2.
Gus cracked his eyes blearily to the sound of someone pounding on his door. There were hints of hazy sunlight coming through his window, but it was clearly still early in the morning. A second round of banging had Gus mumble out a request for patience as he pulled himself out of bed. Still in his undergarments, Gus shuffled to the door and heard one final thump as he turned the doorknob.
Gus blinked at the same mix of dapper and disheveled from yesterday, as Alan stood grinning in the doorway. When Gus was fully composed, the combination was perplexing, but in his current state, it was simply irritating. Although Gus also made a mental concession that it may just be the fact that Alan was clearly a morning person. Before he could ask what he had done to earn a personal wakeup call, Alan pushed himself into the room and looked out the window.
"Quite a morning, isn't it?"
Dreary, was the only word Gus could think of to describe the gray, foggy scene outside of the window. It was pretty typical for the area, certainly nothing worth remarking about, especially not in a positive way. Not unless you really liked clouds or fog. Gus wondered if the fellow standing before him in a sweater and trousers was perpetually cheery, or just a little daft, possibly even both. Gus closed the door and yawned as he walked over to the sink. He was about to turn on the tap when he suddenly froze for a moment.
"There's a rumor going around that someone got killed in town last night," Alan said, still staring out the window. "Do you think that's what that thunder was last night?"
Gus wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to keep it a secret, but he didn't exactly want to relive the events as last night either. He shrugged noncommittally, before turning on the water and dampening a cloth, which he used to wipe his face.
"What were you doing last night Gus?"
"Whah?"
"All your stuff is still packed in the middle of the floor and you clearly didn't put a lot of effort into your clothes! Were you spacing out all night? Or reading or something?"
Gus relaxed slightly as he remembered that he'd been busy all day and then he'd gone to bed without doing more than removing yesterday's clothing. To others in the dorm, his room probably looked practically unused at all. He really needed to rectify that today.
"I had to fill out reams of paperwork all day yesterday. By the time I got back, I was so tired I just crawled into bed and went to sleep."
"That sounds bloody awful. My dad has guys that do that all day back in London. Morning to night, just sitting at a desk and writing away at papers."
Alan ostentatiously shivered at the very prospect. Gus found himself wondering how the lad had ever survived his first year at Oxford without flunking out or going bonkers. Gus set down the damp cloth he'd been using and opened his trunk. He quickly pulled out his clothing for the day and a few other necessities.
"I hadn't expected to be entertaining this morning," he remarked wryly. "I'll put in every effort to see that my parlor is more inviting later today."
Alan made a show of surveying the small room before nodding as he said, "see that you do, my good man."
"I'm going to go get some breakfast. Clearly you're not ready for that yet, but make sure you're not late for French class this morning. Mr. Firmin is pretty strict."
"How do you know what my first class is?"
"We talked about it on the train. Good lord man, I was thinking you'd help me get through the second year, but if you can't remember that, then I'm worried I'll be teaching you. And neither of us want that to be true, believe me."
With a nod, he then walked back to the door and turned the knob. As he pulled the door open, Alan gave the room a final look before walking into the hall and closing the door behind him. Gus sat embarrassed remembering the long train ride from London where he and Alan had discussed various things about the coming term, including the schedules and the one overlapping class. Gus had first found it odd that a first year and a second year were sharing a course, before realizing that because of his family, Gus had a solid grasp of French, and for the same reason, Alan probably did not. Gus decided to blame the oversight on his current half-risen state, so he scooped up his towel and toiletries and set off for the washroom.
The communal washroom was at the end of the hall, just a short walk from his room. It was active, but not excessively crowded at this point in the morning, so everyone was polite about sharing the needed facilities. Everyone worked through their activities with practiced efficiency and Gus quickly returned to his room to shave and dress for the day. Gus pulled on navy trousers to go with his navy blazer over his white shirt and matching tie. Feeling much more alert and prepared, Gus picked up the bag containing his books and stationary and set off for the dining hall.
