Chapter 56

In the two weeks Charles Lowry stayed in Paris, he managed to not only engage himself to Meg on his last night in town, but he won Alex over with his endless patience and quite a bit of charm.

Perhaps it was the four new toy trains Alex collected in two weeks, each one shiny, colorful, and better than the one before it. Or perhaps it was the way Charles spun Alex around by his arms in the front of the house once he and Meg returned from walks with my son. Whatever it was, Alex joined Meg in her disappointment once Charles left Paris and returned to his service. Even I could not help but feel melancholy that he was returning to war as he was a most amiable man who enjoyed Meg's company as much as he seemed to enjoy Alex's and even mine.

If he knew who I truly was, he did not say a word. In fact, he met my eye each time without so much as a second glance at my mask and never hesitated to shake my hand or engage in conversation before he returned to his hotel for the night.

"Will you write to me?" Meg asked on the last afternoon they were together.

"As I always have," Charles vowed.

I sat listening from my bedroom with the door cracked open and a stack of finished music prepared to be considered by several smaller theaters in Austria and Switzerland. After months of sending out work, I had two symphonies being performed in the upcoming year at the same theater and several more being negotiated. While I would not hear any of it, I took pride in knowing audiences throughout Europe would enjoy my work at last.

"And you will be careful?" Meg asked, her voice heavy with emotion.

"I cannot bear to see tears in your eyes before I leave," Charles said to her. "A smile for me, if you can muster it? Something to carry with me until we dance together once more?"

Meg forced a laugh. "Make haste returning to me. I will think about dancing with you every single night before bed."

"Un!" Alex shouted, effectively ending their emotional good-bye with his request to be spun around the front of the house. Whenever he wanted something repeated, he shouted one, which we all knew meant one more time.

I heard Charles sigh. "You are insatiable, dear Alex. Come on, we will spin one more time before I must leave."

I stood and walked to the bedroom window to see Charles stroll outside with Alex in his arms and Meg at his side. He tossed Alex into the air and caught him, which made Meg shriek and Alex squeal in delight.

"Oh, please do not do that again," Meg said as she fanned her face. "If you should drop him-"

"I will not drop him, I swear it."

He sure as hell better not drop my son, I thought.

"His father will strangle you if any harm comes to this boy."

"Nonsense," Charles said with a quick smile.

"Nonsense indeed," I said under my breath as I continued to watch the three of them.

Naturally Alex wanted to be tossed in the air again, and Charles obliged before he spun Alex around in a circle by his arms. Legs extended, Alex whirred through the air before he settled back into Charles' arms and laughed so hard he snorted.

The three of them looked like the perfect young family what with Charles in his military uniform and Meg in a light green dress with lace gloves and a matching hat with a satin bow. She came alive when Charles was near her, animated and carefree as if his smile unlocked a part of her that had never existed.

"One more walk down the street?" Charles suggested.

Meg nodded, and together they started down the street with Alex in Charles' arms while Meg held my son's hand and blew the two of them kisses.

"I told you he was a good man for her," Madeline said. "And it appears your son agrees."

She had come up behind me silent as a cat and I stiffened at her unexpected presence.

"He nearly dropped Alex."

Madeline pinched my arm. "He did no such thing."

"Which is for the best," I grumbled.

Madeline shot me a glance as she peered through the window beside me. "Praise God his last tour is six months. My heart could not take another two years."

"That is how long he served before?" Judging him purely by his soft-spoken and gentle nature I would have taken Charles for a scholar rather than a soldier. He almost looked out of place in a uniform, but he was highly decorated and apparently a very good soldier.

"Yes, he has already served two tours. After four years in Africa, I had hoped he would do something safer and return to the university, but he said he wishes to serve one more tour."

"Six months is not long."

"Long enough when it comes to battle. Meg will miss him terribly."

I had no doubt of that. Whenever Meg returned home for the evening, Charles would briefly visit with Madeline before he said good-night to me in the parlor. Once he was gone, Meg and her mother would sit in the dining room at the table discussing wedding plans, their voices buzzing with excitement.

Most nights I could clearly overhear their conversation, but given I had no interest in the subject, their voices were little more than background noise. What I had learned, however, was that Meg wanted to be married within two months of Charles returning and that Madeline had contacted the Lowrys about hosting the event near their home outside of London. Between what mother and daughter discussed, I doubted the groom had any say in the situation at all.

"Madame Seuratti invited Meg for coffee tomorrow," Madeline said casually.

"I decline."

Madeline frowned. "I did not say you were invited."

"Then I suppose it does not matter," I said as I turned from the window and walked back to my desk.

"She is a very nice woman," Madeline said as she turned and followed me. She briefly searched for a place to sit before taking up a dining room chair I had moved into my room earlier in the week. Madeline had a tendency to stand over me with her arms crossed when she walked upstairs to see me, and I grew tired of her looming over my desk.

"I am certain she is," I said absently as I rifled through music one final time.

Surprisingly my work was still in numerical order and not missing corners or crumpled thanks to Alexandre's interest in helping me with anything made of paper or ink.

