41
Katrina said nothing to her family that night, though it was a sure thing that they suspected. She waited until the next day.
It was a tradition in the household that Katrina, Erik, and Helen were the first to rise, and spend a few moments together in the day.
After retelling what had been said between herself and Christine, Katrina glanced up at her aunt and uncle. "What do I do now?"
Helen gave her spouse a warning look, out of habit rather than of need, since he'd not reacted. "I'd tell them to vanish."
The girl smiled. "You say that in the kindest sense, Aunt Helen. But that doesn't solve much. I've a feeling there ought to be more."
Erik stood, walking over to one of the cabinets. "I agree, Katrina. Here, I will send these with a letter. It will give them something to throw in anger, if nothing more."
He set down before her two music boxes. They had been there since her arrival, and never remarked upon by her or him. Both were of black wood, mounted with bronze figurines, one of a grasshopper and one of a scorpion. The grasshopper played a simple tune by Vivaldi, the scorpion one written by Erik. To wind them, one turned the figures on top, a favorite pastime for Katrina as a child. He ran his fingers slowly over them, both sad and angry.
"When I…held Christine here, I gave her the choice. Turn the grasshopper meant that she chose Raoul. But there was a price. 'The Grasshopper jumps,' I said, 'jumps jolly high!' I had tied it to explosives and it would have killed us all.
"Turn the scorpion, she would choose me, and water would flood the powder and save us all. You see again whom you've married, Helen."
"We'll talk about it later." She announced, folding her hands before her.
He went on. "These are the same ones, and I have never had a reason to keep them. If I'd had any sense, I would have seen it long ago, when Katrina came. I think if I send these and a letter, it will quell some of the anguish in their minds. The pain must have been great for Raoul to change his name."
"Be careful how you word it, darling," Helen cautioned, "their son knows nothing of the past."
Katrina watched him go to the music room to compose the letter, and turned to Helen utterly puzzled. "When I came? Doesn't he know what he did for me? I would have died both in mind and body had he not come for me."
"Oh, he knows." Helen assured her. "He remembers every moment. We have rather a hard love, Katrina, one of two stubborn souls agreeing to stay no matter what. It's beautiful and more than we could have asked for, but it is not built on any kind of tenderness. The tenderness came from you, darling. Christine was only his first love; you were his first true love. Because you were there, he knew how to control passions, to be gentle, to make a choice with the head as well as the heart. You did for each other what no one else could have."
They sat quiet in the early morning, thinking over past years, times, people. It was the kind of silence that those who have shared experiences allow.
When Erik returned with his letter written in the traditional red ink, sloppy hand, and sealed with the red wax, he wrapped the package and gave it to his niece to mail.
A sleepy Anne pattered out and blinked at the bundle before her cousin. "What's that?"
"None of your business," Helen answered promptly. "Are your brothers still abed?"
"Roberto is writing something, I don't know what. He wouldn't show me. Thomas is still asleep, though." Anne glanced back at the kitchen. "May I have some coffee?"
"Most certainly not! It was a disaster last time." Helen gave her child a gentle push towards the room she shared with Katrina. "Go dress, or you'll be late for breakfast."
Katrina smiled and left to run her errand before the boys arrived to ask their questions.
She slipped through the streets of Paris alone. She knew the way to the post well. It was full of fond memories. She found herself wondering what the Daroga and Darius were doing, or if they were still in France.
On returning, she found the morning meal done. Helen was mending, Erik was composing. Katrina smiled, knowing the triumph of Fae Child had lifted his spirits. She settled herself with her younger cousins, helping them with their lessons or just reading aloud to them.
Tomino snoozed in his corner as they went through their day, sweeping the floor dusting and polishing furniture, making music, cooking meals, eating them, and cleaning up. Thomas was still young enough that reading was a struggle without help, but he was fascinated with the written word. Katrina spent her time helping him until it was time to dress for the second performance.
At some strange pull, she glanced up at the box Andre and the Gerards had occupied the night before. She almost expected to see them again, but instead there was a lone man she couldn't see clearly. He sat back from the rail, watching impassively. Katrina wondered why he had bothered to come if he wasn't interested or hoping to be seen.
She sang again, feeling more at ease now that the first trial was over. The song had gained in power what it lost in spontaneity.
The evening closed as the season would close for many weeks. After Erik's opera, there were other productions she helped Jacques with, though she did not appear in them.
Not a word came from Christine and Raoul, and the incident was added to the list of happenings in their lives.