Chapter 2

Once Madame Delphine had left me on my own, I sat still and considered my position. I had a place where I could hide for some time, or at least until the manhunt for me had died down, and I had a chance to heal my cracked heart. I sighed, wondering what I should do to fill the hours until suppertime. I looked around the room and received the fright of my life when I realized that I wasn't alone after all: a man stood nearby, watching me, probably waiting for orders.

"How long have you been there?" I demanded, trying to recover my equanimity.

"A few minutes, sir," he said, bowing low. It was the same man who had come to my room before. "Is there anything you need?"

I thought for a few moments before answering. "Could you bring me a mask?" I asked. "Just a plain one, please. I'm not used to having my face uncovered."

He bowed even lower and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. I sat still, then got up and paced a little, trying to think. As I passed a shelf, my eye was caught by a set of books. They were purely decorative, but I could rarely pass a book without opening it at least once to see what was contained within the covers. Books and such things had been my sole education: Madame Giry had taught me my letters, and once I had that knowledge, there was nothing to keep me from acquiring more. The opera house had had an extensive library of music, libretti, plays, ballets, engineering and architectural articles, music theory books, dance books, vocal instruction texts, and health books (intended for the dancers and singers; after all, performers had to stay healthy) and other works, and as the years had passed, I had read them all. Textbooks used in the ballet dormitory classrooms helped me to learn history, science, and mathematics. Centime novels and small volumes of poetry read by the performers and other staff were left lying about, and few noticed or cared if they disappeared. Newspapers and magazines left in the opera house by patrons became my property. In this way I read the great dramatic works of the ages, the operas, the popular literature of the modern day and before, and I learned how to read, write, compose, and play music, learned how to design my own buildings and objets d'art, how to care for myself, and how to sing. This was how I knew how to coach Christine once she was ready for the instruction.

As I was reading a translation of an English book called Jane Eyre by a lady named Charlotte Bronte, the manservant came back and gave me a black silk mask. Once I had a mask, I felt more like myself, and certainly less vulnerable. I asked to be left alone, and, placing the book aside, I decided to go and explore the house and possibly the grounds. I wandered about the house for hours afterwards, finding most of the rooms shut up and unused, the furniture covered in white sheets. I found my way outside and explored the gardens. They were not tidy nor were they particularly in keeping with the latest mode, but they were wild: the flowers ran wild and grew where they wished, and sometimes the paths had been overtaken by morning glories or ivy. Roses had grown up the trunks of trees and spread out over the branches. One alcove had been covered with them, and small swing hanging from the trees and a playhouse in the corner showed me that it had once been the sanctuary of a child. I smiled, thinking of a child in the house of such a woman. Perhaps the child had been Madame Delphine herself.

I wandered past the cultivated land and into the fields, wondering how long it the groundskeeper to trim the grass. A bell ringing brought me back to myself, and it was then I realized that the sun was setting. I hadn't had lunch or tea, and it was bound to be suppertime soon. I turned back to the house, wondering what I would find when I had supper with Madame Delphine.

Space

I returned to my room and found another hot bath waiting. Sweaty from my walk, I slipped into the water and washed, feeling my stomach growl. I wasn't just hungry, I was ravenous. Once clean, I dried myself off and dressed in the suit of clothing that waited for me. They were clothes that I would have chosen for myself: black trousers, white shirt, burgundy waistcoat, a black evening coat, and a fresh black silk mask.

Once dressed, I left my room and began to search for the dining room, wondering if I was late. I was met by the same manservant, and again, he bowed. "Are you looking for the dining room, sir?"

"I am," I admitted. "Would you show me the way, please?"

He bowed again, and led me along the corridors, remarking that the kitchen was in a frenzy. It was rare that Madame Delpine was home for supper or that she entertained a guest, so the kitchen staff wished to acquit themselves well for tonight's dinner.

I nodded to show I appreciated this. "What is your name, if I may?" I asked, tired of wondering if he would volunteer it.

"I am Jacques, monsieur, and I am your valet. Whatever you ask, I will do."

I thanked him as he opened a door and showed me into the dining room, and once he closed the door, I was alone once again with Madeleine Delphine. She smiled and welcomed me, and asked if I had had a good day. I assured her that I had, and, sitting across from one another, we began our meal.

Her kitchen staff was excellent. The entree, or appetizer, arrived, and it consisted of cheese and toasted bread together on a plate with a small dish of light tomato sauce to dip it in. The salad was lettuce, cabbage, and watercress sprinkled with a raspberry dressing. The soup was a classic onion soup, complete with croutons and cheese, and the fish was haddock cooked in white wine and dill. The principal dish was beef cooked in red wine, asparagus, and potato rosettes. Dessert was something chocolate, raspberry, and pear all at once, and I couldn't learn what it was called, but it was delicious all the same. I thanked all of the luck that I possessed that I had thought to read the etiquette books in the opera library. Many dancers or singers accepted supper invitations, so it was necessary they know which fork or spoon went with which course. Once dessert was finished (I was feeling rather full by this time), Madame Delphine suggested that we take our coffee in the salon. She poured for both of us, and we were silent a few moments, allowing our bodies to rest after such a gastronomic feat. My thoughts wandered for a moment, and I was brought back to earth when Madame Delphine set her cup aside.

"Well, monsieur, have you thought about my offer?" she asked. "Or, if you wish to think longer, is there anything you would like?"

I set my cup aside as well. "I have thought about it," I admitted. "I am still not sure if I should accept or not, but I have nowhere else to go. May I remain for the time being?"

"Of course," she assured me. "Is there anything you need or would like? I wish you to be as comfortable as possible."

I thought for a moment. Was there anything I needed? Perhaps some writing paper, and some ink, and access to an instrument. After all, I could still compose, design, or write. I told her this, and she nodded eagerly, saying that those things would be in my study tomorrow morning.

"My study?" I asked, surprised.

"Your study," she affirmed. "It is next to your room, and the door to it will be open when you go to bed tonight, if you wish to see it."

I was beginning to dislike being surprised. "Why are so many doors in my room hidden?" I demanded. "Did you wish to avoid my escape?"

Now it was her turn to be surprised. "Most of the doors in the house are hidden inside the rooms for aesthetic purposes," she explained. "That's how the house was designed."

I nodded, and as I was making my aplogy, a loud crash from upstairs startled us both.

"My apolgies, monsieur, but I shall have to leave you now," she said, leaping from her chair. "Have a pleasant evening."

With that, she was gone, and I was wondering if this house was all that it seemed.