Chapter Summary: Andrew Cameron, the roommate from university, and his sister Katherine receive an invitation to luncheon.

CHAPTER TWO

The sunny withdrawing room of the American ambassador's Paris residence was set for breakfast. Silver chafing dishes with the remnants of eggs, pancakes and sausages sat upon a highly polished buffet, their aromas drifting throughout, bringing a sense of home to those displaced from the familiar. A servant was carrying out a tray full of dirty dishes while another was pouring coffee into a white china cup sitting in front of one of the four people surrounding the little round table. The servant lifted the silver coffee pot and turned his attention the middle-aged man at his left.

"Sir?" he asked.

William Charles Norris, the American ambassador looked up from perusing the papers that had arrived in that morning's post. He placed his hand over the cup and shook his head. "Leave the pot on the sideboard and then you may go."

The servant nodded, turning to place the coffee pot on the sideboard with the other silver breakfast dishes and discreetly left the room.

William placed the week old paper on the table in front of him and looked around the table. "Is there anything exciting in the post?"

His wife, Abigail, seated next to him was looking carefully at the addresses of the letters she held in her hand. She looked up and over the top of her small glasses. "Letters from various friends -nothing that cannot wait till later." She looked over at her niece. "I have a letter from your mother. Did she write you as well?"

Katherine Cameron, recently turned sixteen, held a white envelope gently in her hands and sighed wistfully. She was an attractive young girl with blonde hair that seemingly rebelled against holding any type of curl. She had golden brown eyes that mirrored the shyness of her soul and her skin, while fine, was paler than her relatives liked to see. "She did," Katherine acknowledged drawing the letter to her chest. "Oh how I miss home."

"I think I can take care of that," her brother announced from where he was seated at her side.

It was not difficult for a casual stranger to tell that Andrew and Katherine Cameron were related. Andrew had the same blonde hair and brown eyes as his sister but Andrew's eyes were bright with a twinkle at the edges that bespoke of a merry and friendly soul. On the table in front of him lay a cream colored envelope and in his hands Andrew held a note on the same fine stationary, delicate writing flowing across the paper, a seal embossed at the top.

A frown creased William's face. "What is that?"

Andrew flicked a finger against the note in his hand. "Please forgive the shortness of notice but we would request the honor of having you and your sister, Katherine," Andrew smiled at his sister, "join our family for luncheon Friday this at noon." He looked up from his reading with a grin and a raised eyebrow. "It is signed by Christine, Comtesse de Chagny."

"Do you know that name?" William asked his wife.

Abigail took a sip of coffee and returned the cup to its saucer. "I believe we have met the Comtesse and her husband at a few gatherings. They are quite generous patrons of certain arts – the museum andcathedrals, the symphony. Very nice people as I recall." She looked at her nephew. "How do you know them? And well enough to garner an invitation, I might add."

"Gustave de Chagny was my roommate at Oxford. He's a decent type of guy and he always said that if I was ever in Paris he would introduce me to his family." Andrew looked at his sister. "He has a sister – I think her name is Annalise – who is only a few months older than you." His eyes grew gentle. "I have a feeling you would like her from Gustave's description of her. And you could use someone your own age to talk with, Kitt."

Katherine's eyes grew concerned. "But what would I say to them? I don't know how to talk to people like that!"

Andrew laughed. He loved his sister but she needed to be drawn out of her shell. She needed to show the world the bright, sweet person he was privileged to know. "You talk to them the same way you to talk to the American ambassador who is seated across the table from you. They are just people."

"But," Katherine tried, "William is our cousin not some person with a title!"

"I wonder what my staff would say to that," William commented as he wiped his lips, placing his napkin on the table and standing. He held out his hand to his wife.

"I ... I didn't mean ..." Katherine looked distressed.

"He knows what you meant, child," Abigail assured her. "We will leave the two of you to discuss this."

"Meaning Andrew gets his way again."

Andrew looked shocked. "I always get my way! Kitt …" he was pleading as William and Abigail closed the door behind them.

"Wasn't there some sort of a scandal about these people?" William asked his wife. "Or was I hearing things again."

"You were not hearing things. It has to do with that ruined opera house." Abigail touched her husband's arm. "Madame la Comtesse was a singer." She heard a door open and withdrew her hand. "I shall tell you the rest as you get ready."

