Chapter 7

W hatever Melody and Rat had anticipated about their surprise dinner companion, the Marchesa Luisa Casati confounded all expectations. In fact, Melody had never met anyone quite like her. The marchesa was not beautiful, quite the opposite. Objectively, she might be considered almost ugly. She was too tall, taller than Rat, in fact, too thin, and her face was long and angular with chiselled cheekbones. However, somehow, between the woman's beautifully made, if rather unusual dress, flaming red hair that was styled almost as a halo, and large, mournful eyes accentuated by the kohl lining them, she was the most striking woman that either sibling had ever seen.

The marchesa seemed quite shy, almost awkward in her conversation. Nevertheless, there was a gentle kindness about her that immediately endeared her to Melody.

"Thank you for not bringing the leopard, Luisa, dear," Lady Bainbridge said as nonchalantly as if she were talking about a poodle.

"Non, non, ma chérie. It is not a leopard; it is a cheetah. Si?" the marchesa replied, seamlessly mixing French, English, and Italian.

"Is there a difference?" Lady Bainbridge asked with genuine curiosity.

"Sì. Many. The cheetah he is the fastest of the animals."

Luisa then proceeded to explain a variety of differences between the two big cats. Melody listened in fascination. The idea that someone would choose to have such an animal as a pet was astounding. Melody's beloved Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Dodo, had died the year before. The loss was devastating, and Melody missed her enormously. Any thought she had entertained about a replacement pet had remained firmly in the category of another domesticated dog. Now, she wondered if she was being too conventional in her thinking. Anyone could have a dog as a pet. Of course, she was quite sure that Tabby Cat would not be happy to have a wild animal living in Chesterton House; it had taken her long enough even to warm up to Dodo.

"Do you live in Venice, marchesa?" Melody asked.

"For the most part now. And chérie, por favor, call me Luisa and I will call you Melody."

Luisa told them that the year before, she had moved into an unfinished palazzo on the Grand Canal, the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni. She explained that the Venier family had commissioned the building in the 18th century. Originally planned as a five-storey structure, work had stopped not long after starting in 1751. Between the fading fortunes of the family and then Napoleon's occupation of Venice, nothing beyond the first storey was ever completed.

"When I moved into my palazzo, it was in a terrible state. There was, how do you call it, the plant that climbs…"

"Ivy?" Rat suggested.

"Sì. The ivy she was all over. The roof was falling in, the walls, they were crumbling."

Melody couldn't help but ask, "Then why did you buy it?"

"Ah, that is what all of Venice exclaimed. They said, this Luisa Casati she is a crazy one. I was all anyone could talk about. Oh, the fantastico melodrama; it was everything."

"Luisa had made great strides with the inside of the palazzo; it's barely recognisable from the derelict, abandoned building she bought last year. When will you begin work on the exterior?" Lady Bainbridge asked.

Luisa threw back her head, exposing her graceful, porcelain-white, long neck and laughed. It was not the dainty laugh that women in society were taught to use, but instead, a throaty, hearty chuckle. "I am leaving the outside as it is. With its overgrown, crumbling walls my palazzo is magnifico. I would not have fixed inside except that I was told it would collapse on me if I did not. This palazzo is to be the stage on which I will perform the next act in the life of Luisa Casati."

The rest of dinner was filled with one outrageous story after another. There were tales of extravagant, outlandish parties, intimations of love affairs or, at the very least, very intense flirtations, and an overall narrative of a woman who lived life as she chose to with no reference to the norms of society or its judgement. It seemed there was a husband and even a young daughter living somewhere else, but neither were spoken of except as brief asides.

Melody was fascinated with Luisa Casati. Was it really possible to live life so entirely on one's own terms? It was evident that an enormous fortune fuelled the independence and freedom that Luisa enjoyed to the fullest. Melody wasn't sure that she wished her life to be quite the performance that her new friend relished. However, she believed there was much she might learn from the outrageous marchesa.

