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That was the plan....

When Burly and I finally arrived at the convent where La Contessa was last seen, it appeared to be locked up and deserted. Not one nun could be seen, no gardener, no caretaker. No one. Burly hammered at the big doors and called out, but silence was the stern reply. This scene was beginning to feel familiar standing outside a do Fruitlessly knocking

We decided to go to the local pub to talk this through and ask anyone there about the convent. It was a quiet place housing only a bald-headed bar tender and a surly looking chap drinking his vino rosso in the corner. We sat down at a table and ordered some grappa, warming ourselves by the nearby fire, collecting our thoughts.

The bar tender, Vincenzo Bertolino, although cordial, seemed a bit reserved, and it took a lot of our time and patience to pull out any information from him.

Apparently the building hasnt been a convent for at least five years, the nuns who once inhabited had moved to the nearby island of Burano! Strangely coincidental is the fact that the building was subsequently sold to Conte Francesco Foscari, Elenas grandfather, who, according to our host, never comes there. Now in his early eighties, the old Count has retired to Villa Malcontenta on the Brenta Canal, just outside Venezia. So vexed was I that I pulled off my veil and threw it on the floor in frustration-fantasies of a happy ending slowly turning to feelings of anger mixed with fear and foreboding.

Things were going nowhere. We were unable to learn anything from the stranger in the corner he was extremely hostile and seemed to resent Burlys elegant clothing. He asked to be left in peace. Some of his disparaging remarks to both of us made me blush.

So here we are-- no further ahead that we were two days ago but with even more questions than answers. Who were those people at the convent when La Contessa first entered it? It is true, we only saw one nun and one nun does not a convent make. Where did Elena go? Was she kidnapped or did she leave of her own volition? If so, who was waiting for her there? Also, why did those men attack Mercury? What were they trying to prevent him from doing or learning? Why is the Ca Foscari locked up and abandoned? Where is Count Foscari, Elena's father? Burly and I decided to return to Venezia and discuss this with |Mercury before proceeding further. What a dejected pair we were as we climbed aboard the gondola and reported back to Mercury

!

He had been sent away by his wife to sleep alone in the guest bedroom, a act that he himself felt was one of treachery by his wife and earned her a sound slap on the face. Even more an insult to himself was she'd demanded that a docteur pay them a call to make sure there were no vermin lurking between the sheets. Henri-Armand was furious and thankfully the docteur did indeed arrive that night, still he was no longer in the mood to bed his wife. The man proved that he had nothing wrong with him, other than a short and very explosive temper. A trait well known of his family. Even seen first hand by the Valet who wore the soup he flung across the room. That was enough to keep any man afraid and holding his tongue.

He grumbled to himself in bed, staring up in the darkness that he suffered too much embarrassmentby his insolent wife... tomorrow though, would be a new day.

I am so worried I could scream! Everywhere Burly and I go ends up being a dead end. It seems we are on a wild goose chase. I promised poor desperate Mercury that we would return to the convent where Contessa Elena Foscari was last seen entering, and do my best to find and save her. She and I have not yet met so Mercury thoughtfully wrote a letter of introduction for me to give to her. It seems no one can be trusted these days! Together we hatched a plan for me to enter the convent and look for the Contessa. I have an acquaintance whom I believe has gone into retreat there and I will pay her a visit, wearing a veil as is customary when aristocratic ladies move about the streets and waterways of Venice. I will also wear my hair in the elegant manner of the Contessa, somehow pulling this curly mop of mine into an elegant chignon described to me by Sr Gandt. He pleaded with me in a most persuasive manner, to be careful and discreet in my inquiries. He also hinted that I will be rewarded handsomely for my efforts which I, of course, dismissed as unnecessary (although I might consider accepting some as it could help me pay off some of my ever increasing gambling debts.)

But, I digress.

Our intention was for me to enter the convent wearing a black veil and look for the Contessa. We would then go to the room of my acquaintance and exchange our clothes--including the veil. Then la Contessa would leave the convent wearing my disguise and join Burly waiting outside. They were to wait for me at a nearby pub where I would quickly join them after I made my own exit, and we would all take a fast gondola back to Venezia and safety.

