Chapter 15

A rriving back at the palazzo, Rat went straight to his room to stow the folder and papers. Melody was stopped from following him by Rossi, who cleared his throat in the way that all butlers seemed to know how to do, regardless of country.

"Signorina, Conte Foscari is waiting for you in the salotto. Lady Bainbridge's riposo pomeridiano is going a little longer than usual. The conte has been here quite a while."

Before her illuminating chat with Rat, Melody would have been thrilled to receive a visit from the alluring Alessandro Foscari. Nervous, unsure of herself, but thrilled. Now, the knowledge that he might be an enemy of the Crown and actively involved in espionage against her country threw Melody into a panic; what should she say to him? Would he realise that she knew his secret identity? Was she a good enough actress to mask her feelings towards him now?

Collecting herself, she realised that at least she knew the answer to this last question: thanks to Granny's relentless insistence on training in deportment and etiquette, Melody knew that she was perfectly capable of controlling her reactions. As the dowager had said on many occasions, "When Bertie was alive, one needed to become adept at schooling one's features no matter how shocking and inappropriate the conversation or behaviour. It is a useful skill to master."

Melody walked towards the salotto, pausing before the door to take a deep breath and compose herself as the dowager had spent so many hours teaching her to. She then opened the door to find Alessandro standing in front of the window, looking out on the Grand Canal.

Hearing the door open, he turned, and a smile lit up his handsome face, "Ciao, Miss Chesterton."

He had asked her to call him Alessandro, but given what she now knew about him, this informality and friendliness did not sit well with her. However, if she was overly formal with him now, surely, he might become suspicious.

Realising that she must behave just as she would have if Alessandro had called on before her conversation with Rat, Melody answered in a sweet, measured tone, "Ciao, Alessandro. What a lovely surprise. Have you come to see Lady Bainbridge? I believe she is still taking her afternoon nap."

Alessandro crossed the room quickly, took her hand and kissed it, again lingering just a little too long. "No, bellissima, I came only to see you."

Melody blushed deeply. Despite her new feelings towards Conte Foscari, his compliment, in Italian at that, was utterly charming and hard to resist. He continued, "I am sorry that I did not get to say goodbye last night. I became caught up in a small business matter."

Small business matter! Melody thought. She knew exactly what that had been.

"It ended up taking me away from the party earlier than I had hoped and I missed the chance for our intimate tête-à-tête."

Given that a tête-à-tête was a private conversation between two people, Melody considered Alessandro's appendage of the word intimate to be grammatically unnecessary and yet romantically beguiling.

Determined to resist the man's charms, she answered in a cool tone, "You have nothing to apologise for. I had a delightful time and met some very interesting people." Melody paused. Would she be showing her hand if she mentioned Herr Peetz? Deciding that the risk was negligible and that she wanted to see Alessandro's reaction, Melody continued, "Rat and I met this delightful Austrian, Herr Dieter Peetz. Do you know him? "

Melody was usually quite adept at spotting when someone was about to lie to her. There was a micro-expression that normally flitted across their face as the decision was made to deceive. In Alessandro's case, there was no such tell-tale moment as he answered in the most guileless voice, "I do not believe I have had the pleasure. Of course, there were so many people in attendance last night."

If Melody had harboured any doubts or hopes that Rat was wrong about Alessandro's involvement in something villainous, this falsehood and its smooth delivery put paid to those doubts. It never occurred to her for a moment that Rat might have been mistaken; she had total faith in her brother. If he said that he had seen Alessandro with Herr Peetz and overheard them talking, there was no question that he had.

Melody was not sure in which direction to steer the conversation after this. Luckily, she was given a temporary reprise by Rossi's entrance, bearing a tea tray. It was comforting to see that, despite her many years in Italy, Lady Bainbridge maintained some traditions from the country of her birth. Indeed, the pouring and drinking of tea and genteel nibbling on biscuits was a time-honoured way for the British upper classes to smooth over any social awkwardness, or worse.

Melody and Alessandro sat as Rossi poured tea. Finally, cups in hand and plates of delicious-looking little biscuits studded with almonds on their laps, Melody and her disarming guest were again alone.

Deciding to try another tack, Melody asked, "What is it that you do, Alessandro? You never said."

Of course, it was likely that an Italian aristocrat, even one mainly living in Britain, had no more need for employment than his British counterparts. Nevertheless, Melody was curious as to how he would answer.

"My father died a few years ago and I now run his many businesses." As if intuiting her thoughts, Alessandro continued, "I understand that it is considered quite gauche for the upper classes to taint their hands with commerce, at least in Britain. However, my father was Italian and felt no such compunction."

Melody remembered the story Lady Bainbridge had told a few days before: Alessandro's father had married a wealthy heiress and restored his family's fortune. It seemed he had used his wife's money to launch himself successfully into business.

"What businesses are those?" Melody asked, attempting to keep her tone light.

"My father diversified into many industries. However, most of his investments were in publishing in one form or another. He started what is now the most popular newspaper in Italy. He then built on this foundation, often through acquisition, and we now own various smaller publications as well, including one here in Venice, El Meso ."

