"You'll just love it, my dear. The house is perhaps not as big as some other houses in the area, you know. The Guiscards, they do have a bigger house. You'll see it when we come to visit. But our house is more airy, and more cheerful, and there will be space enough for all of us. And then there's the orchard, isn't it, Mama? It is so lovely, full of quiet and secluded spots. Ah it is so romantic, with the branches of the trees hanging and all the moss, and the low walls! I am sure you will like it of all things. And then there is. . ."
Gracie sighed inwardly. She smiled and nodded while she tried to remember how exactly had she come to consent to this journey after having declined so many times. It had been Papa, of course. If he hadn't had such a ridiculous conscience that made him feel guilty for not being able to take her away during the summer, he wouldn't have felt compelled to push her to accept Lucille's invitation. And if he hadn't been so irrationally stubborn, she would have found a way to convince him that she would be perfectly happy in Paris. But he could be so obsessed with her well being at times. . .
It was not that Gracie didn't like Lucille. She was one of her good friends from school, and though she was prone to chatting, she was also kind and good-humoured. Lucille's family, one big tribe of grinning, chattering, sparkling-eyed and rosy-cheeked individuals, were also very kind to Gracie. Lucille's mother would often invite Gracie for supper, and would insist on stuffing her as if she was a goose. They all had talked so much about their house in Normandy and had invited her so many times, that Gracie felt it would be terribly rude of her to decline one more time. But at the same time, she suspected that if she spent three full weeks among the Calmettes she would simply go insane.
She had told that to Papa when he had insisted that her leaving with them was the only way she would get a real vacation this year. He had too much work on his hands and there was no way he could get away, not even for a weekend. Louis had worked continuously the whole year and he deserved to have some rest, and Monsieur Lavalle, the assistant, helpful as he was, couldn't take charge of the firm. Nadir was not going out of town for the summer. The little summerhouse by the Mediterranean had already been rented.
Gracie couldn't understand why he thought it was essential that she travelled during the summer, and had resisted his arguments with all her might, but then Françoise had accidentally alluded to something that had made her change her mind. In the kitchen, one evening, she had told Gracie that she believed Monsieur Devaux came from Normandy. She was sure he understood her patois, for she had caught him smiling knowingly when he heard her grumbling in her native tongue. And once she had heard him humming one of the popular ballads she had learnt as a child. Gracie had first dismissed Françoise's conjectures as absurd, but the more she had thought about it, the more probable it seemed. Papa had talked about the region where the house of the Calmettes was as if he had known it himself. Of course that didn't mean a thing, since he had travelled all over France in the past, but then a commentary about how lovely the landscape was at sunset, coupled with a reference to Sasha had put the pieces of the puzzle together.
He had told her about the dog, his childhood companion. The dog had never been present in the stories he told about gypsies and their camps, so Gracie had guessed something must have happened to it before Papa fled from his childhood home. If the dog was present in Normandy, then Normandy had to be his place of birth. And Gracie had so wanted to see the region where Papa had been born. Anything about his past had such an alluring appeal for her. Trying to put together the loose pieces, learning more about them, had become her obsession. Of course, he couldn't know about it, so she usually prodded him gently whenever he was in a good mood, stored in her memory the references he blurted out whenever he was enraged, pricked up her ears for hidden allusions in his conversations with Uncle Nadir, and questioned Darius and Uncle Nadir relentlessly. In that way she had been able to painstakingly reconstruct most of the significant parts of his past, although there were many areas that remained an alluring mystery.
"Gracie? Dear? Oh, Mama, look, she's daydreaming again! How charming!"
Lucille, by her side, poked her with her elbow and grinned. Gracie blushed and looked out of the window of the coach. Luckily, Madame Calmette came to her rescue.
"Don't be rude, Lucille. Gracie must be tired. It's been a long trip, hasn't it, my dear?" She squeezed Gracie's hand affectionately. "And this heat makes it even more exhausting. Doesn't it?"
Gracie nodded.
"Don't worry. We'll get there in no time and you'll be able to change and have some rest before lunch. Then we'll spend the afternoon in the veranda. It's so cool there. And then we'll have a quiet evening. Maybe with one or two guests. Thank God Michel will not arrive until Friday. He's such a tornado. He wouldn't leave you girls a moment of peace. Marguerite and Pierre are already there, with their nanny, but you girls won't have to concern yourselves with them. Your only duty is to enjoy yourselves."
"But Madame, we'll surely be able to help. . ."
"No, no, I won't hear a word of it. If you want to play with the little ones, it will be all right. But otherwise, you are here to celebrate that you finished your studies successfully. You are grown-ups now. Sixteen years old. Oh my God. Time just flies away, doesn't it? I can still remember when you started school, Gracie, as if it was yesterday. Such a quiet and shy girl you were."