III

The morning was a dull one, but that would soon change. The stormy weather of the days previous had begun to pass. As time rolled on, the morning cleared, the clouds thinned, and natural light slowly lit the room. I sat up in bed, reading the letters that came the days before. The first was from my brother, the second was from a friend.

Before I could even open the letters, Lady Stewart mad a dramatic entrance into my room. With the sun light beaming through the window, casting a bright glow about the room, She bursts through the door, waving a letter in her hand, wildly exclaiming Get up, are you up? Look what I have!!! Rubbing my eyes, I replied coldly Its barely seven, what on earth are you doing up and fully dressed.How many blood times do I she cut me off, and began quiet, I have news she said, raising her hand dramatically Ive been invited to Versailles! It seems Im well missed and they are dying for my company I looked over and sarcastically exclaimed so you got dressed and will wait for the King to come and escort you himself to Court, in a golden carriage driven by swans? Its amazing to see how many expressions can flicker through a persons face in a moments time. She went from annoyed, to disgust to smirk, and waved it off to ignore the comment. She flounced herself around my room, settling into my chair at the desk, her pale green gown draping over the edges. I took a moment to study her, her hair perfectly curled, down to her collarbone, her gown, was fine silk, with lace trims, and she wore a small emerald necklace. Going to meet someone important? I asked. She turned to me, her bright eyes looking into mine Oh no! But I need to plan what to take, what gowns I must order, We must outshine the French you know, show them that the English are more fashionable and practical and whips out a little box, which she opens and exposes a small pouf. I arched an eyebrow, and got up out of the chair I was sitting in, and moved about the room, my dressing gown flowing behind me. I opened the letter from my friend and began to read:

My dear friend, you have been missed since your departure from Paris, I have decided to leave my seclusion of my country estate, as the king demands, and return to court. You know how the king likes his nobles to be at court.but among the other grandees, gossip, and scandal, I find myself alone. To pass the time, I will be engaging in more social gatherings, nothing too fancy, just dinners and salons, for my friends. My friends and I miss your company, and are interested in learning more about your court and its democratic waysalso if you can, allow me to borrow some of those books you secured. I have tried, but every time I get close to obtaining one, the government either finds it before I do, or takes it from the sellers hand. Its sad when books are not allowed to be read. I welcome and will put up lodging for you, Im aware the King is opening negotiations with Britain, and the Ambassador and his daughter will be present in future seasons. Be Well.

Duchesse de Montausier

I folded my letter and looked to Lady Stewart, who was lost in planning her wardrobe. I turned to look out the window; the sun was touching the lawn, the flowers alive, the sea calm and blue. I mutters I dont think I will be answering the Duchesses Call. Although I did not see, I can feel Lady Stewarts gaze on me, her comment as expected why not!, Its the Court of France, you know how rare that is?? To be invited? I cooly responded I havent the clothing for court, the learning of the etiquette, its a hassle. Before she could say more I remarked I will get dressed then, and head to town, you should go and turned to enter my room. All I could hear was rustle of silks, and the closing of my outer door.

I got dressed quickly, stuffing the envelope from my brother into my coat and headed to town. It was barely eight; the town was still in a stupor from the night before. I enjoyed this quiet setting, freely roaming from the port to the caf. I settled into a chair, overlooking the sea and ordered a coffee. I pulled out my brothers letter and began to read. It was short, crude and disgusting.

Richard,

I have been talking to father lately, and we think its best, that you return to Britain. Your place belongs with us, with the family, and you should follow my steps, and learn to maintain our home and estates. You lack experience in the matters of home, in politics, and have no idea about finances. I think its best that you are referred to as Lord Rushcliffe, because you dont act, or seemed interested in being the heir to Father. I think you should explain to father than, you want to be free of the burden trusted on you, and you should be free, to do as you like.

