Masquerading (Open)

[Initiate_me]

The days dragged by. Eleanora stayed at her Father's house, trying to be busy, trying to be useful. But household tasks and errands could only swallow so much of the day for her, time still remained to be.... lonely. Her first reaction to the realisation that Volpe had kept her secret (she expected this was his way of avoiding any personal shame for his conduct), was relief. But that had washed away, and she was left to mourn the passing of her opportunity. A gentleman, a strong, kind gentelman. That she would never see again. All she had left was a scarlet jacket, which lay in her bed, under the covers, as it had every night since the evening on which she had walked for miles on her own, away from the gleaming lights of high society, back to her dull grey life at home.

She sighed, brushing her silky black hair from her eyes. She wondered..... what he might be doing at this moment, on this slow morning. Did he ever think of her.....

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael had only run two blocks before realising the futility of rushing off into the dark on foot in the pursuit of a woman whose identity still evaded him. If Venice was known for three things, it was lace, glass, and the maze of streets, alleyways, and canals that ran in every direction possible. It was the latter of these that had brought him back to his carriage, bringing with him neither Lady Indigo nor his jacket, but it was the former two that now placed him at the docks, running his eyes over the manifest of a ship due to leave port.

He wore black suit pants, as was the accepted standard for business. His white sleeves were rolled up to just below his shoulders, a dark coloured waistcoat over his shoulders.

Despite having built up his own personal wealth to the point that his merchant operations could manage themselves, he enjoyed remaining hands on. Raphael Idoni had never been afraid to get his hands dirty.

Signing the document once he was satisfied that all was present and accounted for, he shook hands with the captain and wished the man a pleasant journey. Then he washed his hands in a barrel of water and turned to walk to his carriage that waited nearby, Antonio holding the reigns of the chestnut horse as he waited patiently.

Raphael rolled down his sleeves as he walked, then climbed into the back seat. On the opposite seat rested his black jacket, safely away from the first and dust of the port area. Seeing it there on its own reminded him – not for the first time – of the masquerade ball. He wondered where Lady Indigo might be now. In the few interactions he’d had with the aristocracy since that evening, he’d studied the women he’d seen, but none had her eyes.

For now, she remained elusive, and Raphael was at a loss as to her identity. He only hoped that the old man who’d threatened her had been sufficiently embarrassed to prevent him from taking any further action.

”Antonio,” he said with a resigned sigh. ”Take us to Piazza San Marco. I wish to people watch again.”

 

[Initiate_me]

La Piazza hummed with activity. The air was excitable, the babble of intermingling voices, the sounds of their feet, the scent of their bodies and perfumes. The beating heart of Venice.

On this day, the area immediately in front of La Basilica di San Marco was host to an ill-tempered discussion. Three lavishly-dressed gentleman formed a loose circle. One was young, stocky and powerful-looking. One was grey, red-faced and slightly overweight. One was bald, tall and rakishly thin.

"It's no use, friend. You know the game, and even you must confess that she in no way broke the rules."

"I was humiliated!"

"That may be so," The hairless man continued, "But..... it was by your own deeds, your own ill decisions."

"I was wronged and must act, I must!"

"Volpe, see sense. She behaved as the lady. She was meek. She was silent. That interfering man did, it is true, act as an uncivilised animal. But your quarrel is with him and no one else."

The muscular young man spoke up roughly. "But how can father seek satisfaction when he knows not the identity of this braggart? It is not just that he should have to simply accept such a slighting!"

"Injust, perhaps. But there are no other options. And I fail to see why it can be of such consequence to you, Volpe. What care you for such a petty incident? Your financial occupation pays better than ever, you have a strong and respected son here, and....." He lowered his voice somewhat, " And, forgive me but it must be said, you have....a wife of your own that should, surely, be the sole object of your attentions......should she not?"

This suggestion sent Volpe into a fury, his face flushing a deep, bloody red. "I will not listen to such preachings from you sir! I provide for my wife and son, I provide handsomely! What entertainment I seek with my own time is noman's business!"

The tall bald man shifted uncomfortably. "Of course, old friend. I'm truly sorry, forgive me. Perhaps... well, you did say that you know who this young lady is?"

