Chapter 51
There was a letter from Amelie Batiste waiting for me on my desk in my bedroom when I returned from the Lowry residence. The note was short, mostly reiterating what Amelie had said previously about our pending holiday and a suggestion or two about what Julia might like as far as sightseeing and activities Lisette and Alexandre could enjoy.
Given how much I dreaded supper with Phelan, I at least had something to look forward to even if it was well over two weeks away. With the house quiet-a rarity in recent months-I wrote Amelie back with details on how long we would be on holiday and said I looked forward to seeing her again.
As Julia explained to me, she anticipated a week spent near Amelie's home, a week at the seashore as we had originally planned, and a week spent traveling from one destination to the next, giving us three weeks away.
I mentioned in my letter that Julia and I had attended the opera and that it was a lovely evening. I noticed Amelie did not ask about my uncle and I did not mention him either as I had no desire to mention his death nor the months that followed, particularly in writing when I would not hear from her for weeks.
Overall it was a somewhat pedantic account of the week, but I feared if I said too much in my letter we would have nothing to discuss in person. Already I felt uncertain of what conversations face-to-face would bring given the amount of time that had passed since we had seen one another.
I sealed the envelope, donned my mask, and prepared to take the letter downstairs when I turned, heard the faintest tap on the open door, and found Lisette standing in the doorway with her hands behind her back. The unexpected sight of her forced me to swallow the curse that threatened to rise from my throat.
"Lisette, I did not realize you were there," I said.
This had become somewhat of a reoccurring scenario, what with Lisette managing to approach without a sound indicating her presence. Suddenly I realized why Madeline constantly swatted at me when she turned and found me lingering in the kitchen doorway, silent as a mouse. I felt as though I may have owed both Madeline and Meg an apology for treading quietly through the house for the last nine years.
Lisette's cheeks flushed and she looked away. "I did not mean to interrupt."
"No interruption, however, may I suggest you wear a bell?
Lisette looked down and smiled. "I will knock harder."
I stoppered my ink and cleaned the nibs of my pen with a rag I kept in the top drawer. "Did you need something?" I asked over my shoulder.
Her hazel eyes grew wide and her lips parted. "No," she answered. "Not really."
I turned my attention back to Lisette and furrowed my brow. "Are you certain?"
I heard a sheet of paper flap behind her back as she shifted her weight.
"What is that?" I asked as I leaned forward with a nod and laced my fingers together.
Lisette lowered her gaze. "Nothing," she said meekly as she started to turn away. "I apologize."
"You finished Treasure Island, didn't you?" I asked before she walked down the stairs.
Whenever Lisette became timid, I feared she was reminded of Louis and his domineering ways. I had no desire for her to return to her bedroom or to her studies with the notion that I did not have a moment to spare for her, especially given the amount of times I had heard that bastard tell his own daughter to be quiet and not disturb him.
Uncertainty turned to a shy smile. "I did finish," Lisette answered. There was a hint of excitement in her voice. "Last night, when you were at the opera with mother. I read the last fifty pages without taking my eyes off the book."
With each word she became more animated, more herself. I motioned for her to follow me and we walked down the stairs where I left my letter in the foyer before we entered the study.
Lisette stood beside me in silence, which was unusual as I was accustomed to Alex talking incessantly with no segue from one topic to another. Her demur presence was still quite new to me, and as I perused my collection of books, the lack of conversation became noticeable.
"Ah," I said at last. "There is my copy."
"You could have borrowed mine," Lisette politely offered.
"Where is your copy?"
"In my room."
I nodded. "You will need it for our discussion, don't you think?"
A wide grin spread over her oval face. "Right now?" she asked.
I looked to the clock in the corner of the room. We would not leave for several more hours to attend supper with Joshua and I needed a distraction from my sour thoughts. "If you wish."
Before I could say another word, Lisette jumped up and down twice, then sprinted from the room and down the hall.
"Why are you running?" Julia sternly questioned.
"Adventure!" Lisette answered.
Julia advised her daughter to walk like a proper young lady before she peeked her head into the study.
"Did she show you her list of questions for your book discussion?"
I was quite certain that was what Lisette held behind her back, but had not wanted to show me.
"She did not. I am not certain I'm prepared for a list."
Julia folded her arms and smiled. She started to say something, but Lisette darted into the room with her book in her right hand and very nearly crashed into the armchair. She was out of breath and red-faced when she returned and plopped into her seat, where she issued a stern glance in Julia's direction.
"Did you read Treasure Island as well, Mother?" Lisette asked.
Julia's eyebrows raised into her hairline. "Ah, a private meeting in the parlor for those who have read the book, I see. I will make lemonade for the book discussion if you would like."
"And bring cookies for Papa," Lisette added.
