Don't Cry Out Loud
A/N: I'm sorry for the delay between updates - life kept getting in the way! We are now at the end of Karla and Tristan's story, and it's with mixed feelings that I end my fic. It was very hard for me to say goodbye to the de Valences.
Thank you to everyone who has read my fic and taken the time to review it. I love hearing from you and hearing your ideas - some of which I didn't think of!
Explaining the Journey
Tristan and Karla returned from their honeymoon two weeks later, slightly tanned, contented and relieved to be home. They had taken three weeks off from work and therefore spent their last week off work settling into the notion of returning to reality.
Karla was now sixteen weeks, and was unable to hide the fact that she was pregnant. Tristan loved Karla's glow and her rounded tummy and the idea of his child growing inside her. He would often take advantage of the opportunity just to touch her stomach and marvel at the life inside.
The moment the office closed at the end of the work day the Thursday Tristan and Karla had returned from their honeymoon, Karla dashed off to her singing lesson. She returned home a little over an hour later looking dazed.
Noticing her bewildered expression, Tristan immediately pulled her into his arms and held her until she was prepared to talk.
"Jonathan wants me to record an album," Karla mumbled against Tristan's chest.
Not expecting such a statement, Tristan took a step back from her. "He wants you to record?"
Karla nodded. "He thinks I'm ready. We have talked about the idea a bit, but I wanted to talk to you first."
Feeling as shocked as his wife, Tristan pulled Karla down onto his lap as he listened to her.
"Jonathan suggested that I take the time before the baby to plan and record my album and release it a few months after the birth. Then, when we are ready, I can do a small tour to promote my CD."
Tristan looked horrified at the notion of Karla touring the world. "You seem to have this planned out rather well. Where do I fit in?"
Karla bit her lip at the tone of his voice. "You will come with me, of course! It isn't uncommon for celebrities to tour the world with their partners and children."
"What about de Valence Realty? Am I supposed to leave it under the care of Justin for months on end?"
She tightened her grip on his neck. She had not thought about Tristan's business; she had been so caught up in the thought of pursuing her childhood dream that she had forgotten what it would cost Tristan.
"Tris, this is my chance to do what my father always wanted for me to do. You said that Papa would be happy that I was doing something that I wanted to do in my painting. He would understand my reasons for not going to the Conservatorium. But I still do not know what I am supposed to be painting. Perhaps it's time for me to go back to my singing."
"You want to do this, don't you, sweetheart?" he asked gently as he pulled her close.
Karla nodded against his chest.
Two months before her due date, Karla was now officially on maternity leave. She had finished her album. Tristan, Karla and James her manager decided that instead of exhausting herself and recording all sixteen songs from her childhood Karla would make a series and finish the album a month ahead of schedule.
Karla spent the fifth and sixth months of her pregnancy working at de Valence Realty part-time while recording her album. She would head into the studio at nine every morning, record as much as possible before lunch then finish the day at the office. Every night after dinner, they would curl up on the couch together to watch television. Within ten minutes of sitting down, Karla would be asleep in Tristan's arms. Tired of watching his wife exhaust herself with her two jobs, Tristan brought forward her leave a month early at de Valence Realty.
"My mother rang the office looking for you this afternoon," Tristan said as he handed Karla a glass of juice and sent her to sit down while he cooked dinner.
"Why?" Karla asked shocked her mother-in-law would be ringing her.
"She thought you were still working; I haven't given her our home number," Tristan answered vaguely as he moved about the kitchen.
"That's not what I meant. Why did she want to talk to me?"
"She would like to catch up with you for lunch and take you baby shopping. The message is in my coat pocket along with her number."
"I do not know your mother!" Karla protested as she went and retrieved the paper. "What am I supposed to say to her?" Karla paused as she read the message, glaring at her husband's back. "Will you come too?"
Tristan's head snapped up from the cutting board to stare at his wife as if she had lost all sense. He had hoped to leave the girly things to Karla and avoid seeing his mother. He was more than happy only seeing her on family occasions and have very little to do with her otherwise.
Karla's eyes were wide with apprehension. With a reluctant sigh, Tristan nodded. "Lunch only. I will not go shopping with the two of you."
Janice found it difficult not to stare at the couple as they lunched along the Champs Élysées. She had only briefly seen the connection and thoughtfulness that surrounded her son and his wife at their wedding a few months ago. Now, it was more pronounced with Tristan doing everything to ensure both Karla and the baby were happy. She loved that her son was a caring husband who actually showed much more emotion than the eighteen year old boy who had walked out of the house.