"Yes, yes. She is Eleanora Simoneti, the daughter of a business acquaintance of mine. I believe she is of nineteen years. She doesn't see society much. She is clumsy and he prefers to keep her away from attention. But she is..... very striking. And.... fragile, like a beautiful bird. Her slender figure....." Volpe seemed to suddenly remember where he was, and coughed away his embarassment. "I know her, yes. And I could find her, but then what?"

"Well," His friend started, with a growing smile, "Who knows what the threat of some story passed on to her father might induce her to do for you? Some imbellishments, some mistruths.... you are respected and believed. Would having her at you beck and call be sufficient recompense for that evening of disrespect?"

Volpe considered this, dragging fingers through his silver hair. His son was looking away, but the teenager knew of his father's ways, and by tis point believed such appetites and infidelities to be acceptable and normal.

Volpe nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, yes I think that would compensate me. Very well....."

 

[KiwiD82]

People watching had become something of a hobby for Raphael. He enjoyed being able to take a break from the rush of the modern age to simply sit and observe, wondering about the identities of those he saw and what experiences they may have had in life.

Piazza San Marco was his favourite place for this pastime because it was usually crowded. In particular, he enjoyed being near the Campanile di San Marco, often climbing the bell tower to get a view from above.

And, if truth be told, he had been people watching more often of late, wondering if he might spy Lady Indigo, but he was less hopeful with each passing day.

This time around, he decided to leave the carriage at the entrance to the Piazza and go for a stroll on his own, observing as he went. By the time he’d got to the Doge’s Palace, he’d seen all manner of people: the destitute old man who fed the pigeons on a daily basis; the two young ladies who were deep in giggling conversation with one another; the small boy who chased the birds as his mother watched on.

And now, just across from him in front of the opulent Basilica di San Marco, three men were involved in a heated exchange. Raphael paused briefly to chuckle lightly at the sight of them, differing in both age and shape, as one in particular became red-faced and flustered…

Is that…?

Raphael took a closer look, now actively studying the trio, but in particular the silver-haired man who had clearly been rewarding his stomach too much of late.

Yes…it is…

The young merchant edged closer, trying to look like any other Venetian, hopeful that nothing about his stature would be recognisable. And as he did so, he took mental notes.

So his name is Volpe, he observed, resolving to make use of that piece of information. If he wants justice, then he shall have it.

Raphael was in no position to make himself known – not with himself outnumbered by the trio. But perhaps, if he was to get Volpe alone…

Any thought of retribution on Raphael’s part was shelved as soon as the older man named Lady Indigo.

Eleanora Simoneti, he recited in his mind, cycling the name over and over to commit it to memory. I shall find her, and then I can deal with this Volpe.

The Simoneti house was well known throughout Venice. They were wealthy, too, which meant Raphael knew where in the city to start his search.

Squinting his eyes in determination as the men spoke of compensation, Raphael had his plan, but it first required finding Lady Simoneti, and more specifically, his jacket.

 

[Initiate_me]

In her bedroom, Eleanora tried to distract herself wth her paints. The room was luxurious- but lonely, like a wealthy old widow. She had barely been out of the mansion since that thrilling but painful evening, only briefly for mass, and for short walks. She was always sure to return in good time, to avoid the questioning, disapproving glare of her father. Meanwhile her sister was forever preparing to visit different friends, attend functions.... Eleanora felt stifled.

She fidlled with the brushes, gazed dreamily at the colours.....the deep red prompted her memories of the gentleman whisking her away from danger, in the red jacket. The one which now lay in her bed, comforting and tormenting her. She wondered vaguely what would happen if she stole some valuable items and ran away from home.

 

[Kelleebabes]

.....

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael sent Antonio back to his small manor, then made his way on foot to the wealthy quarter of the city. Along the way, he had been reminding himself of the two names that mattered most: Eleanora Simoneti and Signor Volpe.

Lady Indigo's real name enchanted him, while her would-be kidnapper's name rang a faint and distant bell. He recognised it from somewhere, but he couldn't pinpoint why. He certainly hadn't known the man's face, which meant it had to be by reputation alone.