"And bring cookies for Papa," Julia echoed. She gave us both one last look before she shook her head and walked out of the room.
Once Julia was gone, Lisette opened her book and produced her neatly folded sheet of paper with a list of questions. She looked from the paper to me and then placed the paper into the back of the book and turned to the front page.
"You are not asking your questions?"
Lisette pursed her lips. "I think they are silly questions."
"May I hear one?" I asked.
Lisette inhaled sharply, turned to the back of the book, and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
"Do you believe in…" Lisette's voice trailed off and she shook her head.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, but it is a silly question."
"I have become an expert on answering questions ranging from silly to absurd to outrageous, all thanks to Alexandre," I replied.
Lisette smiled. "Well, then...do you believe in treasure?"
"Of course," I answered. "I found treasure long ago."
Lisette studied me carefully. Her hazel eyes narrowed and met mine with a great deal of skepticism. "What kind of treasure?"
"A violin," I answered. "Very precious treasure to a musician and composer."
She leaned forward, her eyes wide and lips parted as though I had told her I found a chest filled with gold. "Where did you find this violin?"
"In a heap of refuse I intended to burn as firewood," I answered.
Lisette gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "No," she whispered.
I nodded solemnly. "In a very unlikely place."
While I did not consider myself much of a storyteller-particularly compared to Charles, who knew precisely when to pause and leave his audience clamoring for more, Lisette was the perfect captivated audience. Her reaction reminded me of her mother at the Opera, especially when she tapped me on the arm and asked me to continue.
"An unlikely place?" Lisette questioned.
I nodded and realized I needed to choose my details carefully as there was much of my past I did not want Lisette to know. After a moment to collect my thoughts, I continued, leaving out the part of finding a violin within an opera house.
"There was a great maze of tunnels and caves I once explored long ago," I explained. "It was very deep underground, further than most people dared to go."
"Was it dark?"
"Darker than a moonless night."
"Did you get lost?" she whispered. Her eyes were wide as an owl's and unblinking.
"A time or two I ventured a little further than I intended."
"How did you find your way? Was there a map?"
"I had a lantern and a good sense of direction. I happened upon my treasure purely by coincidence."
"Was it dangerous?"
"Perile beyond your wildest imagination," I said, keeping my voice low. "In fact, one time I very nearly cracked my skull when I was not being very careful. I survived with a good bump to the head and several bruises, but no worse for wear."
"Goodness me, you should always be careful," she gasped.
I nodded in agreement and coughed into the crook of my arm to hide my amusement. Sadly being careful was a lesson I did not easily learn. "Very true. If only you had been there to offer such solid advice."
"How old were you?"
"A few years older than you are."
"The same age as Jim Hawkins?"
Her question made me smile. "Yes, I would say so. Thankfully there was no Black Dog or Pew any of the sort, but there was treasure. At the time, I was certain it was from a pirate. I even found a boat, though not nearly as impressive as the Hispaniola."
"Were there worms and centipedes?" she asked suddenly.
"Hundreds, to be sure. Snails and snakes as well. And sometimes fish would leap from the water and disappear into the blackness of the underground pools."
Lisette wrinkled her nose and squirmed in her chair. "Ooh, it sounds positively exciting! The sort of excitement that makes your toes curl and eyes squeeze shut. Please, tell me more!"
I could not help but think Meg would have had quite the opposite reaction of Lisette. Meg most certainly would have run out of the room with her arms flailing.
"The violin was beautiful," I continued, attempting to draw Lisette's interest back to the treasure. "Very finely constructed and rich in sound. I would like to think I rescued that poor instrument from a dreadful fate of rotting away beneath the earth or set aflame as firewood."
"Yes," Lisette said with a dreamy sigh. "Do you still have it?"
I shook my head. "Unfortunately I do not."
Lisette gently patted the back of my hand as though to console me. "That is very sad."
"I have others," I said. "Three to be exact, although I really only play one of them."
"Do they have names?"
"My violins?"
She gave a wide-eyed nod.
"I have never thought of naming any of my instruments."
Lisette made no attempt to hide her disappointment. She exhaled hard and dropped her shoulders. "Oh," she said. "That is unfortunate."
"However, I am open to suggestions," I added.
Immediately she perked up. "I would call your favorite one the Monster Killer."
I chuckled to myself. Clearly she had put some thought into a name for my violin. "Then Monster Killer it is."
Julia knocked on the door frame. "Raspberry cookies and fresh lemonade," she announced. "How is the book discussion?"
"Wonderful!" Lisette announced. "Did you know Papa once found treasure?"
"Treasure? I had no idea," Julia answered. She placed the tray she had carried in onto the service cart, poured three glasses of lemonade, and handed one to Lisette and one to me before she passed cookies around. "Am I allowed to hear about this treasure? I do hope it wasn't guarded by a dragon."
