Page 14 of The Amsterdam Enigma (The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterton #3)

M elody woke up early, aware that Rat must have already left for the docks.

She felt far too anxious about his safety and curious about what he might discover to sit around the hotel all morning doing nothing.

She recalled her conversation with Alessandro the previous day.

They truly knew very little about the dead informant, Vermeer.

Well, she amended that; they now knew he lived with a Dutch woman.

As Melody considered this, she snapped her fingers. “I need to talk to her. Who knows what light she might shed on Vermeer and his final days.”

Of course, she didn’t know who this woman was or where she lived; only, Alessandro might.

The thought of returning to Alessandro’s house and potentially encountering Fatima was more than Melody could bear.

Rat had suggested that they use the hotel’s telephone sparingly; they didn’t know who might be eavesdropping on calls.

However, Melody was sure she could make a seemingly innocuous call to Alessandro’s house and ask him to meet her at the hotel.

Buoyed by the prospect of doing something productive with her day, Melody sprang out of bed.

Even though it was early, Mary was already up and pottering about in the living room.

She couldn’t hide her surprise when Melody walked out of her bedroom fully dressed, despite it being only eight o’clock in the morning .

“You are up early, Miss Melody.”

“Am I? Well, it looks to be a lovely day out and I think I need to get some fresh air.”

Everything about this statement was patently absurd; actually, it appeared to be shaping up to be another uncomfortably hot day. Moreover, it was hardly as if Melody had been cooped up in the hotel for days.

However, it was not Mary’s place to question her charge. Instead, she said, “Would you like me to accompany you?”

“As it happens,” Melody said in an attempt at a casual tone, “I think I will ask Conte Foscari to walk with me.”

Mary’s pursed lips conveyed all the response she needed to give to this suggestion.

Although she didn’t know the details, she was aware that the conte had hurt her beloved Melody, and for that, Mary could never forgive him.

It was not for a lowly servant like her to question why the man continued to travel with them, let alone why THAT woman did.

While she would never be so bold as to voice such a statement about her supposed betters, as far as Mary was concerned, Fatima was no better than she ought to be.

Melody read Mary’s expression accurately. However, she chose not to comment. Given the early hour, it was hardly reasonable to telephone Alessandro yet. However, perhaps if she went to have breakfast, it might be an acceptable time once she was done.

“I am going down to the restaurant to have some breakfast. Would you like to join me, Mary?”

A servant like Mary held an unusual status.

If one considered her still to be Melody’s maid, then it was inappropriate for them to dine together.

However, if she were the young woman’s companion, or even chaperone, then it was socially acceptable for her to do so.

Melody typically inclined towards the latter view, whereas Mary herself could never shake off her lowly start in life and usually leaned towards the former.

Given this, she shook her head. “You go ahead without me, Miss Melody.”

Melody was disinclined to argue with Mary about this for a change; she wished to make the telephone call to Alessandro without being in the shadow of the woman’s disapproving glare.

Melody skipped out of the room before Mary could change her mind. The dining room was quite empty at that time of the morning. Melody sat at her usual table and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from the waiter. She wasn’t particularly hungry and thought she might just have some toast and jam.

Just as she was about to call the waiter over, Melody saw Jemima Edwards enter the dining room, and her heart sank.

The room was far too empty to hope that she wouldn’t be seen.

It was possible that Jemima would merely wave and then move to a table on her own, but Melody had a terrible feeling that the chirpy Miss Edwards would never be that unsociable.

Her worst fears were confirmed when Jemima caught sight of her, waved, but then proceeded to walk towards her. “Miss Chesterton! What a surprise. It seems you are an early bird as well.”

“Not usually, but yes, this morning, I woke early and thought I would come down and miss the crowds.”

If Melody had hoped this last statement might dissuade excessive friendliness, she was mistaken.

“Oh yes, I agree. It can get awfully busy in here later on, can it not? Might I join you?” Jemima asked, shattering Melody’s last hope that she might escape.

Trying to make her smile as genuine as possible, Melody lied, “Of course you may. I would love some company.”

Jemima took the seat opposite, and the waiter hurried over to take her beverage order.

“I wouldn’t mind so much if all the other guests weren’t so elderly. I do believe that we, and of course Mr Sandworth, are the only people under forty staying in this hotel.”

Melody held no opinion on whether this was true. She had made no particular observation of this, but she also didn’t really care. Her stay in Amsterdam was not for pleasure, and thus the presence of more age-appropriate guests with whom she might socialise hardly mattered to her.

Instead of saying anything like that, Melody simply smiled again.