"Their daughter is around Alex's age."

"Yes, you have said so many times." I turned away from her and fit the music into a large envelope I had already addressed to the house manager of a theater in Florence. It was the third piece he had requested in six months and I had no doubt he would accept my symphony and ask for another composition.

"You could introduce yourself to Monsieur Seuratti."

I looked up at Madeline from across the table and narrowed my eyes. "There is not a single thing I can think of wanting to do less than introduce myself to Monsieur Seurrati," I said sharply. "Save perhaps continuing this conversation."

Madeline shifted in her seat and gave an exasperated sigh. "He is quite loud," she admitted.

He was much more than simply loud. For a month straight I had heard him bellow commands to his wife as though she were a dog trained to perform tricks for his every whim. His constant berating of his wife's meals, tending to their home, and complaints of their daughter had escalated on a weekly basis in both tone and duration.

"I would like to have Madame Seuratti and their daughter over for lunch," Madeline ventured.

"Do as you please," I said as I sealed the envelope and handed it to Madeline. "This must be sent out first thing in the morning."

Madeline looked over the envelope. "Another symphony?"

"My third sent to Florence." I could not contain the smile tipping the corners of my lips. After all the years I had spent agonizing over music no one would ever hear, I felt like quite the accomplished composer now that my work had been accepted.

"How exciting. This is why you should accompany Meg to coffee tomorrow. You would have so much to discuss."

"We already established I was not invited." I raised my left brow and cocked my head to the side before I stood.

Madeline was not pleased with my answer but did not attempt to convince me. Meg and Charles returned from their walk down the street as was evident by Meg's laughter and Alex requesting his new best friend spin him around one last time.

"This may be the last time, Alex. I'm afraid when I return you will be as tall as me," Charles teased.

They exchanged pleasantries for a while longer before Charles mentioned my name. He entered the house shortly after Meg apparently pried Alex away from her fiance.

"One moment, my dear," he said as he walked up the stairs to my room as Madeline went to join her daughter. Madeline had conveniently left the door ajar, and I stood before he entered the room.

"I hope I am not troubling you in the middle of your work," Charles apologetically said as he looked from me to the small mountain of papers I had haphazardly scattered on my desk.

"I finished a moment ago," I answered.

Charles forced a smile and shifted his weight. He appeared somewhat nervous, but I did not question him. "I wanted to say it has been a pleasure meeting you, Monsieur Kire, and I will greatly miss your son. He is quite the character and smart as a whip. There is no doubt in my mind that universities will fight over him once he's educated."

"Thank you." I felt as though I should have said more, but Charles masterfully continued.

"I look forward to many future conversations around the dinner table with you and Madeline and of course my dearest Meg."

"For her sake I hope it is a swift six months."

Charles gave a sincere smile and shook my hand. "I will take wonderful care of her once I return, Monsieur. Nothing in the world makes me quite as happy as the thought of spending my life with Meg. She is everything to me."

"I have no doubt."

They were young and very much in love, the type of romance that deserved to be preserved in an opera and enjoyed for many lifetimes. The music in Meg's voice when she returned home from an evening on Charles' arm and the beat of her fiance's footsteps through the foyer and up the stairs created an overture that refused to leave my thoughts.

Charles glanced at his pocket watch. "My train leaves in twenty-five minutes. Thank you for your hospitality, Monsieur, but if I do not leave now I am afraid I will be walking back to London."

"We look forward to your safe return," I said without meeting his eye.

Despite what changes his return would have on my household, I truly felt a great deal of remorse in seeing him return to London and off to war. Our conversations were limited to only a few minutes in the afternoon and a brief encounter in the evening, but he was cordial enough and clearly sought my approval.

"Thank you," Charles said before he turned on his heel and pulled the door open. He hesitated a moment longer, looked back at me, and forced another smile before he straightened his back and walked out.

"Six months," I said as he exited my room and trotted down the stairs. He gave a final good-bye to Madeline and Alex before Meg walked him out. Once he was out of earshot, she began sobbing on the porch in such a way that made me shudder on her behalf.

"No, May," Alex said ruefully.

I pushed my chair back and walked out to the landing at the top of the stairs in time to see Meg take Alex from her mother's grasp. Tiny arms wrapped around her neck, and before I could offer to take my son back and give Meg privacy, she disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom, saying she did not wish to be alone for the time being.

Madeline looked up at the stairs at me and wiped her eyes. She did nothing more than shake her head before she walked to her room and shut the door as well.

I took a breath, returned to my desk, and attempted to capture the notes of romantic notion before they soured into heartache.

For two months Charles Lowry wrote to Meg twice a week, and the letters arrived to much fanfare from both mother and daughter. Charles was even so kind as to sketch drawings of trains for Alexandre, who began calling each delivery of post Charles.

Tentative wedding plans continued with Meg not only talking Madeline's ear off at every opportunity, but the woman living behind us, Madame Seuratti, who was often cornered in the back garden by a very enthusiastic bride-to-be.

"What was your wedding like?" Meg asked the neighbor one day.

A long silence preceded a quietly spoken, "Very nice."

