Felix had offered to drive Haidée and Renaud to the observatory which he claimed was not far from the village. Almost reluctantly, she had gotten back onto the coach, not quite looking forward to the ride even though it promised to be short and the destination a place with a bed. By the time they had reached the observatory, the sky was the color of her new navy riding coat that she had just received from the modiste before the theatre director had bid her adieu to her enforced vacation. It was too dark to make out the observatory with any detail. To Haidée, it looked like a large black lump with windows.
It was Felix who knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened revealing an older man silhouetted by the interior light. The only hairs on his head were the tufts springing above his ears. He had thick eyebrows which were beetled as he observed the three people on the doorstep. “What is it?” he asked in a surly tone.
The driver was unfazed. “Good evening, Villiers. The Comorant is full tonight and I have two travelers with me tonight who need room and board.”
“Vacationers?”
“Monsieur Renaud is a visiting astronomer…”
“I’ll go see what Everard has to say about it.” Villiers slammed the door shut.
“He wasn’t very polite, was he?” remarked Haidée.
“Villiers is one of the people who work for the astronomers,” Felix explained. “Do not worry too much about his attitude. He always acts as if his breeches are a bit too tight on his sensitive parts. Come to think of it, I haven’t really seen him being congenial except when someone else is suffering.”
“How boorish,” said Renaud. “Why hasn’t anyone turned him out for his surliness?”
Felix shook his head. “You mainlanders don’t understand. Workers are hard to come by, especially on this island. Except for once a month, this place is completely cut off from the rest of the country. It’s extremely difficult to get here or to leave without the causeway. The currents surrounding Mont Saint Filan make sailing treacherous. So I’m sure the astronomers had to make a choice—either to put up with Villiers, or to go without help.”
“Well, I suppose there could be worse things,” Renaud replied.
After a long moment when Haidée was sure that Villiers had decided to leave them on the doorstep to expire, he opened the door again, not bothering to hide his fierce scowl. “Monsieur Everard claims that there is room. This way, please.”
“What about our things?” Haidée asked.
“Don’t you worry about that, Mademoiselle,” Felix replied in reassuring tones. “I’ll make sure your things will get up to you. Is Claude in, Villiers?”
“He’s in, as you say, but that does not mean that he’s available.”
“Oh, stop being so sullen, Villiers,” came a voice from the interior. An energetic, whipcord thin man emerged and swept a low, dramatic bow. “Please come in. We wouldn’t want you to freeze on our doorstep. I’m Claude, by the way. Felix and I will bring your things in. And what are you standing like a thundercloud, Villiers? Aren’t you going to show our guests to their rooms?”
“Very well,” Villiers sighed, exasperated. “But may I remind you who’s higher on the hierarchy in this place?”
“Liberté, égalité, fraternité,” quoted Claude. “Just because your formal title is butler doesn’t mean that you’re any better than me. Besides, don’t you agree that I have more common sense out of the both of us?”
As Villiers beckoned for Haidée and Renaud to follow him out of the sparsely decorated stone receiving hall, she heard him mutter under his breath, “Cocky upstart!”
But Haidée paid little attention to Villiers’ disgruntled mumblings as she followed him past the receiving hall to a long side corridor lined with sconces. The light flickered like unsure dancers, illuminating the bit of mosaic motif lining the tops of the walls. Every few paces stood statues the saints and disciples with their hands outstretched in the moment of piety. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that the place was a church of some sort, not an observatory.
A small flight of marble stairs trailed upward in a strange, lopsided spiral. She clutched the railing as she went up, feeling somewhat off balance with the combination of her headache, an empty stomach, and the aftereffects of her “medicine." She wasn’t sure if it was all of these things that were making her see things, but she thought she saw something inscribed on one of the steps ahead. It looked like a very strange symbol of some sort, inked faintly so it would mostly blend in with the natural markings of the marble. She squinted and nearly tripped on her own hem.
A hand on her elbow steadied her. “Tipsy?” Renaud asked.
She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “You assume too much,” she replied stiffly. “My head is as clear as a bell. I’m just tired. Traveling does take its toll on a lady’s constitution.”
He gave one of his lofty smiles. “Well, if you say so. Don’t blame me for contradicting a lady’s word.”
On the second floor, there was a hallway leading to a row of sparse wooden doors. Almost reluctantly, the butler handed them heavy iron keys and pointed to the rooms that were assigned to each of them. Haidée’s room was the second to the last; Renaud’s room was the last.