Madame Calmette sighed and wiped the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. Gracie shot an alarmed look at Lucille. Lucille's mother was going down the path of nostalgia, one she was really happy to follow, and now it would be extremely difficult to make her drop the subject. Lucille winked and wrinkled her nose. She had obviously devised some kind of stratagem to deflect her mother's attention from sentimentality.
"Look, Gracie, we're almost there! That is the house! Isn't it beautiful?"
Gracie looked out of the window and saw a large grey house, its façade covered in vine and its wide windows open. It wasn't small by any standards. It was certainly well proportioned and the vine gave it a wild look. She didn't have to fake her enthusiasm at all.
"It is lovely!" she exclaimed as the cab came to a stop and Lucille hopped out. She quickly followed.
That afternoon, at the veranda, Madame Calmette took it as her own personal responsibility to describe the neighbours to Gracie.
"There are the Guiscards, you know. They are the most important family in the surroundings. They are very exclusive people. We'll meet them some day, when Michel is here. They have a son, of about Michel's age. He is going to the military academy, and looks quite handsome in his uniform. Doesn't he, Lucille?" she asked casting a knowing look at his daughter.
Lucille blushed, and Gracie tried not to smile. Gracie had heard, many times, how good the young Pierre Guiscard looked in his uniform.
"And then there are the Delbauves. They are so nice people. Middle aged, two daughters, Anette and Adéle. And then. . ."
Gracie let her mind wander a little, taking in the beautiful colours of the evening sky. Papa had been right. Summer sunsets here in Normandy were glorious. She wondered how the sunset would look from the advantage point of the nearby hills. She would have to convince Lucille to come with her in a walk tomorrow evening.
"Well, I guess those are all of them. As you can see, it's not a long list, but it is a merry society, I can tell you. There's nothing in Paris that we would envy. We even have our own resident diva!"
Those words caught Gracie's attention immediately. Madame Calmette chuckled.
"I knew you would be interested in that! Didn't I tell you, Lucille, Gracie would be happy to know there was somebody that shared her musical interests here? But of course, this little brat wanted to keep it as a surprise."
Lucille smiled guiltily, her cheeks reddening.
"It's because she sings so lovely, mother!" she exclaimed. "I know it is going to be a pleasure for you to have someone so talented accompanying you, Gracie. And what a pleasure it will be for us, as well. We will be able to have real musical soirees the whole season. It will be quite delightful!"
"Now, now, you will have to rein in your desire to listen to Gracie play. She has come here to enjoy herself."
"Oh, Mama, but she will just love making music with Mademoiselle Daaé!"
At the name, Gracie felt the floor sway under her feet. Surely she had heard wrong.
"Made. . . Mademoiselle Daaé?" she stuttered. "Christine Daaé?"
"The one and only," beamed Lucille. "I knew you would be flabbergasted."
Flabbergasted was not the right word. Shocked, sickened, revolted would all be better choices. A cold sweat covered Gracie's forehead and she was grateful Lucille had just chosen to chatter on, captivating her mother's attention. Otherwise, they would have noticed her uneasiness.
". . . And she still has this lovely voice, although she only sings in the Church now. And of course, she also sings when she gives music lessons. She has been living from music lessons ever since she came to this little town. It was shortly after the terrible affair at the Opéra Populaire, wasn't it, mama?"
"Yes, it was. But dear, Gracie's maybe not familiar with what happened at the Opéra."
"Oh, no, Mama. She is. Aren't you, Gracie?"
Gracie managed to nod.
"I leant her The Phantom of the Opera," Lucille announced proudly. "I stole Michel's copy."
"But surely you don't believe all the nonsense in that book? A freak living underneath the Opéra?"
Madame Calmette's voice reached a squeaking note. Gracie flinched. The words hurt as if she'd been stabbed.
"Dear Lucille. See what you get with your nonsense! You've scared our little guest."
Madame Calmette stood up impulsively and took Gracie's hands.
"You must not believe that nonsense, my dear. All those things this Leroux wrote are but follies to sell his books and scare young souls. You must not think about it anymore. What do you say, shall we get ready for the evening? We have several guests arriving at eight. Mademoiselle Daaé is one of them, and she is a beautiful soul, I tell you. I know you'll get along very well. Come now,"
She patted Gracie's hand and urged her to stand up.
"Lucille's been waiting to show you her new toilette. You shall get ready together. Shan't you, Lucille?"
"Yes Mama. Come Gracie. Our bedrooms are one beside the other, and Jean must have already brought our suitcases upstairs. I have an idea for your coiffure. . ."
With those words, Lucille grabbed Gracie's hand and led her into the house.
Author's notes: In Leroux's book, he wrote that the events took place some thirty years previous to his writing of the book. He also stated that most people believed that the count had been murdered by his brother and that the viscount and his wife had run away to escape the law… So this chapter is not exactly canonical. What can I say? I took some liberties for the sake of the story.
