Chapter 22

A rriving at the marchesa's palazzo before sunset and for something other than one of her extravagant parties gave Melody the opportunity to appreciate what an oddity the building really was. It was very evident that it had been intended to have more than one storey, but the crumbling, overgrown facade obfuscated whether the others had never been added or if the building was a ruin of its former glory.

Standing on the terrace of the palazzo waiting for Melody to disembark was one of Luisa's African manservants. Melody had remembered seeing quite a few other African servants at the party. This one was wearing a very ornate tunic and wore a white turban. If Melody hadn't remembered that he had been the one to hand her a glass of champagne days before, she might have assumed that he was a royal guest.

The manservant bowed and said in perfect English with only a hint of a foreign accent, "The marchesa welcomes you and is awaiting you in the garden."

As she did the night of the party, Melody walked through the hallway connecting the terrace to the garden, glancing to her left and right at what she could see of the palazzo's other rooms. The night of the party, the garden had been so full of people and servants that, while it had seemed almost otherworldly, Melody hadn't fully appreciated its beauty. Now, she realised what an oasis Luisa had created for herself in the middle of the city. The garden was a charming mixture of pieces of art, exotic flowers basking in patches of sunlight and leafy trees providing welcoming shade.

Under one such tree, Luisa sat at a wrought iron table. On the table, there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it and a platter with snacks that looked like the cicchetti from earlier that day.

Even sitting down, it was clear that Luisa was wearing another outfit that bordered on a costume: a bright red silk high-collared blouse with a large bow tied at the neck topped what looked like wide-legged black, linen trousers. While it wasn't unheard of for women to wear trousers, particularly if they were cycling or doing some other outdoor activity, wearing them as evening attire was scandalous. Large, gold hoop earrings hung from Luisa's ears as if she were a gipsy at a carnival, and this impression was only heightened by the dark kohl around her eyes and her scarlet, painted lips.

However, Melody barely noticed any of this as she took in the sight of Luisa's cheetah lying by the side of her chair. The big cat was quite beautiful, its creamy fur dotted with evenly sized and spaced black spots. The animal was majestic but also quite terrifying to behold. While it seemed to be sleeping, perhaps even sedated, nevertheless, there was something quite terrifying in the raw power that seemed coiled up in the animal, even when it was at rest.

The cheetah's collar was made of very fancy-looking leather covered in metal studs. It was attached to a chain that was connected to a hook embedded in a large rock.

Seeing Melody's nervousness, Luisa said languorously, "Cara, you do not need to fear Shaitan. He is, as you say in English, a pussycat." Then Luisa laughed at her pun. Apparently recognising his name, Shaitan raised his head. Large, round golden eyes looked at Melody with a curiosity that was hard not to imagine might have been that of a hunter assessing its prey.

There were three other chairs besides Luisa's, and Melody made sure to take the one furthest away from Shaitan, who quickly lowered his head back onto his paws and seemed to go back to sleep .

Luisa indicated to her manservant that Melody's champagne flute should be filled. "It is so lovely to see you, Melody. We did not get much time to talk at the party. You enjoyed yourself, sì?"

Enjoying the first sip of the champagne as its bubbles hit her tongue, Melody nodded. "My brother and I had a lovely time. The palazzo and this garden looked so magical and the whole party was unlike any I have ever attended. The food, the wine, the company, the costumes, it was all quite marvellous."

Luisa indicated that Melody should choose some cicchetti. Once she had a few mouthwatering-looking pieces on her plate, Melody remarked as casually as she could, "I met one particularly interesting gentleman from Vienna, a Herr Dieter Peetz."

"Ah yes, dear Dieter. I have not known him for very long. It seems it has been many years since he was last in Venice. Herr Peetz has travelled here with his daughter who is some kind of special envoy to the Austrian exhibit at the Biennial. I was introduced to him by the charming Conte Foscari."

"Have you known the conte for very long?" Melody asked, trying but failing to keep a note of jealousy out of her voice.

Despite Melody's efforts, her tone had not been lost on Luisa and she raised her eyebrows, "He is a very handsome man and charming. Certainly, I see he has charmed you, ma chérie." As if reading Melody's thoughts, Luisa continued, "Alessandro and I have been friends since I first came to Venice. But only ever that; amici. Good friends. He has the mind of a banker, not an artist, which is what I look for in a paramour."

Melody was mildly scandalised by Luisa's plain speaking about such a topic, and while she appreciated the kindness behind the woman's words, she was also concerned about what they suggested. "Conte Foscari and I also no more than friends," she hurried to say.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Melody realised that she was working against her intentions for this evening; she had wanted to ask Luisa's advice about her feelings for Alessandro. She couldn't do that if she denied having any .

Deciding to match Luisa's honesty and transparency, Melody amended her statement, "Well, perhaps a little more than friends." She said this while looking down at her hands. Now, she glanced up nervously, unsure what the marchesa's reaction might be. What she saw writ large on the other woman's face made her heart sink: pity.

"Amore," Luisa said in a sympathetic voice. Then she sighed and repeated it, "Amore. I see it on your face."

"No, not love!" Melody exclaimed in more of a a horrified voice than she intended. At this, Luisa's eyebrows shot even higher, and she smiled knowingly. Melody realised what her disavowal had implied, and she said in a panicked tone, "No, Not that. Well, I am not sure exactly what you think, but all we did was kiss."

There, she had said it. She hadn't intended such candour, but perhaps it was for the best. At least now, Luisa knew everything. Or almost everything.

