The disappearing duchess, p.14
The Disappearing Duchess, page 14
‘Oof!’ she groaned. ‘Get off!’
But Marco didn’t reply, or move. He just sat there with his elbow digging into her stomach.
‘Oi!’ She sat up and opened her mouth to snap at Marco, but then her gaze fell on the thing he was staring at.
It was another painting of the Duchess, almost lifesize, seated on a plain wooden chair. It had been under the sheet that she’d just dragged off the easel. This picture obviously wasn’t alive – actually, she seemed almost flat, as if di Lombardi hadn’t bothered to add any magic to the figure at all. It wasn’t the figure that was extraordinary – it was the fact that on the right side of the painting there was a doorknob and a keyhole hanging in space, without a door to belong to. They certainly looked real. The sunshine from the high windows gleamed off the brass doorknob.
Bianca struggled to her feet and helped Marco disentangle his feet from the white sheet.
‘Where d’you think it goes?’ Marco said, peering down to look through the keyhole. ‘It’s too dark; I can’t see anything.’
Bianca rolled the paintbrush-key between her fingers for a moment, then took the painting down from the easel and set it carefully against a bare patch of wall.
‘Only one way to find out.’ She reached into the painting, closing her hand over the gleaming doorknob. Her heart pattered in her chest, like the tiny wings of the mechanical bird beating against her ribcage, as she slipped the key into the lock. It went in smoothly and turned with a barely-audible metal sound. Bianca pushed on the doorknob and the whole painting seemed to swing inwards, as if it was opening a passage in the wall.
Inside, Bianca and Marco found themselves looking at a small sitting room with a comfortably stuffed couch, a roaring fire, a bookshelf, and a low table. A handful of sketches in charcoal were scattered over the table and there was a book propped open on the couch. A large, unmade bed sat in one corner.
She walked hesitantly into the room, her heart in her throat.
‘Um. Hello? Is … Is anyone here?’
‘Finally!’ said a familiar voice. Bianca spun around. Duchess Catriona – the real Duchess Catriona – was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. She jumped up, folded her arms and gazed expectantly at them. ‘Bianca, hello! Is di Lombardi finally ready for me? It’s been days! I’m almost out of food. What is going on out there?’
Bianca gulped. How could she even begin to explain what had happened while the Duchess had been safely locked away?
Chapter Twenty-one
‘He said he’d fetch me himself, but it’s been so long I was starting to worry! Oh, and Marco! Has Master di Lombardi sent you to entertain me? I’ve been so bored cooped up here by myself for three days, and without so much as a single birthday present. I thought … What?’
Bianca stared at the Duchess, catching her breath before she could bring herself to answer. She was so much like the imposter – except messier, more imperfect, and bursting with life and energy. Her birthmark wrinkled on her cheek as she smiled at them. Her red hair was loose to her waist, much longer than Bianca had ever realised, and her velvet skirt was on slightly askew. Bianca guessed she wasn’t used to dressing without her maid.
Now the Duchess was frowning. Bianca swept a hurried curtsey.
‘Bianca, stop bobbing and answer me,’ Duchess Catriona said, worry vibrating in her voice. ‘Is everything all right? Was the Baron apprehended?’
‘Um … no,’ said Marco. He kept glancing from Bianca to the Duchess. Bianca guessed it was up to her to explain what was happening. But she couldn’t get the words out.
‘Well! What’s the use of any of you?’ Duchess Catriona threw up her hands. ‘Honestly, tell your master I don’t care if he is the greatest spymaster I could wish for, I won’t stay another day in this gloomy little place if he doesn’t come and paint me some daylight, right away!’ The Duchess was joking, throwing away her words with a smile and a wave of her arm, but the smile was brittle and tense.
Bianca swallowed. ‘Your Highness, I am so sorry. Master di Lombardi is dead.’
The brittle smile vanished altogether, and Duchess Catriona caught her breath. ‘No … he can’t be …’ she took a few steps into the room and sank down on the couch, clutching at her skirts. ‘How? Come here at once and tell me everything.’
Bianca and Marco walked into the room and sank to their knees in front of the Duchess’s couch.