George

My face turned a shade of red, a shade I rarely ever display. In a moment of furry, I ripped the letter into pieces and along with the cup of coffee, flung it out of the open window, hearing the cup shattering on the rocks outside. Who did he think he was? He was no one, exactly, NO ONE!, I screeched, furiously. A crowd had gathered outside, at the sounds, but I whisked passed them, heading to the one person who would understand this, Lady Stewart. I headed straight to her rooms, and pushed my way through the doors, she was sitting on a gilded couch of silver damask, looking up at me, completely startled. Richard, are you ok? she said cautiously. No, Hes pissing me off I said. Who? she saidand I paused, finally saying George. I explained the contents of the letter to her, and she remained motionless, for a moment before finally speaking He wasnt to seize your title, Baron Rushcliffeunder the pretense hes home, hes the elder, and he should be the heir. I nodded, falling into one of the armchairs What if he succeeds? No sooner had the comments left my lips when she responded Oh dont be so stupid, he cant take your title, even your father is not that stupid. I looked at her, lowering my eyes to the floor Hes crafty, he could get it, he is the elder, whose been proclaimed legitimate, and accepted in recent years by most of society. She put her hand over mind, and tried to be soothing, though it had an awkward effect. Lady Steward never really knew what to do in these situations, but she tried. His mother was an actress, and he was born when your father was a bachelorthe hes accepted by many, but has yet to be presented to the King and Queen of England, so hes not welcomed at Court. She was right, his birth and upbringing was scandalous, and illegitimate. Father didnt accept him as a son, until he was 10, two years after his mother had died, and two years after living with us as my fathers god son.Still it bothered me, and I sunk my face into my hands, muttering Im going to stay a while longer in Meloria.

The horses came to a halt and the crunch of their final hoof steps rang out from the stone out front of Motte-Tilly. Servants scurried to the door and outside, in a flurry to help the new arrival. The man stepped from his coach and looked around with an arrogant air, his eyes settling the door. "Where is my wife." He said firmly to the Valet. The man hastily bowed to the Vicomte. "She is in her room monsieur le Vicomte." he waves his hand at the man. "Send for her, I wish to see my wife." he brushed past the man, nearly sending him onto all fours in the yard, but the man scrambled forward in his haste to do as he was told. "And tea!" Henri-Armand shouted. "I am dry from the long ride." The sound of a tea cup breaking in the kitchens might have been heard as word of the master arrived

Henri-Armand's mind went over the last time he saw his mistress... sadly it seemed that this woman would carry his child, while his wife would remain barren. The further he was from Paris for now, the better and her husband would remain none the wiser. Rumors would spread fast enough, no matter what happened or who's child it really was. He'd like to think it wasn't his though, that it really was the comte's child. He stopped inside the doors and looked around, his eyes falling on his wife as she came through the doors.

"Henri... what are you doing here?" She reached up to touch her neck lightly with her hand, as if she was not nearly as pleased to see him as he might have hoped.

"I've come to spend time with you." He moves around the table and looks the place over. "You got new furniture."

She looks away and nods. "I did, I thought a change might be nice."

"Its rather drab, don't you think?" He walks over to a chair and runs his hand over the fabric.

Gabrielle-Marie watches her husband and shakes her head. "I thought the colors were rather fashionable."

He nods and turns to walk over to her, finally giving her a kiss on the cheek, of course she turns her head away from him as if she was being kissed by a frog. "I've come to spend time with you my dear Gabrielle." He says, reaching up to brush her face with the back of his hand. "You should be happy to see me." She stands quietly, but makes no reply. "Have the servants begin packing your bags, we are going on a trip, nothing fancy, but out of the country for a bit. Go spend some time in a nice warm environment. What do you think?"

She manages to nod, looking out of the corner of her eye at him. "I would like that very much Henri." She replies in her soft sweet voice. "When shall we leave?"

He smiles and moves away from her. "Tomorrow, I would like to rest a bit and the horses need some rest as well. We will travel to the coast and take a ship outbound to someplace exotic." he turns and smiles at her. "I was thinking Italy."