After a short walk, he found Alan happily munching away at some toast. Gus sat down next to him and poured himself some tea to go along with his much more modest portions.
"So Alan, Comment est ton Français?" Gus inquired.
Alan stuffed the remainder of his toast into his mouth before pantomiming that it was rude to speak while eating. Gus snickered as he put some jam on his own toast. As he spread the jam across his bread he caught a few whispers from around the room. Here and there people were speaking in hushed voices about last night's events. When he raised his head a couple of people were making furtive glances in his direction.
Gus sighed as he raised the toast to his mouth and nibbled at it pensively. He was pretty certain the rumors would start catching up to him very soon, but hopefully he could at least get through his first day.
"Thanks for coming to wake me up," he offered. "You probably noticed, but I'm not a morning person."
Alan grinned as he said, "you should run around the campus with me in the morning, it really gets your body awake."
"Ugh, no thanks, besides, I certainly couldn't keep up with you."
Alan laughed, and a few minutes later they had finished their breakfast and set their dishes aside before setting out for their morning class. It was still cool and a bit hazy, but the sun was starting to burn off the morning fog as they walked the several hundred yards to the building where they would be studying French this morning. A short time later, they approached the ivy-covered building and ascended the short staircase to the main entrance.
The two young men entered the building together and walked casually to the third door on the right. There were still several minutes until the scheduled start time, so they had no reason to rush. They entered the room and were greeted by the dull buzz of scattered conversations between the other students. Gus and Alan each found an empty seat and settled into place for the start of class.
Gus took a minute to retrieve his book and writing utensils from his bag before resting his arms on the desk in front of him. He looked back to see Alan laughing with another student two rows behind him. Gus brought his hand up to conceal a yawn just as the door to the room swung open. An officious looking bald man entered a moment later and walked behind the large desk at the front of the room. He made an extravagant show of putting down his satchel and pulling out a leather bound folder. He held the folder before himself for a moment before speaking to the class.
"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Monsieur Firmin, je suis ton instructeur."
He nodded perfunctorily and then opened the folder.
"Monsieur Andrews."
"Oui!"
"Monsieur Billington."
"Oui!"
"Monsieur Casserly."
"Oui!"
Mr. Firmin, paused momentarily as he stared at his folder. His head came up to look around the classroom looking over all the occupants. He raised an eyebrow while looking in Gus's direction.
"Mister De Chagny."
"Oui," Gus replied hesitantly.
"Son of Viscount Raoul De Chagny?" Mr. Firmin asked, all traces of his French accent suddenly absent.
"...Oui. Do you know my father?"
"And how is your mother, Miss Daae? Or I guess now she would be the Madame De Chagny, she is well I take it?"
Mr. Firmin's voice was guttural, almost turning Germanic as he put forth the question. Gus was confused, but he nervously responded.
"Yes, she is also fine sir. Thank you for asking."
Mr. Firmin locked eyes with Gus for another second before abruptly pivoting to his right. He looked down at his folder and went back to taking roll.
"Monsieur Ellington."
Gus released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as he leaned heavily on his desk. He racked his brain trying to recall if Mr. Firmin had ever come to their home in London or if he had seen or heard of him at some other time, but he could find none. Mr. Firmin clearly knew his parents, but Gus could not remember ever hearing them mention him. But then he remembered that Mr. Firmin had called his mother by her maiden name, so he must not have seen them since before Gus was born.
The class period flew by with scant attention given to Gus. As Mr. Firmin gave the class their assignment for the evening before perfunctorily walking out the door, Gus began to wonder if he'd imagined the strange level of attention he had given him. He was absently putting away his book when two classmates paused by his desk.
"Good luck to you this term De Chagny," said one while giving him a sympathetic look.
"I'm just glad it's not me," added the other. "Firmin took an interest in Peter last term. Poor kid almost dropped out after two weeks. We'll pray for your safety."
Gus watched them continue towards the front of the room. He was relieved to find that he hadn't imagined the unusual degree of scrutiny, but he now worried for a different reason. He began to feel a lump of anxiety in his stomach as he worried whether he would have such strange conversations for the entirety of the term. Luckily for Gus, his reverie was broken by a familiar hand clapping onto his back.
