Chapter 101
Claude arrived thirty minutes early for supper with his hair combed and beard trimmed, which made the thin scar on his cheek stand out. He looked well rested, his eyes brighter and disposition more at ease than he'd been earlier in the day when I'd last seen him.
That is, until I looked him over in what I assumed was the best clothing he owned.
He looked truly petrified as he stood stock still, his hands in loose fists and gaze pinned straight ahead.
"You've bought new boots," I observed. At least Claude possessed one accessory Raoul de Chagny couldn't scrutinize.
"I did. I received a generous discount from the factory a week ago. If you are interested, I could see about your size..." His cheeks blazed red and he shifted his weight. "Not to imply you are in need of a discount."
"Madame Giry would never forgive me if I passed up such an extraordinary deal," I replied.
He looked at me with his owlishly wide eyes and nodded. "Am I underdressed?" he asked, keeping his voice low as he looked down at his clothing and frowned.
"On any other evening, not at all," I answered. "But tonight we may have a guest stopping by."
"A guest?"
Just when I thought Claude could not appear more petrified, he proved me wrong.
"Someone I have asked to assist with your sister. He is one of the donors to The Elise and was quite ignorant to their unscrupulous policies," I answered, taking greater pleasure than I should have in referring to Raoul de Chagny as 'ignorant'.
Claude's eyebrows shot up. "A donor? He must be important."
Wealthy, I wanted to say, but not necessarily important.
"Comte de Chagny," I said.
Judging by Claude's blank expression, he had never heard of Raoul, which amused me. "Is he a friend of yours?"
"Someone I have known for quite some time," I answered.
Claude nodded. "I will do my best not to humiliate you in front of him."
Fortunately for Claude, any attempts at embarrassing me in front of Raoul would pale in comparison to all I had done over the years, including but not limited to setting fire to a theater.
"I am certain he will have questions regarding your meeting with the headmistress and the erroneous demands they have made," I said over my shoulder as I led him toward the parlor.
"What should I tell him?"
"I would advise you to tell the truth."
Once Claude was comfortably seated, I excused myself and walked down the hall where Julia folded clothes in our son's room. "How long would it take you to alter an overcoat?" I asked.
Julia looked up from where she had Alex's clothes laid out on his bed and narrowed her eyes. "An overcoat? Is Monsieur Brerro unavailable?"
"I would like one of mine fitted for Claude. The sleeves would be too long on him as they are presently."
She stopped what she was doing and bit her bottom lip. "I suppose I could start tomorrow morning and have it done by the middle of the afternoon if you have one in mind. When does he need it?"
"Within the hour."
Julia looked at me as though I had lost my mind. Her shoulders sagged and she made no attempt to hide her annoyance. "For tonight?"
"Is it possible?"
Julia made a face. "Which one does he want to wear?"
"I haven't asked yet."
Julia tossed Alex's shirt back into the wicker basket and frowned. "Erik…" She stared over my shoulder and forced a smile, and immediately I knew what her expression indicated.
I looked over my left shoulder and found Claude standing behind me.
"If my attire is what stands between me and my sister, I would prefer returning home to becoming a burden to Madame Kire."
"It's really no trouble," Julia assured him as she stepped past me and joined Claude in the hall. "I've done much more detailed alterations in shorter amounts of time."
Claude shook his head. "I appreciate your willingness to assist me, Madame and Monsieur Kire, but I really should return home. Your family has done too much for me already."
Julia shook her head and began to ask Claude another question when a knock on the door sent Bessie into a howling frenzy from the kitchen where she oversaw cooking duties and most likely sampled whatever was on the evening's menu.
"That's probably our other guess," Julia said, gently brushing her hand across my shoulder. "Claude, please stay for supper. Ruby made enough food to feed half the neighborhood." She gave me quite the pointed look. "Would you retrieve your dog, please, darling?"
"Bessie, come," I ordered, and to my surprise, Bessie decided to be a most obedient hound and galloped down the hall to my side.
"What happens if this gentleman refuses to assist?" Claude asked once Julia rounded the corner and entered the foyer. He crouched down and patted Bessie on the head.
I motioned Claude toward the dining room before Bessie rolled onto her back and demanded belly rubs. "Then I will see it done myself. One way or another, your sister will not be spending more than a handful of days at The Elise."
"I didn't expect this to be such an ordeal," he said. "Bringing my sister home has given me a most unfortunate case of the morbs."
I narrowed my eyes and turned to fully face Claude. "I beg your pardon? A case of the morbs?"
"Yes. It's an expression."
"Meaning?"
"Melancholy, Monsieur," he said in a lugubrious tone.
