The Chorister school is located in Durham, England and its student population consists of students aged 4-13. Its creation dates back to the 1400s and it originally educated the Durham Cathedral's choir boys aged from 8-20.

Chapter Seven

'Ce qui! Non! I cannot believe you have suggested such a thing! You know my feelings about that boy!' shrieked Marguerite at her paling husband. 'You know that I cannot bear to be near him!'

The mayor looked with her quizzically and with no little trepidation but nonetheless held onto his determination to please the King's (current) favourite duke. 'B-but he's your son… How can you dislike him? You're his la mere… You must have some feelings of care for him!'

Realising her mistake, Marguerite quickly replied whilst dabbing her lace handkerchief to her artfully tearing eyes, 'Of course I c-care for the boy… It is because I care so much for him that I cannot have him near me.'

'Etienne… You know how the child is such a reminder of my g-great l-loss…' Marguerite peeped out from behind her handkerchief, certain that her womanly wiles and feminine fragility would have convinced her husband into keeping the disgusting brat away from her. How dare he imply that she wasn't a good mother! She absolutely adored her two beautiful little angels, Rene Yves and Anne-Marie. They had her golden curls and big blue eyes, though they both had their father's rather protuberant and frog-like eyes. But she, Marguerite, loved them so much she forgave them these flaws and did not look directly at their faces when their nanny brought them in for their daily inspection. She could not bear ugliness around her! It was a good thing her husband did not demand much of her time and attention, otherwise she would not have been able to bear marrying him despite the promise of his wealth.

The flaws of that thing on the other hand was so horrendous and impossible to conceal that she could not bear the thought that such a monstrosity had sprung from her womb. To have him be in the same house would be a constant reminder of her failure in maintaining perfection. She did not need to be humiliated by reminders in her one lapse in flawlessness. And what if that…that… thing's ugliness was contagious! She did not want to expose herself to such a chance. Her Maman had always warned her that she must not look at ugly objects as they would ruin her looks. Exposure to unattractiveness would definitely mar her beauty! Just look at Margeaux! Her sister was once fairly pretty (though never as ravishingly beautiful as she, Marguerite!) but once she had married that Pierre du Bois, Margeaux's looks were destroyed! Serves her right though! Her sister had dared try to lord it over her by marrying the former richest man of the county! How she had laughed when her brother-in-law was bankrupted through his wild spending of the inheritance left to him by his father. When Pierre was still rich, her only consolation was the fact that her sister's husband was singularly unattractive with his frizzy red hair and large hooked nose! Maman's early teachings were substantiated when Margeaux started growing so fat after her marriage and after the bankruptcy her hideousness was exacerbated through the rapid emergence of wrinkles and the oh-so coarse redness of the lower classes! Marguerite glanced quickly at a mirror, and barely resisted smiling when she noted her pale and fine complexion. Marguerite's attention was removed from her appreciation of her attractiveness when Etienne responded to her apparent female delicacy.

'Ma pauvre chéri… I completely understand…However I must insist as Monsieur le Duc d'Auvergne has taken an interest in the boy and my honour as a gentleman is at stake! You know as well as I that Monsieur le duc has immense power in society and one word from him and the best doors will be closed against us forever!' Marguerite paled and stared horrified at her husband; it could not be true! She was not being left with the horror of being under the same roof with that little monster! Her sly little mind raced furiously as she tried to find a way to find a way out if this predicament.

'Why has our Monsieur le duc suddenly taken an interest in the poor child?' asked Marguerite with saccharine sweetness. 'Though I am not surprised that a man of his power and excellence has done so…'

The underlying edge to her query completely escaped her husband as he enthusiastically outlined that afternoon's events. Marguerite was furious! Her stupid cow of a sister was completely to blame for this debacle! Marguerite ignored the fact that it was under her own orders that the boy was to be kept far away from her children. She bitterly swore retribution as Marguerite realised that it was all but impossible to keep ignoring the child's existence without seeming uncaring and selfish.

Suddenly, a way out of this situation fâcheuse struck her; she tilted her head coyly and said:
'I have always known that the child was intelligent. It is no wonder that Monsieur le duc has noticed the boy. '

'We must send him to his father's old school in England… What was that name? Lorister? Collister? Non… non! I remember now! Chorister! '

'An Anglais school?'

'My dear late husband had une mère Anglaise who insisted on his being educated in England. I think he would have wanted his son to be educated in his old school.'

'Oui…That is a wonderful idea, ma chère…We will be able to send him there immediately after the summer holidays. In the meantime we can begin by getting him a tutor for his English.'

Marguerite stared at him in horror. She had completely forgotten that the schools were all on holidays. Merde! She would have to let the little demon into her home for awhile then; there seemed no way to avoid it!

'Ah chere… We shall have to make a little visit to Monsieur le duc's estate to tell him of our decisions!'