"You know ole Firmin?" his friend inquired.
"I've never met the man in my life before today. I didn't know my parents had either. Is he always like that?"
"No, that was pretty weird. Last year I don't remember if he spoke any English at all, and that was my first French class."
Even more confused than before, Gus got up and walked out of the room with Alan while stuffing his notes into his bag. Alan's next class was in the opposite direction from where Gus was headed, so they gave each other a brief wave and parted. Gus then spent the next two hours trying to keep up with the morning's lessons. It wasn't that he found the material particularly difficult, but he kept getting distracted by the strange exchange with Mr. Firmin. By the end of the Mathematics lesson, he was glad to have a break before any more classes so he could compose himself.
Gus had never thought himself a loner or particularly anti-social, but the events of the last 24 hours had made him appreciate time to himself. While walking to get his lunch, he noticed more than one person turn away when he noticed them casting surreptitious glances in his direction. There was even one fellow who apparently took a few moments to remember he'd been pointing at Gus, so he awkwardly lowered the hand aimed in his direction a few seconds after turning his head away.
Gus sighed inwardly. He would probably need to clear things up tonight, with Alan at least. It simply wouldn't do for the man to think he was deliberately misleading him. At least with the previous night's events, Gus knew why he was the object of some discussion, as opposed to Mr. Firmin's unidentified interest in Gus or his family. He acquired a sandwich and absently nibbled at it as he wandered aimlessly around town for several minutes. He really needed to sort some of this out before afternoon classes or the whole day would be wasted and he'd likely find himself trying to catch up for the entirety of the term.
Before he knew it, Gus found himself again wandering toward the stream on the east end of town. He was still trying to figure out how to handle all the unrequested attention he was receiving, when everything was suddenly washed away by a distant sound. A song on the wind had caught his ear. It reminded him faintly of listening to his mother. The voice was cruder and not as powerful, but the song was clean and well sung for some remote town outside of London.
Gus was carried along by the beautiful melody, which slowly got louder as he moved closer to the stream. He very quickly saw the source. There was a slight girl in a simple, partly soiled dress. She had a kerchief covering her dirty brown hair, and Gus realized it was the same girl who worked in the tavern. He continued forward in a daze, forgetting his earlier troubles and what had guided him to this spot. He was simply enthralled by the voice that was enriching the entire vicinity.
As Gus got closer, he absently stepped on a fallen branch, snapping it in two. The sound was not particularly loud, but it brought the singing that had enchanted him to an immediate halt. Lucy spun around and Gus unconsciously retreated slightly from the scarred face that was now facing him. The fire that Gus had just barely noticed the previous night was now focused entirely on him. Their eyes remained locked for a heartbeat before Lucy suddenly pivoted again and ran.
Gus stood dumbfounded for several seconds. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened nor what he should do. But something told him there had been a misunderstanding and he thought that he truly needed to clear this one up. After establishing his resolution, Gus set out to catch the girl. She had a good head start, but he thought he could catch her before too long. He had some concern that she might lose him in the trees on the other side of the stream, since she was running toward the bridge. But right before the bridge she turned off the road and darted underneath the structure.
Gus slowed down, not entirely sure what she was doing. He also felt that if he approached more slowly, he could better react if she ran out the other side. However, as he walked up to the bridge, no one emerged and he wondered if she was trying to hide under the bridge. It wasn't particularly large, and she had to know he'd seen her run there, so it wasn't a very good hiding spot. He paused above the bridge, thinking it was probably best to speak first, since he'd already startled her before.
"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to startle you. Nor to eavesdrop," he hastily added. "I was just nearby when I heard your singing. It was quite beautiful, you're very talented."
There was no response.
"Please, may I just have a moment of your time to speak with you?"
Gus slowly began to descend the slope towards the river. As he got closer he craned his head down to speak to… no one. The space beneath the bridge was entirely empty.