It was just the little things the pair did that made her wish that she had that relationship with Malcolm and now Gregory. When the waiter brought out the drinks, Karla automatically handed Tristan a sachet of sugar for his coffee.
"You finished at de Valence Realty a few weeks ago," Janice said, interested in knowing why Karla finished work early.
She nodded. "Tristan brought my maternity leave at the office forward so I could focus on my album and get that finished before the baby was born."
"An album? Did she tell you Tristan?" Janice looked at her son.
"Yes," he answered blandly. He could now remember another reason why his parents' marriage didn't last – they did not talk. "Karla and I spoke about the idea of her recording in depth before she made any commitments."
Karla grabbed Tristan's hand and squeezed it. She could see he was beginning to tire of his mother and her assumption that she and Tristan had the same relationship she had with her ex-husband.
"Tristan has been wonderful and supportive," Karla said with a smile. "He encouraged me to finish early at the office so I could focus on my singing. The album should be out in about four months."
The trio spoke generally while they waited for the cakes to be served. When they were set before them, Tristan took his saucer and cut the cake down the middle, and in half once more before handing it to Karla. Again, Janice was amazed at the simple action that spoke volumes.
"I have to go," Tristan said with false regret as he looked at his watch. "I have to show a client a house."
Janice made her goodbyes and waited for the couple to part.
Tristan assisted Karla from her chair and cupped her face and kissed her gently.
"Liar," Karla said against his lips. "You just don't want to come shopping with us."
He smiled as he placed another kiss on her forehead. "True. I will see you tonight."
Karla kissed him once more before joining Janice as they made their way to the department store.
Karla stared blindly out at the passing traffic. Tristan would be home in about half an hour, and yet she was not even remotely close to being ready for dinner with his clients.
She could not believe what had happened. The day had stared out so well.
"I think I prefer you not coming to work with me. It makes it a lot easier to kiss you goodbye," Tristan finished quickly when he saw Karla's face fall.
Karla smiled in agreement. It was much easier – but less cunning on Tristan's behalf – to stand in the entrance hall and kiss him goodbye. When she had been working in the office for him, Tristan would order a coffee the second he put his briefcase down. Karla would quickly make the drink and, just before she stepped out of his office, Tristan would kiss her.
"Don't forget we have dinner with the Hansels tonight," Tristan reminded Karla before kissing her again and quickly leaving before he decided to stay home for the day.
Tristan left, leaving Karla to curl up on the lounge and read. When she saw Leroux's book in the shop yesterday, she had to buy it and see for herself what she and Tristan had changed while they were in the past. It was not until the Masquerade the Karla noticed differences between the two versions.
Christine did not meet Raoul. The Phantom did not kidnap Christine during Faust. Raoul and the Daroga were not tortured. Christine did not marry Raoul. It was the epilogue that caught Karla's attention.
Tristan watched his wife staring out the window at nothing. He had been home for a few minutes, and at first was annoyed that she had obviously forgotten about dinner. But when he saw her face he knew instantly that something was wrong. He rushed across the room and clasped her hands in his.
"What is it? Is it the baby?"
Karla shook her head and handed him the novel. "The epilogue."
Tristan flicked to the end of the book and began to read.
Upon closer inspection of the curious house on the lake, several documents were found that can leave the reader in no doubt as to how the Opera Ghost ended his life. In a large chest at the end of the coffin bed, along with countless paintings of the Miss Daaé was a marriage certificate for Christine Daaé and Erik. The birth certificates of Amelie Gala, Ballard Alain, and Marguerite Desiree were also lovingly stored away with their parents' marriage certificate.
Tristan closed the book and looked expectantly down at his wife, certain he was missing something.
"My middle name is Marguerite!" Karla cried, unable to believe that he missed the significance of what he had just read. "Amelie, Alain and Marguerite are all family names. Every generation in my father's family has all three names! Tristan, don't you get it? I am descended from Christine and Erik! I have to be!"
Tristan would have laughed at the notion if he thought Karla was joking. His wife was the great-great-great granddaughter of the Phantom of the Opera. The more he thought about it the more sense it made.
She looked and sounded like Christine. It also made sense in an odd way that whatever force had enticed them both down to the bottom of the opera house that evening was drawn to them based on some unknown connection. Most likely, the Phantom desperate to be with his love was drawn to the woman who looked like his love and also shared her genes.
"I am not mad, Tristan!" she said indignantly when he did not say anything.