Andrew came out of the door, a grin on his handsome face. "I talked her into it!" he exclaimed. "I said I always get my way."

So it was that four days later, on Friday, a coach drawn by two dappled grays arrived at the ambassador's residence to pick up and convey Andrew and Katherine Cameron to their luncheon with Gustave and his family. Katherine, dressed in brown satin, sat next to her brother, thin fingers nervously picking at the material of her skirt. Andrew sighed and took his sister's hands into his own.

"Kitt, please," he begged. "It is not like we are going to a funeral. We are going to have lunch with a friend and meet his parents and family. You really must try to enjoy yourself."

"Sometimes I feel like that building," Katherine told him as she pointed at a ruined shell of a building that the carriage was passing, windows boarded up, stone and marble charred and blackened by what had obviously been a fire.

"That's the old opera house," her brother told her.

"Well, I do not feel exactly old but I do feel like I am just sleeping until someone comes along and wakes me up." Katherine sighed. "I wish I wassurer of myself."

"You have a good deal to offer," Andrew assured her. "And maybe you'll meet a new friend today. Annalise is supposed to be a wonderful person. Give her a chance. Promise me." Katherine was silent. Andrew knew the signs. "Kitt, promise me."

"I promise," Katherine whispered turning her face towards the carriage window to watch the city of Paris go by.

And Paris continued to go by at a quick pace as the dappled gray geldings moved easily through the streets and avenues under the learned hands of their driver. Andrew tried to interest his sister in the scenes that passed by the carriage windows – grand cathedrals and small churches, cafes, town homes, shops, people moving through their daily lives. The city of Paris eventually gave way as the buildings grew fewer and the streets broader, less crowded. Finally the carriage slowed, turning into a tree-lined avenue, passing through large ironwork gates.

Andrew whistled under his breath. "Nice."

The carriage was moving down a graveled drive towards a two story home flanked on each corner by round towers with pointed roofs from which fluttered brightly colored flags. Large windows lined both stories of the house, their curtains drawn back giving the visitor a glimpse into the very soul of the home. Green lawns, open and sunny, surrounded the home, beds of tiny purple and yellow crocuses acting as grace notes to the emerald symphony played by the wind as it ruffled the blades of grass. All shade and shadows had been banished to the very edge of the property where tall trees stood as guardians against the outside world. It was almost as if someone was trying to wish away darkness.

Slowly the carriage drew to a halt beneath a stone portico. A man, dressed in the formal black of a servant, opened the carriage door, moving the steps into position as Andrew stuck his head out. He ignored the hand the servant offered him and barely touched even one of the steps as he exited the carriage. Andrew turned around and smiled at the blonde head that was just beginning to peak around the edge of the carriage door. He was distracted by a voice calling his name.

"Andrew!"

Andrew turned around to see the front door opening and his friend, Gustave stepping out. He took the hand that was offered him, clasping it warmly.

"Gustave, it is good to see you again," Andrew told him, smiling inwardly to himself for his friend's eyes were not looking at him. Andrew turned around to see his sister being handed out of the carriage; he took her arm gently. "May I present my sister, Katherine?"

Gustave took Katherine's hand and bowed over it. "Mademoiselle, I am very pleased to finally meet you. Your brother has spoken fondly of you to me. I see that he spoke the truth."

Katherine lowered her eyes and blushed prettily. "I believe my brother is fond of me, sir."

"I am," Andrew assured her, "very fond."

"Sir?" Gustave appeared shocked. "That is term I use to address my father. You must call me Gustave." He lowered his head to capture Katherine's gaze. "I am a close friend of your brother's so it would not be at all improper."

"Thank you," Katherine raised her eyes, "Gustave."

Gustave finally let go of the hand he had held. "We should go in. The rest of the family is waiting to meet you."

"All of them?" Andrew asked.

"Oh, most assuredly they are all here. When my mother asks something there is not a one of us who would refuse her request. My brothers and their wives are inside as well as my niece and nephew," Gustave thought for a moment, "although, I believe they are in the nursery." He smiled at Katherine. "They are still quite small, you understand. My parents, of course, are also here. Finally there is my sister who, I think, will be quite glad of you. She is your age or a bit older and a very unique person." He stepped aside, allowing Andrew to lead his sister through the front door.