Raphael was still mulling over where he had previously heard Volpe's name, and in which context, when he found himself outside a building that oozed decadence all on its own. Three levels high and in the latest Baroque style of architecture, the veritable palace spoke of wealth- and, crucially, of power.

The red and white crest that was affixed to the facade by the front door, showing a lion rampant, told him this was the place.

Suitably intimidated by the very situation that he had placed himself in, Raphael reminded himself of Eleanora and her striking eyes to give him a surge of courage - and, no doubt, foolishness - and he approached doorman.

"Mi scusi," he began, steadying his voice as best he could despite his nerves. "I am here to speak with Miss Simoneti, on behalf of Signor Volpe."

 

[Initiate_me]

Stefano sighed. It had been quite a tiring day. Signor Simoneti had made many requests regarding the mansion, inlcuding the removal of several heavy statues that he claimed had grown to irritate him. Signor Simoneti was, Stefano reflected, a complicated man. Kind, but with a persistent pride that made him a fool for the latest fashions and luxurious items, from paintings to furniture and everything in between. He claimed that everything was art. Stefano often wondered if this was a reaction to his dreadfully dull (and really quite vulgar) banking occupation. He would never ask, of course. And the daughters......one with constant deamnds and specifications, the other too meek to be drawn into a conversation of more than a minute- and always dropping things, upsetting the house's ornaments. But she was a sweet one. Kind like her father, but without his pretensions and indulgencies.

Stefano looked around the hall and noted with satisfaction that everything was now as it should be. His industry had paid off, as it always did. Signor Simoneti would have to be pleased upon his returnfrom his.... profession.

At that moment, the external doors opened with a slow and ominous creak, and the doorman stepped forth, leading.... someone. Someone Stefano did not recognise.

"A gentleman to speak with Miss Simoneti." Announced the doorman, before withdrawing with a flourish. Stefano sighed inwardly. That doorman was almost useless, never questioning visitors in the slightest. He had shown in several rogue preachers and the odd beggar since his appointment, and Stefano was the one who had to deal with them all. Very well, he would do so again.

"Do excuse our doorman, he's.....in training. What can I do for you, sir? You wish to speak with Signorina SImoneti?"

 

[KiwiD82]

Stefano wasn't the only one surprised by the ease with which Raphael gained entrance to the Simoneti household - the merchant was likewise caught off guard that he was now inside the building, rather than outside arguing his case.

All of a sudden, he had been ushered inside and he doubted any further access would be gained quite so easily.

Raphael had briefly considered changing his approach, and instead seeking Signor Simoneti himself. He could tell him of Volpe's behaviour at the ball and his intended lies - but the doorman had stated his visit was for the patriarch's daughter, so the die had been cast.

Of course, the merchant had not considered that Eleanora might have a sister...

Raphael bowed deeply in greeting, then nodded in agreement.

"Signor Volpe - a gentleman known to Signor Simoneti, I do believe - has asked that I deliver a message to Signorina Simoneti in person."

 

[Initiate_me]

Stefano raised an eyebrow at the request. Usually messages passed through him, as Signor Simoneti understandably preferred. However it wasn't unheard of for Caterina to recieve messages through another proxy. She had, through consistently perfect social conduct, earned the right to keep Stefano out of the loop. Which annoyed him somewhat, but he was partly pleased at her deveolpment. And the name of Signor Volpe carried weight- he was, Stefano mused, a gentleman of some stature. One to be trusted.

"Very well sir, if you will step into the parlour and make yourself comfortable, I shall fetch Signorina Simoneti."
He gestured to the expensively-deocrated parlour, with its elaborate ornaments and sofas designed for style above comfort. Stefano liked that. Guests could admire the upholstery, but were unlikely to outstay their welcome and linger for a second cup of tea, unless they were close friends of the family.

The portly head-servant slowly climbed the spiral staircase, striding primly down the corridor to the door of Catrina's room, and knocked firmly. A moment later she opened the door, glad to be distracted from her studying. She was a year older than her sister, taller, with her hair more elaborately preened and styled, her eyes a little more insistent, her bearing a little more confident. The face recognisably similar, but with fuller cheeks and lips,appearing softer but somehow but less delicate.