I grunted in response. You young people and your odd expressions, I wanted to say, but I feared giving myself the morbs when I realized how old it made me feel being so unfamiliar with an apparent new saying.
"I suppose some find inspiration in their misfortune, but I've never been one fueled by anything of a morbid nature." Claude looked around the dining room and noticed the artwork I had purchased from him hanging above the buffet. Immediately his expression changed from sorrowful to cheerful. "I am quite pleased Madame Kire allowed for my painting to be displayed in her home."
"Her home indeed," I grumbled under my breath.
"I'll be sure he receives it immediately," I heard Julia say before she closed the front door. From the rear of the house, Alex and Lisette returned from playing outside with children from the neighborhood and Bessie ran from the room to greet them with her usual enthusiasm.
"Hello, Ruby, goodbye, Ruby," Alex said as he darted through the kitchen. "Hello Bessie! Come with me!"
"You best wash up and change for supper, Alexandre," Ruby told him. "I've made your favorite."
"You are my most favorite person making my most favorite meal, Mademoiselle Ruby!" Alex said.
"Honey glazed pork and apples?" Claude asked me. He inhaled deeply and smiled to himself. "Or is the sweet smell dessert?"
"I'm not certain what is on the menu," I answered. Most likely because, as Claude had previously stated, it was Julia's home and she had planned the evening's menu whereas I simply showed up and consumed what she told me to eat. "How did you know Alex's favorite meal?"
Claude poured himself a cup of tea and eyed the biscuits on the center of the table, which I gestured toward, giving him permission to indulge as he so desired. "He told me right before you left on your holiday. He said when he was smaller he used to eat the rosemary sprigs and you had to pull them out of his mouth so that he didn't choke on them."
I had forgotten how Alex had once grabbed handfuls of food off my plate and stuffed them into his mouth, particularly the tart apples. He would scrunch up his face when he sucked on the softened fruit, his lips puckered from the taste, and laugh when I would tell him to slow down.
"He bit me once," I replied.
Claude dunked the biscuit into his tea and grinned. "Several times from what Alex told me."
"You are quite observant," I said, pouring myself a cup of tea.
Julia appeared in the doorway and held up two envelopes. "Another note from the theater," she said with a heavy sigh as she marched toward me and handed both pieces of post to me. "This one is marked urgent. The courier said he would return by ten to deliver your reply to the manager. Apparently Antonio will not return home until he has heard from you today."
"How dramatic," I muttered to myself. He could sleep at the theater for all I cared.
"You should answer him," Julia sternly said before she walked out of the dining room and went to check on our children.
I grunted to myself and looked at the second, larger envelope that was quite scuffed with the corners dented from its markedly longer travel from Belgium.
'KIRE' it read above my address. I opened my brother's letter first and discovered two train tickets and a brief note saying he would meet me in Paris and we would travel together to our grandparents' home in Denmark as he did not have much faith in me traveling alone without becoming lost and somehow 'ending up all the way in New York City'. Had Claude not sat across from me, I would have laughed aloud to myself as I could distinctly here Phelan grumbling out his grievance. No matter our ages, he would always be my older brother acting the part of a concerned sibling.
"You must be traveling." Claude commented when I set the train tickets aside and opened the note from Le Blanc.
"Yes, to Denmark," I answered, distracted by the second note.
"Have you been there before?"
I looked up from the letter I had yet to read. "I have not."
"Are you attending one of your operas?"
I skimmed over the contents from the opera house just as Ruby entered the dining room with supper on a service cart. In silence she placed the food on the table, carefully stepping over Bessie, who had decided to stretch out in the sun.
Le Blanc was apparently concerned as I had yet to respond to any of his notes in several days and he had more tasks in need of my approval, which he wanted to discuss in person.
"No, it isn't for an opera," I said, deciding I would give Antonio my full attention after supper rather than skimming through his note, useless as I was certain it would be. I looked up and met Claude's eye. "I am traveling with my brother to meet my grandparents."
Claude lit up, his lips forming a broad smile as though he could not have been happier for me. "If your grandparents are in Denmark, you are of Danish descent, then, yes?"
I had not given much consideration to where I had come from or what I should call myself. Overall I was referred to as a French composer as I lived in Paris, but beyond that I had no ties to any country or village for that matter.
"I suppose I am."
"Min mor van Dask," Claude said.
I narrowed my eyes and turned my head to the side. "I beg your pardon?"
"My apologies, I said my mother was Danish," Claude said.
"You are fluent in Danish?" I asked.
Claude readily nodded. "Danish was the first language I learned. Forgive me for saying so, but your Danish must be a bit rusty."
"Mine does not exist to be rusty."
Claude's expression changed. "Do your grandparents speak French? Or German, perhaps?"