"I know you're not, sweetheart. It makes sense when you think about it." He pulled her into his arms and held her close.
"You don't think I'm crazy? I thought I was crazy when I realised."
"You are not crazy," he said earnestly as he lowered slightly to look her in the eyes. "However, I would like to double check your theory; I don't want you to believe something that may not be true."
"You'll help me look, won't you, Tristan?" she asked quietly as she hugged him tightly.
"I promise." He placed a kiss on her head before looking anxiously at the clock, aware that they would have to leave shortly if they were to arrive at dinner on time. "Are you up to coming to dinner with me tonight, or would you rather stay home?"
Karla glanced at the time before struggling out of Tristan's arms.
"We have to leave in twenty minutes," he said, pre-empting her question as he watched her move down the hall and rush to get ready.
Karla critically examined her reflection in the full length mirror.
"I'm putting on weight!"
Tristan raised an eyebrow at his wife's outburst. He looked at her, loving what he saw. She had a perfectly rounded stomach and had naturally put on a bit of weight, but she was curvier and prettier than ever. His wife loved the opportunity classes at the gym provided for both exercise and gossip and Tristan could tell she was missing it.
"I cannot wear this. I'm fat!" Karla said sadly as she began to pull off the wrap dress she was wearing to the baby shower.
Tristan stilled her hands and pulled the dress back down around her knees. "You are not fat. You are pregnant and you are sexy."
"I am not sexy."
"All women are sexy in their own way, Karla." Tristan turned her to face him. His amber eyes were filled with concern and frustration.
Karla laughed humourlessly at him.
"I do not see you as you see yourself, sweetheart. I see my wife – the woman I love – carrying my child." Tristan's hands moved from her shoulders to cup her face. "I see how beautiful and healthy you look. You are sexy and most definitely are not fat. You look gorgeous in that dress. If we were not going out, I would take you to bed."
Karla stared up at her husband with teary eyes, knowing that he meant every word. The way he was looking deeply into her eyes, willing her to believe everything he said made her nod slightly. She hugged him for a moment before taking a determined step back to check her make-up.
"Do you know what Mya and your mother have planned?" Karla asked nervously as she sat down on the bed next to Tristan so that he could put her shoes on.
Tristan shook his head. He was as nervous about the party as Karla. "No, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we can find out."
The guests of honour arrived at the baby shower an hour later. Karla had given her friend and mother-in-law clear instructions that there would be no games or anything along those lines. She did not care about the food served or the theme. She just wanted to celebrate the upcoming birth of her baby with her family and friends.
When Karla and Tristan entered Gregory's house outside Paris, they were both amazed at the mass of pink and blue balloons that floated across the ceiling. Karla and Tristan had both decided that they wanted the sex of the baby to be a surprise and decided to wait until the birth to find out if they had a son or daughter. Although, Tristan was silently aware of the bet at work; apparently the odds were five to two it would be a boy.
Karla was relieved the shower was free of all games. She was impressed at the sophisticated gathering Mya and Janice had pulled off together. It was just like a Victorian afternoon tea, she mused to herself with a delighted smile as she selected a jam and cream scone off the table.
"You are amazing!" Karla cried as she awkwardly hugged her friend. "I was afraid that it would have stupid games that we'd be forced to play."
"Like drinking soft drink out of a bottle?" Mya asked dryly. "I wouldn't make you do that."
Karla laughed at her friend's disgusted expression. The two chatted for a few minutes with several other guests.
"I think Janice wants to talk to me." Mya indicated the older woman who was clearly beginning to fret in the kitchen. She excused herself and went inside to join her.
Karla watched as her friend went to join her husband's mother, her mind imagining a host of terrible things the two had planned.
"They've done well," Tristan said as he stood next to her, his arm going about her waist. "From what I've heard there is a surprise which I'm not sure if we're going to like."
Karla turned to respond when the music which had been playing in the background was turned off and Mya came back outside with a large cake. She smiled at her friend and placed it on the table and motioned the guests to gather around.
"But before you cut the cake, we all have a gift for both of you," Mya said with a brilliant smile.
Janice came outside with a large canvas and handed it to the couple. Tristan accepted the gift with a nervous smile and flipped it over. Karla squealed with delight and hugged the two organisers.
Tristan was still trying to decide whether he liked the canvas. Photographs of both him and Karla had been printed onto the canvas and all their guests had signed the border. The gift was unusual which explained why Karla liked it so much.
It would not be right if his creative Karla had a normal baby shower.