Madame Seuratti spoke softly both early in the morning and later in the afternoon. It was as though the volume of her voice was controlled by the proximity of her overbearing husband as she kept her words limited until long after he left their home for the day and made certain to curb her emotions as evening approached. In the brief time she dared to use her full voice, I often heard Meg laughing like a school girl and the neighbor forcing every bit of joy into her words.

"You look very tired," Meg commented.

"It is nothing," Madame Seuratti answered.

I grunted at her words. The lights in their kitchen had been on late into the night. While I sat up reading the newspaper for articles on Christine's travels, I had glanced out the window and seen her pacing back and forth at almost two in the morning. Long after I retired for the night, I heard her husband slam a door and tell her not to pry in his business affairs. His harsh words woke their baby, whose cries stirred Alex awake briefly. Quite frankly I looked forward to cooler autumn nights simply for the windows staying closed as that was the only way Monsieur Seuratti and his irritating voice would not infiltrate my home and my work.

"Alex is celebrating his birthday next Wednesday," Meg said suddenly. "You and Lisette are more than welcome to visit with us. Alex would like that."

I turned my head to the side and made a face as this was news to me. Christine had not said when precisely Alex had been born, and the best guess Madeline could offer was middle or late October. Apparently Meg had taken it upon herself to give my son a date of birth.

Alex, who had been busy hitting one toy train with another, craned his neck toward the window at the sound of his name. "May!" he shouted.

"Alex!" I said through my teeth. "Play with your toys and allow that poor woman a moment of peace."

He did not even spare me a glance. "May!"

Meg sighed. "The future Emperor of France calls, I'm afraid. I will be back out shortly."

"No need," Madame Seuratti answered. "My husband will be home early from work today."

There was no hint of joy in her voice as she spoke. I looked up from the paper and out the window at Meg and the neighbor standing on opposite sides of the stone fencing and saw the woman absently push her hair back from her face before she crossed her arms. Her daughter sat quietly at the back door, everything about her so still that she resembled more of a statue than a child.

"Do you need anything?" Meg asked.

The woman shook her head. "Coffee tomorrow?"

"Of course. I have postcards from Charles to show you. And hopefully another letter. It's been ten days since I have last heard from him."

"That would be nice," the woman answered mechanically.

There was no letter awaiting Meg when she returned inside for the day. Much to her disappointment, there was no letter the day after, either.

"I'm sure he is preoccupied," Madeline said as she sifted through correspondence addressed to me as well as bills, which, conveniently went to me as well.

By the following Tuesday there was a postcard from her fiance hastily written and apparently arriving much later than it had been dated.

As Meg had told the neighbor, Alex was celebrating his first birthday. Given that he had no idea what a birthday meant, Meg and Madeline fussed over his cake and plans for supper as if he were a celebrated Head of State.

"He needs nothing more than a bite of dessert and a ribbon on of the dozen trains he already possesses and he will be quite content," I told Madeline once she rattled off a list of cake flavors they were considering.

"He is the first baby in the house," Madeline said as she completely dismissed my words. "I would like him to remember this day."

"What do you recall of your first birthday?" I asked.

Madeline scoffed at me. "You and your pessimism."

"He is celebrated every single day," I replied. "And you have made it abundantly clear for the last eight months that I spoil him terribly."

"Well, for one day we would like to spoil him even more."

There would be no stopping a celebration, I realized. For several years Madeline had insisted upon assigning me a birthday-which consequently was a week after hers-complete with a small cake to indulge my sweet tooth and a simple but much appreciated gift of loose paper for writing music or strings for my collection of violins. Both items I could have easily taken from the Opera House, but she had always been incredibly thoughtful when I did not deserve her kindness, even when I failed to remember her birthday as well as mine.

"He is fortunate to have you," I said. "We both are."

Madeline grinned back at me. "You must have sold another piece of music to be in such a pleasant mood."

"A moment ago you told me I was pessimistic." I looked at her from the corner of my eye and grunted. "But yes, I have. An aria."

She beamed, a proud sister and mother figure rolled into one. "Have I heard it? Surely you must play it for us tonight."

"I'm sure I have forced every member of this household to listen to at least a bar or two."

A knock at the door prevented Madeline from pinching my arm. She looked from me to the open bedroom door and furrowed her brow. "I wonder who that could be?"

"Telegram!" a young boy shouted as he knocked again.

Madeline started toward the stairs but Meg shot out of the kitchen and yelled she would answer. Alex, who had become her parrot, did his best to sound out the words she spoke.

"Are you Mademoiselle Giry?" the boy at the door asked.

"I am. Thank you," she said before she closed the door and started back toward the kitchen.

"Charles," Madeline said as she turned from me. "Finally. I was beginning to worry."

Before she closed the bedroom door behind her, something shattered in the kitchen, a water pitcher or a dish by the sound of it, and Meg released the most ear-splitting scream. Madeline looked over her shoulder at me, her mouth agape and hand over her heart.

"Mother! Please take Alex!" she shouted as Madeline rushed down the stairs and I followed at her heels.