herself into a dead end.

‘Bea,’ I said. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Oh, Sarah, it’s you! Thank goodness. I just made such a fool of myself. I went to look for you. While I was at it, I thought I’d have a snoop around. See if I could find the library. Well, I found the library but there was somebody already in there. It was a man. There was something about him that made me wonder if he was Marco Donato. I’ve asked practically every other man at the ball. One guy actually said he was Marco but later admitted he was a car salesman.’

‘I think I met him.’

‘Hands all over the place,’ said Bea.

‘That’s the one. But the man in the library . . . ?’

‘He was just standing at the fireplace. So still. Kind of defiant. I asked him who he was.’

I didn’t let her know that I had heard the whole conversation.

‘He wouldn’t even look at me and, hey, I’m used to being looked at, even when I’m wearing a mask.’

She glanced at her cleavage. I couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Anyway, I pushed him for an answer and he told me that he was the gardener. I thought that sounded like bullshit so I took him by the hand.’

Bea put her hand to her mouth.

‘Oh God, Sarah.’

‘What is it?’

‘I felt it before I looked.’

‘What?’

‘His hand. It was . . . it was like it was melted.’

I pressed her for more information.