Chapter 5

I had once read the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and, like so many others, I had enjoyed the exploits of his star detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. As I crept closer to the source of the music, I reflected that the mystery in which I found myself would have intrigued the great detective to no end. The large house, the music I was hearing when there could have been no one else in the house that played, and the fact that there was something that Madame Delphine was keeping from me made a fascinating mystery. Madame Delphine had given the impression that I would be alone except for the servants, and I was sure that they all had too much work to do without spending time playing. So who was it?

Cautiously, I made my way to the door and opened it as quickly as I dared. One moment, there was music, and the next, there was a flurry of movement. The person at the piano fled to the other side of the room, and the person standing there stood in front of the smaller figure, protecting it. It took me a moment to realize what I was seeing.

"Monsieur," the elder of the two girls gasped. "I beg your pardon—we didn't know---"

Some corner of my mind told me to stop staring. Of all things I had expected, I hadn't expected a young woman of about twenty, or a little girl of about twelve, but there they both were, staring at me as if I held their lives in my hands. Hobgoblins, pookas, or brownies I expected, but certainly not two human girls.

"It is all right, mademoiselle," I said quickly to allay her fears. "I heard music, and I wondered who was playing."

The smaller one peeked out from behind the older one. I could tell right away that they were sisters. "I was," she said, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Claudia," the elder one hissed. I had a feeling that, for some reason, they weren't allowed in the music room.

"But Jeanette, I was," the mite insisted. "And I was doing well."

"I could hear that, mademoiselle," I said, smiling. "Forgive me if I startled you, I did not know that Madame Delphine had other guests."

Claudia giggled but quickly stifled it. Jeanette sighed. "We are not guests, monsieur," she said, sounding sad for some reason. "We are her daughters."

I had not expected this. "Daughters?"

"Mamma doesn't like us to be underfoot," Claudia explained. "So we keep out of her way. She told us you were here, and that we weren't to trouble you."

Instantly, it all fell into place: the bower in the garden, the crashes I'd been hearing, and the footsteps—all of it pointed to two youngsters.

"What trouble could you cause?" I asked Claudia, surprised. "It has been lonely here, and I would welcome your company, great lady."

Claudia giggled again, amused by my form of address. Jeanette, however, was not at ease with me.

"Mamma would be very upset if she knew you had found us," she persisted. "You see, we're not allowed in the music room while Mamma has a guest, and if she knew—"

"Your secret is safe with me," I hastened to assure her. "She will not know. Do you both play?"

"I play," Claudia said, returning to the piano bench. "Jeanette doesn't, though. She sings."

I felt my heart give a lurch. "Do you?" I asked, struggling for my earlier equilibrium.

"She sings beautifully," Claudia said, playing a scale. "Like a bird, she sings."

"I'm not that good," Jeanette said humbly. "I just sing; that's all."

"I think you're wonderful," Claudia interrupted, still playing scales.

"Has no one taught you?" I asked. "Hasn't Madame Delphine arranged for you to have a teacher?"

"No, monsieur, she hasn't. She says she hasn't the time to arrange for a governess for us or a music teacher, so we go along the best we can."

"If that is so," I said, puzzled, "then how is Claudia able to play?"

Claudia smiled. "One of Mamma's lady's maids knew how to play. Her father was a teacher, and he taught her how. She taught both of us, but then she left."

"Left?"

"Her father was ill, and she went to nurse him," Jeanette explained. "She taught both of us, but Claudia is the one who understands it."

"She said I had perfect hands for it," Claudia boasted.

That maid had been right. I watched Claudia as she played, and I saw an ease in her playing that I rarely saw in anyone, not even the three opera house pianists. With more instruction, I could see that she would become truly remarkable.

A bell rang somewhere in the house. Jeanette heard it, and curtsied.

"Forgive us, monsieur, but that is the signal for our supper. Mamma insists that we dine early. If you'll excuse us?"

"Of course," I said, nodding. Before they both left, Claudia gave me a cheerful wave. To my surprise, I found myself waving back.