"Yes, Stefano? You have interrupted my studies you know, you wicked man," She teased playfully.
The servant did not rise to the bait. "You have a visitor with a message. You will find him in the parlour. I have tasks to take care of but shall expect you to have concluded with the gentleman and ready to recomence your studies when I finish- as your father would desire." With that he turned and made his way to the store-room for polish. Signor Simoneti appreciated a properly cleaned house.

Catrina raced down the stairs, sparkling with excitement. She wondered from whom the message would be- there certainly were a few options, various eligble men whom she had danced with or fluttered her long lashes at. She stopped for a moment outside the parlour, taking a breath to calm herself, tending to her perfect hair. Then she opened the door and entered the room. The gentleman appeared to be examining his hands, so she coughed daintily to prompt him to look upon her. She prepared her most winning of smiles.

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael's nerves had suddenly caught up with him.

It was only an hour or so earlier that he had been at the docks, unaware of Eleanora's identity. Now he was in the parlour of her father's house and she was soon approaching.

Aware that Stefano might return to be present during the conversation, the merchant pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and nervously unfurled it. It was a note he had hurriedly scribbled in the carriage just before sending Antonio home and beginning his walk to the wealthy quarter of town.

He read it through one last time, then pocketed it again. If Stefano returned, it was his only means of communicating privately with Lady Indigo.

Raphael looked down at his sweaty palms, wiping them gently on his pants to dry them, deaf to Caterina's approach until she coughed.

He looked up and immediately rose, smiling, and moved towards her. His long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, a dark shadow rested across his chin from shaving, and dark brown eyes studied the woman before him.

As he approached, he began to falter oh so slightly. She was attractive, to be sure, but something wasn't quite right.

It was her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he spoke warmly. "I must have confused your head servant. Signor Volpe has asked me to seek out Eleanora Simoneti. Is she here?"

 

[Initiate_me]

"Eleaonra?!" Catrina couldn't help the exclamation bursting forth, such was her surprise that the visitor wished to speak to her sister and not her. She frowned and toyed with her hair, examining the messenger. He wa, she mused, masculine and handsome. Well dressed- clothes were everything. And acting as an errand-runner for Signor Volpe? Perhaps he was one of his financial friends, or.... his son? She had never met him..... she stared a little more, and decided that he did not look as if he could be the son- she had heard he was a teenager, from Volpe's much younger wife. Well, if he was a friend, he must be wealthy....

"May I enquire of what Signor Volpe's communication with my sister entails? I am, after all, her older sister, slightly. Eleanora is..... a delicate flower. Yes, that's right." Catrina smiled, pleased with her metaphor.

 

[KiwiD82]

Catrina’s strong response surprised Raphael. He had already assumed her to be Eleanora’s sister judging by her looks and similar age – but her larger and louder personality seemed at odds with what he’d experienced at the ball.

That wasn’t to say she was unattractive; on the contrary, she brought her own sense of beauty, but even she had noted that her sister was more delicate.

”I apologise, Signorina Simoneti,” Raphael continued, ”But I am to deliver the message to Eleanora and no other.”

He paused, studying the eyes of the woman opposite him, trying to gauge just how much she could string her along in order to restrict her opposition. He stepped forward, almost too far, leaning his head to her ear and whispered, all the while scanning through the doorway on the off chance that he might see Bella Indigo.

”Although I’m told, if you can keep a secret, that the message is from a mystery admirer. Not Signor Volpe himself, but someone he knows. I believe it must have been someone from the masquerade. I’m sure there’s nothing to it – it probably won’t last – but no harm in letting her have a little fun while the adults deal with more important matters, no?”

Raphael leaned back, smiling gently, hoping she would perceive this information to be a secret confided in nobody else.

It wasn’t entirely false, of course. She did indeed have an admirer, but he hoped it would last. And he knew that every great lie had to have a kernel of truth to it in order to seem convincing.

