leaning over the balcony and staring up at the sky as she was.
‘Oh, I’m just looking for the sun,’ she answered, casually.
‘Look no further,’ he said, pointing at the moon.
Pausing for a second before catching on, Veronica pressed her hands to her cheeks as Angelique did when something amazed her and cried, ‘Ah, the sun in all its golden brilliance.’
Luca’s brow furrowed. ‘The sun? Are you crazy? That is the moon in all its silvery splendour.’
Moving her hands to her hips, Veronica’s face returned to one of its more natural expressions: distaste. ‘It is the sun, if I say it is.’
‘But was I not the first of us to say it is the sun? Therefore it is what
I
say it is,’ said Luca, smiling from the corner of his mouth.
Veronica clenched her jaw. Who did he think he was? One thing was for certain, she was not going to let him get the better of her.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
Veronica stopped in the doorway and spun around. ‘I think I’ve had enough of the sun for one night!’
Claudia peered over the edge of her fan of yellow brocade. She noted the position of her mother across the ballroom, standing between two men, their identity concealed behind long-beaked plague-doctor masks. Her mother’s head was thrown back in laughter.
Claudia smiled. Bene. The men had heeded her instructions to flatter. She had paid them handsomely, but even the silver she had parted with did not guarantee her mother’s sustained interest in them, especially when there were patricians to impress and competition to alienate.
For a moment, Claudia’s thoughts turned to her father who was ill in bed on the floor below. She wondered if he could hear the noise of the orchestra and guests coming and going, and if it was disturbing him. It didn’t seem fair that he should be confined to his bed while just upstairs her mother threw what she hoped would be the most talked about ball of the season. Then again, it wasn’t that much different to the last Carnevale, really.
Claudia put aside thoughts of the things she could not change, and focused on her own situation. She edged along the wall, not taking her eyes off her mother until her hand found the door handle. She turned the handle and felt the door open behind her. With a glance at her mother who was still enjoying the flattery of the two men, Claudia slipped through the opening into the adjoining sitting room.
She flew across the empty room like a bird that had been let out of its cage. It was a sentiment reflected in her costume, a yellow brocade robe à la française and a columbina mask adorned with yellow feathers. It was a subtle statement – the only kind of statement Claudia dared to make – which her mother had not picked up on. Instead, she had complimented her daughter on picking a colour that made every eye in the room draw to her, like the sun. Of course, this was followed by a reprimand for not wearing the Hera costume her mother had specifically selected for her.
Claudia came to a door that opened onto the portego. The entrance hall was occupied by latecomers who went from ball to ball, or by guests who wanted a moment away from the ballroom.
Pulling the corners of her mask down to just below her cheekbones, Claudia stepped out into the long rectangular room. She walked over to the staircase, resisting the urge to run. She often watched cats stalk birds on the fondamenta from her bedroom window and had learnt that if you wanted to get by unnoticed, you had to move slowly and deliberately.
When she reached the top of the staircase, she checked behind herself to ensure she wasn’t being watched or followed. Claudia smiled. No one seemed interested in who she was or where she was going. That might have been different had she worn the sweeping one-shouldered white Hera costume, which was precisely the reason she had not worn it.
She reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the andron, brightly lit by hanging lanterns. She
‘Oh, I’m just looking for the sun,’ she answered, casually.
‘Look no further,’ he said, pointing at the moon.
Pausing for a second before catching on, Veronica pressed her hands to her cheeks as Angelique did when something amazed her and cried, ‘Ah, the sun in all its golden brilliance.’
Luca’s brow furrowed. ‘The sun? Are you crazy? That is the moon in all its silvery splendour.’
Moving her hands to her hips, Veronica’s face returned to one of its more natural expressions: distaste. ‘It is the sun, if I say it is.’
‘But was I not the first of us to say it is the sun? Therefore it is what
I
say it is,’ said Luca, smiling from the corner of his mouth.
Veronica clenched her jaw. Who did he think he was? One thing was for certain, she was not going to let him get the better of her.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
Veronica stopped in the doorway and spun around. ‘I think I’ve had enough of the sun for one night!’
Claudia peered over the edge of her fan of yellow brocade. She noted the position of her mother across the ballroom, standing between two men, their identity concealed behind long-beaked plague-doctor masks. Her mother’s head was thrown back in laughter.
Claudia smiled. Bene. The men had heeded her instructions to flatter. She had paid them handsomely, but even the silver she had parted with did not guarantee her mother’s sustained interest in them, especially when there were patricians to impress and competition to alienate.
For a moment, Claudia’s thoughts turned to her father who was ill in bed on the floor below. She wondered if he could hear the noise of the orchestra and guests coming and going, and if it was disturbing him. It didn’t seem fair that he should be confined to his bed while just upstairs her mother threw what she hoped would be the most talked about ball of the season. Then again, it wasn’t that much different to the last Carnevale, really.
Claudia put aside thoughts of the things she could not change, and focused on her own situation. She edged along the wall, not taking her eyes off her mother until her hand found the door handle. She turned the handle and felt the door open behind her. With a glance at her mother who was still enjoying the flattery of the two men, Claudia slipped through the opening into the adjoining sitting room.
She flew across the empty room like a bird that had been let out of its cage. It was a sentiment reflected in her costume, a yellow brocade robe à la française and a columbina mask adorned with yellow feathers. It was a subtle statement – the only kind of statement Claudia dared to make – which her mother had not picked up on. Instead, she had complimented her daughter on picking a colour that made every eye in the room draw to her, like the sun. Of course, this was followed by a reprimand for not wearing the Hera costume her mother had specifically selected for her.
Claudia came to a door that opened onto the portego. The entrance hall was occupied by latecomers who went from ball to ball, or by guests who wanted a moment away from the ballroom.
Pulling the corners of her mask down to just below her cheekbones, Claudia stepped out into the long rectangular room. She walked over to the staircase, resisting the urge to run. She often watched cats stalk birds on the fondamenta from her bedroom window and had learnt that if you wanted to get by unnoticed, you had to move slowly and deliberately.
When she reached the top of the staircase, she checked behind herself to ensure she wasn’t being watched or followed. Claudia smiled. No one seemed interested in who she was or where she was going. That might have been different had she worn the sweeping one-shouldered white Hera costume, which was precisely the reason she had not worn it.
She reached the bottom of the staircase and entered the andron, brightly lit by hanging lanterns. She
Similar Books
