49
Katrina found her grandparents sitting by the fire, looking worn and in pain. Helen was asleep, and so were her three oldest cousins. The two youngest, however, were awake and silently studying the dark ceiling from their crib.
She reached down to stroke their baby cheeks, one chubby, one drawn and yellow. The skin, however, was not feverish as her uncle's was, and had a more even look to it. Sophie murmured into her ear, "It was hard, seeing this. It's harder still, knowing what he's putting himself through. I did the same after he was born."
"Have you never told him so?"
"I couldn't, it would have felt too cruel."
Picking up the twins, they returned to the fire and Katrina held the little girl, and looking at her, realized she had grey eyes. "Have they named them yet?"
"No, Helen wanted to wait until Erik could agree." Jean said quietly.
Stephan had collapsed into a chair and was sleeping deeply. Sophie put a coverlet over him, and began to rock her new grandson. "Helen thought perhaps Michel for the boy, and Sarah for the girl."
"Sarah," Katrina said, looking closer at the baby she was holding. Yes, she was a Sarah. A princess, the daughter of a musical king, living underground in his enchanted world. Yes, Sarah it had to be.
She did not approach the door to the studio that night. Katrina waited until Anne had made breakfast, set up a tray, and asked Erik if she should bring it in. There was a bitter silence, so she set it by the door and left.
This ritual happened for a week, and Helen was beginning to get both hurt and angry.
"Forcing you to leave before your time was done, ignoring his family, I really cannot excuse this." Helen fumed. "It makes no sense, none! They are just fine; healthy and already starting to grow. I swear, they are growing, so stop smiling, Sophie. Does he intend to compose a funeral dirge every time a have a child?"
Anne came in abruptly, looking pleased, and holding out a long, sharp object. "Uncle Jacques found the ice pick, Katrina."
Helen tried to sit up, but was stopped by her mother-in-law. "Ice pick! What is happening?"
"I'm going to break into the studio." Katrina announced.
"At last, some sense!" Helen cried, getting a glare from Sophie.
Katrina walked to the door and stuck the pick into the lock. She had no intention of sneaking in, which was fortunate. The noise from her attempts would have mitigated it instantly.
At last, she forced the door open, and handed the pick out to Anne with stern instructions to take it to the kitchen. She closed the door behind her and faced Erik.
He was standing by the organ, not moving, not playing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "It's time to come out, Uncle Erik."
"Have you seen her?"
"Yes."
"Then you know I cannot." He bowed his head and hot tears fell on her arms. "How can I face Helen or the other children now?"
"Aunt Helen is already picking names and causing trouble." Leaning her cheek against his head, Katrina let out a sigh. "Please come out, Uncle Erik. I just left a house where they couldn't get past their own pain; don't make me come home to one just like it."
"Do you know what it will do to me, seeing her live out my fate?"
"Do you know what you could give her, having already lived it?"
There was a pause, and he shook his head. "Leave me alone a little longer, Katrina. Let me grieve now, and I will never grieve again. Two more days, that is all I ask."
"Two days." She replied. "And then I send in Aunt Helen."
The two days passed, and Erik kept his word. He returned as though nothing had happened. He agreed readily to the names Helen had chosen, and Michel and Sarah joined their family as if they had always been there.
Perhaps they had in spirit.
Don Juan Triumphant was performed the entire of the following season, to such a warm public reception that Jacques was forced to give more performances of it than he had first planned. When Marie came down with a head cold, Christine timidly took her part until she recovered. She refused be given credit, and performed without any name.
Erik sent her a bouquet of lilies, with a kind letter thanking her for her help. While they could not yet meet face to face, the worst of the rift had mended.
Another masquerade came and went, and a new year started.
Erik had made one firm rule concerning Sarah. She was not to wear a mask.
If the time came when life around the Opera could not continue for her, or she grew old enough to make the choice herself, then he would allow it. Until then, she was to walk without it and learn to be a girl like any other.
Katrina became her special protector, which seemed fitting since Erik had once been hers.
Sarah would crawl and then toddle after her cousin, exploring the world of music she had been born into. When her little legs were not sufficient, Katrina would hoist her onto a hip or back and they would go faster.
On days when Katrina went out to make purchases or run errands, Sarah would sit in the empty basket on the way, and ride on her relative's shoulders on the way home.
The shops they visited regularly became accustomed to the "Little Scarecrow" and even looked forward to her visits. Inevitably there was a stick of peppermint candy or some left over ribbons for her. One rather stern tea shop owner melted whenever she arrived and would allow her to raid every bin and cupboard in his business and bless her heart as he swept up after.
Sarah's birth seemed to awaken the realization in Erik that he needed to take an active role in the lives of his children, even more so than he had for Katrina. He began to allot times for assisting them in their education, and endured every pain possible for his purist soul in teaching them music. He would compose music especially for them, and pretend they had performed it well when it became clear they could never master it.
Roberto was a good student, but made no pretense at having talent. He was a man of letters.
Anne rushed into it as though it were the most wonderful thing to happen, and swore that it would never cease to bring her raptures.
Thomas would look doleful, but from the work he put into it, it was clear he loved it.
Michel and Sarah would listen from their rug, watching closely. Only Anne bothered to explain her activities to them. "See? This is a flute. If you hold your fingers like this, it makes a note. Do you hear that? It's an A!"
Katrina and Helen would laugh and laugh, Katrina seeing the patience her uncle had developed since her childhood, and Helen because he didn't want her to. It was her greatest act of independence.
