Author's Note: I don't even want to count the days of how long it's been since I last updated... I just got a bit stuck. And to be honest, I'm still not very happy with some things.
There's quite a bit of French in this chapter; I hope it doesn't make it too difficult to read. But there's no getting around it really, since I made Madame Soleil someone who doesn't like to use English. Also, just fyi, the translations are not literal, so you can't always match up the words and figure out what means what. I write what sounds good in French and what sounds good in English and they don't always correspond exactly.
And now the portion of the chapter introduction where I talk about all the things I changed in previous parts of the story... Yep, I've been editing again. Last chapter I said I changed 20, and I meant to, but I forgot, so I've done that now. Chapter 5 has some things added in and some things taken out (now +~100 words); I think it's much better overall, but there's still a paragraph or two that could use improvement. Anyway, chapter 6 has also had some additions (+~400 words).
Lisabelle had come to the conclusion that it would be better for Mélisande to come to England than for the three of them to go to France, and was now clinging to this opinion with an iron grip. Knowing her mother did not like to be on the receiving end of persuasion, and she was likely to interpret the inquiry as an attempt at such, even if it was not, Charlotte waited before asking about how that would impact Tom and Valeria's respective visits.
"Val peut nous rendre visite après Tom, même si Mélisande est encore ici, n'est-ce pas?" ["Val can visit us after Tom, even if Mélisande is still here, right?"]
"Je suppose," she replied, indicating she wouldn't object although she wasn't thrilled about the idea.
"Et Tom va rester… où? Nous n'avons qu'une chambre vide et il sera aussi ici, j'imagine, au même temps de Mélisande." ["And Tom will stay... where? We only have one empty room and he will be here, I imagine, at the same time as Mélisande."] It was so strange not having very much space. Having kept their house in France, this second home had to be smaller. It did come with extensive ground, however, which was of value to both Charlotte and her mother. Monsieur Soleil, too, had been known to take walks around the estate for relaxation.
"Nous pouvons mettre un lit à la bibliothèque. S'il aime les livres comme tu dit, ça ne devrait trop le géner," ["We can put a bed in the library. If he likes books as you say, that will not be a problem,"] Madame Soleil answered breezily. Charlotte suspected, however, that this was to conceal her similar unhappiness about their lack of space, which they were so accustomed to in France.
Space wasn't Charlotte's main concern, of course. Her mother read the unresolved worry on her face plainly, and said, "Si tu n'es pas prête pour qu'il rencontre ta famille, même ta tante Mélisande, alors peut-être qu'il ne devrait pas venir." ["If you aren't ready for him to meet your family, even your aunt Mélisande, then maybe he shouldn't come."]
A small panic set in. "Je lui ai déjà raconté ce qu'il s'est passé," ["I already told him what happened,"] Charlotte said in a rush. As she thought about it, however, she didn't see why her mother felt that was so important.
"Bon. Mais tu ne veux pas qu'il fasse connaissance avec elle...?" ["That's fine. But you don't want him to meet her...?"]
"Je ne crois pas que ça changerait son opinion de moi. Mais si leur rencontre était évitable…" ["I don't think that it would change his opinion of me. But if their meeting could be avoided..."]
Her mother didn't respond immediately. Then when she did, she addressed the subject from a different angle. "Il est possible qu'avec quelqu'un qui ne vient pas de la famille elle fasse l'effort d'être normale." ["It's possible that with someone outside of the family she will make an effort to be normal."] She then added quickly, "Elle fait toujours l'effort, mais..." ["She always makes an effort, but..."] But it wasn't enough.
"Je crois que, si elle pouvait choisir d'être normale, elle le ferait." ["I think that, if she could choose to be normal, she would."] Charlotte said this quietly.
Her mother sunk into a nearby armchair, raising her hand to her forehead with a sigh. "Je déteste le fait que je peux faire rien." ["I hate that I cannot do anything."]
She felt she should comfort her mother, but it was so unusual to see her like this, she didn't know what to do. Deciding instead that it was best to leave her alone, Charlotte wordlessly went from the room, closing the door behind her.
A day later, Mélisande was on their doorstep.
For being almost just as wealthy as the Soleils, she wore far more understated clothing. All black. As though she were still in mourning. Charlotte didn't think that was altogether unlikely, in fact. She greeted them with a smile, however—a bright, full smile. Perhaps Charlotte had been mistaken.
When they had shown her around the house and the grounds, she complimented it all—in English, to their surprise.
"On a pas oublié le français parce qu'on vit en Angleterre; tu n'as pas besoin de parler anglais," ["Just because we live in England, doesn't mean we've forgotten French; you don't need to speak English,"] Lisabelle said.
Presumably to content her, Mélisande replied in French, "Dans quel façon, alors, suggèrerais-tu que je le pratique?" ["How, then, do you suggest I practice it?"] She wasn't defensive, but clearly she wanted to make a point.
"Quelle différence entre les deux," ["What a difference between them."] Monsieur Soleil said to Charlotte.
Mélisande continued. "Avec la guerre, on est avantagé quand on parle l'anglais," ["With the war, it's advantageous to speak English,"] she added dismissively. Her sister frowned, but made no comment.
"If you want to practice, I'm sure Charlotte would be happy to converse with you," offered Monsieur Soleil. Charlotte gave a nod and a smile. "I will too, of course, when I can."
"Yes, Charlotte must have learned a lot since starting school here." She turned to her niece. "And how goes school?"
