53

The Lefevre Estate was in the height of the days where spring met summer.

The entire group had shown up for a holiday, involving endless sounds and much banging on the long neglected piano. Not a moment went by without some sort of concert, race or stage acting going on. The only child not rushing about was Andre and Shelly's babe.

Helen, Marie, Sophie, Shelly, and Stephan's wife Rosa, spent many happy hours trading homemaking hints, as well as the occasional blunt opinion about art and politics.

Jean, Jacques, Erik, Andre and Stephan bounded along the trails of intellect and handiwork. Much hand waving and drawing with fingers was involved, proving its importance.

Katrina divided her time among the groups, though mostly she found herself running after the younger ones. The cousins were having a grand time becoming acquainted. Being the eldest, Katrina would often be in the position of shouting roll call.

She found herself once again doing so during a long and trying trip to town. The extra run had to be made as Fergus and his new bride were arriving for lunch, and a special supper had to be given. The downside was that the little ones had to help carry the parcels back.

"Children of Erik form a line! Roberto, Anne, Thomas, Michel and Sarah. Children of Marie, form a line! James, Gerard, and Lilia. Children of Stephan, form a line! Pierre and Catherine. Hands in your own pockets, please, thank you. Did you hear me, Pierre? Lilia, stop trying to catch a pigeon, and march dear."

In their little rows, they walked down the road towards the Lefevre's. It was an odd picture, and a man rode up on a horse, slowing to keep pace with them and look. "Looking for the circus?"

"No, but we'll likely turn into one ourselves," Roberto mourned, having had to chase errant children the better part of the day. Thomas nodded in agreement.

"Oh," the stranger replied, giving them another glance. "Is this an institutional outing?"

Katrina eyed him to see if he were being sardonic, and decided that he was just curious. "No, Monsieur, we are family."

"Could you direct me to the Lefevre Estate, perchance? I'm afraid I don't know the way. When my cousin invited me to meet him there, I didn't ask directions. My experience with France is quite limited."

"Who is your cousin?"

"Fergus Jamison. He just got married, but I can't quite believe it. I was in New York when I got his letter, made it all the worse somehow. Know where I can catch up to him?"

Thomas shrugged. "We are going there ourselves, if you care to follow us."

"Thanks," he slid off the horse and glanced at the girls. "Any of the ladies care to ride? I've been up there all day and would welcome a walk."

In short order, all of the girls excluding Katrina were up on the animal's back, quite happy. Sarah had never been on a horse before and clung to its mane eagerly. The man led it, walking in a long, free stride. In looks there was nothing remarkable about him. He was neither tall or short, fat or skinny, dark or fair. He had the look of a man who had fought with the world, and came out alive every time. He wasn't a ruffian, but could have passed for one. He had the same bitter edge to his face that Fergus did, but it wasn't so pronounced. From manner and dress, he was clearly familiar with money and how to use it. From the glint in his eye and persona, it was clear he had done without it as well. The face gave the illusion of being flattened, as if he had been pressed against a wall too long. Yet, there was kindliness in his gruff voice when he spoke to the children that lent him a charm and charisma few people could pretend to posses.

"May I ask your name?" Katrina ventured. He seemed amused at that, though she couldn't think why.

"It's George Folks."

"Mine is Katrina Lefevre."

They spoke little, other than to keep the quiet from turning discomforting. When the gates and their angels appeared, Katrina could see Shelly waiting on them. A bad sign.

"What happened?" Katrina called, and the Irishwoman threw her hands in the air and shook them.

"One of the tenants had an accident and the men folk went to help get him to the doctor. His poor wife was a carrying on so, you'd have thought she'd been the one injured. Oh, and there's the matter of food for this evening, but we'll be a helping there afore someone looses to the cook."

Katrina resisted throwing her own hands up. "This is Mr. Jamison's cousin George Folks. Monsieur Folks, this is Shelly Moreau."