Karla pulled the envelope out of the letter box and felt the blood drain from her face and the adrenaline begin to pump through her body. The envelope bore the stamp of the Family History Library and contained the records that she had requested three weeks ago.
She had called her aunt in America the day after she had read the book and asked her for any information that she could give her. Her father's sister was intrigued by the sudden questioning and was determined to uncover the motivation.
Karla sighed. Damned Beaumonts! She had forgotten how stubborn they all were. "I am pregnant and I wanted to draw up the family tree for our baby."
"You're pregnant?" Aunt Georgie cried. Her favourite niece had kept news like that from her? "And the father?"
"Is my husband," Karla responded quickly.
Tristan, who had been sitting by her side silently offering his support, glanced up at his wife. She smiled at him before rolling her eyes.
Much as she would have liked to avoid the interrogation she knew was coming, Karla could not prevent the series of questions her aunt fired at her. In ten minutes, the older woman had learnt everything there was to know about Karla, Tristan, their apartment, and their baby.
"Now, Georgie," Karla said on a sigh, "Please, I need to know all about our family. Would you ring around and ask everyone for me? I need to know every person who was in our family; when they were born, when they died, who they married."
"Karla, is there something you're not telling me?" Georgie had always been amazingly astute.
"Aunt Georgie!" she cried in mock innocence. "I would never keep anything from you!"
Tristan laughed before he was able to disguise it as a discreet cough. Karla turned her attention to her husband and swatted him on the shoulder before finishing her call with her aunt.
Nine days after the call an email arrived with a scan of the Beaumont family tree. Examining it, Karla – and Tristan – was convinced that she was decent from the Phantom of the Opera.
Karla stood in the elevator and tore open the envelope with copies of official records. Erik and Christine Daaé had three children. Nothing new. Erik and Christine had nine grandchildren; that was new information that Georgie had not been able to uncover. The department was unable – unwilling, Karla thought angrily –to offer her any more information.
However, when she compared the information gathered by Aunt Georgie and the Family History Library, they seemed to match. She could remember her grandmother telling tales from her youth and her father who had died in World War II. The name and dates for Karla's Great-Grandfather fitted.
Now that she had this information, which she, Tristan and her aunt her spent weeks searching for, Karla did not know what to do with it. For her own peace of mind, she could rest knowing that she was descent from Erik and Christine. Her journey to the past made sense now. But she did not know what to do with it in the grander scheme of things.
Karla bowed to the audience a final time before the curtains fell on the first act of her concert in London. This was the first leg of her European tour promoting her new album Daddy's Girl. Tristan had not joined her in England. They decided it would be better for him to stay at home with Sera who was sick.
Karla began to undress as she made her way to the dressing room. She grabbed the phone and called Tristan.
"Hi, sweetheart," Tristan said, a smile evident in his voice. "How is your concert going?"
Karla tried to smile at his support and enthusiasm. "I'm on intermission. I got an ovation."
Tristan could hear the sadness in her voice she was trying incredibly hard to disguise. His mind was already on the difficulty of flying to London that night to support Karla. This was the first time Karla had been away from Tristan and Sera since her birth several months ago. Although it was only for two nights, it was obvious Karla was finding the separation difficult. Tristan had been enjoying the time with his daughter, but it was clear they were both missing Karla.
They chatted about Sera for fifteen minutes. Karla was desperate to know what she ate, how long she slept, how she was feeling and how both she and her daddy were coping without her.
Tristan could hear Karla's dresser telling her she needed to change and prepare for the next act.
"I have to go," Karla said, her throat tightening with tears.
Tristan wanted nothing more than to hold her and promise everything would be alright. "Sweetheart. You will be home tomorrow afternoon; Sera and I will be there, waiting for you at the airport. You have done such a wonderful job with your album and tour. You can get through the next few songs. If you want to call me when you're finished, I'm here."
"I love you, Tristan," Karla whispered.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
Karla walked through the doors of the Paris airport with a relieved sigh. She had been away from home for only a weekend, yet it felt like months. Tears began to fall down her cheeks when she saw Tristan step forward from the crowd with Sera. Karla all but threw herself into his arms, clinging to his neck tightly as she kissed him desperately.
"I missed you so much! I missed both of you so much!"
"I know, sweetheart," he said as he wiped the tears away with his thumb. "Let's get you home, and then we can talk."
Karla nodded as she took Sera and held her tightly against her breast. Tristan kissed her hair and pulled her against his side as he led her down to the car.
Karla awoke a few hours later to find both Tristan and Sera had joined her in having a nap; she had not slept the night before. She had spoken to Tristan the entire way back to the hotel and had cried much of the night.