Then, realising she would need to make some effort to uphold her end of the conversation, she asked, “Do you have travelling companions, Miss Edwards?” Melody assumed the young woman must have someone.

It was not the done thing for an unmarried woman of Jemima’s age to travel the continent unaccompanied.

“I am being chaperoned by my Aunt Beatrice. However, she has a rather nervous disposition and seldom leaves our room.”

Like Rat, Melody pondered who could possibly believe that such a person would make a suitable chaperone or even companion for a young woman.

While good manners prevented Melody from voicing such a thought, she did remark, “That must be rather lonely, Miss Edwards. To be always alone, that is.”

Jemima gave her a rather sad little smile.

“It can be. It certainly can be. It is one reason I was so delighted to meet your brother. And of course, then you, Miss Chesterton. Usually, I am happy enough with my own company. I go to the museums, borrow books from the library, and take tea in the cafes. However, sometimes it can be a bit lonely.”

As she listened, Melody berated herself for being so inconsiderate; Jemima Edwards merely craved some company, and here she was, resenting even the notion of sharing a cup of coffee with the woman.

“I am very grateful for my brother’s company and that of my companion, Mary,” Melody said with a genuine smile this time.

“Where else have you travelled to?”

The question was asked so casually that Melody didn’t even consider it before she answered.

“We began in Venice, then went to Morocco, before coming to Amsterdam.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Melody realised how peculiar that itinerary was, if they were indeed nothing more than tourists exploring the continent.

Why on earth would anyone leave Italy, travel all the way to North Africa, and then return to the Netherlands? It made no sense.

Melody searched for a reason that might render the travels more comprehensible, but came up with nothing.

If Miss Edwards was curious about their travel choices, she did not comment. However, she did observe, “Morocco must have been fascinating. And you must have been there when the Germans sent their gunboat to Agadir.”

This observation was just a little too close for comfort, and Melody panicked. “Oh, did they? I didn’t hear about that.” This was an absurd statement to make. She would have had to ignore every single newspaper over the past month, not to have seen some mention of the German provocation.

Again, regardless of what Miss Edwards thought about this statement, she merely smiled and shifted to a far more mundane topic. “Did you ride a camel?”

“Luckily, I did not have to experience that. I rode horses and quite a few mules, but I was spared a camel.”

“You would not have liked that?” Jemima asked. “I would love to ride a camel, given the chance. How romantic it must be to ride such a beast as you trek across the desert.”

Given the hardships of her travels between Casablanca and Fes and then onto Tangier, Melody could imagine nothing romantic about an even more uncomfortable ride on a camel in the dunes. However, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Melody ordered toast, and Jemima hemmed and hawed for a few minutes before deciding on boiled eggs.

The food arrived quickly, and the women chatted as they ate.

The more they talked, the more comfortable Melody became with Jemima, and the more she regretted her initial assessment of the woman.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if Rat were to end up with someone like Miss Edwards.

As this thought ran through her head, Melody realised that the subject of her brother had not come up at all. She wondered if this indicated a lack of interest on Jemima’s part or merely a shyness in discussing a young man in whom she had a romantic interest.

Determined to investigate what this might be, Melody remarked, “My brother greatly enjoyed your outing yesterday.”

“I am so glad to hear that. Mr Sandworth is delightful company, and so interesting.”

Melody wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her quiet, rather bookish brother described as in this way before. Her first sisterly instinct was to make a joke at his expense, but she caught herself just in time.

“I believe Matthew finds you equally charming,” was what Melody said instead. Then, she asked coyly, “Will there be another such outing?”

“Absolutely! We are to visit the Rijksmuseum.” This was the first Melody had heard about such an excursion.

Should she be upset that Rat hadn’t mentioned it?

Melody wondered. Then, she considered that they had spent the previous evening consumed with assembling an appropriate disguise for Rat’s trip to Entrepotdok and realised that a visit to a museum with Miss Edwards had not been top of mind for him.

“I am so happy to hear that there will be a second outing,” Melody said with genuine pleasure.

When she had finished her eggs and had drunk a second cup of tea, Jemima wiped her mouth with her napkin and made her excuses.

“This has been delightful, Miss Chesterton, and I hope we can repeat it again soon. However, I must get going. I have an appointment for which I will be late if I am not careful.” With that, Jemima Edwards stood and left.

Melody watched Jemima leave and pondered how she might help further the budding romance.

She had shifted from trepidation about the potential chaos Jemima, as Mrs Sandworth, could unleash, to contemplating the role she might assume as matchmaker for the young couple.

Melody sat there considering the topic for several minutes before realising that she still needed to make a telephone call to Alessandro.