Lisette furrowed her brow. "Mother, this is serious."
"My apologies." Julia took a sip of her lemonade and placed her hand on Lisette's shoulder. "What sort of treasure?"
"A violin!" Lisette exclaimed, and without taking a single breath, she more or less reiterated the story I had told her, but in a much more dramatic tone and with many more insects, reptiles, and mice.
"You aren't going to have nightmares with all of this talk of snakes and salamanders, are you, Lissy?" Julia asked.
Lisette immediately shook her head. "Bugs do not frighten me. They are small and mostly harmless. Besides, Papa will play the Monster Killer and Bessie and Aria will defend the house."
"Monster Killer?" Julia questioned. "What is that?"
"Papa's violin. When he plays music, monsters explode."
Julia smoothed her hand over Lisette's hair. "Ah, I see. You are my brave girl, far braver than me."
"But not nearly as brave as Papa," Lisette pointed out.
Out of all the names I had ever been called by others, brave was not one of them. A single word spoken by my nine-year-old daughter filled me with unexpected pride. Lisette saw me in a way I had never expected. When I saw her look up at her mother and smile, I regretted not putting forth the effort to get to know her years ago.
"You are most kind," I replied.
Lisette looked over her list. "May I ask another question?"
"Of course," I said with a nod.
"Who is your favorite character?" she blurted out. With a sheepish grin, she added, "And why?"
"I would say Dr. Livesey."
Lisette made a face that I silently showed her disapproval of my level-headed character choice. Despite her normally polite tone, her expression gave away her true feelings.
"Ah. Dr. Livesey," Lisette said. "He was...nice."
"Who is your favorite character?" I asked.
"Jim," Lisette answered without thinking it over. "Because he is young and his father died and he must leave his mother, but he is still very brave. And he is telling the story." She looked at me thoughtfully. "And now whenever I think of treasure, I will think of your lost violin, somewhere on an island awaiting the Hispaniola."
"Perhaps I will have a replica commissioned from memory," I said. I had no real need for an additional violin, however, I had never forgotten the beautiful craftsmanship of the instrument I had found beneath the Opera House.
"I think this concludes our book discussion for now," Lisette announced. "May I play outside?"
"You may, but lunch will be ready in an hour," Julia told her. "You must return in forty-five minutes to wash up, do you understand?"
"Yes, Mother." Lisette turned toward me. "Thank you," she said.
"My pleasure." I craned my neck to look at her paper full of questions. "I trust we shall continue our discussion later?"
Her face lit up at once, and she kissed the tips of her fingers, which she then pressed to my chest over my heart. "Yes!" she exclaimed with as much enthusiasm as Alex. "I love you, Papa!"
"I-I love you as well, Lisette," I stammered in response to her unexpected words.
With that, Lisette managed to stuff a raspberry cookie into her mouth, gulped down her lemonade, and shot out of the room before Julia could reprimand her for unladylike behavior.
"Lis put a lot of time into her list," Julia said once the front door opened and slammed shut. "Very early this morning she asked me to look it over."
"She did not want to ask a single question from her list," I said.
Julia shrugged and sighed to herself. "I think she worried you would find the questions childish."
"As well as I should considering she is a child."
"Yes, but…" Julia did not need to finish. I already knew whatever she had to say revolved around Louis. "She lacks confidence in herself, I suppose, and she is very self-conscious."
"That is unnecessary," I said. Of course, necessity had never stopped me from lacking confidence or being self-conscious before.
"You should have seen her this morning. I think she rewrote her list of questions at least six times. She feared you would dismiss her if they were not good enough."
I did not need to ask why Lisette would feel that way. I knew damned well it was Louis Seuratti's doing. Only an insignificant man would find pleasure in tearing down his own child.
"When she was three or four, Lissy would stand in the doorway and watch Louis read the paper or have a drink. She knew he did not want to be disturbed, but she tried almost nightly to be near him. It never mattered if he yelled and stomped around all evening, she sought his approval and I doubt Louis allowed her to join him more than once or twice."
"There have been several times where I have looked up and found her standing in the doorway" I said. "She doesn't make a sound."
Now that I understood Lisette's habit, I was glad I had not reprimanded her for standing at a distance. While there had always been a door between me and my parents, I had sat quietly behind a barrier, desperate to be near the people who had no desire to include me.
"An old habit," Julia said.
I shook my head, angered on Lisette's behalf.
"However," Julia added quickly, "I'm certain she wanted to play with the other girls down the street simply to tell them she hosted a private book discussion with her father over lemonade and cookies."
"It was nothing."
Julia swirled her lemonade in her glass before she turned her attention back to me. "Do you honestly feel that way?"
