Just when I thought things were proceeding well, my complacency has been shaken and I am now in a state of worry and fear. I had happily settled into a routine as Conte Foscari's administrative secretary--spending three days a week dealing with his correspondence and familiarizing myself with the nature of his business. Then, on Friday, I came across a letter that was among the rest of the count's papers. It was signed by someone with the name of Saturnines who, by the servile tone of the words, is apparently an employee of the Conte.

The letter comes from Venezia and contans a warning that Mercury Gandt is in the employ of the Sbirri, the corrupt police of La Serenissima. They have been paying him to spy on the Foscari family, and most particularly upon the Contessa. I sat there in cold shock, reading the letter over and over again registering the implications. If what Saturnines says is true, sweet innocent-looking Mercury has betrayed all of us! I knew he was short of scudi but this was too much! I could not believe it. All of my heart and soul wanted to reject what the words on the paper, written in a tight crabbed hand, were saying. Putting my face in my hands, I wept in sadness and disappointment.

I decided to share the contents of the letter with the only friend I know I can trust, Hugo. I contacted him on Saturday as he was leaving Aphrodite's Cafe. We arranged to meet later on, in the library of the Villa when no one else would be about. He arrived punctually and we sat down together. Recognizing by the expression on my face that I was in severe distress, Hugo dispensed with all pleasantries and quicky asked me how he could be of service. I handed the letter over to him, avoiding his eyes and looking down at my lap as he read it. I expected a tirade of anger to fall from his lips.

But he handed the letter back to me and said nothing. His face was white as Aphrodite's apron and his mouth was drawn tightly across his lips. Then, without a word, he stood up, bowed to me and quickly left the room.

I now fear what consequences might come from this new knowledge we both have. Should I have told Hugo? What will he do? As I returned to the Conte's office and put the letter back with his papers, I wondered for the first time why the Conte had been so careless with information of such importance. Normally he is very secretive about affairs that do not concern me...

Beatrice picks up her pen and gazes into middle distance as she tries to pull together the tangled threads of her memories of the past month.

It has been far too long since I have written, dear diary. So much has been happening here in Sorrentina and I can't quite keep up. First and very important - I have found a means of earning a living so I will be able to keep body and soul together and not have to pawn mama's necklace. (The moonstones are so magical; I think of her every time I look upon them!)

Beatrice looks up from her writing, eyes misting over as she remembers her mother's last days in a sterile Viennese hospital run by Carmelite nuns. She rubs the pale, luminous stones between her fingers, remembering her mother's last days. Lying on her bed, one hot day in June, the same month she was born, her mother reached under her starched white pillow and handed her a box containing the necklace. 'Moonstones,' she said, 'are supposed to protect the wearer from harm and danger in travelling by sea and land, to give mental inspiration, and to bring success and good fortune in love.'

Beatrice shook herself and returned to the present, with new resolve to continue her journal.

During the first week here I made an appointment with Lady Aphrodite Macbain to see whether I could earn some money working in her cafe. She kindly showed me around the kitchen, the vegetable garden and the cafe itself. Everything is kept in excellent order and I found a few Scottish mementos that reminded me of her origins and explained to me her drive for neatness..

She no longer needs help in the caffe with either serving or baking. A woman by the name of Hestia now serves coffee when Aphrodite is away, and the bakery next door provides all the bread and dolce she needs.

Lady Macbain said that she did need help in her garden - weeding, planting and harvesting. Although I haven't the least idea how to tend a garden, I can learn!

I therefore agreed to help out a few days a week - but the money I earn will never be enough to cover all my living expenses here.

But over the past few weeks, things have been turning out for the better! For example, Elisabetta will earn money doing sewing and embroidery work. (How thankful we are for the good training she received in the convent in Vienna and her experience as a seamstress in Venezia!) She has been talking with the count and is most impressed by him. (I do believe she has developed a crush - his urbanity and charm have had a strong effect on her!) They went for a walk one day, and while they were descending the steps of the villa, he promised he would advise certain of his clients in the Neopolitan and French courts about Elisabetta's skills in embroidery and fine stitchery. I am sure something good will come of it!

