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Chapter 45

Raoul

"It was a pink dress, Albert."

"No, I distinctly remember that it was green."

"Pink."

"Green, Julien; it was green."

Despite Meg looking ready to burst out laughing behind her teacup, I felt a deep sigh starting in the pit of my chest. So I leaned back in my seat and urged, "Go on, please. Pink or green. It matters little."

"Oh, it matters greatly," said Albert.

"Yes," added Julien, "it matters more than anything. Any discrepancy in our memory must be dealt with. Otherwise, we will begin doubting our realities entirely. Want us to end up in an asylum, Raoul?" He grimaced. "I don't think so."

"An asylum," I repeated, succinctly, and Meg snorted. "An asylum for disagreeing over whether your mother wore pink or green one Tuesday afternoon ten years ago?"

"It's the little things, Raoul."

"All it takes is a single mental slip and..." Albert slapped his hands together dramatically. "Into the madhouse you trot."

"Too right, Albert. Too right."

I scoffed and looked at Meg, rolling my eyes at her. She giggled at me before taking another sip of her tea. I smiled back. I wasn't, of course, truly impatient with the twins. I knew they were meaning well - they'd come tonight for the express purpose of checking on my emotional well-being after hearing the news of Philippe's death. And, of course, they'd found a way to stay for dinner - not that I minded much now. I liked their company, liked knowing that my friends cared.

Besides, their shock at finding that Meg now knew my identity had been entertaining enough. Now that she and I were on better terms, and understood one another in that respect, I found I could find amusement in things like this.

The dinner had been a nice distraction from my feelings. My despair had come in waves since the midnight conversation with Meg two days ago, flares of sadness that waxed and waned repeatedly. Her company helped, of course. It was when I became lost in my own thoughts that the guilt and grief returned.

So yes. Them being here was nice. Her being here was definitely nice. I had little room for complaint. It was better than the alternative: being left alone with my thoughts.

"I suppose, of course, Raoul is right. We can settle this matter later," remarked Albert. "Pink or green, she was certainly not happy when she found we'd used the dress for a nest of newborn kittens."

"Kittens!" exclaimed Meg, delight in her eyes. I tried to hide my smile but failed. The twins didn't even make an attempt - their mouths were wide with grins.

"Yes, kittens," said Julien. "A litter of them - six. Orphaned. All black, all nestled there. Our mother was furious - she said that her dress was ruined. Her favorite dress. Luckily, our father took pity on us - and the cats. He let us keep them all, though he immediately also found a suitable blanket for them to rest on."

I'd met their six black cats. All with very unique personalities, ranging from shy to outgoing, from mean to cuddly. Their family owned a two-story house in Paris, so there was plenty of room for all six.

Albert told Meg as much.

"I'd love to meet them one day," Meg said dreamily. I looked at her. She liked animals. Noted.

"And one day, I think, that could be arranged," he said. He glanced at me. "Once this whole...mess is resolved, of course. The few people know where you are, the better. I trust Janelle. I can't say the same for my own service staff." He grinned. "They're lovely people, of course. Just...well, very chatty. Prone to gossip. You know how the help are." He leaned back in his chair. "But, yes, once this woman-stealer is caught, we shall have you both over and you will meet all of our cats."

"And our five dogs, on the farm owned by our uncle, just outside Paris. Well, they're our uncle's dogs, technically, but we've always considered them like ours."

"Five dogs?" said Meg, leaning forward.

"And four rabbits."

"Three pigs."

"Two horses."

"And a partridge in a pear tree."

The twins sniggered. Meg giggled too.

Oh Lord.

She found them endearing.

Despite myself, I smiled too.

"But...yes," continued Albert, "we really must wait until all of this mess is settled." He reached forward to pick up his cup of coffee and sipped at it. From the kitchen, I heard Janelle stacking and putting away plates. "Speaking of which, we did get word from some theatre friends that Buquet is acting quite...what shall we say?" He turned to Julien.

His brother cocked his head. "Odd?"

"Strange?"

"Not himself?"

"Jumpy?"

"Yes," said Albert, nodding. "I think jumpy is a good word for it."

Meg's eyes shuttered. "Buquet." She looked at me. "I had suspected Buquet."

I gave her a knowing look.

"I'm quite shocked that any of the theatre is carrying on as they are." Albert sighed through his nose. "Poor Firmin - you know who Firmin is, don't you, Raoul?"

I shook my head.

"He's one of the managers. The man's absolutely beside himself with worry - you can see it in his eyes. So...distant. He was at a party recently and he didn't seem to be completely there. Every other word was about how he wished he knew of the ballet girls' whereabouts, and that he hoped they turned up soon."

"Poor man," said Meg's crestfallen voice. "He was always kind."

"And hardworking, it seems," added Julien. "He was talking about how he is rehabilitating a hotel to turn into a shelter for the poor."

I raised my brows. "That's quite an undertaking, considering he also manages the Opera."

"Yes," said Julien. "That's what I said. But he did say he loves a challenge."

But Meg's mind was still a topic back. "I do hope they find concrete evidence soon," she said. "Against Buquet. I can't bear the idea of any more girls being harmed."

Her mood, it seemed, had fallen. It remained low for the rest of the conversation, it never lifted when the twins left and it was only me and her left there. We sat in silence for a while, at some point we both picked up a book and read.

Then she approached me with her book and sat next to me, asking if we could read together.

"Aren't we doing that?" I asked. My voice was calm, but her proximity made me feel suddenly warm.

She shook her head. "Could we read the same book?"

"How?"

Meg brought her eyes to mine. "Read to me?" A blush kissed her cheeks. "You don't have to, but it would be nice."

The warmth intensified. I told her I would.

And I did, savoring the feeling of her head on my shoulder again.