Space

I learned more about the two girls in the successive days. They were hesitant to speak to me at first, but I persisted, and soon, they came to confide in me and smile when I arrived. Few people had ever done that before. Apparently, these girls had led lonely lives, and it seemed that "Mamma" was a person to be obeyed and not bothered, and there were no others for the girls to turn to but themselves. Jeanette, it seemed, had been taught to read and write by her nurse, but when Claudia arrived, the lessons had stopped, and Jeanette had been made to care for her little sister without the aid of anyone else. Since then neither one had been taught little more than her letters and numbers.

They had made up for it, though. Each time I talked to them, they would surprise me by describing a scene from a book or quoting passages verbatim. Novels, poetry, plays, scientific works, philosophy, mathematics, geography, history, medicine, foreign languages, religion, and of course, music—there seemed to be little that they hadn't read. Madame Delphine, I found out, had a fabulous and complete library. Most of the books had been bought for the decorative bindings they possessed, but fortunately, almost all of them were worth reading. When I asked Jeanette, she said that Madame Delphine wished to impress the guests she did bring to the house with how well-read she was and what fine volumes filled her shelves. Jeanette laughed when she said this. "Of course, a guest will be impressed with her reading as long as they don't see the dust that's collected on some of the shelves. If she read a lot, the library wouldn't be as dusty as it is."

I enjoyed the girls' company far more than that of my own or Jacques'. Jeanette was quiet, reflective, and peaceful to be around, while Claudia was boisterous, affectionate, and stimulating. I was throttled with her enthusiastic greeting embrace every day when I entered the room, and she peppered me with questions as long as I kept answering them. Often I would rack my memory for a piece of information I knew would answer her queries, and it was in this way that I remembered a great deal that I hadn't thought of for some time.

I began to neglect my study in favor of the music room or the girls' little schoolroom off the library. It was a pleasant room with two small desks, a map hanging on the wall, a large chalkboard with a copious supply of chalk, hardwood floors, wall paneling of the same wood, large windows, shelves of books, reams of paper, and countless other supplies. My first experience in that room was a surprise. As soon as we had entered, Claudia piped up, "Who is to be teacher today?"

I stared at her. "What do you mean?"

Claudia smiled. "Jeanette and I take turns being teacher. Some days I teach, and other days Jeanette teaches. It keeps our lessons interesting."

I could feel myself smiling. "How do you know what to teach?" I asked.

Jeanette smiled. "We sit down every six months and decide what we should learn," she explained. "Then we write up the plan and teach from that."

My smile widened. It was terribly clever!

"Monsieur Erik should teach," Claudia said suddenly. "He hasn't gotten a chance to."

Jeanette looked at me, uncertain.

"I would be delighted to, if you can stand my droning," I said, giving them both a little bow.

Both girls smiled and took their places at their desks, and Claudia told me where the plan was to be found. I found it, took it out, and examined it. For that week, they were studying the Pythagorean theorem and rational numbers, English pronouns, writing compositions with different seasons as the themes, describing the parts of a flower and their purposes, and drawing copies of a print from an architecture book. It was a view of Notre Dame, a wonderful view that showed the flying buttresses. It seemed a good place as any to start. "Why don't we begin with drawing?" I suggested.

Space

"You have been absent of late, monsieur," Jacques said as he served my supper later that night. "Where is it you have been going?"

I smiled. "The library, Jacques. I find the books interesting. Madame Delphine has a fabulous selection, and her taste in literature is quite good." I thought it politic to throw in a compliment that he could relay to his mistress.

"Is it only the books, monsieur?"

He's fishing for information, I thought. I decided to play it safe. "Well, the light is very good there. No matter how many lamps are in the study, the light there is still inferior. I managed to complete five sketches today."

"Ah," Jacques said in answer. "I see."

I watched him as he left and prayed that he didn't suspect I had met the girls. I had a feeling that Madame Delphine did not want me to know of them, and part of me felt that if she learned of our time together, she would put a stop to it. The desolation I'd felt at Christine's departure had begun to dissipate while I was in Jeanette's and Claudia's company, and I did not want it to condense on me again.