Chapter 3: Two

Voiture-Lit 2nd Classe № 9 ﹠ 10

The second-class compartments of the Orient Express, compared to those in the first class, were much more cramped and modest in appearance. Each compartment was fitted with two beds arranged one above the other alongside the left wall; a small toilet, nightstand and stool occupied the right of the cabin; facing opposite was a tall, narrow window that could be slid open for ventilation. As if to make up for the plain appearance, the train crew spruced up the room with a hint of floral perfume.

Nevertheless, the small, wood-panelled space that would be his home for the next couple of days was satisfactory to Theo. “It was genius of me to pay the Wagon Lit conductor extra to reserve the other bed under another pseudonym,” he murmured in self-praise. “Now, I can have this whole compartment to myself…” 

A sudden knock on the compartment door interrupted his train of thought; thinking that it was too early for refreshments, he cautiously swung the door open. 

In the gas-lit corridor, Machel, dressed smartly in his brown Wagon Lit conductor uniform, greeted him with an apologetic smile. “My sincere apologies, Mister Cath, but a passenger will be joining you tonight.”

“Joining me?” he cried. “But I specifically told you not to allow anyone to take the No. 9, did I not?”

“We do not have any other available berths on the train, Mister Cath,” Machel said matter-of-factly. “The gentleman will have to occupy the No. 9 berth.”  

His tone made it clear that there was no room for argument; reluctantly, Theo stepped aside for him to place the luggage of the unforeseen passenger. 

“Monsieur, all is arranged.” 

“Merci bien.” A short man sporting slick, perfumed hair and an expensive-looking moustache stepped into the compartment, giving Theo a polite nod of acknowledgement. “May we have a great voyage together, Monsieur Cath.”

“…” Theo only managed a half-smile and sat down on the lower bed. The Conductor closed the door shut behind him softly, leaving the two men in awkward silence. 

“They were serving jubilee red wine in the lounge car just now, have you had the pleasure of tasting it?” the gentleman asked. 

“Yes, of course,” he said, his smile involuntarily brightening up. “One cannot simply resist the finest wine in the Empire. Once you have had your first sip of jubilee red wine, all other wines are criminally pale in comparison, I’m telling you.”

“Much agreed, Monsieur Cath. It delights me to see that you appreciate the exceptional quality of our jubilee red wine as well,” the gentleman commented. “Ah, forgive my rudeness, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alphand, and I’m an engineer from Astria.” 

“You’re from Astria, I see!” Theo nodded his head in understanding. “Then you must have travelled far down south to reach the capital. Where are you heading to now?”

“The Exposition Universelle, my dear friend. There are countless never-before-seen inventions to be showcased in its halls, and I’m interested in collecting such bric-à-brac—a personal hobby of mine.” Alphand gestured at his suitcase next to the compartment door. “Recently I acquired the prototype of a marvellous contraption, from an aspiring inventor who will be unveiling his finished work at the Exposition. Say, would you fancy listening to some classical music before we retire for the night, Monsieur Cath?” 

“Peu me chaut,” he replied with a gentleman’s perfected shrug.

“Hein? Monsieur, vous êtes bizarre.” With a light-hearted chuckle, Alphand unlocked his suitcase and produced a strange brass tube-like machine; it was just slightly larger than the palm, and came with an odd wax cylinder. The machine itself seemed nondescript when viewed from the outside, save for an opening on the top to slide the cylinder in and a silver crank in the middle.

“This is a ‘phonautograph’,” Alphand explained briefly. “I believe Monsieur has heard of a music box? This works in a similar fashion, but much better! You can choose what song you want it to play by inserting the correct cylinder, then once you wind it up by turning the crank, it will automatically start playing the song.” 

“Choose your own song?” Theo stared at the device with fascination. 

“Let me demonstrate for you, Monsieur.” He carefully slid the wax cylinder in place and turned the crank counter-clockwise several times. Then, he set the phonautograph down on the nightstand and allowed the crank to slowly rotate clockwise. 

Miraculously, a tune began to flow from the curious machine. 

“This melody…Clair de lune, I believe?” 

“I chose this song because it perfectly suits the beautiful and fair moonlight outside the window.” Alphand said with a gleeful smile. “Romantic, ain’t it?”

“Y-yeah…” Not when there are two males cramped in a tight cabin, however, was Theo’s silent complaint. 

 

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Voiture-Lit 1st Classe № 1 ﹠ 2

In her own compartment, Rasputina had finished unpacking her trunk and putting her clothes away in the built-in closet of the bedchamber. 

“That old man sure is generous, huh,” she said with a pleased smile as she looked at the wide array of dresses and gowns neatly hanging in a row—all courtesy of the palace. “What should I wear tonight, what should I wear tonight…man, I’m totally spoilt for choice here…” 

After a minute of picking and hesitating, she eventually settled on a soft-pink nightgown, with a silk lined halter top that reached her mid-thigh and loose Chantilly lace sleeves. She held the nightgown up in front of her while checking her reflection in the mirror. “Well, guess it goes well together with my eye colour…”

Satisfied, she laid it out on the bed and quickly undressed before stepping into the bathroom. The hot water from the shower was exactly what she needed; the temperature had been gradually dropping with the imminent arrival of winter, and after a long day, it was nice to warm her body up and relax the muscles in her back. 