Elisabetta and Conte Foscari

I, too, had a very fruitful conversation with the Count Foscari last week. Screwing up my courage, I knocked on his office door and he graciously invited me in, showed me to a chair and offered a glass of grappa. I sat down, gratefully accepted the small crystal glass and looked around. He works in a spacious, elegantly furnished office in the Villa. Lining the walls are large bookcases, and some paintings that made me blush. I also noticed two excellent Persian carpets and finely designed French chairs. Truly an office of a worldly, urbane man in the prime of his life !

I thanked him for everything he has done for me and my sister and, after a few sips of grappa, took courage and asked him whether he might be interested in hiring me as his private secretary. I explained that I had a number of skills appropriate to the position, that I am well educated and multi-lingual, can write a fine letter, am very well organized, and an excellent bookkeeper. For good measure, I added that I know (intimately) many men in influential positions (due to my previous profession in Venezia) who might be of help to him. He smiled and said he was indeed in need of a secretary as he has an enormous amount of paper work that is beginning to overwhelm him. Then, he proceeded to a sk me many questions that I did my best to answer, keeping my own counsel on certain subjects.

He seemed especially interested in my interpersonal and language skills that would allow me to act as an ambassador for his commercial interests throughout Europe, dealing with certain clients operating within his many trading enterprises.

The Count asked me if I would be willing to travel to the French Court in Versailles, and as well as to Spain, Austria and even Russia to the Court of Catherine the Great! He said he would pay all my expenses--including my clothing if I had to visit to the French court on his behalf. I couldn't believe my ears but tried to sound as cool and composed as I could despite my rapidly beating heart .

He told me he trades with most of the Mediterranean countries and also with some of the colonies in the new world, basically moving goods from one place to another according to demand. For instance he plans to buy up a cargo of lemons from Spain to sell to the French court so that they can have lemonade in the summer! (We both laughed at that.) He also sells Italian wine to the French, silks from Constantinople and tea from the Colonies to the English,and cotton from Egypt which he sells to everyone! I began to understandwhy he would need someone who is fluent in many laguages.

A pparently his daughter Elena (the elusive Contessa!) normally does this work for him but he said she is unable to right now, is staying with very close friends of his and I may meet her very soon! I said nothing but smiled warmly and asked whether Elena was much like him. He shrugged and said there is much of her mother in her but sometimes she reminds him of himself when he was younger.

He also surprised me by asking about my impressions of Signor Gandt. I wasn't sure why he was asking me these questions--perhaps to get a sense of my abiility to judge people. He said my impressions of people can be very useful to him! I gave a very vague answer and told him that I have had a hard time getting to know Mercury and am not really sure what he wants or where his allegiances lie. The Conte seemed happy with that.

I told the Conte that our parents, feeling unhappy in Prussia, moved to Austria and brought my sister and me with them. They both died of the plague soon after, leaving us alone to fend for ourselves. We lived a hand to mouth life in Vienna, but using the rest of our savings my sister was able to study at a convent where she learned the gentle arts of sewing, embroidery and petit point.

At his point the Count leaned toweard me, a gleam in his eye. "So you know Vienna well?" he asked me. I nodded and said, evasively, that we both did what we could in order survive. He didn't push this further but I had a feeling that Vienna holds a great significance for him right now.

I then told him how my sister and I made our way across the high mountain passes to finally arrive in Venezia where I developed and perfected the arts of a courtesan while my sister sewed for a living. Again the Conte made a rather strange remark that I didn't challenge. "Your occupation in Venezia has given you a unique training, I am hoping to call upon these talents of yours in the understanding of human nature."

I nodded and smiled.

