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Dear Uncle Erik, Aunt Helen, Roberto, Anne and Thomas,

Arrived here safely and without much difficulty. The Gerards have been more than civil, and I am adjusting well. I highly suspect Madame Gerard of over preparing my room, but there is no polite way to prove it.

The neighbors are not here, so I have not met the boy I am to work with as of this writing. Andre went with the child and his aunt to see a doctor in Germany. It is not the first time they have traveled to find help, from what little I can find. The maid took me on a tour of the house, to give me some exposure.

It really is heart wrenching. The aunt and uncle who look after the boy are only his father's half siblings. It seems from the few pictures I saw that their mother died young, and their father remarried some time later. The place feels like a tomb, I don't think they know what to do with children and the child probably hasn't the energy to give them any ideas.

The boy's name is Henry, his sister is Lucy. The whole group seems to have come from England. The maid was sadly lacking in information, and it wasn't for lack of talking.

My first act, no matter what, will be to open every window I can lay hands to. On the lake we have fresher air than they do in those rooms. I took the precaution of seeing if the openings had been nailed shut, just to be prepared, but they are operational and I will have them open if it is the only accomplishment I make. I will, I will, I will!

The view is lovely; I had no time to enjoy the ocean when traveling with Aunt Marie (no comments, Helen). Philippe considers himself an expert and has been showing me the area and how to boat. I have already sunburned dreadfully, and have started to peel. When I came down yesterday all red and shedding skin, Monsieur Gerard laughed so hard we all thought he'd have a fit.

It is clear I am woefully prepared for an outdoor life. You may tell Uncle Stephan that he was right about enjoying it, but it is not all 'common sense'. If it had been common, I would have known about sunburn.

There is a group of students that have yet to disband. They spend their evenings on the beach, roasting things on a bonfire and singing. You would hate hearing it, Uncle, but it makes a jolly sight. They enjoy themselves so much.

Until next time,
Yours,
Katrina

Dearest Grandpapa and Grandmamma,

I have finally met my student. He has a dreadful attitude. Andre is far too good natured to handle him. I've had the experience of younger cousins, or I would have been as hopeless.

Henry's Aunt is almost as bad as he. Her name is Minerva, which means 'wisdom', the same as yours Grandmamma. It would be a name to aspire to, if only she displayed some wisdom as you do. She goes about so grimly I'm afraid of being chided for speaking too loudly. I made the comment to Andre that she acted as though there were a crypt below, and we ought to go check the cellar for bodies. He laughed, which earned us both a glare. (Don't tell Uncle Erik.)

The boy spends his day hobbling from chair to chair, covering his legs with a heavy blanket and looking straight ahead. He won't read, write, draw, or visit. When he can get away with it, he uses a wheelchair and complains how feverish he feels and how his back and limbs ache. I would feel the same if I cocooned myself under wool in the summer as he does.

Andre confided that Henry thinks of himself as neglected by his mother, and stolen from her by his uncle. He carries such a chip, any fool could see it. I shudder to think how his sister will find us. Probably I'll have the lasso about his sullen neck and the pistol to his head yelling "March, or I'll shoot!"

Yesterday I carried out my plan of having the windows opened, and hid every blanket I could in the space under the window seat. Andre saw me at it and sat there to read. Henry came down with the help of Aunt Minerva, for she won't let Andre or me upstairs if she about. The boy was shocked at all the sea air coming in, and asked for a blanket.

Minerva fussed about, asking if we'd seen any about. We both said no.

At last, she settled Henry in a wing chair and told him it would be alright until lunch and would he like some extra sugar in his morning tea to make up for the trouble? Henry fretted and said that it might, but the tea should be extra hot to make up for the loss of coverings. I swear Andre winked at me as if to say, "There, you see what I meant?"

I went to the piano and started to play the concerto Uncle Erik wrote a few years ago. It's really an exciting piece, full of military marches and old themes. Henry started making requests, which I granted for a while. He threw an absolute fit when I stopped.

"If you want endless music, you'll have to learn to play." I replied. He threw a newspaper at me, howling like a banshee.

"Can't you see I'm ill, you cow! I can barely walk."

"That is your own fault. You are most certainly strong enough in the arms, from the power behind that paper. It comes to my attention, Master Henry, that you are a manipulative, petulant, little brat, and I have no intention of catering to a chit who cannot behave courteously to anyone."

He nearly ran at me, he was so angry. "How dare you! I am sick, I have always been sick! I shall have you sent packing without a reference. You'll starve, you'll never work in this town again!"

