A handful of buildings clustered around the courtyard. I wondered which one Father had disappeared into. Next to the wooden gate was the largest edifice, with windows on the first and second stories shaded by wide-slatted shutters. Wispy smoke rose from a tin chimney. A weathered old barn with wide eaves sat across from the big stone building. The little boy reached out from the barn’s half door to catch raindrops in his open palm. There were a few smaller buildings, probably no larger than a room each. Directly across from me hunkered a squat building with tin walls, painted blood red. No windows. Something about it lodged a dull pain in my side, as if a fractured rib now pierced my right lung.
“What’s that building?”
Montgomery didn’t even glance up. “The laboratory.”
I wiped the rain from my face. That low, red building made me uneasy, but the rest of the compound was in good working order. This was clearly someone’s home, not the wild den of some madman. The portico had been freshly swept and the garden was well-tended, despite the mud puddles. My skirt grazed against the interior wall and came off with a coating of chalky dust from fresh whitewash.
Beside me, Edward leaned against the wall, taking long breaths. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. Part of me felt oddly protective of him. But he was a survivor. He’d been through worse than this and come through it.
“You’ll be all right,” I said.
“It isn’t me I’m worried about,” he whispered, giving me a penetrating look. “I’m not sure you should have come here, Juliet. There’s something strange about this island. About your father.”
I folded my arms, not wanting to hear more. I didn’t altogether disagree with him, but I wasn’t ready to admit that aloud. The rain lightened, and the little boy darted across the courtyard into one of the small apartments. The sound of a hammer started up again.
Montgomery ran a hand through his soaked hair. He was quieter than usual, as if worried I might be disappointed by their simple home.
A slamming door made us both jump.
Father stepped onto the portico from the large building, rubbing his hands. “I’ve put the kettle on,” he said, his eyes traveling over my dirty dress to Montgomery’s muddy boots to Edward’s seawater-soaked clothes. He frowned. “Good Lord. You’re all disgusting. Good thing we’ve no neighbors. The tea can wait. Montgomery, be so good as to show Juliet to her room while I have a bath prepared.”
Father frowned at Edward. “Prince, I’m afraid there’s only the one spare room. Perhaps we can make a place for you in the storage shed. Hitherto, it has been used to store feed for the horses.”
“I’m sure it will do fine,” Edward said, but his knuckles clenched white as bone behind his back.
Father stared at the muddy rim of my skirt. “I need to look over the shipment while there’s still some daylight. That should give you a few hours to make yourself presentable, Juliet, and then we can talk civilly.” He waved Edward toward the main building. “Come inside, Prince. It will take a few minutes to ready your room, and I’ve a question or two for you if you’re to stay here.”
I threw Edward a nervous look, but his face was calm. For a boy used to a privileged life, he was surprisingly brave. I wondered what he’d told himself to get through those long, desperate days on the dinghy. Then I remembered the photograph, with that tingle of curiosity, and wondered again what he was running from.
“This way,” Montgomery said. I tore my eyes from Edward and followed Montgomery through the portico. His boots left muddy prints on the stone floor as he led me toward one of the apartments. A few scrawny chickens huddled in the top of the open henhouse to stay dry. As we passed the garden, Montgomery darted into the rain to gather a few pea pods. He handed one to me.
The sweet, earthy taste was paradise after weeks of dried meat and tinny canned vegetables. I pointed to the chickens. “I wouldn’t mind one of those for supper.”
“They’re only for eggs,” he said. “We don’t eat meat here.”
“That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Not fish nor flesh. That’s the rule.”
“Another of Father’s commandments?” I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice.
He stopped outside the door of one of the smaller apartments. His handsome face was tense with exhaustion, and I felt a stab of guilt that I’d taken a hard tone. It wasn’t Montgomery’s fault. He’d saved Edward a second time, even against Father’s wishes.
“The doctor’s peculiar about his diet,” Montgomery said. “Doesn’t want them to develop a taste for meat.”
“Them? The natives, you mean?”
But he’d already turned to the door. It had a strange knob: a smooth, straight cylinder and a hook latch with holes for the fingers. The keyhole had been soldered closed.
“Isn’t there a key?” I asked.
“No need. Only the main gate is locked.” He tugged on the latch a few times with his middle finger. “The interior doors have a safeguard. Only five-fingers can open them.”
“Five fingers?”
“Sorry. I mean, it’s a special mechanism. It keeps wild animals from getting in but lets those of us in the compound come and go as we please.”
“Even into my room?”
He grinned briefly and pushed open the door. “You haven’t anything to fear from us, Juliet.”
I followed him inside. The room was large and airy, with a wooden bed and a table and chair. A screen fashioned from a bit of old netting split the room into a bedroom and a dressing area with a dusty mirror. I crossed the room to a barred window that framed the fading sun, muted now behind rain clouds, as it sank below the rolling treetops toward the dark horizon. Far below, I could see the three hulking islanders coming up the road with trunks slung across their backs.
I was alone with Montgomery and the unsettling images of the islanders’ twisting limbs. Mother’s voice whispered in my ear that drawing attention to the deformities would be impolite, but my curiosity wouldn’t be silenced. I turned away from the window.
“What’s wrong with the natives?” I whispered.
Montgomery tugged on the window bars, testing them, eyes flickering to the figures on the road. The pistol was gone from his belt, but not from my mind. What was out there? Tigers? Wolves? We’d sailed across the Pacific with a panther that Montgomery had treated like a harmless kitten. If a panther didn’t frighten him, what outside my window did?