Heart of Glass (35 page)

My husband gazes down into my face. “I love you,” he says gently, bringing a hand round to stroke my cheek. I bend my head to meet his touch, and grab his hand to bring his fingers to my lips, kissing them.

I am a married woman now. Roberto and I have said our final vows before the priest and we turn, hand in hand, to our guests. Smiling faces are everywhere, and beyond
the open doors at the rear of the cathedral there are more people, spilling out onto the streets. Even with its high ceilings, the cathedral is warm with the press of bodies. Everyone in Venice has gathered to celebrate the marriage of a man once spurned by the city and a woman almost lost at sea.

The Doge and the Duchess Besina sit in the front row, beside my father. The Doge, imperious in his robes of office, nods his head, and the Duchess beams with delight. Once, she thought she’d lost both sons. Now, Roberto is returned to her. Not only that, but he has helped save Venice.

Roberto leads me down the main nave of the cathedral, towards the sunlight that pours through the open doors. As we pass, people get to their feet, applauding. Young children give chase, scattering flower petals for us to walk through. The Basilica becomes heavy with the scent of roses.

There’s only one person missing—Paulina. She has disappeared from her mother’s house, and there has been no word of her through any of the Segreta’s contacts. I wonder if our friendship could ever have been repaired, after a betrayal such as hers.

I squeeze Roberto’s hand, and try to push the thoughts away. I cast a glance upwards, but no one lurks in the galleries today. There’s been no sign of Carina either, and a warrant issued across the city means there’s nowhere she can hide. Has she taken Paulina with her, I wonder, abandoning Venice for good? Will I ever see her again? I hope not, for, in her case, I know forgiveness would be impossible.

It takes a friendly face to banish Carina from my mind.
Aysim steps forward from the crowd. She dips in a low curtsy, her hair braided and arranged in the latest Venetian fashion. It’s almost as if she grew up here.

“May your marriage be a long and happy one,” she says in French, her eyes brimming with happiness.

“Thank you,” I respond in the same tongue. “May you too find such happiness.”

As Roberto and I pass the last of the Grand Councilors and emerge into the sunlight, the waiting crowd of spectators outside erupts in applause. Scanning the celebrants, I spot various faces that I recognize but cannot acknowledge. These women of the Segreta stand with their husbands, or with their children or parents, or even alone—widows and spinsters of the city. No outsider could guess the invisible web that binds us, the threads of which stretch all over Venice. Teresa’s secret was just one tiny tug on the web. When I introduced her to our number, I could never have guessed how crucial her secret would prove.

We have survived them—Vincenzo, Halim and Carina—although we have lost the most powerful of our number. Allegreza’s death is the only cloud in the clear sky today.
Thank you
, I tell the women silently.

Other women in the crowd aren’t as restrained. I spot Bella Donna and her friends, being held back by guards. Their dresses are outrageously gaudy, as are their wigs and the bright spots of rouge on their cheeks. Their yellow scarves flutter in the wind. I wave to them.

“Laura!” A young girl presses forward from the crowd, reaching past a guard’s staff.

“Oh, let her out, let her out!” I gasp, rushing towards
her. The guard reluctantly lets my old friend through, and Annalena falls into my arms. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

She’s even prettier without her cowl, and it’s a delight to see her slim waist and the curve of her shoulders for the first time, liberated from the shapeless convent robes.

“A mysterious benefactor purchased my freedom,” she says, arching her eyebrows at me. “I wonder who that could have been?”

I smile at Roberto as he arrives by our side.

“I’ve heard much about you,” he says. He takes Annalena’s hand and kisses it, making her cheeks blush furiously. I wonder if those are the first lips she’s ever felt.

“Come and see me at the palace,” I say, hugging my friend. “I’m sure we can find work worthy of a former
conversa
. A lady-in-waiting, perhaps?”

Annalena gasps with delight, but Roberto is already gently steering me away. There are so many people to see and thank.

“Thank you!” she calls after me, and I smile to myself. I know what it is to have one’s first taste of freedom.

Roberto and I arrive in the center of the square. The palace looms before us, and up above it, the Piombi. Despite the sunshine and the happiness of the day, I shudder. Somewhere, up there, in the heat and stench, Massimo languishes. His trial is to take place in a month’s time. A whole month of enduring those cells beneath the leaded roof. He won’t be exiled like Vincenzo; his fate will be far worse. I take no joy in his suffering.

The crowd presses around us, cheering and throwing
more flower petals over our heads. My eyes linger on Roberto’s face as I press my body close to his.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Never more so,” I say. I wish that I could stay in this moment forever, all our troubles behind us and who knows what joy in the future.

I look around me. At the palace, the canals and their gondolas, the people in their ornate outfits and the shifting colors of Venice’s buildings.

The city I love is safe. The man I adore is by my side.

The Segreta remains. There will be other trials to face. But when Venice calls, we will be ready, of that I am sure.

All we need is a secret.

50

That night, I brush the last of the flower petals from my hair as I gaze at Roberto’s sleeping figure. He’s draped across the bed, his arms thrown wide, his face buried in the pillows. I draw a satin-edged blanket across him and lightly kiss his brow. He shifts his body a little and buries himself deeper into the mattress. I smile and tiptoe out of the room, my silk stockings silent on the marble tiles. From my dressing table, I take out a black velvet sack.

I pull the door gently behind me and smile at the servant who waits outside.

“You can retire for the night,” I tell him. He throws me a grateful smile and goes up the stone stairs that lead to the servants’ quarters in the palace attic. I need to be alone for what happens next.

