The Girl Behind The Fan (Hidden Women) (34 page)

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve always got a kick out of caring for the underdog, haven’t you? Like when you were a schoolgirl helping out at the hospital, trying to make that poor Italian boy speak.’

I was surprised to hear Marco refer to the story I’d once told him about my holiday job and the patient I’d become so fixated on: a young man recovering from a car crash.

‘It made you feel important, didn’t it, to think that you were the only one who understood. Do you know how many of those nurses tried to speak Italian to me?’

‘It was you?’

‘Yes, it was me. You must have figured it out by now. I was the kid who had the car crash. I was the rich guy who wrecked his Ferrari and killed the most important person in my life at the same time.’

‘Marco . . . why didn’t you say?’

‘Perhaps it was an intelligence test. You bugged the hell out of me, you know.’

‘I was trying to help.’

‘You were trying to make yourself feel better. You were an unattractive, unsophisticated schoolgirl. I was the ideal boyfriend. Rich, Italian, couldn’t talk back. And maybe one day I’d be handsome too. Well, guess what? I’m never going to be handsome again.’

‘And I don’t care about that.’

‘Don’t you remember our early conversations when you first came to this library? You often made reference to my looks. They matter to you, Sarah. They matter to anyone who’s sane. Because they matter in the real world. How could we ever have a proper relationship? I won’t go outside my house.’

‘With me beside you . . .’

‘With you beside me? You think that makes it better? When you’re beside me, people will wonder why and they won’t think it’s because I’ve got a great personality. Or perhaps you’re thinking I’ll make you look better.’

‘Marco, now you’re talking shit. Please stop.’

Everything was going wrong. He pulled his hand away from mine. He stood up and walked to the window.

‘The contrast between my hideousness and your beauty. Imagine it. And not only will you look beautiful, you’ll look kind too. You’ll probably find that you’ve never had so many offers from other men. There isn’t a man on earth who isn’t really looking for a nice kind girl like you.’

‘Why can’t you just accept that I love you?’ I pleaded with him.

‘And why can’t you accept that I don’t want to be loved? Don’t they say that everyone ends up with the face they deserve? Well, I deserve to look like this. This,’ he indicated his face, ‘is a manifestation of my inner ugliness. It was caused by lust and cowardice.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘You don’t know what happened.’

‘Then tell me, because I’m finding it very hard to understand.’

‘I think you had better go.’

‘I don’t care what you think,’ I insisted. ‘I’m staying. When I look at you, I see only the man I love and I love him because he has a good heart.’

‘Sarah,
Beauty and the Beast
is a fairy tale. Here in the real world, monsters do exist and I am one of them.’

I tried to hold him but finally he pushed me off and I sensed that there was no point persisting for the moment.

‘Go,’ he said. I took my instructions and left.

But I couldn’t let it go. Of course when I got back to my hotel room, I wrote another letter and I delivered it by hand. I pleaded with Silvio to be allowed back into the Palazzo but he told me he had his instructions. He asked me not to try to circumvent them. He did not want to have to get physical with me.

Despondently, I backed down and left Silvio to guard the door. He watched me walk away down the street. I had the feeling he wanted to say something to me. He didn’t.

I spent an anguished night, unable to sleep properly. It would have been better had I been able to call on Nick and Bea, but I had not told either of them I was going to be in town, and with Nick at least, I had pretty much burned my bridges.

I tried to calm myself with the thought that this was bound to happen. I had surprised Marco. He wasn’t ready. He would think about our encounter overnight and by the time morning came, he would be in a better state of mind. I’d just keep going back until he saw me again. I had to.

Chapter 51

I must have fallen asleep at some point and as soon as I did, my dreams were with me.

My little room in the Dorsoduro was stiflingly hot, so I’d left the window open. The sound of water rippling in the canal outside provided a backdrop for my nocturnal fantasies. Sleepwalking, I crossed the room to the window.

Slow and silent, the gondola appeared.

I walked down the stairs and let myself out onto the
fondamenta
. The gondolier brought his craft near to the edge. He held out his hand to help me on board. I knew at once who had sent the boat for me. My masked lover was waiting for me inside the
felce
.

Except this time he wasn’t wearing the mask and the face I saw was the face I had seen in the secret room earlier that day. The pain of the past was indelibly etched upon it, but the eyes that looked out spoke of hope for the future.

‘Don’t say anything,’ I said before I covered his mouth with a kiss.

I felt his arms fold around me, bringing me closer, as his mouth responded to mine. When we were kissing, nothing else mattered. The only thing in the world was our connection. In the darkness, we were entirely equal.

His hands roamed my body. I unbuttoned his shirt. We didn’t take our mouths off one another for an instant. I felt his cool fingers brush my nipples. I rested my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm. He cupped my breasts, gently squeezing their soft weight. I caressed his hard pectoral muscles. His hardness and my softness were perfectly matched.

I moved my hand to the front of his trousers and felt his erection stiffen further in response. His fingers were inside my knickers, finding me already wet and ready. Carefully, I undid his trousers and freed his penis. I moved so that I could take him in my mouth, delighting in the sweet, salty taste of him. He manoeuvered himself so that he was between my legs and pulled me down onto his mouth. I shivered with pleasure as his tongue flickered over my clitoris. I returned the favour in kind, sucking him in deeper, adoring him with my lips.

Just as my orgasm seemed inevitable, he lifted me away from him. I let him go and turned so that I was on top of him, looking down to where his face should be, obscured by the darkness of the
felce
in the moonless night. He put his hands on my waist and guided me down onto him. He slipped into me easily. No part of me tried to resist.