Villiers’ eyebrows twitched as he took an obvious step away from them. “I am sure Felix and Claude will be up in a while with your trunks. Monsieur Everard will meet you in the dining hall in about half an hour.” With that, he twirled around in an odd half step and promptly stalked back down the rest of the corridor.
Haidée put her key to the lock and it turned soundlessly. She turned to watch Renaud opening his own door. “He didn’t tell us where the dining hall was.”
“I’m not surprised. But I wouldn’t think it would be all that hard to find,” he replied. He turned to glance at her, but his eyes were hidden under the glare that the light made on his spectacles. “Perhaps you should ask Claude when he and Felix come up with your things.” After that, he shut the door behind him, discouraging any further conversation.
She left her own door slightly ajar so that a sliver of light could penetrate the darkness of the room. In the dimness, she could make out curtains at the far end of the room. Cautiously, she approached and flung open the drapes to let the moonlight in. She coughed a bit as she disturbed the dust. Her room overlooked a bit of the island and in the distance, she could see the dark sea. The full moon was up, a round lantern amidst a sprinkling of stars. Silver highlighted a bit more of the room. Nearby was a canopied bed and a small table with a candle and a plain metal box.
Haidée groped for the candle and went back out to the hall to light it from one of the lamps. Once the flame caught on the wick, she went back to her room and closed the door.
She had expected a rather sparse room—somewhat like that of a rather cheap inn. And with the religious motifs on the first floor, she had been more inclined to think that the astronomers at the observatory lived more like monks in empty cells with unforgiving wooden cots. Instead, the room looked almost like someone’s study—with the exception of the bed—that had been suddenly abandoned. The walls were lined with shelves of books stuffed in a rather haphazard fashion. Closer to the window was a large oak desk with a few blank papers scattered on its surface. A small pendulum clock with a gilded face sat on one of the shelves, silently counting the time. On the other side of the room was a wardrobe. She opened it, finding it empty.
Beside the wardrobe was a small thin door with a key stuck in the lock. She turned it and pushed the door open. She raised her light and glanced into an odd room studded with green-blue tiles. In one corner was a square table with a large mirror framed with the decorative swirl of wooden carvings. A claw-footed porcelain bathtub sat on the opposite end of the room. Directly across from her door was another door, presumably leading into the room next to hers.
“Merde!”
The angry shout appeared to come from the other side of the door. It sounded like Renaud. She pressed her ear against the opposite door and strained her ears. Nothing. She tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Perhaps there was a key on the lock to this door as well. She tried her own key to the door and to her surprise, the lock clicked. But before she could open the door, it was jerked open of its own accord.
“Mademoiselle Avenall, what a surprise,” said Renaud glaring down at her. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“I was curious,” she replied. “And you sounded like you were in distress. I thought it would be better to come to your aid and to ask questions later.”
“Me? In distress?” He looked past her shoulder to the strangely tiled room. “What an odd place. I gather my room is not directly connected with yours.”
“No. This is apparently one of those new bathrooms. Instead of leaving the toilette and the bathtub in a corner of the bedroom, it’s a separate room. I think there’s even a separate pipe near the tub to pump in water. I’ve heard of such things—in the homes of the very wealthy and the eccentric.”
“You have a quibble about hygiene? Don’t tell me you’re one of those backward thinking biddies who wash their faces every Tuesday and don white linen rather than scrub the grime off their backs. But seeing that you’re wearing that awful hat, and perhaps a wig as well, it wouldn’t be too much a stretch of the imagination that you’re masking some…defects.”
“Think what you wish,” she replied. “But I am not going to discuss my personal toilette or my fashion sense with you. You have no fashion sense anyway, so that is beside the point. What were you yelling about anyway?”
“I stubbed my toe,” he replied easily. “Which is no problem of yours. And as for this room—I suggest you lock my door when you are using it. And I shall do the same.”
“That sounds sensible. I have no desire to accidentally walk into this place if your pants are down.”
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I thought actresses were all open-minded. I was thinking more about my own modesty.”
“You? Modesty? I’m not sure the two go together.”
“Mademoiselle Avenall? Are you in there?” called out Felix from just outside her bedroom. “We have your things. Where do you want us to put your trunks?”
“You’re things have arrived,” Renaud said in mock seriousness. “I’m sure you’ll want to change into a dinner gown. That is of the latest fashion, of course. But unfortunately, you’ll probably take an entire hour to put it on and you’ll miss dinner.”
“Just put them next to the wardrobe,” she called out. Turning back to Renaud, she replied, “You’re mistaken, Monsieur. I have no intention of changing into any fancy gowns. Especially since it wouldn’t be appreciated by men like you.” She slammed the door on his face and marched out of the bathroom to see to her trunks.