Agent Merryweather: Rose and Duke

By Eden Elsworth

Londinium, 1892

Britannia has been a part of the Roman Empire for over two thousand years, but all is not well within the Empire.

Her father and brother have been missing for weeks when a man she has never met before crashes into Rosanna Merryweather's life, telling her tales of a secret agency that her father is the head of.

Agent Cyprian leads Rosanna into a new life, one filled with danger and espionage.

Rosanna and 'Duke' Cyprian set out to find her father and brother and find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eden Elsworth
• Release date: Sep 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519957269

Book preview

Chapter One

Londinium 6th May 1892

Rosanna Marguerite Merryweather picked up a telescope and put it to her eye to survey across the rooftops of Londinium. Somewhere out there, in the sprawling metropolis, was her younger brother and her father. After weeks of searching for them without any hint of where they had gone, she was losing hope. Even though she had connections in all the lowest places, no one she knew had heard anything about where Rudolph and ten year old Randolph had gone.

Focusing the telescope, she scanned each roof, each window and each skylight within sight, and swallowed the despair that threatened to fell her. After almost an hour of fruitless searching, she put the instrument aside and gave a heavy sigh. Leaving the room in the attic of her family home, she went first to check her mother was still sleeping, and then made her way down to her father’s study, intending to go through all the papers in his desk in the hope of finding a clue she could follow.

Rosanna had searched the study a dozen times already, but she kept hoping to spot something she had missed the previous occasions.

Sitting behind the large mahogany desk, Rosanna ran her fingers along the edge of the smooth top. The varnish was a little faded, worn away by years of contact with her father’s ample belly. There was a small rough patch almost dead centre of the worn area. It had been caused by his watch chain rubbing and catching.

Closing her eyes for a moment first, she dropped her hand to the top right-hand drawer and pulled it open. Inside, as it had been every other time she had looked, was her father’s diary. Bound in deep red leather, it measured eight by five inches. She had been hesitant about invading his privacy the first time she had looked, but now she saw it as the only way forward.

Placing the diary on the desk, Rosanna traced her fingers over the embossed initials of the front cover: RTM. Rudolph Thomas Merryweather.

Where are you, Papa? she asked quietly of the small book. She didn’t expect to get an answer.

Ever since her father and brother had vanished into thin air, her mother had been kept sedated by the physician. Elizabeta had never been strong mentally, and now she had succumbed to that weakness, as she had been threatening to do ever since Randolph was born, when Rosanna was fifteen years old. Despite the disruption his birth had caused in their, until then, tranquil family home, Rosanna adored Randolph. Like their mother, he showed signs of physical weakness due to his lack of mental strength. That had been the physician’s diagnosis. Rosanna personally thought Randolph needed to spend more time playing outside instead of being coddled.

Her eyes wandered to the daguerreotype in its frame on the desk. It had been in exactly the same place in the same silver frame for the last two years. Rosanna smiled slightly as she remembered the trip into the commercial centre of Londinium. Randolph had been almost hysterically excited, as he wasn’t taken to the busy areas of the city often. Their mother had been too quiet and seemed to be showing signs of one of her megrims, but had denied it when asked.

The family travelled the photographer’s studio and had the picture taken. Then Rosanna had been put in charge of her mother and brother to escort them home by Hackney cab, while their father attended to some business at the Bank of Rome. He went there at least once a week in the course of his business.

Opening the diary, Rosanna scanned the marbled paper that lined the cover. She thought she must know every single line of the pattern by now. She let her fingers linger on the lines, noticing for the first time that the pattern was embossed as well as printed.

How had she missed that before?

Leaning over to turn up the wick on the lamp to throw out more light, Rosanna angled the book to inspect the fractionally raised pattern. Before she could pick up the magnifying glass to study it more closely, there was a loud rap on the window.

Rosanna scowled. The study looked out over the walled garden, so nobody should be outside of it, not when the wall was topped by wires electrified by the steam system her father had invented. The last time someone had tried to break in, they had been found unconscious on the ground just outside the wall the next morning.

Standing uncertainly, Rosanna approached the window.