‘We think – well, we’re pretty certain – that the Baron and Filpepi killed him,’ Bianca said. ‘He was poisoned with arsenic in his wine, and then while he was recovering, his house was burned down and he died from the smoke.’
Duchess Catriona sniffed and swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. Bianca reached into a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief – the same one, embroidered with the sun emblem of La Luminosa, that the Duchess had given her three days ago. The Duchess looked at it and her eyes welled up even more, but she smiled gratefully at Bianca.
‘Go on,’ she said, her voice steady through her tears. ‘Piero Filpepi, you say? I didn’t know he was involved. I suppose he would have a reason to want Master di Lombardi out of the way.’
‘If we may, Your Highness,’ Marco said, ‘what do you know about the Baron? What did Master di Lombardi know?’
‘He was sure the Baron was planning to assassinate me,’ the Duchess said. ‘After so many years ruling the city as Regent, he just couldn’t let go of all that power, so he planned to have me killed. I have no heir and no other family – he would be the only one with a claim to the throne. Master di Lombardi hid me in this painted room until the day of the coronation, so that I would be safe until I could take the throne. But now, tell me,’ she clenched the handkerchief tight in one fist. ‘What moves has the Baron made since I disappeared? What does he think has happened to me? What has he told people about my disappearance?’
‘Um … well, it’s a bit …’ Bianca glanced at Marco, who shrugged. ‘Filpepi used Master di Lombardi’s painting of you, and some magic of his own, to … to turn the painting into a living creature. Sort of living, anyway. As far as the people are concerned, you’re not missing – you’re still living in the palace. They made a fake Duchess. And put her in your place.’
Duchess Catriona stared at Bianca, her eyes narrowing in confusion and then in anger as this sunk in. ‘A forgery!’
‘Though she’s not behaving at all like you,’ Marco added. ‘She’s just a puppet for the Baron and Filpepi to control. And she’s, um …’
‘She’s marrying the Baron,’ said Bianca quickly, hoping if she said it quickly it would be easier, like peeling fixing glue off her arm. ‘And the marriage will take place in the next few hours.’
Duchess Catriona seized up her skirts and ran for the door out of the painting.
‘Your Highness!’ Marco called after her as he and Bianca got to their feet and ran after her. ‘Wait! We have to have a plan, you can’t just –’
‘I can just whatever I like,’ Duchess Catriona called back over her shoulder as she raced through the room. ‘I am the ruler of this city! And I shall make sure that my traitorous Baron never, ever forgets it!’
She wrenched open the door to the secret passages and slipped through in a rustle of wonky red velvet skirts. Bianca gave Marco a despairing glance and hurried after her.
In the dim, flickering light of the passage, they saw the Duchess reach the dead end turn and hesitate, looking left and right. Bianca caught up with her just as she sprang into a run, the wrong way.
‘No, Your Highness,’ Bianca gasped. ‘We should go to the chapel. This way!’
Duchess Catriona paused and looked back, suspiciously.
‘We need you,’ Bianca said. ‘We need you to show them the imposter is a fake. We can get in through the Santa Juanita fresco in the chapel.’
‘Let’s go then!’ said the Duchess, clearly still fuming.
‘But please, slow down a little, just for a …’ It was no good. The Duchess swept back past Bianca and down the passage. Marco almost tripped as he turned the corner at a run and Bianca’s heart raced as her feet pounded the corridor trying to keep up. The Duchess came to a halt outside the chapel door and rattled the handle, but it was locked. Bianca had the key out in her hand even as she got to the door, but she hesitated, looking up at the Duchess one more time.
‘Please, let’s –’
‘Bianca, I am your Duchess. I command you to open this door!’
Bianca exchanged one last apprehensive look with Marco, and then bobbed a curtsey. ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ She turned the key in the lock.
Duchess Catriona threw open the door and strode through with her head high, Bianca and Marco trailing in her wake.
The chapel was full of people. Lords and ladies in jewel-coloured coats and gowns thronged the pews. More priests than Bianca had ever seen before were standing in an ordered huddle around the altar, dressed in their best white and gold embroidered robes and skullcaps. Bianca gulped as she noticed that the walls of the chapel were lined with what looked like almost the entire palace guard, their gold-polished armour gleaming around the room like a sparkling metal ribbon. Filpepi was there too, standing by the Captain of the Guard, gazing down the aisle with pride.