Now, this was interesting, wasn't it? Melody thought. Didn't Herr Peetz say that he also published a newspaper in Vienna? Surely, this was too much of a coincidence. She considered mentioning Herr Peetz again in this context. Conflicted, she finally decided that given Alessandro's protestation that he didn't know the man, to refer to him again would be too suspicious.

Instead, Melody asked innocently, "So, do you consider yourself an Englishman or an Italian, Alessandro?"

He chuckled, "Ah, that is an interesting question. Is it not possible to be both? Can one not be two things simultaneously? Both husband and father, aristocrat and businessman, patriot and political critic?"

Melody found his last analogy particularly interesting. Is that what sat behind Alessandro's betrayal of Britain: A misplaced sense of political dissent?

"As per your examples, of course one may be two things simultaneously. However, when it comes to nationalities at least, I would imagine that, at some point, one may have to choose sides. After all, if someone considered themselves French and British, presumably there was a point during the Napoleonic Wars when they would have to pick a side."

"Well, perhaps Napoleon is not the best example. I believe that many in France disapproved of him. However, your point is well taken. Luckily, at least for now, there is no reason for me to pick a side."

"And if there were?" Melody couldn't resist asking. She knew that the question was more provocative than perhaps she should venture to ask. Nevertheless, the moment was too fortuitous to resist asking.

"Let us hope that it does not come to that," Alessandro said, any hint of levity gone from his voice.

"You do not believe that we are headed to war?"

"I hope that we are not, but indeed it seems likely. However, I believe that, when it comes to that, Italy will not join Britain's enemies."

"How can you be so certain?" Melody asked with genuine curiosity.

"Italy, particularly Venice, has found it expedient to maintain economic ties with Austria-Hungary. However, it was barely fifty years ago that Italy fought for unification, Risorgimento, against the Austrians, and then allied itself with Prussia against Austria in the Austria-Prussian War. There is little love lost between the countries. Italy has been trying to play both sides, but I believe that when forced to choose, this country will never take the side of the Austrians."

Melody considered his words. Unless he was an outstanding actor, Alessandro's passionate words seemed genuine. Of course, it was possible that he truly believed what he said and yet didn't agree with what he thought was Italy's likely choice. Was his work against Britain intended to turn Italian sentiment towards Austria-Hungary and Germany? That would certainly explain why he was collaborating with Herr Peetz, an Austrian.

Just considering these machinations was giving Melody a headache. She had never had any interest in politics, let alone international ones. Uncle Maxi had tried to engage her interest in world affairs. However, she was far more inclined to listen to Granny, who made it clear that she considered all politicians, whether British or otherwise, as overgrown schoolboys who had never got over playing with tin soldiers.

Deciding to steer the conversation back to less dangerous waters, Melody asked how long Alessandro would be staying in Venice.

"I have no fixed schedule," he said. Then, in a more seductive tone, "It all depends on whether I find a reason to prolong my visit."

Melody blushed again; his tone could not be mistaken. Why was it that she always felt on such an unsure footing around Alessandro? His words felt dangerous and yet so enticing. She wasn't sure what he was offering, and yet she found their possibility so enticing. How did he manage that? It was not merely that he was handsome, though he was. Melody had certainly met many good-looking men in London. Yet none of them had Alessandro's mysterious allure. When he looked at her as he was doing now, Melody felt her skin tingle and and her heart beat a little faster. Trying to reason against her reaction to the man, Melody reminded herself that perhaps his mysterious allure was nothing more than that he was a traitor.

Alessandro stayed for only twenty minutes longer, perhaps sensing that his private conversation with Melody was going to be interrupted eventually. Before he left, Alessandro managed to extract a promise that she would allow him to show her Venice at night from his gondola the following evening. It all sounded very romantic, and before she'd had a chance to consider her words, Melody found herself agreeing to the outing. As soon as she said this, Melody realised how furious Rat would be. He would likely have tried to forbid Melody from going even before they had realised Alessandro's likely treachery. Considering all this, Melody quickly added that, of course, Mary, her chaperone, would be accompanying them. Alessandro had accepted this with good humour and a plan had been formed.

Dear Diary, Rat was as furious as I thought he would be. He really does not like Alessandro, whether he turns out to be a traitor or not. What does he think will happen? That the conte will ravish me in the gondola in front of Mary? He may be only half British, but I am sure that half is gentleman enough not to try such a thing even if I were unchaperoned. And anyway, as I told Rat, Granny has always said that it is better to keep one's enemies close.

Anyway, we bickered about it, but I won in the end. Rat is eager to visit the consulate and wants to do it first thing tomorrow when it opens. He would not tell me the entire story but led me to believe that not only had Mr Ashby suggested the visit, but that Uncle Maxi knows Mr Burrows, the consul, from their days at Eton. Apparently, Rat has a letter from Uncle Maxi asking Mr Burrows to provide him with whatever assistance he may require. Of course, one does not need to be an investigative genius to deduce that Rat would not have been given such a letter unless he were in Venice in some kind of official capacity for the government. Under any circumstances, a large part of the consul's role is to assist British citizens abroad. So, there would be no reason to send him with a letter in the usual course of things.

Rat hopes that Mr Burrows might know something about the names on the list we found at Signor Graziano's flat. I still find it hard to believe that such a sweet old man was up to no good. However, Rat does have a point when he says that, as an Italian, Signor Graziano's supposed acts against Britain are not treason.