Gabrielle-Marie casts her eyes down to the floor. "That would be fine Henri."

He nods and moves back to her side. "Good, I thought you'd like that." He reaches over and traces along her arm. "Perhaps tonight we might spend alone time before our trip." He offers her his arm and she quietly slips hers around it, following him along to where he wanted to go.

Most treasured brother Louis,

It was most joyful to spent the summer with you in Melioria, and i am almost regretful that i had to leave early for my hunting holiday with the Marquis.

I arrived back in court yesterday, rather reluctantly leaving the Marquis estate, and already have resumed the motions of stiff etiquette in public apperances. I must say, it was a joy to spend time with you in your frequented taverns and casinos, i felt for the first time in a long time, carefree and relaxed and i see now why you enjoy Melioria so much even at the expense of leaving your wife here in Versailles. You don't seem however to be lonley of female attention, but i shall not judge, for in my eyes you can do no wrong.

I do hope however, that you will return soon, for i fear, although i love her dearly as a sister, your wife is intent on my sentance to a convent. I fear she does over-react, for the time spent with her brother the comte was innocent, as for that servant, well you know how i love the sport of "heart trifling"- i learned from the best afterall. I do however find myself at a loss of apetite for the sport with Francois, he has had a certain effect on me, and i fear the tables have been cruely turned upon me as i fall deeper in affections for him.

Last night i spent the lonley hours tossing and turning until finally i found myself in the servant quarters, insisting upon a gamble. I have to say, i found their reactions quite amusing, as they scurried around upon my entrance trying to make themselfs useful. They were quite suprised when i sat casually at their table, producing a bottle of wine and the card set you gifted me. The night however was a joy, to let my mask slip, and i am more hopeful now at the prospect of my return to Chateux Lavadieu that i will not be fumbling around fathers estate alone.

I pray it will not be too long before you visit with dear Angelique- you must rember to keep your wife happy dear, perhaps a diamond would cheer her?

Regretfully i must leave now for Le petite Croissant - i have relocated my tailor, and i fear that if I dont keep check on him, he will delve too much into the bottle and creativity shall ceise. Afterall, one must never appear too casual, in public, we do have the Tancarville name to uphold.

Your dearest Amelie. x

II

The music filled my ears, my mind raced with memories, my heart with feelings. When my mind is tense, I often play the flute; the music always lifted and brought eased to me, as it did when I was youngerbut tonight was different. The sky around the island drifted from its pleasant warmth and light, to a cold masscloaking the island ina lifeless darkness. I tried to bring comfort to the evening, a fire crackled behind me, music to uplift my spirit, but it was to no effect. Memories replayed, running across my mind, haunting me.

It was not long before the fire burned out, leaving small flames and a haunting glow about my apartment. My music itself, took a sadder tonea reflection of my sadden heart. As I gazed out the window into an endless sea, I could see nothing but her face. Her brilliant smile was etched into my mind each time lightning struckthe dark clouds assembling reminded me of her dark hair. The sea itself was transformed, glittering but dark, with splits of light of a moon hidden behind clouds, the sea reminded me of her eyes.

I closed my eyes, to drown in the melancholic music, but I saw her dance. Dressed in a sumptuous red gown, she danced as if her feet never touched the ground, floating about, as a graceful as a swan. She turned, and swayed to the music, her gown flowing as she twirled, her jewels glittered, but not more than her beauty. She took my hand, the candles burned lowmany guests had retired from the party but she was still full of life, and so we danced as the lights burned outeach step closer than the one before. I could hear her laughter, and recall my hand on her waist. It was not long before our lips met, not to be parted for some time, emotions rushing out, passion building. Little did I know this was to be the last.

Lightning flashed, exposing the tear that escaped from my eyes. I continued to play, the storm brewed outside just as terrible as the one in my mind. I remembered how she pulled away from the kiss, looking up at me with sad eyes. She spoke I must leave . I grabbed her arm, frustrated as I tried to explain Elena, dont go, you dont have too She replied sweetly I must, its getting late . We both knew it was not about the evening, it was about her departure the next day, and my own as well.