 

[Initiate_me]

Catrina nodded, satisfied. Yes, there could be no harm in letting Eleanora enjoy a little excitement, goodness knows she needed it. Something to draw her out of her shell a little. They were hardly in competition for prospective husbands- Eleanora was, Catrina supposed, similarly beautiful, but her social skills... or lack thereof.... really limited her. Catrina had no such problem.

She returned the smile, enjoying the game. "Yes, very well. I shall fetch her for you. You can deliver the message here, and I shall go and distract Stefano with talk of new fixtures and artworks that my father might desire for the house- as you shall need a few minutes in order to persuade poor Eleanora to make any kind of reply!"

Catrina graced the visitor with a knowing wink, one that had sent many a man into shivers of desire, and turned on her heel to briskly exit the parlour. She left Raphael with a tense wait of several minutes. He was not to know, but she was engaged in a brief struggle in Eleanora's bedroom, to convince her sister to greet the messenger.

"You simply must go down to him."
"I.... will do as I desire," Eleanora replied.
"This is a wonderful day for you! A gentleman, a friend of Signor Volpe nonetheless, has chosen to send you a message! You ought to be racing down to the parlour, you really ought to."
Eleanora couldn't express to her sister her reasons for avoiding anything related to Volpe. "I don't feel well. I fancy I caught a chill on my stroll yesterday."
Catrina laughed at that. "Hardly likely! It was a most warm and agreeable day. You must go down, I shan't hear of any refusal. You cannot leave him down there any longer, it is most rude." She man-handled her sister out of the door. "Go now, and try not to say anything silly or embarass yourself in any of your usual ways."

Eleanoa's descent of the stairs was glacier-like in its speed. Each step was heavy and slow, as her mind rushed in panic through the possibilities. Volpe must have some threat to make, some reprocssion for his humiliation. She dreaded it. Finally her slender pale fingers closed around the doorknob, and she entered the room, her eyes low, to the floor. She could sense the presence of the man, but couldn't bear to raise her gaze to him.

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael smiled back at Catrina as she went to fetch her younger sister, but the smile was only one of satisfaction. He knew full well that the game was still in play, and her wink implied that she had been taken by his ruse.

As she left, the merchant reflected that if there was one thing about Catrina that caught his eye, it was her confidence. Perhaps if he was able to coax Eleanora out of her shell…

It was only a matter of minutes before he heard her slow, careful footsteps, but it seemed like an age. Raphael stood stationary, silently and patiently listening.

And then she appeared.

Far more elegant than she could have known, but also indescribably shy.

Raphael couldn’t blame her. Catrina had likely told her he was acting on Volpe’s instructions, and she was likely expecting the worst. It was a cruel thing to have done, but the only way he could imagine of gaining access to the secluded lady.

Even so, the wealthy young man couldn’t help but smile when he saw her. He stepped forward slowly, gently, not wanting to frighten the poor doe any further.

He paused, soaking in the moment, hopeful of a positive response, and then spoke in a soft, warm voice.

”Ciao Bella Indigo.”

 

[Initiate_me]

Eleanora's responsed was slow, but as the greeting reverberated around her mind, a faint recognition sparked. She knew the gentle voice..... from a night of disaster, of thrill. She brought her head up to look upon him. The jaw seemed the same, the stature seemed the same. The same posture. Entranced, she forgot herself and stepped forward, closing the space between them to less than a foot, to discover him. She looked in his eyes and knew that he was the gentleman who had taken her from the lecherous arms of Volpe, away through the bustle of unthinking socialites, onto the balcony and the clearing night air.

They remained stood inchs apart for a long moment, before Eleanora remembered herself and broke away.

"I..... I did not expect to see you here, or.....anywhere, ever, I......" Her stammerings trailed off and silence retook her.

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael first grinned, then smiled, as Eleanora stepped forward and her eyes - such beautiful eyes - looked up at him.

It was her gaze, cautious but curious, that he recognised, and he felt as though he might fall into it all over again.

"Do not be embarrassed, Eleanora," he chuckled, saying her name to her face for the very first time.

He swept up her hand, bowed slightly, and raised it to his lips, planting them gently against it.

"Raphael Idoni at your service," he smiled, looking back up at her.

