Belladonna

two

Cass heard Narissa’s voice before she saw the handmaid helping her aunt down the corridor. “One step at a time. Excellent, Signora. Slow and steady,” Narissa said, supporting Agnese as the old woman struggled toward the portego.

“Aunt Agnese!” Cass cried out, wiping at her cheek with her hand. She did not want her aunt to know how terrified she was. “You should be in bed.”

“Explain to me,” Agnese wheezed, “why those savages thought they could destroy my home.” She pointed in the direction of Luca’s room. “It looks like the End of Days in there.”

“They said they had orders to search Luca’s chambers,” Cass said. But search for what?

“Orders,” Agnese scoffed. “Don’t worry, Cassandra. They’ll be taking new orders soon.” She clutched at her chest, as if the mere act of speaking were taxing. “Narissa, I’d like to return to my room. Bring me wax and parchment. I’ll be sending several letters immediately.” As she tottered back down the hallway on her handmaid’s arm, she added, “And someone put that room back together immediately—there’s nothing more debased than an overturned armchair.”

Siena touched Cass on the shoulder. “I’ll go straighten in there.”

A strange protective feeling welled up inside Cass. She didn’t want anyone else going through Luca’s private things. “I can take care of it,” she said quickly. “You go to the market. Keep your ears open. Maybe you’ll hear someone talking about the arrest.”

Siena curtsied. “Whatever you think is best, Signorina Cass.”

Cass had already turned away. She held her breath as she crossed the threshold into Luca’s room, afraid of what she might find. The four-poster bed was still standing, but barely. The armoire and washing table were also whole, but overturned. All of Luca’s fine clothing had been yanked from the armoire’s shelves and dumped in a heap on the floor. Books and stockings were strewn about in front of his trunk.

Cass’s cat, Slipper, was pawing at a fur-lined collar that protruded from the mess of clothes. “Shoo,” Cass said, bending down in front of the armoire.

Slipper bounded off to explore the tangle of stockings. Cass began to refold Luca’s breeches and doublets, placing each piece of clothing back onto the shelves. She caught a whiff of his scent—citrus and cinnamon—from a tailored gray doublet and had to restrain herself from beginning to cry.

She reminded herself that crying would help no one.

Next, she went to work on his chemises. The linen fabric had creases at the chest and shoulders. Luca even folded his underclothes. Cass took her time, matching her folds to the creases, trying to put everything back just as it had been. She told herself that it was all a mistake, that he would soon be home, that he would want his clothes as he had left them.

Slipper had found a scrap of lilac ribbon from somewhere and was parading around the room with the treasure hanging from his teeth. Cass watched him for a moment and then moved to the mess outside of the trunk.

She paired the long stockings as best she could and placed them gently into the back of the trunk. She stacked the books into a pile, scanning each cover as she did so. Most of them were related to law and government—subjects Luca had been studying at university—but one of the leather-bound volumes was the same Shakespeare story that Cass had been reading when he had first returned to Venice several weeks earlier. Luca had never been one for stories, especially love stories. Cass couldn’t help but wonder if she had changed him the way that Falco had changed her.

Already, the room was looking better. If only people, and lives, were as easy to fix, she thought. What was Luca doing right now? Was he scared? Where had he ended up? Was he being held somewhere clean and well lit, with hot water and fine food, or in a rat-infested, watery prison? She hoped Siena’s errands would be speedy. Surely some of the servants at the market would be gossiping about the arrest of a nobleman. Once Cass knew more about the charges, she would go to the Palazzo Ducale and demand to speak on Luca’s behalf. While she was there, perhaps she could bribe a guard to let her see her fiancé for a minute or two.

She placed the stack of books into Luca’s trunk and rose to her feet. As she headed for the door, her lily pendant came unclasped and slipped down inside her bodice.

Cass fished it out, pausing for a moment to admire its beauty. Four silver flower petals framed a circular diamond in the center. She held the pendant up to the light and watched the way the diamond bent and reflected the daylight, scattering sunbeams across Luca’s room.

Slipper abandoned his ribbon and threw his tiny body at one of the dancing streaks of light, colliding instead with the wall.

“Slipper!” Cass said, nearly dropping the necklace. “Are you all right?”

As if he understood her words, the cat walked dazedly in a circle and then licked one paw and rubbed his face before launching himself at another rogue ball of light.

Cass returned her attention to the pendant. As she struggled to work the tiny clasp behind her neck, she thought about the day Luca had given it to her. She’d been in the garden, reading, when he had come around the front of the house, a pale lily cradled in his hands.

“Grazie,” she’d said when he rested the lily next to her on the bench. Her eyes had flipped back to her book. She didn’t mean to ignore him, but she was at a good part in her story.

“Cass.” He’d angled his head toward the back of the garden, where roses bloomed in the wooden trellis. Stuck among them was another pale pink lily.

Cass had arched an eyebrow, but then given in and closed her book. She and Luca had played this game when she was younger, both at his family palazzo and at Agnese’s. Luca used to hide little presents for her and mark the hiding spots with lilies.

A smile playing across her lips, Cass got up to look at the second pink lily that he had poked into the trellis. Behind the delicate petals, a gold box was tied to the wood. Inside it, this necklace. Cass remembered the soft touch of Luca’s hands and the tickle of his breath on her skin as he bent low to work the tiny clasp.

The wall clock chimed, and Cass was shocked to discover that she had been in Luca’s room nearly two hours. She slipped down the hallway and knocked quietly at her aunt’s door. No answer. She peeked in to find that Agnese was sleeping, her body propped up awkwardly in her bed with several embroidered pillows.

Agnese’s health had taken a turn for the worse after Madalena’s wedding. Sometimes Cass could hear her coughing well into the night. She watched Agnese’s chest rise and fall beneath the fabric of her dressing gown. Her breathing seemed labored, her exhalations shallow and raspy. One gnarled hand, fingers twisted and swollen, dangled off the edge of the bed.

Crossing the room to her aunt’s side, Cass knelt down and folded Agnese’s arm so that her hand now rested on her lap. The old woman didn’t even stir, and Cass couldn’t bring herself to disturb her.

As Cass retreated into the hall and closed the door to her aunt’s chamber, she saw Siena hurrying down the corridor. They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Siena spoke first. “You have to come quickly, Signorina Cass,” she said, her eyes wide.

“What is it?” Cass asked. “What’s happened?”

Siena struggled to catch her breath. She tucked her trembling fingers into the folds of her dress. “It’s my sister,” she said, her voice catching. “I found her.”