Nevertheless, she couldn’t stay for too long—however delightful a hot shower may feel—or else her skin would dry out; after about two minutes, she reluctantly turned the tap off and dried her body with a fresh cotton towel. An amenity kit had been provided in the bathroom, so she unzipped it out of curiosity to take a look inside. Inside the maroon leather bag was an elegant gold-trimmed thank you card, along with many fanciful bottles and sprays of different sizes and purposes. 

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“Eau de toilette, hand lotion, facial mist, lip balm…yes, moisturiser!” Rasputina finally found what she was looking for and took it out from the kit, applying the smooth cream on her skin. 

“Perfect,” she said, admiring the effectiveness of the moisturiser. “Hmm, since I already opened the kit, I might as well try everything inside, right?” 

The eau de toilette, in particular, caught her attention; she held the bottle up to eye level and studied the label. “Rafraîchir blanchir…uh, don’t quite understand what this means, but it sounds fancy enough to worth trying~” 

Gingerly, Rasputina sprayed the mist on the back of her hand. It had a mild scent, with notes of citrus and jasmine, that was surprisingly pleasing to the senses. She made a mental note to use the perfume before breakfast the next day and replaced the bottle in the amenity kit. 

The blowing of the train whistle greeted her once she exited the bathroom. With a slight shudder, the Orient Express slowly creaked to a halt. 

“Lancashire, five minutes stop!” The conductor’s voice barely reached her ears. “Please make way for boarding passengers!”  

She slipped on her nightgown and checked her reflection in the mirror once more while carefully towelling her hair dry. The chamber clock indicated that it had been an hour and a half since she had left Anastasia to loll in her bed; she wondered what the princess was up to now. 

“Well, I did say I’d check on her…” Wrapping her hair around her silver hairpin in a loose bun, she stepped out into the corridor. In the stillness of the stationary train, she could hear faint voices from the dimly-lit platform outside, followed by what sounded like a heated conversation.

“…can’t allow…without a ticket in…” 

“…know…danger…”  

“Anastasia?” Rasputina knocked on the door quietly, waiting for a response. None came after a few seconds. “Huh, could she already be asleep?”

Trying the handle, she found that the door unlocked and slowly pushed it open. “Anastasia…?” 

The soft yellowish glow of the gas lamps illuminated an empty compartment. Almost instinctively, a chill of dread gripped her. Theo’s words came rushing back to her in an instant. 

Thereʼs one thing thatʼs been bothering me—itʼs about the invited nations to the Exposition Universelle.

Backing away in a haste, she hurried down the corridor through the connecting door—where she promptly bumped into another passenger in the vestibule.

A feminine voice cried out. “Aman!” 

“P-pardon,” Rasputina mumbled, bowing in apology. When she glanced up, her eyes met a pair of heavy-lashed, golden brown eyes with reddish-grey flecks that reminded her of burning embers floating in a starry space. They looked back at her with concern and confusion, before her eyebrows rose up in mild amusement. 

“You must be the Saintess Rasputina,” the lady said in a smooth voice. “Might you be looking for Her Highness?” 

She blinked and took the passenger in, noticing her pearl-white plumed hat adorned with lace roses, the thick fur coat draped over her white velvet halter dress that emphasised her curves, her charming smile and gentle demeanour on her petite face framed by beautiful charcoal hair tied in a long braid. 

“Right…” 

“If so, you may find Her Highness outside the station refreshment room, Your Grace.” She tilted her head towards the platform outside, her hat casting long, mysterious shadows over her features. “I descried her while following the porter with my luggage.” 

“Uh, thank you.” Rasputina stepped away from the lady, turning around to exit the carriage. A figure climbed the steps to the open doorway then, her rose-coloured hair caressed by the night breeze.

“Rasputina?” Anastasia asked curiously, pulling her shawl close around her shoulders. “What are you doing here? Are you alright? You look awfully pale.” 

“I was…” Searching for you, she thought, frightened that you may have gotten yourself in serious trouble. But Anastasia would probably laugh till she dropped if she had said those out loud. “…nothing, just talking with this lady here.”

“Lady?” She peered behind Rasputina and frowned. “Who were you talking to?” 

“She’s—” Her eyes widened at the sight of the empty corridor before her. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds since she took her eyes off the passenger, and she didn’t hear any noises that might have suggested her departure. Yet there was no trace of her white plumed hat or fur jacket to be seen anywhere. 

“Um, Rasputina?” 

She shook her head and faced Anastasia. “Never mind that, where did you run off to?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to get some fresh air after waking up…sorry, I must have made you worry.” She smiled sheepishly for a moment. “Anyways, can you continue reading that bedtime story for me?” she continued, now pressing her body against Rasputina’s side while looking up at her with expectant eyes. “It was so boring, I fell asleep so easily the previous time. I want you to do it again, please?” 

Rasputina breathed a sigh and led her back to their wagon-lit. “Princess Anastasia, how old are you?”

“Eh?” She gave her a quizzical look, wondering if this was a trick question. “Fourteen, what’s the matter?” 

“You weren’t supposed to answer my question seriously.” She let out a wry chuckle. “Fine, only for tonight.”

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