A/N: Thanks again for your reviews! :) Here's the next chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it. I might be a bit later with the next one as I have a rather busy weekend ahead. Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 3: Anne, 1883

The dawn of the New Year has brought a multitude of changes. There are too many to count and too many to adjust to. It still seems like only yesterday that we left the familiarity of Bristol behind and started on this tiring journey across France and into the heart of Italy.

Father is hoping to revive his engineering business that once blossomed and bloomed, before commerce drew more and more people in and made for stiff competition. Mother hopes the Italian climate will help him to better health.

I am not sure what's made them choose Rome, a fresh start can be challenging and the political turbulences that have plagued this country could place us in the middle of a great upheaval if we're not careful. But all my concerns have fallen on deaf ears so far and I have been advised to adjust like my sisters to the slower pace of life down here. They are more than happy to spend their days outside in the sun, passing the time with idle gossip. They're simple creatures, God love them, but sometimes I wish I could be satisfied just as easily. We have all been groomed to look presentable and charming, ready to accept the hand of any man willing to take us. There is nothing wrong with that, of course, it has been the way of the world for many years now, but I fear I need more of a purpose in life than waiting on some well-bred aristocrat day in and day out.

In Bristol, I had my secret project to keep me busy and with the help of friends and acquaintances there was always something to be done. Here in Rome, I have to start all over again. At least I speak the language, unlike the rest of the family who largely rely on the help of our butler. I am not sure how my father manages to pay him, surely we must be greatly indebted by now, but Aurelio is loyal and warm and patient and grateful for any payment he receives. He helps me build a steady vocabulary and assists me in the preparation of my daily excursions with a soft curiosity I can't begrudge him. But at the same time I am careful to only divulge the things that won't get him into trouble. He knows to leave the window open at night and in exchange I give him a rough description of my whereabouts.

What I do not tell him is that I have taken up occasional work on the fields outside the city. The French vineyards are experiencing a state of crisis due to insect infestation and so many Italian vineyards are seizing the opportunity to increase their sales. It is hard, manual labour under the merciless heat of the Roman sun and although it only provides me with a small income, it gives me the opportunity to pass my time in a manner that strikes me as more worthwhile. I am certain my father would be disgraced if he knew that any of his daughters had taken up work. But he is too invested in his own business to notice my absence and should there be any inquiries, after all, I have supplied Aurelio with a believable alibi.

Today, my return to the house has been delayed quite noticeably and I hurry through the deserted back alleys with a growing sense of panic. There is always a chance that one of my sisters might sneak into my room for a late-night chat and not even I could find acceptable means of justifying my absence. I could hardly explain that Gaetano, one of the chief grape pickers, tried denying me my wage once again.

There are few things I fear more than the loss of my freedom and yet there is something, an odd instinct, perhaps, that makes me stop short in our courtyard. I have the strangest sensation I am being watched. It is not the first time I have felt this presence, if you wish, often I have perceived it in the middle of the afternoon when my sisters enjoyed a cooling drink on the balcony. But this invisible spectator whose attention our house seems to have drawn, appears much more threatening now at night.

"Hello?" I ask.

The close proximity of my family prohibits me from raising my voice and so my question dangles feebly in the air and then gets swallowed up by a gentle breeze. Despite the warm temperature, I can feel the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

When I receive no answer, I finally tear myself away and head towards the house, resisting my instincts that tell me not to turn my back to the unknown.

Inside, all the lights are switched off and I breathe my first sigh of relief. Had my absence been noticed, surely there would have been some sign of life. Glancing over my shoulder a last time, I pull my gloves out of my trouser pockets. Although I've grown accustomed to making my way up the mansion's wall and to the dark square that is my window, I rely on them for stability and support.

But as it turns out, nothing goes according to plan today. I have barely touched the stone and climbed two paces when a voice startles me and causes me to lose my footing. The drop isn't life-threatening but still makes me scrape my arms on the façade and sends a shooting pain up my ankles once they come into contact with solid ground.

"Trespassing can be dangerous, Signore."

I utter a curse and turn around to peer into the darkness from which the voice has come. When I squint, I can just about see the outline of a man and my temper rises.

"I could've broken my neck, Sir!"

In my anger, I automatically switch to my native tongue.

"And perhaps that would've been just." He counters coolly, changing from Italian to English without as much as a blink.

I do not know whether it's his frustration or some odd curiosity that carries him forward and out of the safety of the shadows, but suddenly I am awarded a full glimpse of him. He is tall enough to tower over me and the fedora he wears shields his face from inspection. He hasn't once raised his voice and yet the danger I feel in his every word has me rooted firmly to the spot.

"You must mistake me for a common thief." I challenge, trying to appear braver than I truly am but to my surprise he chuckles.

"Perhaps not common," he spreads his hands mockingly and I notice how long and bony his fingers are, "it is not the kind of employment one often finds a woman in."

"You're mistaken, Sir. Women and children have often been used to access places otherwise difficult to reach by men." I contradict, suddenly possessed by a drive to outsmart him, even though it does not help my current predicament one bit.

"Perhaps," he admits and his hands disappear again in the folds of his cloak, "but it does not require much skill to make it to that window. So once more, I advise you not to trespass."

My body weary, I suddenly tire of this conversation. "As a matter of fact, Sir, it is you who are trespassing."

With a swift movement, I pull back the hood of my coat and reveal my face to him. If it is the very same spectator, he will have seen me before.

And indeed his body tenses in recognition and he takes a step back. When he speaks again, his voice betrays a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

"It is not very becoming of a lady to sneak about at night."

"Frankly, Sir, how I choose to conduct myself is none of your concern." I reply, turning towards the house once more. "And I advise you not to return unless you wish to be reported to the authorities."

Once more he chuckles as if he can see through my empty threat and then melts back into the shadows from which he emerged.

"The structure is not very safe and the stone is brittle. Sooner or later you'll fall to your death."

His threat hangs ominously above me and even when I lie in the safety of my bed, my heart refuses to calm its frantic beat.