Chapter 1

May 1, 1911

"I do hope that I fare better than Miss Lucy Honeychurch on her first day in Florence."

"Who is Miss Lucy Honeychurch? One of your snooty friends, I presume," Rat said dismissively.

Dear Diary, is there anything more infuriating than an older brother? While I love Rat dearly, his lack of interest in anything that doesn't pertain to his work is infuriating. Though, I cannot argue with him about the young women in my social circle; they are snooty. Or at least they are towards him. I have been adopted as something of a curiosity thanks to Tabby Cat and Wolfie, to say nothing of Granny. She would accept nothing less than that I be treated as an equal, even if I am not, really. However, the way they all look down their nose at Rat just because he has a job is horrible. Nevertheless, I cannot believe that he does not know who Lucy Honeychurch is. Certainly, she is the perfect heroine for me to emulate during this trip. Even though I am going to Venice and not Florence, I can only hope to experience similar adventures and love. Yes, Dear Diary, I do know that A Room with a View is only a book, but what a book! I consider it to be my Baedeker.

Looking over at Mary sitting quietly in the corner of the carriage, Melody Chesterton considered whether Mary would be up to playing the role of spinster cousin and chaperone, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, like in A Room with a View . Mary had taken care of Melody since she first came to live at Chesterton House as a four-year-old. First nursery maid, then lady's maid, now more companion and confidante, Mary had been little more than sixteen when she had first met the charming and precocious little girl, and so was only just thirty years old. Still, as far as eighteen-year-old Melody was concerned, Mary qualified as a spinster. While there was no doubt that Mary was less fussy and absurd than Charlotte Bartlett, she was as beholden to the Chestertons as Miss Bartlett was to her cousin, Lucy Honeychurch, so the analogy worked well enough.

"Miss Lucy Honeychurch is my role model for a visit to Italy," Melody announced.

"Your role model?" Rat rolled his eyes. "What characteristics does someone need to be an appropriate role model for the headstrong, wilful Melody Chesterton?"

Melody screwed up her face and stuck her tongue out. Big brothers really were the worst.

"Is that how you intend to take Venetian society by storm? Making silly faces?"

"I have no more interest in taking Venetian society by storm than I had London society. I know what Tabby Cat wishes, and I am truly grateful for all the opportunities she has given to me. However, Granny agrees with me that there is so much more a young woman can achieve in 1911 than to marry well."

Rat chuckled. It was hard to envision the Dowager Countess of Pembroke as a champion for women's rights. Rat remembered all too well the woman's comments only the year before when the suffragettes clashed with police outside Parliament in the "Black Friday" incident. Her exact phrase was, "I cannot imagine why these women believe that behaviour such as that gives anyone confidence that they can be entrusted with the vote." There had then been a long debate, with Melody taking the side of the suffragettes in a full-throated endorsement of their methods and Tabitha trying to stake out the middle ground and keep the peace.

The dowager had been persuaded to move back into Chesterton House two years earlier when she suffered some health setbacks that worried the extended family. They had done their collective best to persuade the old woman that she wouldn't be giving up her independence even if she were no longer living alone. It was only once she was assured that her beloved butler, Manning, despite his advanced years, would be welcome to continue to care for her needs that she was finally convinced. Since then, Rat had noted that conversations at many of the family meals he attended seemed to come back around to women's rights in one way or another. It wasn't always his sister and the dowager at odds; it was as often Milady Tabby Cat, Lady Pembroke, who seemed uncomfortable with the changes the new century had brought.

Melody interrupted his wool-gathering. "I really would have imagined that Tabby Cat, of all people, would understand that there is more to a young woman's life than the Season and a good marriage. I have heard enough of her stories about how her mother pushed her into marrying the previous Earl of Pembroke, and Cousin Lily has told me how supportive Tabby Cat was when she wanted to skip her Season in favour of her studies."

Of course, that was a highly edited version of what had happened; the then Lady Lily had been obliged to marry a pliable viscount in order to persuade her family that having a Season was unnecessary. Nevertheless, Rat acknowledged that Melody's larger point was a good one: it was baffling that Tabitha, Lady Pembroke, a woman who had thumbed her nose at society with her involvement in murder investigations and had poked it in the eye with her refusal to leave Chesterton House when her deceased husband's cousin had ascended to the earldom, was now such an advocate of following the norms of aristocratic society.

Melody continued to bicker with Rat until Mary could no longer bear it and interjected, "Miss Melody, I believe that luncheon is now being served. Perhaps we should go through and eat. We will be arriving in Venice in two hours."

"Yes, Melly, go through with Mary. I have a few papers I need to read, and then I will join you. But don't wait for me," Rat said, catching Mary's eye in a moment of shared affection for the young woman but also exasperation. Apart from anything else, Rat needed time to reflect, and peace and tranquillity were rare when Melody was around.

Even though he was only four years older than his little sister, the young man had a maturity about him borne of his hardscrabble early life on the streets of Whitechapel. These hardships were exacerbated further when his parents died, and the then seven-year-old found himself responsible for his younger sister's wellbeing. It had been almost fourteen years since Rat had needed to worry about where Melody was going to sleep and where her next meal might come from, and yet he still carried the memory of the weight of the incessant anxiety of those early years on his shoulders. This early burden often surfaced as the world-weariness of a parent who shakes their head at the frivolity of the young.

"Boring papers. Boring work! Why are you always so boring these days, Rat? Come on, Mary, let us go. I am hungry and so bored of this carriage." The young woman pouted prettily. Of course, with her rich auburn hair, perfect porcelain skin, delicate features and bright blue eyes, it was easy for Melody to make most facial expressions prettily.