At the end of the aisle, the fake Duchess and the Baron da Russo stood with their hands clasped, ready to take their vows. She was wearing the false diamond dress. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass window behind the altar and hit the painted diamonds, sending a thousand rainbow sparkles flying from it whenever she moved.
Slowly, like a ripple passing across a still pond, everyone in the chapel turned and gasped at the sight of the real Duchess Catriona, her hair loose and her dress unkempt, flanked by an artist’s apprentice and a boy tumbler.
‘Stop! Stop this at once! By command of the Duchess!’ she shouted. ‘Guards, arrest this man and his imposter bride!’
‘How dare you?’ The Baron dropped the imposter’s hands and turned to gape at the Duchess, as if this was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. He wasn’t a bad actor – although, Bianca guessed, some of that shock was real. She smirked and folded her arms.
‘How dare …’ the Duchess clenched her fists and growled in frustration. ‘How dare I? I am your Duchess!’
‘Bianca!’ Filpepi stepped forward. ‘Is this some kind of revenge? Against me? Against our fair Duchess?’
‘No, Filpepi, this is the real Duchess!’ Bianca yelled, swelling with anger and pride that she could stand up to Filpepi at last. ‘You created that imposter to take her place!’
‘Baron, Duchess, my Lords and Ladies,’ Filpepi advanced down the aisle. ‘Please do not judge this girl too harshly. Only this morning I had to dismiss her from her position for upsetting Duchess Catriona. This is obviously some kind of prank. It is in very bad taste, Bianca.’
‘You had me fooled, Filpepi,’ said Bianca. ‘But no more.’
‘Bianca,’ he said, looking into her eyes, ‘perhaps I was too harsh on you. You are a talented painter – the most talented of all my apprentices. Perhaps if you calm down I will reconsider my dismissal of you. Perhaps even accelerate your learning and set you up with your own studio. You could employ your own apprentices …’
Bianca scowled at him, but her skin was starting to crawl. She knew he was trying to bribe her, offering her everything she’d ever wanted. But it wasn’t enough. She shook her head in disgust.
Some of the lords and ladies were whispering to each other, staring at her and pointing. And she couldn’t help noticing that none of the guards had moved …
‘Filpepi, you are under arrest,’ Duchess Catriona hissed through her clenched teeth. ‘Guards, seize both these men right now …’
‘Who is this common wench you two have dressed up like Duchess Catriona?’ said the Baron. ‘I admit the likeness is quite good, but how could you think she could compare to the sweet jewel of our city?’ He gestured back to the imposter Duchess, whose face remained completely blank, as if it were the wedding in a story book being disrupted, and not her own.
‘How could you think that’s her?’ Marco spoke up. ‘Look at her, really look! You’re all blinded by the dress and the pretty hair – she doesn’t even care that someone’s come to take her throne!’
Bianca gave him a grateful smile, but if the assembled nobles were beginning to come around to their point of view, it all came to an end when Filpepi leaned in to Duchess Catriona, with a cruel smile.
‘Whoever you are, wench,’ he said, ‘you should go back to the gutter where you came from.’
Duchess Catriona lashed out with one foot and kicked Filpepi hard in the shins.
‘Common wench?’ she yelled. ‘Sweet jewel? I am your Duchess! How dare you patronise me in such a manner! This is for Master di Lombardi –’ she kicked him again, ‘– And this is for presuming to replace me with a painted doll!’ And again. ‘Besides, I am far prettier that that fake!’
‘Guards, seize her!’ roared the Baron. He pointed at Duchess Catriona, and as he did, Bianca could see that the palm and fingers of his hand glittered. The paint was still wet on the imposter’s gown. He was going to need to scrub for hours with paint remover to get that off.
‘Look! Look at his hand!’ Bianca yelled, but the roar of nobles making up their minds and spurring on the guards to seize the Duchess drowned it out. The guards may not have known who to believe at first, but now their instincts told them to advance on the Duchess, lowering their spears.