"Very well." She would know just how well exactly when she received her OWL scores later that month.
"I don't hear much about how you are doing," Mélisande said reflectively.
"You could write to her directly. I always assume you ask from politeness and not with an interest in the details," answered Lisabelle.
She ignored whatever point her sister was trying to make. "She can speak English after all. And well. Bravo. You should not let fear of mistakes stop you from trying," Mélisande said.
Madame Soleil colored. "That is not the case. Fear has no part in it."
There was less than a week of Mélisande being there before Tom would join them too. Charlotte was surprised to find she didn't want to talk to her aunt about him; she was always afraid of upsetting her. There wasn't any particular reason Mélisande might have to react badly to learning about Charlotte's boyfriend, but still she hesitated.
...
"How long will Tom being staying for?" Mélisande, apparently informed by her sister, asked the second morning of her stay.
"As long as he wants, I hope" Charlotte answered quietly. All she had gotten was several "we'll see"s whenever she asked. "I think we want him to experience living with a wizarding family for as long as he can. Relieve him of living with muggles." She mumbled this last part.
Her aunt's eyebrows went up. "Is he— does he have muggle parents?"
"No, oh no. He lives at a muggle orphanage, not by choice, of course. But that's where he grew up." She'd simply said no before she could stop herself.
Mélisande nodded. "I could not imagine my sister allowing her only daughter to be with a boy from a muggle family, even if he was a wizard." That was what she was afraid of; she knew her aunt was correct in this judgment. And soon she and Tom would be facing that conflict. But Charlotte merely nodded, showing none of this. "I can see why you want him to give him another home here," Mélisande said.
"I... hadn't thought about it like that—another home. But I hope he does come to think of it that way." She truly did. How wonderful would that be? The family he never had. Feeling at home with them was the first step. She smiled to herself, but her eyes met Mélisande's.
"How in love you are..."
Charlotte thought she might be blushing so she changed the subject. "Who taught you English? I remember when you only spoke as well as Maman."
There was silence. Her aunt stared off ahead of her. The clock ticked at least sixty times before she said, "As I mentioned, the war makes it useful. An Englishman I... became friends with taught me." Charlotte wasn't going to inquire any further, but a flurry of words abruptly burst out from Mélisande. "It was not—he was never a replacement for Étienne. We were not like that together. I would not want you to think—"
"I thought nothing like that," Charlotte assured her. It didn't matter one way or the other to her how faithful to her dead husband her aunt was, but clearly it was very important to Mélisande that she make no mistake where this man was concerned.
"I loved Étienne. I still do. Even after—" she caught the words, the explanation Charlotte had never heard, in pursed lips. "Do you remember him?" Mélisande quietly asked.
Charlotte shook her head nervously. "Although I remember Cor—" How foolish. If she had given a moment's thought to it, she would have recognized it as a terrible idea.
"I try to forget," Mélisande answered in a tight whisper.
"I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have mentioned— I spoke without thinking!"
No reply. Charlotte felt sure that behind her eyes her aunt was reliving that night. She didn't know what to do. Slowly, she placed her hand on Mélisande's.
Eventually her aunt met her gaze. "It was awful," she said.
"I'm sure it was," answered Charlotte, full of sympathy. "But you don't need to think about it anymore. That won't help anyone." Mélisande rose from her chair and passed a minute doing nothing more than standing there, then she turned to the doorway and wordlessly left the room. Charlotte stayed. She thought it safer for both of them if she left Mélisande's miserable memories to run their course. She had no one to intervene at home and, Charlotte assumed, that worked well enough.
Her aunt returned a little while later, perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened. "This letter came for you," she said, holding out an envelope. The stamp in the corner caught her attention because she was so unaccustomed to seeing them. Perhaps it was from Tom, she thought joyfully. But the somewhat excessively artistic font on the outside said the sender was Valeria as clearly as her own name spelled it out.
A simplified version of the script was found on the inside. The letter was brief.
Dear Charlotte,
How has your summer been? Mine has been… Well, I'll get directly to the point. Too much is going on at home for me and I can't stay with you at all this summer. My parents say that you can come stay with us for a short visit, even though things might be a bit tense (but please don't let that stop you from visiting!). They want me to be able to see you. And of course I want to see you. [It might help make things easier. *heavily crossed out, but still legible] I can't wait to hear about Tom's visit! In person—a letter wouldn't be the same (and maybe there are some things you wouldn't want to write down?). Please write me back soon.
Love, Valeria Philomena Lowell
Valeria always signed her letters with her full name written in elegant calligraphy.
Charlotte frowned. She was concerned about what was happening that Val couldn't leave, or didn't want to. And now what was she supposed to do? She didn't want to make her wait long for an answer, but she didn't know what to tell her. She'd already had this discussion with her parents and gotten nowhere. Even her father, for whatever reason, seemed cautious of allowing her to go.
But all of those times there had been the option of Valeria staying with them instead. Now there wasn't.
Rather than show it to either of her parents directly, she left it open on the table, certain they would see it and hoping it, on its own, would give them reason to change their minds.
Author's Note: In all but the last scene, I think things end abruptly... so don't be surprised if I go back and make changes later. *sigh*
There's a long sequence of scenes I've written (partially) that follow this, but I don't think they work as well if I separate them, so I can't make this chapter/update any longer, unfortunately. I will try to have the next chapter completed and out soon though.