Davenport soon took leave of them when they approached the front of Mont Saint Filan’s sole inn, The Cormorant. The observatory librarian excused himself on the grounds that he had some things to do at the library that required his attention.
As Haidée stood outside of the inn watching Davenport retreat down the street, she wondered aloud, “How much of the observatory does he really know?”
Renaud stood beside her, his head bent down as if he were examining his shoes, the brim of his hat obscuring his expression. His hands were in his coat pockets. He seemed not to hear her question but after a moment, replied, “It is quite possible Davenport knows more about the observatory than he is letting on. He has been on this island about as long as the other astronomers. He has no one to supervise his comings and goings.”
“I don’t want to suspect him,” she said. “I like him. For one, he’s far more friendly than the others.”
“Oh, he appears that way,” Renaud remarked, “But I’ve met many men who had quite personable facades yet hid a monster underneath.”
“You are a cynic.”
“One would have to be, in my position.”
The breezes outside were cool and stiff. She felt her eyes water and her face felt cold and somewhat numb. “It’s a bit chilly out here, isn’t it?”
“Do you wish to go inside?”
She nodded. “Let’s get out of this wind. It isn’t noon yet, but I can’t see why we can’t have any tea or hot chocolate to warm ourselves up.”
Renaud flashed a quick, wicked grin. “Oh, I can think of something else that could possibly do the trick.”
Haidée thought about sitting in front of a hearth, wrapped up in blankets. “Well, a fire would be appetizing too.”
“I wasn’t talking about a fire.”
“Oh?”
He took a hand out of his pocket and looped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Before her mind could register what was happening, he was kissing her. The brim of his hat momentarily shielded her from the outside. Her imagination replaced those blankets with him.
With a finally press of his lips to the corner of her mouth, he reluctantly pulled away. “Warm now?”
“I would be warmer if we were inside,” she responded tartly.
He laughed and as they moved toward the entrance to the inn, the door swung open revealing a woman dressed in a bright yellow gown trimmed with an excessive amount of lace and ribbon. Over the gown, she wore a coat of an equally eye-searing shade of orange.
In comparison, Haidée was positively drab in her own dark blue coat and dress, but she didn’t mind. The other woman’s poor choice in color amused her greatly.
A sudden wind picked up, nearly taking with it this woman’s feathered hat and wig curled with white, powdered locks. She turned and spotted Renaud with his arm around Haidée and she scowled. Haidée immediately recognized her as the shop keeper, Georgette Beauchamp. Apparently she had still not realized yet that her fashion sense was beyond laughable.
Georgette sneered even when Haidée murmured a polite “Good morning.” The woman gave a toss of her head, probably trying to snub her, but only succeeded in looking like the size of her wig had caught her off balance.
Once they were inside the warmth of the Cormorant’s main room, Renaud took off his hat. “Do you know her?” he asked. “She didn’t look very pleased to see you.”
Haidée untied the ribbons to her bonnet and then tucked her headwear under her arm. “That was the shop keeper. She owns a store just down the street. I met her once before. She seems to have the impression that I am after the magistrate even though I specifically told her I wasn’t. She wants him herself.”
“Ah, I understand now. A jealous woman. I try to stay away from such persons—very dangerous creatures.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Speaking from observation,” he replied. “In some ways, women can be more cruel then men.”
“That’s a very astute observation, Jacot.”
“Observing people is part of how I earn my living.”
The tavern at the inn was only half full of people. Most of them had shoved the tables together and had gathered for what looked like a meeting. The innkeeper, Fasset, was not present. Instead, a plump and bored looking matron sat at the counter, filling orders for wine and bread as two serving girls circulated the room. Haidée guessed the matron was either a cook or maid filling in for Fasset—or even, perhaps, his wife.
“Monsieur Renaud! Mademoiselle Avenall! What a delight to see you here.” A thick figure rose from the table and beckoned for them to join him. It was Maurice Ducos.
Haidée frowned, wanting to retaliate against the fat man for his previous lecherous comments. But Renaud shook his head, indicating that they might as well go with the flow.
The people at the table soon shifted around and made room for them to sit near Ducos. Haidée found herself between Renaud and Galliard. The magistrate grinned at her and pronounced her enchanting as he pressed her gloved hand to his mouth. She pasted a flirtatious smile on her face and not so gently extracted her hand from his grasp.
“Why Mademoiselle, it seems that you have an admirer,” Renaud said in a bored tone. But over his spectacles, his eyes glimmered.
“Why, so I do,” Haidée replied. “Do you have a problem with that, Monsieur Renaud?”
“Oh, no problem at all. I was just making an observation.” He gave her a toothy smile. “Although I must say I’d prefer a more prickly kind of companion. I like arguments. What can I say, I’m a bit of a masochist.”
As Ducos received a bottle of wine from one of the maids and began pouring out glasses while calling the meeting to order, Haidée lowered her voice so that only Renaud could hear her.
“Fortunately for you, I can be a bit of a sadist.”
She had the pleasure of receiving a hot, molten look.
Maurice Ducos tapped a spoon to the stem of his glass, bringing everyone to attention. As Haidée looked around the table, she saw that those present were a mix of vacationers and locals. Most were men although there were a few other women who appeared to be with their husbands.
“Well, as you all know, the Republic has at least done us one good,” the stout man began. “They eliminated the monarchy and scattered the aristocracy. But the current Directoire is a corruption of itself!”
Ducos thumped the table with a fist for emphasis and the rest of the people gave a small cheer, making her jump in nervousness. She saw Renaud’s gaze narrow intently as if he were soaking up every word. Haidée knew better than to disturb him in his observations so turned to Galliard for answers.
“What sort of meeting is this?” she asked as Ducos began to outline the atrocities of the current government and getting his followers riled up.
The magistrate looked at her in surprise. “Why, Ducos is part of the movement to bring down the corruption of the Directoire.”
“Oh, I see.” She relaxed in her chair.
The government in France had been in quite the turmoil for the past decade or so. It wasn’t surprising that everyone had their own ideas on reform although most of the time people had to keep quiet in their complaints or the current regime would fall on them. Ducos sounded a bit like a harmless zealot—there was little a village on an island could do to affect the powers that be in Paris.
“What France needs is a new leader to quash all these corruptions,” Ducos continued. “The movement has been starting in the mainland. People are tired of the internal battles. Everyone is tired of war. There is only one man who can stop all of this.”
Haidée waited for Ducos to nominate himself.
“Napoleon Bonaparte is the man for France’s future,” Ducos declared. “He’s proved himself in countless battles on the Italian peninsula such as the Battle of Lodi. He has the political savvy to pull the country together to make us a world power again. And under him as a leader, everyone will have his say unlike the repressive old regime ruled by the tyrannical Louises who called themselves kings!”
There was a loud cheer, but Haidée just felt somewhat bewildered. She knew that Napoleon Bonaparte was a military general, but she found it hard to believe that might on a battle field could easily translate to governing a country. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure that Ducos wasn’t the only one misled by Bonaparte’s recent overseas victories. She could easily see the public supporting someone just because he was popular, not because he was the right one for the position.
“And we need all the help we can get to make this happen,” said Ducos ardently. “The more supporters, the better.”
“Some say that Bonaparte isn’t the most likable of men,” Galliard broke in. “Some say he needs supernatural help.”
“Oh, Bonaparte won’t turn away something just because it is something some people consider unnatural,” said Ducos blithely.
The magistrate gave everyone an odd smile. “I see.”
Haidée found herself edging over so slightly away from Galliard.
“What of you, Renaud, what do you say?”
His expression was unreadable when he told the stout man, “Oh, I agree with you about eliminating corruption.”