A loud knock on the door caused Karla to reluctantly move from Tristan's side. She was surprised to see Mya and Aleksandr at the door. The surprise apparently showed on her face.
"Tristan called and asked if we'd take Sera while the two of you talked," Mya explained as she entered the apartment.
"Thank you for doing this, Mya," Tristan said entering the entrance hall, carrying the sleeping Sera in his arms. "Everything you'll need is already in her bag. Her medicine is in the front pocket. We'll be over to pick her up in a couple of hours."
"If you want us to look after her for the night, just call," Aleksandr said. He could see the tension and desperation between the couple and wanted them to do whatever necessary to resolve it. Seeing her friend so upset troubled Mya, and Aleksandr worried about her and the baby Mya was carrying.
"Thank you," Karla said, neither accepting nor rejecting the offer.
Karla kissed Sera goodbye. She hugged Tristan tightly before breaking down again.
"I cannot do that again, Tristan. I cannot go away without you and Sera. I missed you so badly that I wanted to forget about the second act and fly home!" she cried between hiccupping gasps for air.
"I know, sweetheart," Tristan said gently as he carried her to the sitting room. "I could hear how upset you were last night. You know I would have come with you if Sera hadn't been sick."
"I know that," Karla said as she kissed his hand.
"Sera and I will join you next weekend when you go to Germany," Tristan promised softly as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"I cannot expect you to drop everything here to join me on tour; you have open houses and the like on weekends. I want Sera to grow up like a normal child and go to school and have friends. I never went to a proper school; I was always privately tutored. I don't want that for Sera."
Tristan could feel her sadness and frustration. He could feel the statement she was hinting at, silently saying. She had made her decision, but was nervous about verbalising it. He hugged her tight and placed a kiss on her head.
"Sweetheart?"
"I was stupid to think I could do this!" she cried as she stood and began to pace. "I thought I could have everything; a husband, a baby and fame. I cannot do it without you, Tristan. And I cannot ask you to leave your work every weekend."
Tristan grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. "Say it then, Karla!"
"I'm cancelling my tour; I hated performing here, and especially in London. All I wanted was to be at home being normal." Karla began to cry again. "I want Sera to have a normal childhood!"
"It's alright, sweetheart. We'll call your agent tomorrow and tell him that you've decided not to continue the tour." Karla began to cry harder. "Sweetheart, you've made up your mind." Tristan felt Karla nod against his chest.
He moved to settle her back down on the lounge, but she clung to him. "Just hold me."
Tristan picked her up and carried her back to their bed where he cuddled her, stroking her hair in a soothing way. Karla wrapped her arms and legs tightly about his body, her head resting on his chest. When her stomach rumbled, Karla buried her face in his shoulder in embarrassment.
"When did you last eat?" Tristan demanded. He had seen slight changes in Karla's eating habits over the last few weeks and was worried by it. At first he put it down to nerves; she was touring Europe for the first time in nine years – by herself. But now, he realised it was something more.
"Before the concert."
Tristan's heart constricted at the thought of his wife going so long without food.
"We're going out for an early dinner and then we'll go and pick up Sera. I just want you to eat something; I don't care what it is."
"Tristan?" Karla waited for his attention before beginning. "Do you think James will be angry?"
Tristan looked down at Karla, his expression somewhat haughty. "Your manager would not dare."
To say that James was angry when Karla broke the news that she was cancelling her European tour was an understatement. James proved to be furious, even with Tristan present. But after an hour of talking and crying and watching the family interact together, he knew that Karla was right and she could not be expected to leave her family again.
"There will be damage," he warned.
Karla shrugged her shoulders disinterestedly. She had expected that. She did not think for a moment she could cancel her tour and not expect any repercussions. After the London debacle she did not overly care for her reputation or what people thought of her. All that mattered to her were her husband and daughter. "Do whatever needs to be done – so long as I can do it here in Paris."
James silently watched Karla grab her husband's hand tightly before fussing over her sleeping daughter. He looked at Tristan and swallowed nervously. He did not overly like Karla's husband, and his lack of emotion was unnerving. The man would not look away from him; James was forced to look away first.
"I will deal with this. I'm sorry London didn't go well, Karla," he said sincerely as he showed the couple out the door.
James sighed with relief and disappointment. Karla was a brilliant performer. Her voice was pure as it had been when she was sixteen – to think she had not used it in six years! She had an almost overwhelming presence despite her height disadvantage. He would be sad to see her leave the tour circuit. But, he realised, her family came first. He would have to do the best he could for her and keep her in Paris with her family.
