Candle in the Attic Window(55)
The endless, steaming days and soggy nights plodded along, interminable. The flat plains to the north of the river steamed and festered, while Alicia endured nights twitching and writhing in a frenzy of frustrated desire. In the morning, sodden bedclothes stank from the sweat of fantasy lovers.
On this day in late September, her vigil bore fruit. A thunderclap of approaching hoof-beats heralded the end of her blighted existence. The onset of autumn, with its cooling rains, had dispersed the pox, calmed the Duke’s fears for the safety of his loved ones, and brought about the return of her mistress and the adored Ugo.
“At last, I shall be released from this itching which wracks my days and torments my nights,” she cried to the approaching cloud. “Surely, after this intolerable separation, he will be emboldened to speak of transforming our dark needs into reality.”
Time, wretched thing that it is, passes. Oh, evil fate. With each unresolved day, Alicia became more distraught.
That fateful morning, she stood in the arcaded loggia just outside her mistress’ chamber, shredding a silken chemise, her fingers enacting on the thin fabric the resentment she felt at his betrayal.
“They have been back a week today – an entire week. He hasn’t spoken a word to me,” she hissed at the ravaged chemise. “I have ceased to exist. My heart is wrenched into jagged pieces.”
Her eyes narrowed, remembering. “His fingers linger over-long on my mistress’s hand. I am filled with the most stinging bile at this betrayal.” Her nails raked the innocent silk.
Never one to endure frustration for long, Alicia decided to search her mistress’ chamber while she was at table with the Marquis.
When the contemptible lady appeared, flouting her betrayal in ruffles and lace, Alicia accompanied her mistress to the small dining chamber and saw her seated opposite her husband. Ignoring a speculative look from the Marquis, and wishing them “Buon giorno”, she retreated.
Secure in the knowledge that the Lady would not return in less than an hour, Alicia ransacked the chamber, looking for evidence of Parisina’s treachery until her fingers seized upon a new clove pomade. Opening its secret chamber, she found a ring hidden inside.
At first glance, she recognised it as Ugo’s – her Ugo’s. When she tried to place it on her finger, it would not fit. The flimsy trinket had been cut down, made smaller to fit the hand of a faithless wife. Looking more closely, she espied the inscription traced on the inside: To my enchanting Parisi, long may this remind you of our love.
Her eyes were thrown open, her heart stabbed with betrayal. Tossing the wretched thing into the fire, Alicia ran out of the chamber, only to collide with her dear Uncle Zoesi, upon whom she collapsed in a flood of tears. As she sobbed against his chest, he was so supportive that soon, she had confided to him all her sadness and resentment.
The High Priestess
My maidservant Alicia was Zoesi’s niece. She had served me faithfully for two years and could rightly expect a prosperous marriage, with a proper dowry, after her time with me. Such was my habitual way to reward those who had pleased me. Concerned about Zoesi’s intentions, I determined to question her about her uncle’s habits and activities – perhaps to confide some of my fears to her.
When I returned to my chamber, Alicia was nowhere to be seen. What was to be seen was a maelstrom of overturned tables, bottles tipped onto the floor, powders and tablets trod underfoot. All of my bedclothes had been torn from the mattress and thrown about the chamber. Ignoring these, I searched frantically for my clove pomade. Finding it open under a pile of pillows, I knew without looking that Ugo’s ring was missing.
Only Alicia had access to my room. Only she could have done this. Why? Ordering her brought to me, I cleared debris from a stool and sat down to wait. On first entering the chamber, she feigned astonishment at the sight.
“My Lady, what is this? What has happened here?”
“Alicia, please do not insult me with falsehoods. Only you have keys to my chamber.”
“I ... no ... There are others ... the Marquis ... My Uncle Zoesi ….”
“The Marquis was with me, as you know. Are you accusing your uncle of this ... this abomination?”
“I ... no ... I don’t know.”
“Come, come, Alicia. Stop this play-acting. Where is the ring that was in my pomade?”
“What ring? I know of no ring.”
“Alicia – stop. I shall have you searched – by two or three of my men. They would make a very thorough experience of it. Would you like that?”
“No, please ... no.”
“Then tell me what you did with the ring and we shall put this behind us.”
“It is ... I threw it into the fire.”
I rushed to the fireplace and, grabbing a poker, began to search through the ashes. Finding it in the far corner, I said a silent prayer to the angels for Alicia’s lack of dexterity and turned back to my cowering servant. If ever I had thought her a friend, she was now anathema to me.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“My Lady, I was trying to protect you. I saw the ring was a man’s and too small to be the Master’s. In a fit of panic, I threw it onto the flames, lest other eyes should happen upon it.”
“Alicia, I don’t believe you. Do you think I have not noticed the way your eyes seek out Ugo, undressing him with your hungry thoughts? I cannot stand the sight of you. You are dismissed. You will be beaten before quitting this palace forever.”