Chapter 4

I spent the next few days in my study, engrossed in my house project, and I rarely surfaced from it for anything, not even to eat or sleep. More than once I woke up with a crick in my neck and ink on my chin from when I had fallen asleep at the drawing table. Jacques quickly learned that he was not to disturb me while I was working since I threw a pencil at him in exasperation when he attempted to get me to leave my work long enough to take some food and rest. After that, he would come very quietly, and usually leave soup and a little bread, but beyond that, he didn't interrupt me.

My blueprints, final sketches, and supply lists were finished when I jerked awake one morning, ravenously hungry and terribly needing a bath. Years in the cage of the vagrant carnival helped me to appreciate being clean, so I ran the hottest bath I could stand and soaked until my skin turned bright pink. Once clean, I dressed in a clean suit and rang for Jacques. While I waited for him, I put my supplies away and carefully slipped my work into a portfolio to keep it safe for later.

Jacques arrived with a hearty breakfast for me, such as one might find in the country: hot oatmeal with sugar and milk, croissants, café au lait, ham, and eggs. I fell to with a will, soon the majority of the meal was gone, and I was feeling much better.

"Is there anything else you require, Monsieur?" Jacques asked, bowing.

"No, thank you, Jacques," I said as he took the tray away. "I'll be fine."

"What are you planning to do today, Monsieur?" he asked, wiping the table.

Immediately I was suspicious. Why did he need to know? Was he simply being friendly, or was he reporting to Madame Delphine? I decided to err on the side of caution. "I haven't really decided yet. I need some exercise, so I think I'll walk about for a while, and then play a little music later."

Jacques bowed in acknowledgement of my response and took himself off, ostensibly to deliver the dishes to the scullery maid. I, however, decided to head outside, away from any possible prying eyes.

The gardens were fabulous: winter had at last ended, and most of the flowers were beginning to bloom. I wandered about, looking at flowers and wondering if I could possibly find the library here and locate a book on flowers: I knew what roses were (they were the most common flower in the opera house) and carnations (worn in gentlemen's lapels) and morning glories and ivy (they grew along the walls of the opera house), but I knew very few flowers on sight. I'd have to learn a little more about flowers.

Space

I was heading back to my rooms that afternoon when I could have sworn I heard footsteps keeping pace with mine. I was in the hallway, and I knew there was no one else besides me there, but I could hear others' footsteps. They stopped when I stopped, and continued only when I did. Once, I stopped very quickly, and for a moment I heard them clearly. There were two sets, and one had tripped because the one had stopped suddenly in response to me stopping.

There was something strange about those footsteps, but I couldn't decide on it. They sounded as if they werea long way from me, yet, I had a feeling they were close. They sounded as if they were steps that ladies took: in the city, it was fashionable for ladies to take small steps in order to appear as if they were gliding across the ground, but some part of me told me that these steps did not belong to ladies. Who else would be here? I knew for certain that Madame Delphine was from home, and who else would she have as a guest? I was determined to ask Jacques.

Jacques served me my lunch in my rooms soon after I arrived there, so I asked him about Madame's other guests.

"Other guests, Monsieur? There are no other guests. There is only you," he said, looking genuinely perplexed.

"But I heard footsteps earlier," I persisted. "They didn't sound like anyone on the staff, either. Whose footsteps were they?"

Jacques looked surprised. "Where were you, Monsieur?" he asked.

"In a hallway," I answered, not seeing what that had to do with anything. "The one with the bust of Diana."

"Ah, Monsieur, I see what it is now. We of the house call them les farceurs, or the jokers. That hallway is said to be haunted, and usually they will pull little pranks, but nothing dangerous. Footsteps are the most commonly reported joke."

I looked at him. "Ghosts? Of whom?"

"We think they are children, Monsieur. The pranks they pull are all things a child would do. Beyond that, we do not know."

I thought about this. I didn't believe in ghosts, but others did, I knew, but why would ghosts waste their time trailing me? I didn't understand it.

Jacques left me soon afterward, telling me before he left that the ghosts were nothing to be afraid of. I sat for a few moments, thinking about what he had said and what I had heard in the hallway. What he had said made sense, but I really didn't believe that what I had heard had been ghosts. The footsteps had sounded too...earthly.

Frustrated with ruminating, I decided to go and find the music room. After all, it had been a while since I had played. My hands were out of practice. I wandered about, thinking about what I had heard, and wondering if Madame Delphine had been completely honest with me. After all, she was a woman who served her own interests first. Perhaps it had suited her to keep something concealed from me.

I was still thinking about this when I heard the music.