He left the room. I heard murmuring from beyond, in the great hall that gave onto the canal. Gobbo returned and ushered me in. Rebecca sat on an embroidered stool by the window, her back to me, staring out of the window into the night. Delapole stood next to her, beaming as always, looking every inch the kindly English gentleman.
“Scacchi,” he said, and beckoned me to join him. “Your plan has come full circle. Rebecca has found a place in my household and shall see her talents richly rewarded. In all but name — though given these cruel times, that is, I fear, inevitable.”
I tried to see her face, but she kept it turned away from me.
“I would like to speak with Miss Guillaume alone, sir. If that is possible.”
“Guillaume? Oh, you mean Levi? Come. There are no secrets between us anymore.”
“So I see, Mr. Delapole. I would appreciate a moment, nevertheless.”
The Englishman looked down his nose at her and I hated myself. In the candlelight reflected from the window, I could see him for what he was: a cold, cruel man who viewed his fellow creatures as mere playthings, pieces on a human chessboard, to be moved and sacrificed at will. It amazed me I had not guessed as much before. He stared at her and relished what he saw: her powerlessness, I thought. And her beauty, as if he had trapped a butterfly in his fist.
“Gobbo and I have business,” he told me. “An hour, no more. Then I’ll be back. Don’t mistreat my generosity, lad. This is an adult affair, and you’ll have no part in it.”
I bowed my head deferentially. Then, with an arrogant smirk, he swept out of the room, with Gobbo in his wake. She sat with her back to me still. There was no time for such nonsense. I interposed myself between her and the glass, bent down, and took her by the arms.
“Rebecca,” I said. “Whatever you think is happening here, you must, I beg you, flee. Delapole is the very Devil. I have been in Rome and know his true nature better than I’d like. If you stay with him, he’ll take your life before long, and that’s a fact.”
Still she stared outside at the dim lights and the movement on the canal until the anger began to rise inside me.
“Come!” I gripped her arm tightly and tried to make her move. “We must be gone.”
“No!” She broke free and fixed me with a look that was pure hatred. “Why do you torment me like this, Lorenzo? Have I not suffered enough for your jealousy?”
I fell back against the window and closed my eyes. What a fool I was to think I had only to see her in order to win her back.
“Yes,” I said, and she did look at me then. “You have indeed, and for that I apologise with all my heart. But believe me, love. This man is a devil dressed in silk. He has robbed and murdered his way across half of Europe, and tomorrow the city shall have the proof of it. Come now and we’ll be gone from Venice by the time the watch are upon him.”
The cry of “wolf” had been heard once too often. There was contempt in her eyes. “But every man who looks at me is a demon, Lorenzo,” she declared. “Every last one. I have got to know our English friend well these last two nights, since he set out clearly the terms upon which Jacopo and I may keep our freedom, and a crumb of our dignity if we are lucky too. He does not seek to kill me, Lorenzo. He has other ideas than that, though I may wish myself dead when forced to accede to them.”
Her meaning was plain. “Then come in,” I pleaded, “and escape this beast! What reason could keep you here?”
“Because I have no choice! You, of all people, should see that.”
“Once we set foot on terra firma, Rebecca, we have all the choices in the world.”
“How?” The dead, defeated expression in her eyes chilled my blood. “One word to the authorities and we’d never leave Venice. This is an island, Lorenzo. Forewarned, they would catch us the moment we tried to take a boat. And not just me, but Jacopo, too, whom I have greatly wronged by entangling him in this affair. He thought that we were settled, finally, and hates the idea we’ll flee again.”
That much I had seen in his despairing, drunken face. Jacopo always was the most cautious among us.
“In Rome,” I said, “Delapole murdered a mistress who bore his child, the method of which I would not dare tell you. The same in Paris, and Geneva too. This man is deadly, Rebecca.”
Her hand ran through that sea of curls. She gazed at me, nervous, unsure of what to say. “Why should any man do that when all he need do is flee or deny the child?”
“It is in his history somehow. Or his nature. I do not know for certain. I only tell the facts, as they will be revealed when a magistrate arrives tomorrow and demands his arrest. When that happens, we are all in danger, love. Delapole will take whoever he can to join him on the scaffold.”
“With plenty of reason too,” she replied. “Forgery and blasphemy, fraud — for that fine fiddle is not paid for and has my name on the bill of sale.” She hesitated. “And a little whoring, too, when needs must.”
She sought to chase me from her sight with this, and make me flee for my own good. “I spoke to Jacopo,” I responded. “I know what you have done to survive.”
Those dark eyes glittered at me. “You know nothing, Lorenzo. Of who I am. Or what I am capable of. When you look at me, you see some perfect lady. You are much mistaken.”
“I see a woman. One who comforted me in my despair. One who made me see a world beyond myself. One I love, and who carries my child.”
She shook her head. “A child? More nonsense this, Lorenzo?” Yet there was blood in her cheeks.
“No. I saw you in a dream, in Rome…”
“A dream?”
“… which was, I think, my mind’s translation of what passed between us that last time we met. When you were troubled and I was angry. You carry my child, Rebecca, and hide the fact to protect me, when in truth you are the one in peril.”
Her eyes closed. Tears seeped beneath the lids.
“Oh, Lorenzo. If this is true, then all the more reason for me to take Delapole’s offer. What life would we have together with a child? We would be destitute or worse.”
“The life of a man and woman who love each other,” I answered swiftly. “What else might anyone ask?”
“No!” She sobbed before me, and I felt ashamed. “This is not possible. If I refuse Delapole’s bidding, we are all doomed. Jacopo and I, and you, too, if you are so foolish that you stay here.”
“I will never abandon you.”
“Then,” she said firmly, “I shall make you. Please, Lorenzo. If ever I meant something to you, go now, flee the city and find happiness elsewhere. For none of us shall discover it here.”
“He will kill you, Rebecca!”
“Then it will be over with, won’t it?” she answered severely.
The look on her sweet face horrified me. I fell to my knees and took her hands in mine. “Do not say that!”
Then, as if for the last time, Rebecca leaned forward and embraced me. I felt her damp cheek against mine. I held her tightly, but not tight enough, for she withdrew and wiped away the tears from her face.
“A woman of my kind must learn tricks in order to avoid this fate,” she said, not looking at me. “One must make a man happy but prevent the consequence that happiness so easily brings. You made me forget those skills by allowing me to realise there could be happiness on both sides too. And your sweetness and your innocence reminded me that once I came from the same mould. Now we both know the outcome. If I can convince Delapole the child is his, perhaps he’ll show a little mercy.”
“He’ll slit your throat and rip the unborn infant from your body, as he did in Rome.”
Her cheeks went pale. “So you say. Then let us hope this magistrate of yours comes knocking for him tomorrow and a miracle saves us from his wrath.”