Duchess Catriona let out a roar of frustration and threw herself past Filpepi, down the aisle and ran at the imposter. The Baron managed to sweep her out of the way just in time and the Duchess caught herself on the altar.
The imposter seemed to wake up a little – if nothing else, she looked into the Duchess’s furious eyes and some kind of self-preservation kicked in. She gave a little wet yelping sound and bolted, out through the nave door and up the spiral stairs that led up to the Duchess’s roof-garden. The real Duchess was on her heels before anyone could stop her, scattering priests and hesitant guards as she elbowed past them.
Marco tried to follow them, but Filpepi tripped him and he narrowly avoided a spiking from a guard’s spear. Bianca grabbed him by the shirt just in time to pull him back. ‘Not that way! Come on!’
She leapt back into the painting and bundled Marco through the door, slammed it shut and locked it firmly behind them.
Chapter Twenty-two
‘What’re you doing?’ Marco gasped. ‘We’ve got to follow them!’
‘Do you want to get yourself impaled? I don’t think we’re going to get through that way.’
He looked around desperately. ‘There’s got to be somewhere else we can get through. Or they’ll catch the Duchess, and the Baron and his painted wife will have the throne!’
His painted wife.
His painted …
‘She’s made of paint!’
‘I know! That’s what I said! We’ve got to –’
‘No, you don’t get it!’ Bianca gripped Marco’s shoulders and squeezed them hard. ‘She’s made out of paint, and he’s got paint on his hands, and there’s only one way – Marco, you’re a genius.’
She turned and pounded down the passage. Behind her, she heard Marco’s feet break into a run, but she didn’t look back. She didn’t have time. She hit the door to di Lombardi’s secret workshop key-first and barely paused as she turned the lock and threw it open.
‘Get the water in the bucket,’ she yelled to Marco. ‘We’re going to use the flying machine!’
‘If you say so,’ said Marco. He didn’t sound convinced, but he ran to the big copper bucket and lifted it to the sink and started to fill it with water.
Bianca jumped into the front seat of the flying machine and loaded the two bottles of gas into their places in the back of the wooden cabin, beneath the burner. Then she jumped out the other side and ran for the cabinet full of paint ingredients.
‘Come on, come on, you must be … you must have … ah!’ She opened a plain wooden door at the bottom of the cabinet and tugged out an enormous can of paint remover, bigger than her head, with a handle and a lid. She grabbed a palette knife and levered it open. A cloud of ether and orange essence hit her and she recoiled, her eyes watering, and put the lid back on quickly.
‘So what are we going to do?’ Marco groaned, heaving the bucket full of water carefully across the room to the machine. ‘Crash it into the chapel roof?’
‘No!’ Bianca lugged the can into the cabin of the flying machine, grabbed the notebook full of instructions and calculations, and threw them in too. ‘This is Master di Lombardi’s patented paint remover. It’s got to be ten times as strong as Filpepi’s. This stuff can strip anything.’ She helped Marco lift the bucket of water into place on top of the boiler and then pressed down on the lever that opened the gas bottle and struck two pieces of flint together. A flame sprang up and licked around the bottom of the copper bucket. Bianca slid shut the hatch between the flame and the cabin and sat down in the driver’s seat.
‘Right,’ said Marco. ‘Now we just need to get to her.’ Bianca saw him looking apprehensively up at the blue sky beyond the open hatch, and then down at the heavy wood, metal and glass contraption they were sitting in.
‘It’ll work. I’m sure it will,’ Bianca lied. ‘Turn that handle as fast as you can.’
Marco grabbed the long handle she’d pointed to and spun it until it was a blur. With a creaking sound, the leather wings folded out to their full length. Bianca watched the dial in front of her, marked steam pressure, flicker upwards as the water in the bucket started to heat.
‘On my mark,’ she said, ‘pull out both the stops in front of you, and then …’
‘Then what?’ Marco asked.
‘… hang on,’ she told him. ‘And pray.’
The steam was starting to build, pouring through the glass tubes all along the edges of the cabin. Bianca felt hidden mechanisms underneath them start to whirr and judder. The whole cabin shook. The needle on the steam pressure dial crept slowly, slowly up.