The handsome merchant then straightened himself and stepped back, releasing Eleanora's hand. His smile faded and he briefly scanned the room before continuing.

"Eleanora, we only have a few minutes before your sister returns and she thinks I'm here on Volpe's instructions."

He paused, desperately hoping the poor flower would be able to take this in.

"I saw Volpe no more than an hour ago at Piazza San Marco. He seeks to blackmail you by threatening to tell your father that you embarrassed him at the ball unless you do whatever he wants - and I dread to think what that might be."

Another pause, seeking reassurance from her eyes that she was following, and then he resumed.

"This is his twisted form of justice, but I will seek to challenge him to a duel to settle the matter otherwise. But in order to do that, I need my jacket, or he won't know who I am. I trust you still have it?"

Even before the delicate beauty before him could answer, he was producing the note from his pocket.

"Take this, Bella. Midnight tonight, if you would - we never finished our date."

One last pause, then Raphael took her hand again for a farewell kiss, before exiting.

The note, still warm in Eleanora's hand, read:
Signorina Indigo,

Midnight at the small canal bridge two blocks upstream from here. Bring the jacket.

Signor Red

 

[Initiate_me]

Eleanora was left alone in the parlour. Her hand burned from the touch of his lips, and his voice rang in her head. A strange sensation shimmered through her, a strong pulsating disbelief. His promise to duel Volpe provoked concern, but gladdened her- it was the only way she could preserve her already-sullied reputation. The note thrilled her with its simple request.

Several hours passed, and still she sat in her room, the darkness already gathered menacingly outside, knowing that the time drew closer, afraid to move. She had acted rebelliously in taking a key from one of Stefano's non-too-secret hiding places, and had a thick black cloak wrapped around her to ward away the cold. She had evaded her sister's questions, and now that all the house was asleep, her chance had come.

Eleanora gathered her strength and once more crept down the stairs. The jacket was tucked under her arm, the note still clasped in her palm. She opened the back door with painstaking care, tension plucking at her heart. She set out into the night.

 

[KiwiD82]

When he had first met Eleanora, Raphael had noted her innocent but alluring eyes, her soft and gentle lips, her delicate body.

But now he had seen her face in full, and she seemed impossibly more beautiful than ever. She was still shy, and clearly living in the shadow of her older sister, but Raphael was sure that could change.

And that change would, he hoped, begin with tonight. It had been a deliberate move to ask her to escape the house after dark. Certainly, it was easier to get his jacket this way, but it also forced her to be brave and to come out of her shell to some degree.

He only hoped she had found the courage.

Raphael stood atop the small bridge mentioned in his note, dressed in a dark suit, a white shirt and a gold-laced waistcoat beneath. To the side of the bridge sat his carriage, Antonio sitting patiently but safely out of earshot. And sitting on the handrail of the bridge in front of him were two full champagne flutes.

 

[Initiate_me]

Eleanora stalked her dreams through the darkened streets of venice, her heart on a string. The jacket felt heavy under her arm, weighing her down, as voices of doubt urged her to flee back to the safety of her room. She steeled herself and ignored them, increasing her pace. A drunk in a doorway called out to her incomprehensibly, but she kept her focus ahead, leaving him to his own intoxicated exclamations.

The canal eventually became apparent ahead. Then the bridge. It bore the footfall of many during the day, but in the hours of darkness it stood almost always alone. Not tonight. The white of his shirt alreted her first to Signor Idoni, and the dark of her clothing kept her night's secret until she was just a few feet from him. Unable to bring herself to break the silence with some common, insufficient greeting, she cleared her throat daintily to take his attention.

 

[KiwiD82]

The night had brought with it a cool stillness as Raphael waited, hoping Eleanora would find the courage to join him. He watched the moonlit water of the canal, but frequently checked the streets, daring himself to believe that he would see her dainty form gracing the cobbled stones with her presence.

The streets of Venice weren't completely empty, even this late at night. Certain quarters had women offering their...charms. The occasional passerby or drunk on his way home could be seen now and then, but for the most part, Raphael stood alone on the bridge.

Until now.

