Chapter 7: Six

Voiture-Restaurant

The melodious twinkle of a bell reached their ears again as Rasputina and Anastasia walked down the narrow aisle, through the connecting door and into the dining car. 

The interior décor of the carriage immediately caught Rasputina’s eye—intricate rosewood marquetry panels adorned the walls on all sides and the ceiling was done in dove-grey leather, giving off a feeling of luxury only the finest residences can match. White satin draped the two rows of tables on either side of the aisle; each table held decoratively folded white cloth napkins and a clear crystal vase of fuchsia flowers in the centre. 

Most of the passengers were already seated at their tables, amicably chatting among themselves; the kitchen at the far end of the dining car was busy serving up plates after plates of delicious breakfast at an incredible speed. The smell of sizzling fresh bacon and eggs, of buttermilk and maple, of brewing coffee and morning tea danced in the air. 

“Ah, Your Highness and Grace have arrived.” Machel noticed their entrance and bowed politely before walking up to them. “Bonjour, may I show you ladies to your table?”

Remembering what transpired last night upon seeing the Conductor’s face, Rasputina quickly averted her eyes to her feet while Anastasia thanked him for his service. 

“For breakfast today, we have crispy bacon and cherry tomatoes with sautéed spinach, and poached eggs on grilled ciabatta drizzled with olive oil,” Machel said after they had settled down at the corner table reserved for them. “Would you like to order apéritifs?” 

“A…a glass of orange cordial, s’il vous plaît,” Rasputina mumbled, not meeting his eye. 

Anastasia looked at the menu with a confused frown before saying slowly, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Please wait for a moment,” he said, giving another polite bow, and quickly left for the kitchen bar. 

“Did something happen between you and the Conductor?” Anastasia asked quietly, glancing at Machel’s back. “Why are you acting so weirdly?”

“Uh…” She lowered her gaze and bit her lip before letting out a sigh. “M-Machel, he…um…” 

“The Conductor?” Anastasia pressed urgently. “Did he do something bad to you??” 

The lady and her maidservant seated across the aisle directed curious glances at them.

Rasputina shot her a glare. “Shh!” 

“Oops, gomen…so what were you going to say?” 

“D-don’t be too loud,” she whispered, hiding her face in embarrassment. “Yesterday, I…I accidentally flashed Machel when he brought me my drink.” 

“You—pfft!” Anastasia had to clamp her hand to her mouth to suppress the fit of raucous giggles threatening to emerge. “O-oh my, what have you done to the poor Conductor? I bet he’s feeling more awkward than you are right now.” 

“I wasn’t meaning to, really,” she muttered. “I may have gotten a tad too comfortable on the sofa…”

They stopped talking when they noticed Machel approaching their table with their drinks. He placed two coasters on the table and carefully set their glasses on top. 

“Sorry for the wait, Your Highness and G-Grace. Please enjoy,” he said before leaving hurriedly.

“See?” Anastasia whispered, laughing softly. 

“S-Shut up,” Rasputina hissed in between sips of her orange juice.

Deciding not to tease the wilting Saintess any further, Anastasia looked out of the window and pointed excitedly. “Look, down there!” 

Rasputina heard her elated tone and also gazed out of the window; a lush, wide valley flanked by high mountain ranges, with a river snaking right through it. The water shimmered in the aureate sunlight, each ripple sparkling as if millions of diamonds lay beneath its crystal-clear surface. Winding rows of stone-and-slate cottages, their chimneys smoking faint contrails, flanked the banks. Upstream, the river split in two and flowed around a diamond-shaped island; a magnificent Gothic-style cathedral was perched on it, so large and wide that its compound covered the entire island.  

“That must be Canterbury,” she murmured, admiring the view as well.

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Machel soon brought their breakfast to the table and elegantly laid down their plates and cutlery in front of them. “Bon appétit, Your Highness and Grace.” 

“Machel,” Anastasia said, stopping him with a kind smile. “Please don’t ever forget what you saw in Her Grace’s chamber last night. It’s a memory too precious to erase.” 

“Wha—” Rasputina nearly spat her orange juice, while Machel barely maintained his professional mask of calm as he bowed and hastily scurried down the aisle.

 

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Seated in the middle of the dining car was Alphand—along with a lady Theo had never seen around before. She was dressed in an elegant cream gown with a bell-shaped skirt, the edges of its three-quarter length sleeves and high collar beautifully hand-embroidered with crystal beads. Her silvery-grey hair was worn high in an ornate style with a lace cap, revealing the sapphire-and-pearl choker around her pale neck. 

Where the hell did this beauty who can easily rival Rasputina come from? 

“Ah, Monsieur Cath, you’ve arrived.” Alphand turned his head towards the lady, who was now staring at Theo with keen hazel gold eyes. “Allow me to introduce Madame Parthenope Verney to you. Madame, this is Monsieur Cath, the gentleman sharing the same compartment with me.”

“Madame Verney?” Theo met her eyes curiously. He wasn’t expecting a rich wife to be sitting alone with a man like Alphand, not that he meant offence to the gentleman. “You are married?” 

She said nothing, and realising how rude his question might have come across, he quickly apologised. “Pardon my insensitiveness, Madame. I-It just slipped…”

“No, there’s no need to apologise.” She smiled at him, showing her snow-white teeth. “Forgive me, I was simply distracted by your accent, Mister Cath.” 

Theo felt his heart skip a beat. “My…accent?” 

“Your name suggests that you hail from the capital,” Verney explained casually. “Yet your intonation is rather similar to that of the Southerners.”

He silently swore at Xavier. That bastard’s accent must have subconsciously influenced his speech, and this lady from Lord knows where somehow managed to pick it up. 

Madame Verney studied his face and laughed. “Sorry, I must have confused you. Please feel free to ignore my ramblings, Monsieur Cath.” She stood up from the seat opposite Alphand, clutching a book against her chest as if it was her own baby. “Thank you very much for giving me your copy of A Tale of Two Cities, Monsieur Alphand. I promise to repay you one day.” 

Alphand, who had been watching their interaction with bemused interest, smiled and shook his head. “It is my pleasure to meet another fan of Monsieur Charles’s fabulous work. I’m delighted to give my book to a worthy person like you, Madame Verney. You need not trouble yourself with repayment.”

She dropped a grateful curtsy, then bowed her head at Theo and left the dining car. 

“Fine woman, isn’t she?” Alphand said, chuckling. 

“Objectively,” he mumbled, sitting down on the chair Madame Verney had been sitting on moments ago. “I didn’t know you are—”

“You are mistaken, Monsieur Cath,” Alphand interrupted. “I was reading my book in peace and solitude at this table when the madame noticed me. She initiated a conversation about the book’s author, and as a gentleman myself I was obliged to entertain her queries. She’s a very insightful and perceptive individual, despite what appearances may suggest.” 

Theo wasn’t sure if he agreed entirely with what he said, but the last sentence was certainly true. “Monsieur Alphand, do you know which berth Madame Verney might be residing in?” 

“I believe it’s the first-class No. 4 berth.” Alphand paused and leaned towards him, whispering, “she said she’s travelling alone, Monsieur Cath. An opportunity like this is hard to come by.” 

“The day I even consider something as preposterous as stealing a man’s wife is the day I die,” he rejoined, brushing him off. “Have you ordered food?” 

“No, I was waiting for you to join me. Breakfast is best enjoyed hot while having good company, don’t you agree?” Alphand raised his hand to signal a passing waiter. “Two menus, s’il vous plaît.” 

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