I walked right over to him and leaned down until our noses were touching. "I am not afraid of you, little boy. I work in Paris, and have come here as a favor to someone important. When I am done I will return to Paris."

Needless to say, the rest of the afternoon was downhill. As Andre and I left, I overheard Minerva telling the cook that a letter from their friend outlined a fit Lucy had thrown. She is her brother's sister if only half of my eavesdropping is accurate.

I think Andre was thrilled to get away from them for a while, he was particularly outgoing over dinner with the Gerards.

Hope to have more cheerful news soon,
Your own Katrina.

Dear Aunt Helen and Uncle Jacques,

Please give a kiss to the cousins.

I got the music yesterday, and am sending back the parts I marked. Sorry to hear that Uncle Erik couldn't check the arranging for you. Glad he's composing another opera though, I'd be lying if I said it was a shame.

I should have the rest finished in a week or two, if I don't cram it in that wretched boy's face.

His uncle is unaware of how much trouble he is to us. I think Henry's aunt guilds her reports, because she thinks he's suffered too much. Perhaps there was a time he couldn't walk, but he simply must try now or there's no hope. The doctors all say there's nothing physically wrong, just weakness from disuse. I'm not a chaser of doctors, but so many have said the same thing to this woman, you'd think she'd catch the hint.

This morning I created quite a row, it was lucky that the gossipy maid and Minerva were both out or I'd have been skinned. As it was a stray gentleman nearly had me arrested.

I allowed Henry to use his wheelchair, pretending I'd had enough of his complaining. Really I just wanted to take him out to the water.

We walked for a while, and I stopped at the edge of the waves. They were very tame, even to a novice like me. Without warning, I tipped him into the sea, and told him to roll over on his back and enjoy it.

Once he'd spit the salt out of his mouth, and scrambled around enough to know that he wouldn't drown, he began screeching that I was trying to kill him. The fact I was right there, wet as he was and splashing alongside didn't enter that thick skull for an instant. I was dragging him out when the man I previously mentioned came up and asked if everything was alright.

Henry started howling again, but I assured the stranger that it was fine, and the poor boy was touched in the head. "He flung himself out of the chair, sir, and it took me a while to calm him enough to bring him back. I am terribly sorry the noise irritated you."

I don't think he believed me an instant, but what could he do? He walked away, and I took Henry home. I didn't even have to convince him as to how silly the story would sound to someone who hadn't been there. At least I've gotten him into the water.

Until next missive,
Katrina

Dear Uncle Stephan and Aunt Marta,

I'm glad to hear the twins have gotten better. I've written for Roberto to bring them some books to look at until they are over the cough.

Andre sends his regards. Can you guess? He's just gotten engaged!

I know he's probably already told you, but I'm sending my opinion.

Shelly's half Irish, a very nice woman. I like her very much. She works at a hotel down the way, and I'm sure they'll be perfect for each other. She met me while Philippe was teaching me to dive. From the way she laughed and tried to stop me from trying again, I'm sure she thinks I'm crazy.

Speaking of crazy, Minerva and I are actually getting along now.

I tried to avoid her at first, but that didn't work. I've been extra civil to her the past few weeks, even bending my pride to read some magazines she thought would do me good. I don't like them any better than when Grandmamma D'Arcy made me read them, but I put on a good face.

What really won her over was when she walked in on Henry berating me. I had committed the sin of telling him to do something. In the middle of his rant, she walked in and without pausing smacked the back of his head. It really wasn't very hard but it surprised him so, that he hushed instantly. I admit I was just as stunned.

"You, young man, are behaving like a terror. I have heard of some of Mademoiselle Katrina's methods to make you better, and I can't say I agree with her approach. However, in light of how you've been yelping, I also admit you are nearly well. Tomorrow, we are going swimming in the morning, Katrina will lay out whatever course of study she thinks best, and Andre will see to your afternoon exercise. Any rebellion on your part will be dealt with by me, personally. I am now going to post a letter to my brother informing him of your behavior, and he can do to you what he will when he comes back with Lucy."

With that, she left and Henry was a lamb the rest of the day. She really was terrifying.

Since then we go swimming every morning the weather allows, I oversee his reading and music, and Andre has started him walking without help. He's not a happy child, but at least he knows who is in charge.

Tell me, what book would be best from your point of view? I want something else for him to read, and it should be good material but enjoyable. After all, I'm not really his teacher, and he's on holiday for summer. Don't tell him I said that, though.

Yours,
Katrina