"No," I admitted. "I am beyond flattered she thinks highly of me. I didn't expect her to say...what she said."
To that Julia smiled and intertwined her fingers with mine. "Why wouldn't she love you?"
I turned my attention to my half-empty glass, thinking of all the reasons I had spent my life in solitude.
"Erik, you've taken her out shopping at a store she and I always bypass, you named a waltz for her, abolish nightmares with your violin, and give her your full attention for her book discussion. That is why she loves you. That is what matters to her. In under two months you have given her far more than Louis gave her in the first four years of her life."
"There is nothing I would not do for her or Alex. Or you."
"I know." Julia sat back and squeezed my hand. She looked from me to the clock. "Claude should be stopping by this evening before we leave," she said, changing the subject. "I offered to mend some of his clothing."
"His clothing needs replaced, not mended."
"He is well aware," Julia replied. She took a sip of lemonade and eyed me over the top of her glass. "However, mending a few shirts and trousers would be more economical than a new wardrobe, at least for the time being."
"True."
"Speaking of finances, have you ever considered being a patron?"
"A patron?"
"For Claude. Perhaps after you invite him for supper a few times you could bring it up. He is obviously very fond of your music, Alex and Charles enjoy his company, and you like his work enough to purchase a painting."
"I don't know the first thing about being a patron," I answered.
The idea had never crossed my mind, although I had realized once Claude paid his rent, bought desperately needed new shoes, food, and painting supplies that most likely within a month's time he would be no better off. Selling one painting was a short-term fix.
A patron, however, would allow Claude to focus on his work, improve his skills, and perhaps gain a bit of confidence-if he was interested in such an arrangement. For all I knew he had no desire for a patron.
"You could ask Raoul," Julia suggested.
I nearly choked on my raspberry cookie. "Of all people," I muttered. "Indeed, Julia."
She stood, took up the tray from the service cart, and turned toward the door. "Indeed, Erik," she said with a playful laugh. "No more cookies. We eat lunch in an hour."
"Raoul de Chagny," I muttered, afraid if I spoke his name aloud he would materialize before me.
I reached for my lemonade and heard a knock at the door. Inwardly I cringed, half-expecting Ruby to announce my worst fears had come true and the Comte de Chagny stood at my door, but instead a little girl ask if Lisette was available to play and Ruby told her Lisette had left a moment earlier.
Once the door shut, I sat back and traced my finger over the embossed title on the front of the book balanced on my armchair while considering Julia's suggestion of becoming a patron to Claude Gillis.
I was not proud of my past, however, my time spent within the Opera House provided a steady income and a generously padded bank account. Month after month for years on end I took in more than enough money while spending very little. Most of my expenses revolved around paper, ink, candles, and oil for lamps as well as an impressive if not slightly ludicrous collection of tailored suits and hats for an evening at the opera, however, not even my penchant for fine clothing came close to twenty thousand francs a month.
In truth I had no use for such a large sum of money delivered on the sixth of each month, however, my demands kept the theater and its endless string of foolish managers under my thumb and out of my affairs.
For the first decade, their fears were much worse than most of my actions, and a great deal of what they assumed was my doing-falling sets, lights catching fire, sandbags falling from the flies-was typically the work of a drunken, thieving louse who should have been sacked long ago.
I was more apt to take violin strings, musical scores, and food from the kitchen-at least until the last few years when I wanted them to fear and submit to me. If they wanted a ghost to haunt them, then so be it. I would make them sleep with one eye open in fear of ballet dancers disappearing in the dead of night and lascivious stagehands swinging from the rafters.
"Patron," I said under my breath. Yet another title I never expected. It was somewhat ironic that I could afford to support an artist due to my years of extorting funds from the arts.
I stood, returned my copy of Treasure Island to the shelf, and glanced back at the desk where a stack of old letters from my uncle remained bound in twine, unread. There were hundreds of notes in Joshua's collection, many more than I would have imagined. A time or two while we traveled together I had asked my uncle to whom he sent letters, and he told me he corresponded with his oldest son. Perhaps if he had told me that there were notes for me as well I would have put forth greater effort to find my cousin.
I am a stranger to him now.
The words written so long ago niggled at my brain. For so long I had been a stranger to myself, frustrated and angry with the world for turning its collective back not only on me, but my music.
I picked up the stack of letters and inhaled sharply as I ran my index finger over my uncle's name in the upper left corner. The ink had faded, the letters somewhat crudely smashed together due to his missing fingers and the way he typically wrote with his knapsack serving as a table in the evening.
Through the open window, I heard a group of children collectively giggle and clap their hands. Out of six or seven girls, I was able to clearly pick out Lisette's voice from the rest.
"Treasure!" she yelled. "Make haste, we only have an hour before lunch."