Not long after the beginning of the next season, word came down of a new patron coming to visit. Jacques became dreadfully anxious to impress him, and ordered a cleaning from the top of the house to the bottom of the stables. He left anything below that to Erik's disposal.
Some much needed re-carpeting and painting was done. New curtains were hung onstage and in the doors to the boxes. Even if the new patron refused to follow through with his pocketbook, the lighter colors did the place good.
Katrina did miss the dark red, but had to admit that not everyone would find it comforting. Some would, she mused, find it deadening. The new rich greens and burnished yellows gave the same opulent effect without sapping light from the atmosphere.
It was, somehow, the dreadful luck of her family that Sarah went missing the day the patron was taking his tour.
Stephan had dropped by to visit, and Michel had fallen asleep instantly in his lap and was sleeping there still.
Sarah had taken advantage and vanished.
Katrina, Roberto, Anne, and Thomas scoured the upper levels, hoping that Erik and Helen would not have to be called in to help. As long as they were chatting with Stephan there was a chance to avoid a storm.
Madame Giry was alerted and she dispensed the ballet to search as well. Workers were asked to keep a lookout, and some of the seamstresses sat in front of doors and openings to do their work should she turn up at any of them.
"She might have fallen into the lake." Roberto observed, seriously.
Anne let out a theatrical wail. "Oh, don't say it!"
"Don't be silly, we checked three times." Katrina scolded. "You know perfectly well Uncle Erik set up the nets just for that reason."
"She might have fallen through a trapdoor." Roberto offered.
Thomas chimed in, "We could look for her tangled in ropes."
Katrina was fast losing her good humor. Anne's fearful tears were not helping matters. "Anne, take my kerchief. Roberto, not another word. Thomas, the same."
They stopped by Jacques office only to find it empty. No Jacques, no Sarah.
A little voice outside called in, "Could you tell me the way to the patron's boxes? I think I'm lost."
Katrina looked out in surprise, and sure enough there was Lucy, looking perplexed and waiting an answer. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Mademoiselle Katrina!" The girl cried gladly. "Oh, I am glad there's someone I know here. Paris is big."
"Yes, it is." Roberto said, looking as though he were about to spout figures.
"Who are they?" Lucy asked, curiously.
"My cousins. What are you doing here?"
"Uncle Fergus is thinking about being the new patron this year. I had to use the lavatory and got lost."
Katrina bit back her irritation at the interruption and held out her hand. "Come, we'll drop you off at the boxes on our way."
They walked rapidly, only to find the boxes empty or sporting a ballerina swearing Sarah wasn't there. Katrina could hear Jacques expounding the tradition and glory of the Opera House, and would have pointed the way to Lucy had she not glimpsed Sarah's little pink and grey dress bouncing out onto the walkway above the stage.
Shouting at Anne to stay with Lucy and ordering Thomas to find some stage hands and Roberto to the other side, Katrina darted after the girl.
It was a secondary blessing and curse of the Lefevre's to be fearless in the face of trouble, or Sarah might have taken a few tottering steps, felt the walk sway, and sat down to cry until someone came for her. Instead she walked carefully and curiously along, looking down the whole time.
"Sarah, stop!" Katrina ordered, starting after her. The little girl turned, wondering why someone was calling her name, and saw her cousin. Lighting up, she started towards Katrina.
There were no sides to the walk, only rails. Katrina didn't dare risk having the child come back on her own feet, and held out a hand. "Stop, Sarah, sit down." Confusion crossed her face, but Sarah obeyed, sitting on her knees, and waiting as Katrina came and picked her up. Roberto was watching from the other side, and seeing that his sister was safe, retreated.
Katrina was shaking as she emerged into the hallway, wondering how Erik could have ever let her wander such a dangerous building alone. She clutched Sarah to her neck, saying aloud that it was alright, they were off the walk. She said it for herself; Sarah was perfectly happy and unconcerned.
Jacques was there, wearing a worried look. "Is she alright? Why didn't you have Madame Giry come and tell me? How in the world did she find the walk?"
Katrina sat down on the fresh carpet and calmed herself down. Nothing had happened, and it was over. She released her cousin, and Sarah beamed up at Jacques and her siblings, completely unaware of the fright she had caused.
Thomas looked at them sitting there, and said practically, "You tell Papa."
Katrina nodded, and promised she would just as Minerva came out of a storage room, asking what the disturbance was. Behind her were her brother and nephew, both wanting to know the same. Lucy began telling what little she knew, and Anne corrected her every other sentence. Jacques held up his hands for silence and eyed his nieces coolly. "Are you both alright?"
"Yes, Uncle Jacques."
"Then go home, and lock her up! Dearest heavens, I don't need two trapdoor lovers in my Opera."
Sarah started to run away, only to bump into Fergus' stick, and sitting down hard, she looked up at him innocently as if asking, "Oh, was I supposed to walk the other way?"
He looked down at her impassively, until she said the only word she knew. "Cream? Cream?"
Roberto picked her up, and sighed, "Yes, there will be cream when we get home. If Papa doesn't skin us for this."
"Katrina will tell him." Thomas said certainly. "He'd never skin her."
"So, this is your opera house, Mademoiselle." Fergus ventured.
"Yes, in a way." Katrina said, standing.
Minerva cleared her throat. "I had forgotten you worked at one. Are they your siblings?"
"Cousins, Mademoiselle Jamison." She smiled, hoping to diffuse the tension. When no other responses were forthcoming, Katrina wished them a pleasant tour, and followed her cousins back to the cellars. She would leave explanations to Jacques.
She wasn't altogether certain that Erik would refrain from skinning her after this.