Lightning flashed again; bringing me back to my apartmentI placed my flute back into its caseand fell into the armchair. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself why did you go? Why am I so haunted by her?

I hid my face in my palms, how I wish to forget that moment in Venicethat night. She glided down the stairs, her gown flowing behind her. As she made her exist, I watched from the balcony, seeing her head into a gondola, the rising suns light causing shadows from the towering buildings, hiding her from me. Her fan you, she turned back to glance at me, her eyes barely visible above the fan. Was it love? Was it Passion? I dont know, I questioned myself over and over again, but now I wouldnt see her again. That day, I left her Villa for Meloria, as she made her way to handle family businessnot hearing a word from her since my departureperhaps it was lust of the moment that lead her to kiss mebut why did she not respond to my letters?

The coach moved along down the country road, through the woods, the turn up ahead could take him to Versailles or away to where his wife was staying. Henri-Armand smirked, as court held little interest for him... money was power and that is what held his interest. Even being away from Paris, his mind still plotted and ticked away, figuring out ways to get more sou in his pocket. But for now his wife held his interest, perhaps this time she'd carry a child and heir to term and he wouldn't have to mess around with her for some time after this. He grunted a bit as his thoughts went over her again and again as the coach turned towards Motte-Tilly. The ride would only take a few more hours, leading him further from Versailles. He mumbled to himself. "Perhaps this month we might take a trip out of France." He seemed pleased with this thought, taking his wife away from France and his mistress. Keeping her away from what she knows and more dependent on him. "Yes, maybe a few months." his eyes flicked up at where the driver sat, outside the comfortable confines of his coach. "I will have to send a rider back to Paris when I arrive at Motte-Tilly to delay more of my appointments. I'm sure Gabrielle-Marie will not mind a trip." He turned to gaze back out the window as the trees went past. Henri-Armand had a sharp mind, always on business, perhaps he could drum up some more wherever they went. Finding trade with a local businessman in some remote village. He leaned back and closed his eyes as the day's shadows grew long and night started to fall... the ride would soon be over.

Every Step Taken

I

The day was long, until the sun finally begun to set. I gazed lazily out the window, studying the monuments that decorated the gardens outside the window. The giant obelisk, a marvel from the ancient world, stood, not only as a testimony to the greatness of the Ancient Egyptians, a trophy in the gardens of the ageless Villa, but also served as giant sundial, letting all who viewed it, know the hour of day. As I pushed open the window, a gush of cool sea breeze swept into the warm apartment, cooling the room and bringing in comfort. Leaning down with my chin in my palm, I rested my elbows on the window frame, and watched as fishermen reeled in their catch, children head indoors, and inviting beauties take to the streets. For a moment I was lost in his admiration for the island, until I was disturbed by a knocking.

As I turned to look at the door, I seem to miss the chance to say come in, because she popped her head in. Whats so interesting in that corner? she said in her sweet, but mocking voice. Hello Lady Stewart, I said, gazing at her. Truth be told, I was annoyed, at her lack of decency, barging into my private quarters. But I weakly replied Observing life outside these walls, one of these days, you might frighten me unexpectedly, and Ill fall out the window. Her sapphire eyes, shimmered as she looked at me, gliding across the room as if she was walking on air. Standing face to face with me she replied I shall go where I please! and turned to settle into my favorite chair at my desk. I sighed, how right she was. As the daughter of the Ambassador, Lady Stewart, has privileges, equal to that of a princess. Would you stop calling me Lady Stewart? You dont need to be so formal Richard Did I forget to mention she had a commanding nature of a Princess too? I dont know why I even acknowledge you..all you ever do is mock, or comment on me I said.

Her witty self, always ready with a response Because you adore me, lets be honest. I do admit, perhaps because of my nature as man; always grant any wish of a beauty. Lady StewartI mean Henrietta...was extremely beautiful. Refined like ladies of her class, but often a step higher than them, her eyes shone brightly in a room, with porcelain skin, and strawberry lips. She had a beautiful figure, no man can resist, and a flirtatious nature, I would have been in love with instantly, had we not grown up like best friends.