The other woman said nothing for a few moments. It seemed as if she were considering her words carefully. Finally, she spoke, the same sympathy tingeing every word, "You are a lovely young woman, Melody. You are lively, intelligent and so fresh and vibrante. That is our Italian word. Do you know what it means?" Melody nodded, and Luisa continued, "It is no surprise that you catch the eye of a man like Alessandro Foscari. But Alessandro is a man who takes you to his bed, not to the altar. Capisce?"

Melody did understand, only too well. It was another way of saying what Alessandro himself had said to her; he took lovers, nothing more. A part of Melody had wanted to protest then and she wanted to do so again now; she was not looking for a husband. However, while that was true, that didn't mean that she was ready, perhaps would never be ready, to allow herself to fall so entirely from grace and become a man's mistress.

Despite Tabby Cat's attempts to shield Melody from society's most tawdry gossip, she had heard and read enough to know how many aristocratic men kept a mistress. She was sure that Wolfie and Uncle Maxi did not, but they were unusual. Some men flaunted their mistresses, taking them to restaurants and the theatre. Most kept them hidden from the view of their wives and friends in discreet houses in slightly less fashionable areas, such as Chelsea. When she thought of such women, Melody imagined gaudily made-up faces and barely covered bosoms. That was not a life she desired for herself and certainly not one that Tabby Cat and Granny expected her to lead.

Deciding that perhaps she had the answers she had been looking for, Melody decided to pivot the conversation back to less risqué ground. "So, tell me more about Herr Peetz."

Before answering, Luisa said, "I thought we might eat out here tonight, if that is acceptable to you, Melody. It is such a lovely evening." Melody indicated that was acceptable and more servants appeared from the shadows with dishes, cutlery and linens.

As the table was being set, Luisa answered, "I do not know much about Dieter Peetz, only that he is a publisher of newspapers and journals in Austria, which is how I assume he and Alessandro know each other."

Just as Melody was beginning to think that this line of inquiry would not bear fruit, Luisa added, "Of course, I am sure that their shared political sensibilities also attracted them to each other."

Melody leaned forward, trying not to sound too eager as she asked, "What shared political sensibilities are those?"

"I do not know the details, but my understanding is that Herr Peetz uses his major newspaper to advocate for peace and is strongly against the warmongering of Austria-Hungary and Germany. I believe that one reason he is in Italy at the moment is that some recent pieces his newspaper has published, which were particularly critical, have made him a target, and he felt it was safer to leave the country for the time being."

Well, that was interesting. But if Herr Peetz were publishing similar articles to those written by Silvio Verdi, then it would seem the men were on the same side.

"And you believe that Alessandro, Conte Foscari, shares these views?" Melody asked .

"Sì. Alessandro's father, like many older Venetians, despised the Austrians. From what Alessandro has said in the past, his father used his newspapers to advocate against the Triple Alliance, and his son has continued where he left off."

This was a very different view of things than the one Rat had suggested. Melody's relief at the thought that Alessandro was not the villain they were looking for quickly turned to resignation; his innocence or guilt could not matter so much to her. Still, even if he could be no more than a friend, she was happy to think that she probably hadn't been such a poor judge of character. Though if that were the case, where did that leave their investigation?

Melody wondered if Luisa might know more about the medals proudly displayed in the homes of both dead men. She casually mentioned the medal in Antonio Graziano's home. She hoped that Luisa, who seemed to have her head in the clouds so much of the time, would either not notice or dwell on when and where Melody had seen the medal. Luckily, the fanciful marchesa skipped over that detail just as Melody had hoped she would and instead asked what the medal looked like.

When Melody described as much as she remembered, Luisa said thoughtfully, "Sì. I think I know what you are describing. It is the Medaglia della Liberazione di Venezia given to those brave men who helped liberate Venezia from the Austrians in 1866, which led to its unification with Italia. I remember dear Antonio once telling me about his involvement in the Risorgimento, which agitated and then fought for unification."

Luisa paused and smiled sadly. "Do you know that even all these years later, Antonio would host meetings of his Risorgimento comrades. He was a true patriot."

This was certainly interesting. However, Melody was unsure where this piece of information fitted into the investigation. Shifting her focus and thinking about Rat's plan for them to talk with Antonio Graziano's sons the following morning, Melody wondered if Luisa might have more details about which house was theirs. All she and Rat knew was that it was off Campo di Ghetto Novo.

She asked the question of Luisa, who considered it for a few moments before answering, "I do know that he often stayed in the flat above the shop, but yes, there is a house in the Ghetto where Moische lives and has a studio. I did visit it once, to look at his art as a favour to dear Antonio. He knew that I have many friends who are artists and some who are patrons of the arts. He begged me to look at his son's paintings and see if I felt I could help him."

"And did you?" Melody couldn't help but ask.

Luisa wrinkled her nose as if smelling a foul odour. "Per Dio! The paintings were terrible. The man has no talent. What could I say? I wanted to be kind, but I could not ask any of my friends to help him, let alone be his patron. In the end, I selected the least terrible of them and bought it. I came home and told my man to burn it."

"Do you remember which house it was?" Melody asked hopefully.

"Sì. It has a green door. It is the first house after the small bridge leading onto the campo to the right."

The rest of their meal was uneventful. Luisa was a delightful companion and shared many amusing stories with Melody as they dined. After finishing the bottle of champagne and then one of red wine, they ended their meal with a delicious, sweet wine Luisa called Vinsanto, into which they dipped long, hard, almond-studded biscotti.

By the time she returned to Lady Bainbridge's palazzo, everyone else was in their beds. Feeling a little tipsy, Melody's last thought before she fell asleep was that she wished to live a life as sparkling and full of beauty and excitement as Luisa's.