Shelly nodded and smiled at him. "Ah, yes the cousin. We've been discussing you at length. Come on to the house, the room's all ready for you, and you can lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Jamison all ye like. We'll not be eating yet." She observed in a humorous way, which clearly left Folks puzzled.

Katrina shooed the little ones after them and headed for the kitchen. She found her grandmother and aunts helping a very agitated cook. She and Anne began their own tasks, chatting over pie crusts and birds being glazed.

"Mama," Anne asked, "Will Papa be at supper?"

"I believe so. He's got no good excuse." Helen saw the wry look Marie shot at her. "Well he doesn't! He's completed his new mask at last, and I should make him miserable if he avoided Fergus on their first evening here."

"I should like to see anyone best him." Sophie remarked, looking over the row of breads and rolls for the feast that night.

Katrina winked at Anne. "We could have Uncle Stephan sing."

"Oh, aren't ye all just cruel now?" Shelly asked, having heard enough. "Rosa, tell them 'tis too low a blow."

Rosa nodded, smiling in her quiet, gentle way. "Even the twins look unhappy when he sings to them. Not that they can say much about their own father."

"Is Mr. Folks with his cousin?"

"Dining away, Madame."

The banter continued, until the staff was even with their work again. The family retreated to dress for dinner.

A table had been set out on the patio by the music room. Lanterns and torches had been placed around for light, along with candles on the tables. In spite of their finery, the children started chasing fireflies to put in jars. The sun was beginning to set over the estate lending a surreal quality.

Fergus was visiting with George, glancing over at his bride as if to assure himself that she was really there. "Melodie," he said without realizing it, "Isn't that the perfect name for her?"

George fought the urge to laugh and sipped his tea instead. "Nice spread."

"Spread?" Fergus looked at his cousin quizzically.

"A place, land, home. Sorry, I've picked up some American slang over the past few years. Guess I'm turning into one of them in a way. France seems to agree with you, though."

Fergus smiled and rested his chin on his cane. "Thus far." Erik and Helen entered, causing a brief pause. Fergus caught the curious look that his cousin gave him. "I'll explain another time."

The bell rang, signaling everyone to sit and eat. The conversation stayed general, but there was a warmth to it that seemed to liven up the old house considerably. After supper, the table was removed and replaced with a smaller one that held desert and coffee. With much cajoling, Melodie agreed to play.

She had an excellent touch, and if any fault could be found it was that she erred on the side of sounding correct rather than emotional. She then asked if anyone would play with her, as she felt out of sorts playing alone before new friends.

"Uncle Erik!" Katrina cried, leading a rousing chorus of the young people. They were instantly silenced as he replied, "I will not."

Andre agreed, more to keep the peace than any wish to perform. He selected The Swan, and the familiar, drifting sounds seemed to draw from the evening air.

Marie and Katrina were then shoved forward to give a duet. As revenge for Erik's refusal, they selected his favorite duet from Don Juan Triumphant, Katrina taking the tenor's part, and Marie her own soprano. The sight of stiff, emotionless Marie against the antics of Katrina playing the cursed Don Juan was too much, leaving most of the family in hysterics.

"Brava! Brava!" Cried Stephan with a wave at Marie, and then turning to Katrina, he kissed her cheeks, and gave her the masculine, "Bravo! Bravo!"

Each child had learnt a piece to play or recite and did so with the utmost solemnity. Their audience appreciated their efforts and allowed each a cup of sweetened coffee for their work.

It was drawing on towards midnight when George had another moment with Fergus. He touched the other's arm, and asked, "Tell me, am I imagining things, or did the family seem surprised at how Erik looked?"

"I told you I would tell you another time." Fergus said warningly. "Erik is my dearest friend, and I won't see a row started."

"This whole place smells of secrets. You must know some of them, or you wouldn't be here."

Rapping his cane on the ground, Fergus hissed, "Leave off for tonight, George. If only for my sake, be a guest that knows his place."

With a nod, George sighed. "Alright, for now."