I follow the double stairway down to the ground floor of the palace. Candles burn low in the gold sconces that line the walls. The eyes of men in oil paintings watch me as I walk down a wide corridor towards the dining room. On the way, I take out the mask and place it over my face.

I open the varnished door, leaning on the ornate handle, and slip inside.

My friends are waiting for me. I catch the glimmer of a cat’s eye, a peacock feather rising high above a head, the white feathers of a swan’s visage.

Masks are everywhere, and there’s the rustle of silk as people rise to greet me. I pat the air, sending them the message to sit back down, and the women of the Segreta lean back in their seats, waiting for me to take my place at the table.

Silence.

Then an older voice speaks: Grazia.

“You missed the initiation,” she tells me. I look around and see that a woman has a bandaged hand. I remember my own initiation and the drag of a knife’s point across my palm. Her wound will heal soon enough.

She’s wearing a mask I haven’t seen before: the hooked beak of an owl, tawny feathers sewn over the surface of the mask. But I know who hides behind it, taking her rightful place at last.

“I am honored to join you,” says Aysim.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “it was difficult to get away.” Gentle laughter fills the room and my cheeks blush.

“So, to business,” says Grazia. “We have word that—”

There’s a sudden glow of light as the door opens a second time and someone else enters the room. I recognize the proud stance, but the unmasked face is timid. My whole body tenses.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I invited her,” says Grazia, placing a hand on my arm. “We must hear her out.”

Paulina bobs in a hasty half curtsy, not moving from the doorway. She wears a simple black mourning dress and holds a small purse. “I’m sorry,” she says. The women watch her solemnly. “I’m so sorry for everything. You must understand—I was led astray. I let Carina pour her poison into my ear. I—”

“Please!” I say. “Don’t try and pretend you were enchanted. You’ve always known your own mind, Paulina.”

She begins to cry, a sad, lonely figure. No one goes to her. She looks like a little girl, abandoned. Despite everything, I feel a pang of sympathy, but it’s not enough.

“You betrayed us,” I say. “You betrayed my friendship. You betrayed Venice.”

“Please.” She sniffs. “I have no one.”

“What about Carina?” asks Grazia.

Paulina dries her eyes, reaching inside the purse clutched at her waist. She approaches the table and slips a sealed creamy envelope towards me across its surface. “She has gone. This is for you, Laura.”

Grazia stands and seizes her arm. “You must come with us, Paulina,” she says.

The girl’s face is afraid. “Why? What will you do to me?”

Grazia sighs. “We need to speak with you, that is all. Have no fear, you will not be harmed.”

While Grazia and the other elders take Paulina into another room, I go to the fireside and hook my thumb under the wax seal on the back of the envelope. It pops open and I tug out a thick piece of paper. The brown ink flickers in the light from the fire as I read the note.

Dearest Laura
,

This is not over. I swear to always be a plague on your happiness. One day Venice will spit you out and I will be there to erase every last memory of you. You may have married a prince, but you will die a bride to grief and pain
.

That is my promise
.

Carina

I watch the paper tremble in my grasp. I take a breath and focus my mind until I am calm and my hand is steady. Such threats are easy to make, but I refuse to live my life in fear. I lean over the flames to hold the corner of the note against a glowing orange coal. Instantly, it catches fire, sending a column of smoke swirling up the chimney. I drop the note and envelope and watch the red wax seal melt as the paper shrivels and chars. Soon, nothing is left.

“What was that?” asks a member wearing a dove’s mask.

I shake my head. “Nothing of any merit,” I say.

Ten minutes or more pass before the elders and Paulina return. Grazia addresses the room.

“Some of our group would like to allow Paulina another chance,” she says. “But the voice that will decide is that of our new leader.”

New leader? We haven’t discussed this at all. Grazia slips a hand into her sleeve and pulls out a pouch. She shakes its contents into her open palm and I spot a glimmer of dull silver. Then she approaches me and holds out a ring I know well, mounted with a small ruby.

“I d-don’t understand,” I stutter. I look about the room and see the other members of the Segreta watching me. I can sense their smiles.

“It was a unanimous vote,” Grazia says. She takes my hand and slips the ring on it, the silver cool against my skin. It fits perfectly. I hold my hand up in the candlelight and turn my wrist. The ring looks as if it was made for me, even though I remember seeing it on the papery skin of the woman I helped to die. “It’s as Allegreza would have wanted,” Grazia adds softly.

Is this really true? Am I to be the new leader of the Segreta?

“I’m not sure.… I don’t think I—”

Grazia tuts. “Don’t insult us,” she says quickly. “Do you not think that these women—the most powerful and influential in Venice—know best? Without you, we would be no more. Allegreza always thought so much of you. She may have been harsh at times, but it was only because she wanted you to be prepared when this day arrived.”

Truly, I am honored. I take off my mask, and the other women do the same. I gaze from face to face.

“I will be your servant as long as you will have me,” I promise my friends. The last face my eyes come to rest on is Paulina’s. She is staring at the ground.

I think about everything I’ve been through. Incarceration, betrayal, death and marriage. I’m still here, aren’t I? Paulina has been weak, but she has returned to face the consequences. She has lost a husband, while mine was saved. She has broken her vows, but then, so have I.

I nod. “You are welcome to join us again,” I say.

The smile that breaks out as Paulina lifts her head is filled with such hope and relief I cannot help myself. I take my old friend in my arms and feel her sobbing into
my shoulders. She mutters, “Thank you, thank you,” again and again.

After a time, I take my place at the head of the table. The fire is dying in the grate and soon it will be time to separate again.

“The Segreta are a force for good,” I say. “We have been sorely tested, but we have prevailed. A city cannot stand proud without a strong backbone. You are the reason that Venice remains intact.”