During a lull in Luisa's stories, Lady Bainbridge asked Melody and Rat about their afternoon excursion. They described their visit to the Basilica and their walk home. Melody talked about the bookshop with its odd proprietor.

"Ah yes, Signor Antonio Graziano," Luisa said knowingly. "His shop is a favourite of mine. Every shelf is a mystery; one never knows what will be discovered."

"It sounds quite messy to me," Lady Bainbridge said dismissively.

However, Melody clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Yes, Luisa! That is exactly how I felt about Signor Graziano's shop; it was an adventure." She then said in a more measured tone, "Except that I did not have time to explore properly. I wished to buy a novel to help me with my Italian. While the prospect of roaming amongst the bookshelves for hours was very tempting, my brother made me hurry and pay for the dictionary and then dragged me out of the shop."

"Melody, that isn't fair. Mr Ashby was waiting for us. I am sure you can return another day," Rat protested.

"Sì," Luisa said vehemently. "I will take you tomorrow. It has been far too long since I visited Signor Graziano."

A plan was made, which Melody was delighted with and Rat apprehensive of. He found the marchesa rather overwhelming and shocking. More to the point, he wasn't sure she was an entirely appropriate friend for the impressionable Melody. However, he realised that there was no way to deter his sister now that the invitation had been given and enthusiastically accepted.

The following morning, Melody woke up early, excited for her outing with the marchesa. Would she bring the cheetah? Having walked through the narrow streets of Venice, Melody couldn't even imagine how one might take such a beast around the city without causing consternation. Of course, it was hard to imagine how one might walk such an animal anywhere.

One thing she was sure of: Luisa was the most fascinating person Melody had ever met. Everything about the woman was wonderful, curious and inspirational. That she had seemingly abandoned her husband and child to live alone in Venice in a decrepit, unfinished palazzo was not even the most outrageous thing about the marchesa. Her clothes, her makeup, the cheetah, it was all almost too eccentric. Melody couldn't wait to take Luisa up on her offer to visit the palazzo for one of her infamous parties. Meanwhile, their proposed outing to the bookshop was enough to have the normally morning-averse Melody positively leaping out of bed.

"You're very eager this morning," Mary observed.

"I have plans to visit a bookshop."

Mary narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "And why are you this excited about such an outing? Is that handsome Mr Ashby involved?"

"Oh, Mary, he's not handsome. Well, not all that handsome, anyway. And even if he is reasonably attractive, he does drone on about all sorts of boring things."

"So he is not who you are going with? I hope you don't think you're going alone."

"No, I am going with the Marchesa Casati. She is coming to get me in her gondola. Apparently, it is possible to get quite close to the shop on the smaller canals. She said it is one of her favourite shops in Venice. Oh, Mary, she is quite amazing. To live independently as she does would be quite wonderful."

Even as Melody said these words, the image of a handsome, olive-skinned face popped into her mind. Melody quickly banished such thoughts; she would not let the gorgeous conte distract her. She had come to Venice to escape the expectations that she would achieve nothing more in her life than to marry well. She did not intend to let a man, however handsome, upset her plans. Whatever Melody's ambitions for her trip were before she met the enigmatic marchesa, now she felt as if she had never truly understood what it meant to be a worldly woman before.

After bathing, Melody proceeded to torture Mary by going through every dress she had brought with her to Venice and judging each one as too childish, too boring, or too conventional.

"You do not understand, Mary. Luisa, that is Marchesa Casati, has a sense of style and fashion that is so unique. She told me that she sometimes drugs live snakes and wears them as necklaces. I do not want her to be embarrassed to be seen out in public with me," Melody said melodramatically before throwing herself on the bed next to her pile of dresses in a fit of pique at the state of her wardrobe.

Mary sat on the bed beside her and stroked Melody's hair as she had when she was upset as a child. "There, there, Miss Melody. I am sure that the marchesa likes you for who you are, not your clothes."

