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A butler never reveals secrets, and as Marlinspike's sole butler and service, Nestor knew everything about its masters. He knew Haddock had a photograph of his mother in his wardrobe, which Nestor discovered while putting away the Captain's laundry. Calculus still slept with a teddy bear that's kept under the pillows during the day. Even Milou had a bone he stashed in the garden, unknown to the honey-haired journalist. Tintin himself had his secrets. Nestor knew where he kept the pair of gold-rimmed glasses and of the collection of model aeroplanes stored under his bed. Everyone had secrets, small things enjoyed in the privacy of their solitude. And it was Nestor's job to ensure that they stayed that way.
It was the same when another secret arose. Bianca Castafiore and her posse of servants had only recently terrorised the manor, only to suddenly depart in a flurry of "ciao's" and kisses. Her premature exit meant that a beautiful baby grand piano still lay in one of the upstairs living rooms of Marlinspike.
It wasn't too much of a bother; it resided in a room which no one particularly used, and it would only be there for a couple of weeks. The only person slightly bothered was Nestor, who took it upon himself to maintain its perfect state until it was removed once more. So he bustled about, ensuring that the window was closed when it rained, the room never became too stuffy, the shine on its black veneer never faded and that not one speck of dust touched it. Nestor couldn't abide dust.
The task was easy enough. No one came near the piano anyway.
That was, until one afternoon.
The late summer rains had begun to descend, changing the sunny morning into grey with a cool drop in temperature. No one was particularly happy about the weather's difficult temperament, but what could be helped? So Nestor went around, closing every open window and drawing curtains across the rain-streaked panes. He was about to enter the living room when he heard a soft melody creep under the sound of pelting raindrops.
A piano, lilting, soft and precise. The notes began to build, ascending into a chord that seemed to sparkle before slowing down once more. Then, like a river, they began to run, tumbling over each other in a flow of arpeggios and runs underneath the twinkle of a simple melody. Nestor couldn't help but listen, sighing at the beautiful sound. Like moonlight as it shone on a river, glimmering across each roll of water, silver against an inky blue.
"Nestor!"
He jumped. "Yes, sir?"
The piano stopped, waiting.
Haddock appeared at the other end of the hall. "Have you seen my whiskey? I thought I left it in the cupboard in the parlour, but it's vanished."
"Perhaps Master Tintin would know?"
Haddock frowned. "That's another thing; have you seen the lad? He's not in the study, his room or the library."
Ah, Nestor knew where he was. On the other side of the door, frozen at the piano, trying to hear the exchange. "I don't believe I have sir." Nestor said simply.
With a harrumph and several muttered words, Haddock traipsed back down the stairs, leaving Nestor alone once more. The butler waited, listening as the footsteps receded before gently knocking on the door. A moment later it was cracked open, Tintin's blue eyes peering out. "Yes?"
"I simply came to close the windows," Nestor whispered. Tintin stepped aside, letting the butler into the room. "I won't be more than a minute."
"Thank you. Nestor." Tintin sat back down and started from where he left off, fingers running down the keys with years of practice. Nestor smiled, taking perhaps a little longer than necessary to close the windows. The nots slowed down and suddenly they were floating, clouds gently stroked with pale moonlight mingled with the soft shimmer of stars. Beautiful.
Nestor didn't realise that he had paused to watch the boy. He was absolutely absorbed in the notes, eyes darting from one hand to the other, a foot somehow lifting and pressing a pedal without making a sound. Tintin's long fingers lifted then feel like feathers into the notes, somehow balancing the many streams of harmonies underneath the melody. They began to run arpeggios again, soft and blended perfectly as the piece came to a close. Notes slowing, rising to the final breath of the last chords. It lingered, hovering for several moments before Tintin finally lifted his hands, releasing the pedal with a muted thud.
"You play wonderfully."
Tintin, who had clearly forgotten Nestor's presence in the room, snapped his head to the butler. "Oh. I... thank you. I haven't played in a while."
"I would never have guessed." They shared a smiled, then he spoke again. "I believe Captain Haddock is looking for you, sir."
"Oh! Yes, I promised him a game of chess. Thank you." Tintin closed the lid softly, then hurried out the door. Nestor chuckled softly. The faint echo of a major chord seemed to linger in his ears.
A butler never reveals secrets.