Ch 134

Claude and Marco were still visiting in the study, but my brother was no longer in the hall and I worried he had decided to slip quietly out the back door and return to his hotel for the remainder of the afternoon in order to avoid further conversations for the time being.

"Watch your fingers!" Elvira squawked.

The bird's vocalization came as a relief as it signaled Phelan had returned to the parlor and not his hotel.

"Oh my!" I heard Gertie Leach say. "That isn't very nice of you, Elvira."

I paused in the middle of the hall, surprised to hear the two of them together, particularly considering Phelan had spent the night in the company of Florine.

"I apologize on Elira's behalf, Mademoiselle, but I can assure you I have a firm hold on her tether and you are not in danger," Phelan said. "She is unfortunately quite a bit like me."

"Do you bite as well?" Gertie teased.

"Not recently." My brother chuckled. "But I'm afraid we are both surly and our disagreeable nature keeps others at a distance."

His words were most likely meant in jest, but I didn't hear a shred of playfulness in his admission.

"I don't think you're surly at all," Gertie said. She paused and inhaled sharply. "Oh goodness, unless you were discreetly asking me to leave, in which case I apologize for the disruption."

"No," Phelan said quickly. "No, disruption at all. It is a pleasure seeing you again."

"May I ask how you acquired such a magnificent bird?" Gertie questioned. "I've never seen a scarlet macaw in person. That's what she is, correct? A bird from South America, if I am not mistaken. Did you capture her in the jungle?"

"She is a macaw and they are from South America," Phelan answered. "But, no, I acquired her from a salon years ago where she was living in a cage far too small for such a magnificent creature. Some of the salon customers would rattle her cage with their canes or tease her with food they had no intention of giving her and the situation took a terrible toll on her. She looked like a plucked chicken when I opened the cage door and took her out many years ago."

"You saved her?" Gertie asked.

"Liberated is a more apt description. They are very sensitive creatures and it took quite some time for her to understand I had her best interests at heart. Once she understood I would never do her harm, she began to flourish."

"It's evident she is so fond of you."

Phelan inhaled. "Sometimes she is the only one. Isn't that right, Elvira?"

The bird sang her name and Gertie giggled to herself. "A very amusing trick, but I do believe your niece and nephew are quite fond of you."

"Of course. Because I have bribed them with sweets and trinkets."

"Having met Alexandre and Lisette, I am aware that your statement is completely false, Monsieur Kimmer, which can only mean you are simply incapable of accepting a compliment."

"As much as I enjoy a bit of praise, Mademoiselle Leach, that is quite enough talk regarding myself and Elvira. By all means, please tell me what brings you to my brother's home."

"Well, Hermine was auditioning yesterday at the Golden Palace and today of course we simply had to stop by and pay a visit to our dear friend Julia."

"I suppose I owe Hermine Leach my gratitude for our paths crossing this morning."

Gertie giggled to herself and Elvira mimicked the sound, which made Gertie laugh louder than before.

"Elvira!" Phelan scolded. "I apologize for her behavior. She is always picking up new sounds which she must imitate immediately."

"Perhaps Elvira and I will sing a duet and upstage my cousin," Gertie teased.

"Now that I would like to see."

With the turn in conversation, I took a step back, leaving them to speak in private. I turned in time to see Claude making his way toward the kitchen on his crutches at a remarkable speed for someone with the use of only one leg.

"Monsieur!" he called. "There you are!"

"Has Marco left?" I asked, surprised to find Claude out of the study.

"No, no, he's still here. He asked if perhaps Apolline and I would accompany him for ice cream with Pierre and Calista in order to properly celebrate my official art sale. There's a parlor around the corner, but I told Marco that I wasn't certain I would be able to go."

I eyed his bandaged foot. "Due to the distance?"

"No…"

"I sincerely hope you are not asking for my permission to leave the house."

"I suppose that was my intention." Claude's cheeks reddened like an embarrassed child, which was more than I could say for Alex, who undoubtedly would have raced down the street at the mention of ice cream, heedless to the fact he should have asked for permission first.