Henrietta, how many times do I have to say, knock and wait to be admitted, its not proper She cut me off proper? I should apologize if I happen to walk in and your half way in one of the prossies? Or perhaps I shouldnt enter when youre losing your inheritance bit by bit to those strange chums you call friends. I blushed furiously, attempting to rebuild any form of self-respect you shouldnt talk to so frankly. Who cares? I speak the truth! she commanded, I do you a favor to make sure some woman didnt run off with your money, or some roguish men havent tied you up, You should be thankful to have a friend who cares!, not to mention you parents asked me to keep you in line, so all in all, you owe me. I rolled my eyes, as I turned, throwing myself into the couch what do you want Henrietta?

Your Mother wrote to meyou know to see if youre alive or if you ran off to god knows she said. I let out a long sigh, and closed my eyes. I started to count in my head, 5, 4, 3 counting down the seconds till Henrietta went off in a lecture...2, 1...I paused, waiting. Youre, youre mothers favorite, and she has done everything for you, you cant even.there it was, the lecture impossible to avoidyou cant even write to her to tell her your fine, the poor woman is worrying about her son...And on she goes, enough, wasnt church bad enough? Are you practicing or preaching to be a nun? I mocked. Her expression changed, and I could see I hit the right point, she was silent arent you cheeky she said. I laughed and got up to sit at the desk. Im going to write to her now I said, shoving her from my seat. I expect for it to be done, by tomorrow, Im sending out letters back home. I simply nodded. As I got down to scrawl lazily on the parchment, Henrietta went about fixing something in my apartment, and by the grace of good, settled quietly into a book. I began to write:

Beloved Mother,

Please don't be too cross at my delay. I had promised to write when I first arrived, (and of course when I left the Venetian Country Side), but time went by before the blink of an eye. I apologize for the delay, my trip from the Venetian countryside was quick, less than a week, and I arrived safely to Meloria. The Contessa di Foscari was extremely kind, in letting me stay at her Villa, so much so, I was sad to leave the comfort of her home. Delicious meals, beautiful countryside, fresh air, as well as the company of the lady of the house, it was wonderful. However, she was going to head to Venice, she had to give her father the Conte, a message, so I agreed to not extend my stay, and I continued my tour of these ancient lands by heading south. I cant express the charm of this island in one letter, but I will remark, its beautiful, warm, and welcoming. I was invited to stay in the Villa of the Prince of Meloria. You might remember him, I studied with his sons back in London, and they were the two tanned Italians who spent the summer with us a few years ago. I promise Im well, and Im eating. I have found some art on my travels here, I shall sent home for father, I hope he appreciates it. Ill write soon, Im still getting settled in.

Love, Richard

Oh, and Please stop using Lady Stewart as a spy on me, god forbid if I should ever do the same to her.

I finished the letter, and sealed it, handing it to Henrietta. She took it, and stuffed it into her robe, inquiring to what I would do now. I looked outside, the sun, although setting, was still partly out. I decided I would go for a walk. Grabbing my black coat, I headed out, to enjoy the evening air.

His bags now packed and loaded on his coach, the sun just barely peeking up over the horizon, Henri-Armand took in a deep breath and smirked as he looked at the city... Paris. It had been years since he'd seen Normandy and his family home, a month since he'd seen his wife, and now he was on his way to see her again. His valet paused and spoke in a low voice to Henri-Armand. "Should I send a rider ahead to announce your arrival to your wife?" Henri-Armand shook his head. "Non, I want to surprise her." He patted the man on his arm and got into the coach. "Keep the house in running order and should any of the other staff try to steal.. fire them, then have them arrested." He laughed darkly as he shut the coach door, rapping on the wall. "To Motte-Tilly! And do not waste time." With a crack of the whip the horses clattered off, a perfectly matched set of sharp gray horses, pulling the coach to the edge of Paris and beyond.