Apparently I am exactly what he needs..."someone who can get herself noticed when she wants and be invisible at other times"

He asked me if I would be his personal secretary, working four days a week for a more than generous salary. Of course, I accepted (perhaps with too much alacrity). He showed me to my desk opposite his and said that occasionally he might put up a screen between our two desks so that the person he is interviewing is less aware of my presence. I am beginning to realize that the Conte is trading in more than tea and cotton!

I turned to say goodbye but the Count was staring intensely out the window at the Egyptian obelisk and the great lawn of Sorrentina, his back toward me. I walked out of the room and softly closed the door.

Beatrice puts down her pen and stretches, thinking, "So, here I am in Sorrentina with employment as a secretary, as an ambassador and as a gardener! And the first thing tomorrow I have to write to Spain about lemons for France!" It feels nice to have released the facts and feelings stored in her memory into her fingers and on to the paper. She feels lighter now. It may be a long time before she has time to write in her diary again.

Beatrice stands and gazes out at the harbour of La Rocca Sorrentina and thinks,

"Ah, Dio! Life here has been so busy I have not had enough time to write about it! Meetings with Elisabetta, Lady Macbain, the Professore, Hugo and the Conte have kept me quite busy and I must settle down to record what has transpired. My first assumptions about this little island being a quiet backwater have definitely been challenged! Much has happened and is about to happen here that connects us to the rest of Europe - nothing certain of course but I do sense a feeling unrest and competing forces churning just below the surface of this tranquil Rocca.

I will begin to write once I have sorted this in my own mind...perhaps next week."

She turns and retraces her steps back up to the villa and and nods goodbye to the crow who has been a companion in her reverie.

B eatrice writes in her journal, sitting at the desk in her new home on La Rocca Sorrentina and looks out the window at the brilliant sunset over the Mediterranean.

She is feeling safer now, safer than she has felt in a long time. Perhaps she finally has found a home - a place where she can relax and establish herself among the kind and friendly people she has recently met there. Thanks to Hugo's generosity, she has new clothes and newly styled hair has received a number of compliments - especially her about curls en papillots so very fashionable these days. She is happy that Elisabetta is here with her, slowly eating herself back to health. And Hugo - how wonderful he has been, so attentive and affectionate - although she has a nervous feeling he is worried about something, not quite settled here. He finally wrote to Snr. Gandt thanking him for his letter of introduction to the Island (it took a bit of encouragement from Beatrice) but for some reason he seemed uneasy about this. Something is worrying him. Beatrice has observed that Hugo often goes walking around the grounds at night and constantly paces back and forth in his room. She hears him in the small hours of the morning despite the muffling of carpeted floors. She writes:

"I have finally had the time to engage in good conversation with Elisabetta. I had wondered how she was bearing up under all these changes - she is so young and vulnerable. We have has such an unsettled few years together. First, our flight south to Venezia, then gradually settling in, learning the Venetian language and customs and finding work; then her being siezed by the sbirri and put in jail, (what an ordeal!) Then her release, thanks to Hugo, and but then being attacked on the high seas on our way to Rocca Sorrentina. What adventures! She has been very reslilient.

Perhaps, we can f inally f ind a new life on this friendly island. During the past week we have spent many hours reminiscing about the good and bad times: playing as children in the gardens of SansSouci under the loving eyes of our parents, their bitter fight with old Fritz and our family's expulsion out of Prussia and into Austria where we were protected by Joseph II and played with his pretty little sister Marie Antoinette. There followed Elisabetta's education in Vienna, my failed marriage with the Duc (Dear Leopold, he used to call me "Blissful") and his tragic death followed by our long, arduous flight by coach through the mountains passes to Venezia. We have been through a lot together,my sister and I! It was good to talk about all this again and to hear the story from her perspective. She is still a little sad about leaving the cosmopolitan centre of La Serenissima and its whirl of social life - I believe she left a boy behind - but she also realizes she is safer living here now."