With his hands still on me to hold me in place, I started to move up and down. We were like two parts of the same creature. It felt so right to have him inside me. I wanted nothing else.

I moved upon him, faster and faster as the desire to have him fill me with his cum overtook me. His breathing echoed my movements. His fingers tightened on my hips. He started to brace himself against me, pushing up, up, up. He flooded me with his ecstasy and cried out as he came.

Afterwards, I brushed his cheek with the back of my fingers and felt the wetness of his tears.

‘It’s worth doing this,’ I told him. ‘It’s worth trying to break through.’

He told me he felt the same way.

The following morning, there was a letter waiting for me at the reception desk of my scruffy little hotel. I recognised the curling hand at once and fell upon the envelope, tearing it open before I even left the desk. I read the letter in the middle of the lobby. It was a mistake. I should have known it would only be bad news.

Dear Sarah,

I can’t ask you to be with me. Choosing me means choosing to abandon everything you truly want in your life. Don’t kid yourself it would be otherwise. You should not have to compromise. You want to have an ordinary life. You deserve an extraordinarily ordinary love.

It is better that we end this insanity now. Forget this house, Sarah. Forget me. Forgive me.

Marco

Chapter 52

7th January 1847

My dear Arlette,

I am writing to thank you for coming to visit me the other evening. I am sorry I could not see you, but since that night at the Opéra Comique in December, my health has taken a turn for the worse. I fear I may have taken an unnecessary risk when I came out that evening and now I am paying the price.

In truth, I think I may be about to pay the ultimate price. The doctor comes every afternoon and assures me I will soon feel better but I can tell by his expression that he is counting down the days until he loses another customer and the only way I will feel better is when I cannot feel at all. There is no poultice that will work for me now.

It is for that reason that I send Pierre to you with this package, which contains some personal items that I do not wish to fall into the Duc’s hands.

First, I am entrusting this little picture to you and ask that when I am dead, you will make sure it finds its way to Remi. As you know, my father painted this seascape and it is my most treasured possession. I am afraid that if I do not pass it to you now, when I am gone, no one in this household will understand its true worth and it will end up on the fire. Remi, I know, will appreciate it.

I also enclose my diary, which you must pass to him at the same time. It contains the truth about our final parting. Explain to him that it is only safe he knows of the depth of my love for him now he cannot ruin himself in pursuit of it. He is not to blame his father or his sister. They did what they thought was best.

You asked me in December why I ever loved Remi Sauvageon. This diary will explain that too. When I look into Remi’s face, it is as though I am looking into his soul. He has greatness. You can see it in his paintings. One day the whole world will understand. Be kind to him, Arlette. As you once said, ‘He’s just a man’ and he was quite fond of you.

For you, my dear, dear friend, I am sending this pearl. You must remember it. The pearl that belonged to the poor Venetian lesbian robbed by de Rocambeau’s father. Now it is yours. The Duc will not miss it and I know how well it will go with your hair. Better than it ever did with mine. Please think of me whenever you wear it and know that I treasured your friendship and guidance during the hardest part of my life far more than any jewel. There is another smaller pearl here for Elaine. She can do what she likes with it. I hope you will both come to my funeral. The thought that my grave might be unattended is as chilling as the touch of death itself.

But don’t weep for me too long, my darling Arlette. I will be happy on the other side and I will always be thankful for the day you found me beneath that tree in the Bois de Boulogne.

With love,

Your Augustine

Chapter 53

Six months after the death of Augustine du Vert from tuberculosis – consumption, as it was called back then – her name was already slipping from the memories of those who had called themselves her friends during the good times. Another girl had found her way into the Duc’s box at the Opéra Comique. Some said she resembled Augustine, but in truth she was not nearly so gentle or fine-featured. When she laughed, which was often, she showed her back teeth. She had none of Augustine’s natural elegance and modesty. She wore her jewels like she was the Duchesse d’Orleans’ Christmas tree. Arlette and Elaine, regarding the new girl from the other side of the theatre, felt all the more keenly the absence of their dear gentle friend.

However, Arlette recovered enough to note that the pearls the new girl sported were no match for the pearls that the Duc had given Augustine. ‘He doesn’t like her anywhere near as much.’

‘I still can’t believe what you did.’ Elaine shook her head.

‘I didn’t want it,’ said Arlette. ‘And
he
did not deserve such a precious gift as Augustine really left him.’

‘But that pearl was worth millions of francs!’

‘It was worth much less than Augustine’s love. He will never understand that.’

‘He might have understood if you gave him her diary.’

‘More pearls before swine,’ Arlette tutted.

The pearl that the Duc had given Augustine for her second-hand virginity now adorned the neck of Madame Remi Sauvageon, the former Mademoiselle Virginie Ducharmes. In a complete reversal of Augustine’s last wishes, Arlette hid the diary and had Augustine’s seascape properly framed and given pride of place in her salon. The tainted pearl she gave to Remi in the hope it might bring him bad luck.

But Remi Sauvageon’s life seemed to hold nothing but good luck from that moment on. The Duc’s patronage was just the start of it. To begin with Remi painted Augustine’s replacement in almost exactly the same pose. She even wore the same Fossin tiara.

Soon Remi was exhibiting all over the world and the list of men and women he painted included princes and queens. He married the beautiful Virginie, daughter of a rich wine merchant from the south, and in time they had three lovely children, who would go on to have beautiful families of their own. He left behind him a vast fortune and, as a result, Remi’s offspring would dominate the social life of Europe for decades. Many of them became artists in his footsteps, to greater and lesser degrees of success.