"A little German from what I understand. I am not certain it will be enough to communicate effectively." I paused and inhaled, feeling my trepidation over the situation bubble to the surface. Twice I had nightmares of being a mute, of the way they stared at me in confusion when I was unable to speak. I had no doubt the dreams would become much more vivid as travel approached. "This will be the first time we have met one another."
Claude nodded slowly. "How soon until you depart?"
"Several weeks yet," I answered. The knot in my stomach had already started to form. Now was not the time to focus on what I lacked in language skills with other tasks immediately at hand, and yet I allowed myself to entertain the what ifs brewing in my mind. "Enough time to worry about how little we will be able to understand one another."
Claude pursed his lips and looked from the train ticket to me. "Monsieur, I could teach you some phrases in Danish if you'd like," he offered. "Not that you are in need of tutoring or that you asked for my help. And if you aren't interested I am in no way offended. There is a good chance I would not be a decent tutor anyhow as I've never taught anyone else to speak Danish but, you have been so kind to me and if I am able to return even a small amount of what you've given me-"
"Yes," I said before he continued rambling on incessantly. The knot in my stomach loosened. My biggest fear was that they would see me as a masked, bumbling fool who attempted to hold a conversation in German, of which neither of them were fluent. I knew I would not master Danish in a matter of weeks, but if I could at least decipher what they said in part and answer back in their language, they would see the effort I put forth rather than an oddity struggling to string together a thought. "I would appreciate any help in communicating with my grandparents."
Claude grinned as though I had done him a tremendous favor. "I will gladly offer my services."
"Good. You are hired."
"Hired?" Julia asked as she returned to the dining room with Alex and Lisette behind her, both freshly washed up.
"Claude speaks Danish," I answered.
"Også mig," Alex chimed in as he took his seat beside Claude.
Claude turned in his chair and raised a brow. "Alexandre Jean Kire, I was not aware that you speak Danish. What a pleasant surprise."
Judging by the looks Julia and I exchanged, neither of us were aware, either.
"When did you learn to speak Danish, darling?" Julia asked.
"Uncle Charles made me read a dreadfully long booklet in the author's native language," Alex glowered. "There were so many stories and not a single one was true or very interesting."
"I do hope you are not referring to Hans Christian Andersen?" Claude said warily.
"Yes! How did you know?"
"Well, I am Danish. It is required that I know the famous authors of my homeland. I've always enjoyed reading his stories. In fact, I still think I have many of his stories back at home, but translated into French."
Lisette's eyes widened and she sat up straighter, looking at me with a bit of urgency in her hazel eyes. 'Book club' she mouthed and I nodded.
The doorbell rang and Claude looked expectantly at me.
"Who could that be?" Alex wondered aloud.
"Comte de Chagny is supposed to stop by," Julia answered. "I trust you will be on your best and most polite behavior while we have guests for the evening?"
"Yes, mother," Alex and Lisette said in unison. Claude nodded in agreement, much to Julia's amusement. She turned to me and offered a closed-lipped smile and raise of her brow, to which I grunted.
We both stood at the same time, but Ruby made it to the door before either of us left our seats, and a moment later Raoul strode into the dining room dressed far more formally than the rest of us.
Immediately the comte's gaze settled on Claude, who stood, bumping the table in his haste and rattling the table settings. He looked from the wine glasses and first to me, appearing utterly mortified before he forced an uneasy smile and turned his attention to Raoul.
Beneath the table I clenched my fists, fingernails pressing into my palms as I thought back to the traveling fair. I knew for certain I had worn the same expression as Claude every single day I was placed on display, but my visage had been obscured behind a hood as the crowd filed into the tent. Eventually they would see the face of a petrified boy, but all but one individual failed to see my misery.
"You must be Monsieur Gillis?" Raoul asked politely. He was relatively the same height as Claude, but he carried himself with dignity that set him apart from others, a skill I had no doubt he'd been taught in boarding school. His confidence made him appear larger while Claude's uncertainty shrank him.
"Yes, and you are Comte de Chagny. I am very pleased to meet you," Claude replied.
Raoul offered his hand, but his expression was guarded and posture stiff. "Please, by all means, take your seat and tell me about yourself."
Claude lowered his gaze and seated himself, allowing Raoul a moment to observe him unhindered. I had no doubt de Chagny silently scrutinized Claude's attire, and for that I clenched my teeth and stared at the comte, willing him to meet my eye.
"Well," Claude said, his eyes still averted. "I do not think there is much to tell."
Inwardly I cringed at Claude's response. It felt as though the cage I had been in so many years ago was around Claude and there was not much I could do to assist him in terms of Raoul's inquiries. I clenched my jaw, regretting the invitation I had extended to de Chagny and dreading the night ahead.