Miss Merryweather? a hoarse male voice called out. It sounded like he was torn between being loud enough to be heard and quiet enough not to be overheard.

Yes? she responded cautiously.

Miss Merryweather, please let me in. If they see me, all is lost.

Against her better judgment, she quickly pulled back the heavy damask curtain and unlatched the sash window.

A young man stood outside, dressed for the theatre in top hat and tails, and as soon as the window was unlatched, he started pulling it up. Be quick! he said urgently.

Rosanna’s eyes widened. He was being rather rude.

Seeming to give up on waiting for her, he shoved the sash up and clambered over the sill. He dropped the window again so quickly the glass rattled in the frame. Then he whipped the curtain closed.

Turning to look at her properly, he removed his top hat and bowed elegantly. Please accept my apologies for my rudeness, Miss Merryweather. It has been rather a frantic few weeks and I have been hounded everywhere I went. My name is Augustus Marmaduke Cyprian, he informed her, a slight smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, at your service.

What are you doing here, Mr Cyprian? I have no idea who you are.

I work for your father. Or I did. Since he disappeared, I’ve been trying to find him.

So have I, Rosanna informed her strange visitor.

And I have no doubt you have no idea where he is. You’ll never find him.

Why not? She frowned deeply.

Because you don’t know the truth. Your father isn’t the man you think he is, Miss Merryweather. Reaching inside his coat, he produced a business card. On it was printed his name, and below that was THE EMPEROR’S AGENCY.

You work for the Emperor?

I do, indirectly. The Agency is, in theory, answerable to the head of the Empire, but we have been autonomous for the last six centuries. There have been many within the Empire who felt that the Emperor’s supreme powers needed to be curbed at times, so when Raffaello the Great took the imperial laurels, he made the Agency independent, and told everyone in the Senate that we had been dissolved.

Rosanna held her hand up, wanting him to stop talking for a moment or two. Please, no more. She took a deep breath, and then asked for clarification, My father is the head of some secret agency?

Yes.

And I assume that’s why he and my brother are missing?

I’m certain of it.

So why are you here and not out looking for them?

Because I need access to your father’s office.

Sir, we are standing in my father’s study. This is the only one in the house.

Mr Cyprian smiled slightly again. "Despite the fact it will make me appear to be extremely rude for a second time, I have to tell you you’re wrong. Somewhere in this house, there will be a secret room. That’s the one I need access to."

You come into my home by less than conventional means, tell me some fantastic story about my father, and then expect me to allow you access to a ‘secret room’ you claim is here. My Cyprian, I may be a young woman, but that does not make me a fool. She straightened her spine and glared at him, her mouth set in a hard line as she pondered the possibility of removing him from the house forcibly.

Then allow me to speak with your mother. She should remember me.

My mother is sleeping and I have no intention of disturbing her at this hour. The last few weeks have been very hard on her and she has been sedated for the sake of her health.

Cyprian slumped a little. Damn!

Excuse me? You seem to have forgotten your manners, Sir.

He threw his hat onto a leather armchair and pushed his fingers through his fair hair, pacing back and forth without saying a word for several minutes. Then his eyes fell on the desk and he rushed over to it, grabbing up the diary.

What are you doing?! Rosanna exclaimed, startled by his sudden change of direction.

He didn’t respond, just turned the diary into the light of the lamp and peered at it closely. Your father is a smart man, Miss Merryweather. He’s left a message here.

Picking up the letter opener laid to the side of the blotting pad, he pushed it under the paper lining to peel it up. Then he sighed in relief. Rosanna was starting to think he was either insane, or just possibly telling her a bizarre truth. Everything about him seemed so earnest and trustworthy.

At least this will vouch for me, he told her softly, holding the diary out to her.

Rosanna took the small book, and her eyes widened. Written on the wrong side of the book lining was a note from her father. That was the pattern she had felt, but because it was backwards from the right side, she hadn’t realised the raised lines were words.

‘Rosanna,’ the note began, ‘if anything should happen to me, trust Cyprian. All you need to know to begin with is in my other office.’

Along with