A delicate cough, from a delicate throat, wafted through the night air. Its close proximity gave the merchant a fright - he had thought he would be able to see anyone approach, but he'd been bested.

He turned to see the outline of a shorter figure with a slight build, black cloak wrapped around its shoulders and a hood sitting atop its head, but Raphael didn't need the moonlight reflecting across her gorgeous face to reveal to him who it was.

"Bella Indigo!" he exclaimed, opening his arms and offering her a wide smile.

Normally, he would have wished to kiss her hand in greeting, but both were concealed in her cloak, so he embraced her gently instead, kissing her on the cheek.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," he continued, still beaming as he stepped back. "But I'm glad you did."

Raphael turned to reveal the two champagne flutes, their contents sparkling in the moonlight. He picked up both glasses and extended one to his beautiful flower.

"Shall we?" he grinned. "For us, the night is only beginning."

 

[Initiate_me]

That promise provoked a rise of colour in Eleanora's cheeks, which has until then been cool with the night. She took the glass, and she knew that she trusted him. Something in him, beyond his polite manners and handsome appearence, spoke to her. His kiss on her cheek had stirred her.

"What happens now?"

 

[KiwiD82]

There was no denying that Raphael Idoni, wealthy merchant of Venice, had been captivated by Eleanora Simoneti from the very beginning.

It had begun with a blur of indigo at a masquerade ball, and had now led to a secret midnight meeting on a small canal bridge in the wealthiest quarter of the city.

Even by Raphael's standards, this was an unusual turn of events.

Had he been hard pressed to define what it was about her that had made him willing to risk his honour - and his life - in a sword duel, he would have had difficulty in pinpointing an answer.

Certainly, she was beautiful. That had been what first caught his eye. And rescuing any damsel in distress, as he had on the dance floor, was appealing. But there was something else; something unquantifiable.

And he liked that.

Raphael took a small sip of champagne, smiling as she spoke.

"Firstly, you can pull back your hood," he grinned, reaching a hand out and tugging the material away himself, exposing her whole head to the moonlight.

Then his smile faded, and his expression became one of concern.

"And tell me of yourself, Eleanora. I've never seen you at any of Venice's lavish events. Your sister, I've heard of, but no mention of the prettiest flower in the garden. And what of Signor Volpe? Why does he think he owns you?"

 

[Initiate_me]

His removal of her hood put Eleanora is mind of the whispering she had occasionally heard of..... of what happens when a gentleman has his sweetheart alone in his chamber. It was a fleeting, thrillig, terrifying thought.
The sincere questioning expression of his pushed her to honesty.

"I.... I'm not often permitted to attent such festivities. I have rather clumsy habits. I.... knock things over, and spill things, and forget names, and trip over my gowns.... I can't really be trusted. All of it is my own fault. Father is really very patient with me, I'm grateful. And besides, I'm hardly the prettiest flower...."

She gazed out onto the canal. Still dark water.
"Signor Volpe doesn't own me. But.... he has his reasons for acting as though I'm his. I can't speak of why." She avoided his eyes.

 

[KiwiD82]

Raphael watched Eleanora intently as she spoke of things he'd never seen in her: clumsiness, spilling drinks, tripping over.

But it was her comment about not being the prettiest flower that provoked him to respond.

"Such a pity," he lamented. "Venice is renowned for its glass trade and its greatest beauty clearly lacks a looking glass."

He grinned slightly, hoping to ease her discomfort somewhat.

But her faltered explanation of her situation involving Signore Volpe made it clear that she still felt trapped.

What could it be? he wondered. She can't be sworn to him - the man is married and thrice her age! Unless she is sworn to Volpe's son...?

Raphael had seen the young man at La Piazza San Marco, and he hoped it wasn't him. Eleanora was being fought over and she didn't even realise her own value.

He reached forward, caressing her cheek as he had previously, her cool cheek in his warm palm. He didn't turn her head but he yearned to look into her eyes.

"Eleanora," he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Tell me. If I'm to challenge this man to a duel for your honour, I need to be prepared."

He paused briefly, sincerely concerned for her. Such a fragile flower and she was at risk of being trampled underfoot.

"You can trust me, milady."