This is a short chapter. Adventure is on the way! Thanks for reading and reviewing my lovies. –Leesainthesky.
Ch. 20 - The Giry's
Re-cap: Erik leaves without saying goodbye. The girls finally get to Paris.
The next day, Madame Caron Spencer and I headed for Paris. Her father, Monsieur Roux, chauffeured us to the Giry's small, fashionable flat on the bd. de la Madeleine, near the Opera Garnier.
Friday afternoon in Paris is like the entrance to the weekend in any metropolitan city in any time line. The streets will full of shoppers scurrying home with their newly purchased wares, as shopkeepers swept the sidewalks in preparation of the workday's end.
Many of the café's we passed by were already occupied with citizens getting a jump on their weekend revelries.
One thing you can say about Parisians, they love to party. The Bourgeois class expected to be entertained, but, thanks to a new class of composers like Wagner, they now had to think about their music. No one relished a long evening of slogging through an intricate score when the lighter fare of the new music halls was available for their amusement.
Yes, meeting Caron's relatives fascinated me. These were the women who knew my dear employer and paramour, Erik Dupuis, better than perhaps, anyone alive.
The Giry's were charming women, who welcomed me into their home with gracious warmth. Meg had been a prima ballerina at the Opera Garnier, before becoming engaged to a Baron or Marquis whose name I believe is something de Lille. A lavish wedding had been set for late September. Meg's mother, Madame Giry, continued as the ballet's head mistress at the opera, post reconstruction, after the mysterious fire, in 1871.
Caron and Meg took up with each other instantly, chattering about Meg's impending marriage to a titled man, while Madame Giry showed me to the sleeping quarters I was to share with Caron.
As much as I looked forward to meeting people, I felt awkward around these new acquaintances. What if I said or did something totally out of character for the 19th century? Would they think I was a loon? I pretended to be fatigued, opting for a pre-supper nap, rather than polite conversation.
Supper that evening was simple and delicious. It was just we girls, as the Marquis de Lille was overseeing the remodeling of his estate at Pontoise, in the North of France.
When I entered the Giry's small dining room, I noticed the white and gold brocade draperies were drawn, allowing entrance to the golden winter sunshine. An exquisite silver coffee service sat on the French-country style lowboy. A matching table was dressed with an embroidered tablecloth, where red greenhouse carnations graced the center. The walls were tastefully adorned with a few paintings in the style of the artist, Manet.
The ladies had prepared the evening meal themselves, serving us a hearty lamb stew, fresh bread, and delicious custard for desert.
Weddings, the Ballet and Caron's husband-less existence in England made for polite dining conversation. Being the new kid at the table, I knew talk would eventually turn my way. Because our hostesses had proven themselves to be unassuming and pleasant, my earlier trepidation melted considerably.
"Madame Giry, this stew is delicious, I must have your recipe, that is, if you will let go of it," I commented.
"Certainly, you may have the recipe dear, it is nothing really, just meat, vegetables and a few herbs."
"Well I'm sure Monsieur Dupuis would enjoy this very much. He not a voracious eater, but he is particular about his food. Why, I've even had success slipping in an American dish from time to time. He has learned to trust my choices…after some arm twisting," I chuckled.
Madame Giry and Meg exchanged wary glances across the table.
"Monsieur DuPuis used to be quite rigid, I am surprised he allows you to deviate from familiar French fare," Madame Giry replied.
"Oh at first it was very interesting indeed." I amused her with the white bean chili affair.
Meg eyes widened with amusement, her mother sat and listened with a restrained smile. Perhaps she didn't believe me, or, perhaps she found the account beyond belief.
Madame Giry smoothed the tablecloth next to her plate as she spoke, "Gabrielle, it seems that Erik finds you agreeable. That is most fortunate. How long do you plan to stay at his manor, before moving on to other pursuits?"
"Actually, I have no immediate plans to leave the manor. It is true that Monsieur DuPuis and I are not related—I am simply the widowed niece of his architectural partner and friend, and I realize custom dictates that I soon find a new husband, or lodging elsewhere. The truth is, Madame Giry, I have nowhere else to go. My family in American is gone, I know no one here, except for Eugene and his wife, and they already have their hands full with four little ones.
She shook her head in empathy, while continuing to eat.
"Monsieur Dupuis and I have a sound understanding. He refuses to have another person cook for him. Plus, he pays well, and does not bother me."
Bothering is a relative term, I thought to myself, thinking back on our recent bedroom romp.
"He is not as volatile as he once was, Auntie," Caron offered. "In truth, Monsieur DuPuis has become more personable than I have ever witnessed. Even though he still spends a great deal of time in his library reading, or, in his music room composing and playing his piano., He will venture into the rest of the house, or the stables to engage Papa or Mamma in conversation. Remember how melancholy Monsieur had become, in that resigned sort of way? Why, he even entertained me with some of his magic tricks. It was delightful, actually."
"No, Monsieur DuPuis? Really? Caron, are you sure we are speaking of the same man?" Exclaimed Meg.
"Oui, he is still a tad odd, but I suppose that is the man's character," Caron giggled. "Did Gabrielle tell you that she has one of those Spanish guitars? You should hear the two of them play. Mama says they spend hours together some nights. Isn't that correct Gabrielle?"
Caron's revelations nearly caused me to choke on a spoonful of custard, "Why, yes. Erik— yes, we are on a first name basis, is teaching me a lot about music, and I am teaching him about the guitar. I think it must be the only instrument he knows little about."
"Then it is a blessing for you both. I am pleased to find that you and Erik can get along. He and I have been friends for many years, Gabrielle. He has endured a most difficult life and can be difficult himself. I trust you are patient with his…moods?"
"Madame Giry, he has told me much of his unfortunate past. Not all of it I am certain, but enough for me to understand how twisted his view of society must be. I am cautious of his volatility, but you needn't worry, I am not a frightened little ingénue."
Madame Giry eyeballed me curiously, but did not respond.
"Madame, I feel it would serve me well to know more about my employer, what can you tell me of his past?"
She placed her utensils down and addressed me, "Dear, I imagine Erik would not want me violating his trust by speaking of his past. I will tell you that all of his life, his deformity prompted others to treat him as less than human. Were you aware Erik's very mother was first to deny him? When one's life begins without normal maternal love, how can one learn to think and to reason as a normal person does? This is how you begin to understand the psyche of Erik's tortured genius."
I looked down at my plate ruefully, "A mother not loving her child is inexcusable in my book—a true crime of humanity. It's a wonder that Erik can speak a civil word to any biped on the planet, Madame. I do try to be patient with his moroseness, and I'll take your wisdom to heart. Poor man, he never learned to cope with rejection did he? He must be much improved now—what with having a partner and visiting various clients and opera managers to procure work. I know strangers still make him nervous, but at least he's moving forward with his life, r Right?"
"It seems as such dear, and it is good to remember your patience when his temper prevails. There is a lot Erik does not understand about the kind side of human nature," Madame Giry's said soberly.
Our departure the following afternoon was punctuated with tearful hugs and promises to write soon. I thanked the Giry's for their hospitality and promised to visit again soon. Finally, Caron and I rode off in our rented carriage, to the hotel Le Relais du Louvre—to adventure!
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