Beatrice puts down her pen, gets up, and moves around her room. She looks at the few worn books she brought with her when she left for Venice: Voltaire's Candide, Goethe's Sorrows of Young Werther and Cartier's recent revision of the Bible. Most of the rest of her belongings were left behind in Venice. She had no time to properly pack but spent the last few days there looking after Elisabetta. Now she needs to pull her thoughts together and decide how she will make a living. There is no need for a courtesan on this small island and she can't always depend on Hugo for support, no matter how generous he has been.

Beatrice walks down to the doorway of the villa, framed by massive marble columns and gazes out at the harbour, at the green expanse of lawn bisected by the long shadow of the Egyptian obelisk, and at the terra cotta roofs of the town beyond, glowing in the setting sun. How beautiful it is! She decides that tomorrow she will walk down to the cafe in town and ask if she can help Lady Macbain in the kitchen or serving the customers. That might bring in a small but regular income. Perhaps there is work to be done in the kitchen garden; she will ask. How my circumstances have changed, she reflects, in the past ten years !

Beatrice climbs the stairs to her room and prepares for bed. Hugo's footsteps begin their regular rhythm on the other side of the wall.

I am so happy. Elisabetta has been released!

Somehow Hugo must have put the right amount of pressure on Cristoph Christophoro to make him see the value of letting her go free. Perhaps it was a question of who blinked first -- and Hugo won. What a dear man! He came with me to the Piombi, the prison where my sister was held. It is a horrid place-cold, damp and very smelly. I think I saw a few rats scurrying along the open drains and the prisoners who were held in the filthy cells were crumpled, desolate figures. They watched dully as we came to release Elisabetta. As we walked through that godless place, I thought to myself how far my dear young sister and I have come from the sumptuous court of Frederic the Great during those years at Sans Souci!

The jailer reluctantly opened the door to Elisabetta's cell, giving me a once over with his eyes that made me flush with embarrassment. I was so glad of Hugo's strong, reassuring presence. The iron door creaked and slammed behind her - loudly sounding the end to her cruel waiting. We supported her as we walked outside into the cold fresh sunshine of Campo San Marco, and I was finally able to hold my frail sister, just skin and bones, in my arms again.

I brought Elisabetta home with me, fed her some hot soup and tucked her into bed.

We will talk in the morning.

~

Then I found Hugo and thanked him with all my heart.

Soon we will leave this sad city and sail with Hugo to a peaceful, sunny place called Rocca Sorrentina.

It is on the west coast of Italy, off the coast of Naples. I will begin packing my bags tomorrow.

I have just received news from Mercury who has learned that La Contessa is no longer in Venice, or anywhere near. Now what do I do? I will never learn of her location, which means I have nothing to offer in exchange for my sister. Things are getting bleak; I am in such despair.

My only option is to write to a few friends in high or influential places who may be able to use their powers to free dear Elisabetta from prison and certain death. I will first try dear Hugo, a wonderful (and rather hadsome) friend and former client on mine (it never felt like work!) and ask him to meet me in Campo San Marco where I will explain fully. I will write to him immediately!

January 11, 1784 (New Moon)
Ah, now my path is clear--I know what I must do!

I have spent an emotional afternoon with Snr. Gandt in his temporary rooms at Contessa Courants simple home. (How kind she is to let him stay while he recovers from his wounds.) Mercury first listened very kindly to the story of my sisters abduction, offered me a glass of prosecco, and told me he would do anything within his power to help me free my sister.

Unfortunately, he does not have much power here in Venezia and is feeling very hurt and discouraged. Apparently he learned from Conte Foscari, Elenas grandfather, who now lives at La Malcontenta on the Brenta canal, that Elena is quite safe and has escaped to parts unknown to avoid certain people who are chasing her. Mercury was very hurt and angry for having been kept in the dark about all this until now. He kept pacing around the room (I thought for a minute he was going to upset the tea tray!), raging about the fact that he had been played for a fool. As reward for his pains, he said, he had been beaten up and left for dead by some ruffians after Mercurys searching in vain for Elena at a convent where she last disappeared. (I do wonder what game she is playing.)