And that was precisely what James did. A month later Karla performed two shows in Paris to compensate for the ones she did not do around Europe. The same procedure was carried out when Karla released her second album four years later.
Karla and Tristan stared at the paintings lining the walls of the gallery, enjoying a moment of calm before the owner of the gallery opened the doors to the invited guests. Three years after holding her last exhibition, Karla had a gallery full of original paintings waiting to be sold.
Tristan stood behind his wife, his hands resting protectively on her rounded stomach, their fingers entwined. The couple were expecting their second child.
"Karla!" Victoria and Tom were one of the first guests through the door. "These are incredible! I had no idea you were so talented."
"I told you she was good," Tristan said smugly as he pulled his wife against his side.
"I thought you were exaggerating and being a proper doting lover," Victoria defended herself.
Karla smiled and interrupted the bantering between the pair. "It means a lot that you are here, Vicky. Have a look around and if there's anything you like, grab it quick." Karla smiled as she watched the couple wander around examining the painting of famous couples though out the ages, both from history and fiction. To her, this new branch of work was inspired by her husband and showed the timeless, never ending and lasting power of love.
One particular painting was conspicuous in its absence; the painting which started it all. The painting of the Phantom of the Opera and his wife seated in their private box, with their gloved hands hidden in the shadows was carefully hanging in Tristan and Karla's bedroom.
"Ms Beaumont?"
"Mrs de Valence," Karla corrected the owner of the familiar voice. "How are you, Vanessa?"
"I am fine, thank you," Vanessa Wyatt responded, surprised by the artist's warmth. When she first met her, she thought the then Miss Beaumont was cold and hostile. She was pleased to see that her work and her temper had improved. She would definitely be giving her a glowing review in tomorrow's paper.
"What do you think of my work?"
With Tristan at her side, Karla felt more confident about her work and herself than she ever had. In the three or so years since her last less than perfect exhibition she had developed and had finally learnt to bare herself just as Tristan wanted her. Vanessa Wyatt's opinion still concerned her, but she had decided to treat her just like any other guest.
"It is beautiful. Quite lovely."
"I would like to introduce you to my husband, Tristan de Valence. Tristan, Vanessa Wyatt."
The couple exchanged greetings and Karla and Vanessa began speaking of her inspiration and the progress her career had made in recent years. At the first possible opportunity, Vanessa excused herself, collecting a glass of wine before perusing the paintings – many of which now had sold stickers on the label.
Karla smiled to herself before standing on her toes to place a kiss on Tristan's cheek. She was certain the reviews in tomorrow's paper would be good, especially since Vanessa Wyatt had just purchased her own painting of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.
Romance Sells
Three years ago, Karla de Valence, then Beaumont had lost her direction. Now, the young artist, singer and mother has moved on and delivered an art show beyond anyone's expectations.
Gone are the architectural wonders of the world on dull days. Instead, they are replaced with original paintings of lovers from the stage, screen, literature and history.
Each canvas is thoroughly researched for historical accuracy and painted in exquisite detail. The portrait of Victoria and Albert taking tea has been painted in detail consistent with Osborne House, right down to the paintings on the walls. Unable to resist, this painting now hangs in my dining room.
It is easy to see why de Valence credits her husband as her inspiration for such a different and beautiful subject matter. This shift in style suits her perfectly. The few remaining paintings from this exhibition can be found at the cafés throughout the Bois de Boulogne.
EPILOGUE
Henri Bellew, a budding historian shut the first draft of his book with a pleased smile. As part of the first book he was detailing the lives of the prominent aristocratic families in France, tracing their pedigree back as far as possible, hopeful of uncovering scandals and improvements the peers made in their lifetime.
One family that had interested him greatly was the de Chagny family. They had been patrons of the opera, supporters of the industry surrounding their seat and promoters of the developmental changes that had taken place in the late nineteenth century. But the thriving family appeared to suffer a double heartache in such a short period of time.
First, Philippe, the Comte de Chagny seemed to have disappeared from the earth. His younger brother Raoul, now the Comte was questioned incessantly about his brother's disappearance, yet the young man maintained his innocence. Scarcely two months after his brother's death Raoul died. Many of the stories maintained that he had died of grief; first the loss of his beloved opera singer and his brother and the continual questioning and dishonour brought about from the police's inquiry.
The line ended with Raoul, the Comte de Chagny.
The de Chagny estate returned to the state.