Melody sat up at this, her temper now turning to exasperation, "Mary, you do not understand. It is not enough for Luisa to like me; I wish to emulate her in every way. All my clothes are the prim, proper dresses of a young, wealthy debutante who knows nothing of life. "

Mary knew enough about her mistress's moods that she didn't point out that this description quite aptly fitted Melody. Instead, she kept her own counsel and made soothing sounds.

"I wish my wardrobe to be an expression of something more than that my family can afford to shop at the House of Worth!"

Finally, Mary persuaded Melody that this was not a problem that could be solved that morning and that if she wished to go on her outing with the marchesa, she would have to choose something to wear from the mound of clothes on the bed. Eventually, after trying on and rejecting at least four more outfits, Melody was persuaded to settle on a forest green dress that Tabitha had initially refused to buy for her because she thought it was too mature for an eighteen-year-old girl. Its neckline was more daring than Melody's other day dresses, and its cut was slimmer and very modern.

Thirty minutes later, Melody was satisfied that she looked as sophisticated as she was likely to, given what she had to work with. She had made Mary redo her hair three times, sure each time that the look was too childish. Now, it was coiled simply at her neck, with just a few ringlets framing her face.

By the time Melody descended the stairs, the marchesa had already arrived and was being entertained by Lady Bainbridge in the salotto. When Melody entered the room, Luisa appraised her outfit approvingly and announced, "Charming, charming. You are molto bella, Melody."

While Melody appreciated the marchese's kind words, she did wonder how genuine they really were. Luisa's outfit that morning was so outrageous that it might almost have been a costume if they were attending a masquerade ball. Her tulle skirt resembled one that a ballerina might wear, while on top she had a bolero fur jacket that seemed as if it would be much too warm for a sunny June day in Venice. Luisa wore a long strand of pearls that she had wound around her neck many times, and to top off the outfit, she was wearing a hat with an enormous brim that was covered in pink feathers. How was it possible that someone who could put together such an outfit could really believe that Melody's Worth dress was anything other than boringly pedestrian?

Luisa's gondola was far more ornate and opulent than either of the ones that Melody had travelled in so far. Settling back into the ruby red, plush velvet cushions, Luisa told her, "Signor Graziano is not as spry as he once was. He has aged visibly even since I first met him last year." Melody thought back to the stooped old man she had met yesterday and reflected that "not spry" was an understatement.

Luisa continued, "He has two sons but neither of them have ever been interested in taking over the business. One, he tries to make his fortune as an artist – not a very good one from what I have seen. The other has left Venezia altogether and is living in Vienna now. Maybe the son, he works in a library, or something like that. Every time I see Antonio he says the shop is getting too much for him and that if he can't persuade his artist son to join him, he will just sell the store. Il poveretto, he rarely opens before mid-morning and normally closes early."

Melody thought about the old man with the twinkly blue eyes and his marvellous shop and was deeply saddened to think of him abandoned by his sons and forced to sell up. As Luisa promised, her gondola was able to navigate the maze of small canals that wound their way off the Grand Canal and through Venice to bring them within sight of the shop. Luisa's gondolier helped them both out of the boat, and they then walked the short distance to the bookshop.

Just as the day before, the ringing bell above the door failed to summon Signor Graziano. It was evident that Luisa knew her way around the shop's labyrinth of overcrowded shelves. Melody trailed the marchesa as she drifted from one shelf to another. In the gondola, Melody told Luisa about her dilemma of a well-known book in translation versus a totally new book. While she hadn't commented on the choice in that moment, now Luisa picked books that were Italian translations of British classics.

"If you want to improve your Italian, then you should read a book whose story you already know," she decided. "It is how I improved my Inglese."

As Luisa perused the shelves, she picked up books and showed them to Melody, who would indicate her familiarity with the English originals. They had been in the bookshop more than twenty minutes and Signor Graziano hadn't appeared. Luisa didn't seem either surprised or concerned. "Antonio is probably in the back taking a nap," she confided. "It really is all becoming too much for him. We will call for him when we are ready to pay."