Finally, Rat was alone in the carriage. He had lied. There were no papers to read; he merely needed time to think. This was Rat's first official solo assignment as part of the Foreign Section of the British Secret Service Bureau. He had been studying under Lord Langley's tutelage to work in British Intelligence since he was eight years old. Langley had promised Tabitha that he would prepare the then-young boy for the safe, desk-bound work of cryptology. While Rat had shown a great aptitude for codebreaking, he had become restless recently and had yearned for the more adventurous fieldwork.

By the time that the Secret Service Bureau was formed in 1909 as a response to Britain's concerns about increasing foreign espionage, particularly from the increasingly warmongering Germany, Rat was old enough that Tabitha no longer had a say over his activities. When Lord Langley had been asked by the head of the Foreign Section himself, Sir Mansfield Cumming, to join the bureau, Rat felt ready to join him and move into a new phase of his career.

Of course, no one in his extended family besides Lord Langley had any idea about Rat's new assignment. As far as Tabitha, Wolf, the dowager, and Melody knew, he was merely accompanying his sister on her first tour of Europe. Langley, who adored Melody and had nurtured an avuncular relationship since she was a small child, was not initially persuaded that Rat should use this trip as a cover for his intelligence work. He was loathe to put Melody in potential danger in any way. It was only when the dowager had finally accepted that chaperoning Melody was beyond her physical capabilities these days and suggested that Rat go instead that Langley was finally convinced what a perfect cover it was for espionage. However, he also had to be convinced that Melody would be blithely unaware of Rat's role and, more to the point, perfectly safe.

Now that he had some peace and quiet, Rat considered the assignment ahead of him. Evidence of German espionage had grown exponentially in Britain over the past few years. Recently, Lord Langley had told him about one of Milady Tabby Cat and Wolf's first investigations together, which had been, at least in part, about stolen naval plans and German spies. Then, such incidents were relatively rare; these days, they were almost commonplace.

War was looming as an almost inevitable conclusion to the increasing German belligerence on display across Europe. While Germany was certainly not the only country jostling for dominance, there was little doubt that, under the leadership of Kaiser Wilhelm II, Germany had embarked on an aggressive military build-up, particularly of its navy. It was evident that the Kaiser sought to challenge Britain's imperial power and expand Germany's colonies and influence overseas.

Rat's assignment was simple in many ways: he had a variety of Italians, Germans, and even a few Englishmen with whom he was to ingratiate himself and watch closely. Prime Minister Henry Asquith and his Liberal Party were increasingly worried about the relationship between Italy, Austria-Hungary and Germany. The Triple Alliance between the three countries, signed in 1882, was primarily defensive and often barely held together in the intervening years. Nevertheless, as war loomed over the continent, there were worries it might develop into something more threatening.

This assignment was vague, but Rat knew enough to realise that it was also potentially pivotal to Britain's understanding of the competing European powers. Given this, Rat couldn't help but be plagued by self-doubt. Despite his assurances to Lord Langley back in London that he was ready for such an assignment, was he? He was only twenty-one; was he really prepared to tangle with seasoned, Machiavellian foreign operatives?

Rat shook his head and said aloud, "I'm ready. I've been training for this since I was eight years old." Despite the self-assured words, the doubts continued to nag at him. Finally, deciding that he needed to stop himself from dwelling on all that could go wrong, Rat stood and went to find Melody and Mary in the dining car.

Entering the luxurious dining car, Rat saw Melody and Mary sitting at a table by the window in the middle of the carriage. Melody was writing in that infernal diary again!

Dear Diary , I cannot wait to arrive in Venice. I have read The Wings of a Dove twice in order to prepare myself. Nevertheless, I am quite sure that no book can do justice to the beauty and majesty of the city. I have brought my paints and easel with me, but I doubt that my limited skills will suffice to capture Venice. I wish that Bear had come with us; his paintings always manage to capture the soul of a place so well.

Mary is scowling at me for writing. Apparently, well-bred young women do not do such things at the dining table. Now, she can see me glancing at her and is scowling even more.

"Miss Melody, how many times do I have to tell you to put your diary away? You are a young woman now and should not need to be scolded about such things."

Melody smirked, "You know, Mary, now that I have come into my fortune from Granny, I can do whatever I want, including writing in my diary while I dine."

"Money, no matter how much, is not a license for poor manners."

"You sound like Granny now. That is precisely the kind of thing she would say."

"Then that should suffice to inform you that I am correct." Mary shook her head as she spoke and sighed. She loved the young woman as if she were her own child. However, as the years passed, their relationship had changed to the point where the older woman now felt she had lost any authority she might once have possessed. She was not a mother to the girl or even a maternal surrogate. The two Lady Pembrokes shared that role. She acted as a maid sometimes, a companion at others, but increasingly seemed to be relegated to the role of silly older spinster aunt who was loved but not respected. Indeed, if Mary had ever read A Room with a View, she might have recognised much of herself in the character of Charlotte Bartlett.

Turning back to her diary, Melody continued to write.

Diary, there is the most attractive man on this train. I have spotted him multiple times since we boarded it in Milan. Perhaps he is even thirty years old. Mary would say that he is too old for me, but I know for a fact that Tabby Cat's first husband was elderly when she married at my age, and even Wolfie is eight years older than she is. I am so sick of the men my age – at least the ones in society. Thank goodness I did not have to finish the Season out.

Melody would have kept writing, even once the food arrived if Rat hadn't approached the table. Despite all of her complaints about older brothers, Melody had the highest regard for hers. She knew enough of their history before moving to Mayfair to understand, at least somewhat, what her brother had done to ensure that she was safe. Melody also had a vague sense that he might not have chosen a life on the outskirts of aristocratic society if it hadn't been for a wish to see her raised as a lady. She glanced up from her diary as he sat across from her, next to Mary. The disapproving look on his face sufficed for her to put down her pen and move her diary for the food that was being brought to the table.