I realized there was no hope of getting information from Mercury on Elenas whereabouts, so I told him about the letter from the chief of the sbirri saying that it was also important to me that I acquire this information. I gave him a wink - we now have a common purpose, though for different reasons. Both of us are willing (god forgive me) to tell the police where Elena could be found--to betray her! My reason is to get my sister out of prison, and Mercurys is simply for revengealthough through his tirade he still showed some hesitation. Finally he admitted that he also wished he could be compensated in some way for all he had expended and endured during his search.

(At one point in our discussions he had the audacity to suggest that an evening with me, exercising my courtesans skills, might soften the pain of the blows to his pride. He was quite persuasive in his attentions to me but I quickly put those thoughts out of his head.) I decided to tell him about the reward, and admitted to him that I would split with him the 10,000 ducati - something that might serve his longer term interests far better than a night with me! It didnt take him long to accept.

Our first actions, we finally agreed at the end of a very long evening, would be to talk to people who might know where Elena could be found. I am acquainted with a few gentlemen who share similar interests and confidences with the dreaded Snr. Cristofolo. (I will see what pillow talk will uncover.) Mercury, for his part, will talk with with Saturnine, the secretary of Conte Filipe Foscari who also might know where Elena might be hiding.

It was almost dark, the sun setting leaving a warm glow in the evening sky when I left Mercury to his own devices, desires and angry thoughts. He is a tortured soul!
We will meet again in a week to compare our discoveries.

Now, I must write a few letters

January 7,1784: Ca dOro, Venezia
Oh how difficult and perplexing the world has become! I desperately need help, and tomorrow I will go to San Barnaba to pray for divine guidance. I have been torn between loyalty to my new friends and fear for the safety of my dear sister. I suspect that my love of Elisabetta will win out. I have been fortunate that, in my profession, I have come to know people of power and influence. This has kept me out of prison even when, at banquets, opera or theatre, I have publicly derided the current corrupt regime. And yet, for an unspecified offence, my poor sister, Elisabetta, has been unceremoniously thrown into the Piombi in one of those rat infested, over crowded prison cells, directly under the Doges Palace's lead roof, that are very hot in summer and, right now, bitterly cold in winter. After learning about her plight from one of my more sympathetic clients, I visited her a few days ago. How shocked I was to see her she is younger than I am, but her yellow pallor and thin body has transformed her into an old woman. She has not eaten and she is unwell. I fear for both her health and her mental wellbeing.

She told me the dreaded secret police, the sbirri, captured her as she was walking home to her room in the Campo San Barnaba last week. They threw a cloak over her head, and dragged her directly to prison where she is now being held without charges. I first thought perhaps these outrageous actions had resulted from her enthusiastic support of freemasonry. (Women are admitted into what are known as "adoption lodges" in which they can participate in their ritual life.) I also know that the Council of Ten, the major governing body of our Republic, is deeply suspicious of freemasons as they answer to powers other than their own.

Although the sbirris role is now largely limited to suppressing the minor plotting of the Barnabotti (the poor nobility of our City), they continue to reassert their authority by hounding innocent people like my sister simply to either prove their importance or to serve more sinister purposes (the latter which I have confirmed). Since leaving the prison, I was delivered a letter written by the head of the sbirri, Cristoforo Cristofoli, saying the police would free my sister only if I would divulge to them the whereabouts of La Contessa Elena Foscari! They also said 10,000 ducati would be placed in my name at the local banco di Medici once they received the information.

What am I to do? I have no idea of where La Contessa has gone and, even if I did, I dont know whether my conscience would ever be clear if my betrayal brought harm to Elena! I must visit Mercury or Contessa Courant as soon as possible to get their advice. Perhaps, by now, Mercury might know where Elena is hiding and I can draw the information out of him

My poor sister.