35

"Katrina!"

The pounding continued.

Madame D'Arcy clutched her dressing gown tightly, and muttered under her breath. It was barely daylight, and Katrina wasn't to have arrived until breakfast.

The new grandmother had begun a ritual of one day every other week at her home for all grandbabies and adopted nieces. At the moment, Katrina was the only one old enough to come, but it would not be long before two more would come.

At the moment, however, the banging on the door was growing maddening.

"Katrina, stop it!" She howled, grasping the knob and yanking it open. "Really, I'm an old woman, and you know it's the maid's day off," Madame halted abruptly. "What on earth?"

Sophie Lefevre's veil couldn't hide her red eyes, and both Jean and Stephan looked gaunt. Knowing signs of a family crisis when she saw them, Madame stood back, and admitted them.

She heated tea, and pulled out the treats intended for that afternoon. She also slipped a little brandy into the tea, deciding that something bracing would do them good. Her too, with the headache that was threatening. Setting everything before them, she adjusted herself as regally as no powder and a dressing gown would allow. "Now, please tell me what has happened. I really can't guess."

The words were not gracious, but the tone was kind, and that was all it took to make Sophie begin weeping again. Jean rubbed her back helplessly, but Stephan looked Madame dead in the face.

"Nearly thirty years ago, I drove my elder brother from the house, because he was an embarrassment to me. We gave him up for dead. Twelve years ago, I drove my sister away because I did not like her husband. I poisoned my parents against him before they had ever met him. We never spoke to them again, though she tried to reconcile. She and her husband died about four or five years ago. The irony is that I was never home to enjoy the ill gotten control I supposed I had. The rest of my history, I'm sure you're aware of."

"Two days ago, I returned home to find that some letters had arrived, addressed in an unknown hand, but inside they were from my sister; one to my parents; and one to me. They disclosed two facts, first that she had one child, named Katrina."

Madame D'Arcy's hand went to her throat, and Stephan went on.

"The second is this: Sarah had somehow come across our brother, and been writing to him. She had never found an opportunity to tell us before we drove her away. We know that the child would have gone to him, had she died prematurely. Which she and Jean did. Madame," His voice broke, and he leaned forward, holding out his hands in supplication, "Madame, I have committed a great many sins, and the result of those sins has nearly destroyed my family and myself. Please, we must find Katrina and her uncle if he be alive. Can you tell us where to find them?"

Madame felt the sting of tears, and having no handkerchief, was forced to use the hem of her robe. "I cannot."

As Stephan started a second plea, she held up her wrinkled hand, "It is not from a lack of willingness, or from lack of information, I promise you. My heart breaks, but I have no power to grant your request. Katrina was to come here for the day, and because you are seeking her, I must warn her off. There is much you do not understand."

"Understand!" Sophie cried, her veil gone she looked almost mad. Her face was ashen, her eyes swollen, and she trembled. "Understand! Madame, it is you who do not understand. Stephan's life has only been a continuation of our own indifference to his brother's blight. We did nothing to prepare or retract the results of…and he is gone still from us. It was justice that all our children were at one point taken from us, and that we were alone. Alone as our eldest son was, removed, devoid, unable to change our path. Oh, if I could but explain! Let us speak with Katrina, let us see her!"

Jean sighed wearily. "You may send her away at any time and we will not follow her."

Madame almost said yes, almost said no when there was a knock on the door. It opened before she could reply, and a cheery voice called, "Mama, I have something to ask you. Where are you? Mama, I,"

Helen stopped in the doorway and looked as though she might turn and go away. "Good morning." She said automatically, though it was clearly anything but good. "Mama, what has happened?"

Madame glanced behind her child, and asked feebly, "Where is Katrina?"

Confusion took the place of worry on the redhead's face. "At home, looking after Roberto. I was going to tell you…Sophie, what has happened? Are you unwell?" Helen knelt before their friend, and took the pale hands compassionately, secretly hoping that would alleviate the pain in the air.

"Oh, Helen," Sophie threw her arms around the woman's neck and began to cry afresh, "let us see Katrina, please, please, we have to speak with her."

Thoroughly frightened, Helen looked to Jean for an explanation. He seemed ready to weep himself. "We just received two letters from our daughter, as if from the grave. We believe that Katrina is Sarah's child."

Comprehension struck Helen with sudden paralysis. Her mouth dropped a little, and she shifted her stare slowly from one member of the Lefevre household to another. Eventually her gaze turned to her mother and she mouthed words that found no voice. At last she stood, and walked to the window as if in a daze. Opening the glass, she breathed in the cool morning air, hoping that she said no wrong word.

Madame rushed to explain, "They've been telling me of it, they were just asking to see Katrina and…but I couldn't. I'm sorry Helen; I don't know what to say."

It seemed that no one knew what to say. Helen faced them again, her chin set stubbornly. "I think there is only one person who can clear this up, and it most certainly isn't Katrina. Forgive me, but I think it's best you have some time to compose yourselves."

The logic of this statement sank in. If Katrina should see them in such a state, it would hardly help matters. They nodded and began to finish their tea with some pretence at control. Helen patted her mother's shoulder.

"Go upstairs and change, see if you can't distract them for a few hours. I'll see what can be done."

Without a backward glance, she walked out the door and down the street to hail a cab.

Opening the door to the lake house, she found pure chaos.

Tomino was in a pitiful state before the fire. He'd been soaked, and was now wrapped in towels and blankets. Roberto was yowling from his crib while Katrina ran between the two of them, a wide eyed frenzy taking hold of her actions as she did an admirable, albeit ineffective, job of stemming the tide.

It was clear that Erik was out, or something would have been done.

Picking up the baby, she ordered Katrina to rub the dog down and give him some scraps. In ten minutes, order had been restored, and there was an agitated peace once more. Helen mused that it was doomed to die as soon as she had spoken with her husband.

When the dog was dry and dozing by a now full and napping Roberto, Helen gave Katrina the job of washing the items used to clean up the water. She sat in her chair and closed her eyes. "What a family."

A click of a walking stick being put in the holder alerted her that Erik was back. She turned and faced him squarely, gaining his attention. She wasted no time saying flatly, "I have twice walked into the lion's den today. The first is what I wish to explain."

He came and stood before her, prepared to listen. She folded her hands, and stuck her chin in the air.

"I went to talk to Mama, as we agreed. When I walked in, the lights were on, which should have warned me. However, on entering the parlor, I found the Lefevre's. You can imagine the state of things, I'm sure. They were asking to see Katrina and you as well from what I gather."

"What did your mother say?"

"Nothing, for a wonder. I told them to calm themselves and I would see what I could do. So you see, the decision is taken from our hands."

"It would seem."

His eyes were directed at her face, but he was not seeing it. After a moment, he shook himself, and asked, "They are at Madame's you say? Very well. I shall not meet them here, or at her home. It would be indecent."

"You are not taking Katrina?"

"If I did, what do you think the result would be? No, in their state, and mine, it would be too cruel to her. Let us talk, let us calm. In this case, passion shall not rule. It will kill us all."

Helen understood he meant it figuratively, but that the literal sense was also a possibility. She stood and brushed her palms together, stopping mid-motion. "What can I do?" She asked uncertainly. Marriage was something she understood as a cooperative effort, but this was a union that seemed to defy rules and conventions.

He kissed her forehead, and walked away. It was, she mused, an honest answer.