"You are free to do as you please," I said.

Claude propped one of his crutches up against the wall and ran his fingers through his hair. "I also believe a visit to the barber is necessary as well, but…."

I turned my head to the side and raised a brow. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing is wrong, but… If you would prefer one last lesson of Danish today before you depart this evening, I will gladly spend my time here with you instead," he offered.

"Not necessary," I assured him. "Enjoy the time spent with your sister and friends."

Claude pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, if you are sure..."

I eyed him. "Did you wish to give one more lesson?"

"No, it isn't that, necessarily, but if you have a moment to spare before your departure, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you," he blurted out.

I studied him for a moment, balanced on his good foot with the other one bandaged and held up. His complexion was no longer sallow, his eyes brighter and face fuller than it had been in the past. Despite his broken ankle, he was healthier than he'd been months earlier.

"Tonight?" I offered. "After supper."

"Or before," he said. "Whenever is convenient to you." He stared nervously back at me as he rambled on. "Or now? Could we speak now? I would prefer addressing this at once if you wouldn't mind. Unless you are preoccupied at the moment in which case it can wait. I suppose."

"What about ice cream with your sister and friends?"

Claude made a face. "I will be sick to my stomach and unable to enjoy ice cream if I wait until later to speak to you." He exhaled hard as though the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. "There. I have said it. I would prefer speaking now. May we speak now? Now would be good." He sucked in a death breath and blinked at me. "I'm afraid the word now sounds quite strange as I have said it far too many times. Now. Now?"

Apolline poked her head out of the study and scrunched up her face at her brother. "Claude!" she whispered loudly. "Ice cream! You promised!"

"A moment, impatient sister," he said.

"Would you care to join me in the back garden?" I asked. "Now?"

"Fresh air sounds wonderful. And that word sounds strange even when you say it. Is that peculiar?"

"I suppose it is," I said over my shoulder.

Bessie was still happily sniffing about where the birds left a spray of seeds in the grass when we stepped outside.

"This is lovely," Claude said as he looked around at the various flowers in bloom and the tree shading the rear of the yard. "Absolutely lovely. Your home is so warm and welcoming."

I had not thought so for many years. I had kept to myself despite having three other adults with whom I could have interacted. The bedroom door was locked and the curtains drawn to keep out every bit of life and light.

The house Claude saw as warm I had viewed as a crypt the moment I stepped inside and claimed the room at the top of the stairs as my own. Thinking back to those days, I regretted my self-imposed loneliness and the conversations I had missed over the years. At the time it felt like a necessity to hide from the world, to deny myself everything I desired as punishment.

"The garden is Meg's doing," I answered. "She has spent years taming the wildness to her liking. This summer it has become a bit of a haven for weeds, but Madame Lowry has been preoccupied with the growth of her twins."

"Who built the ramp? It looks fairly new."

"That was my creation with Alex's help," I replied. "We built it in the spring for Charles to navigate coming in and out of the house with greater ease when he and Meg wanted to leave together." I pointed toward the side of the house where one section of the ramp ended near the gate that led onto the street. "Prior to this, Meg and Madeline had to carry him out the front door and back again when they returned."

"That seems like quite the burden."

"It was."

I studied the stone path that led from my garden to the Lowry's residence. While the stones were wide and smooth enough to allow Charles access to both homes if he desired, the gate itself was narrow and I doubted the wheelchair could fit through with ease, which meant Charles would have to be pushed around the corner, into the rear of the house, up the ramp and into our home any time he wished to visit.

"That was very kind of you."

Necessity, I wanted to say. I had designed and built a ramp out of necessity and there was no kindness behind it. Something had to be done and I had done it before Meg and Madeline broke their backs carrying Charles so that the man could leave the confines of my home and visit with his colleagues at cafes in the summer.

"You are a very generous person," Claude continued. He looked away from me, his body swaying slightly as he balanced himself with his crutches.

"Sit," I said, feeling uncomfortable with his praise and concerned he would topple over and further injure himself. I turned and grabbed the two wooden chairs that were pushed up against the house, concerned he would topple over if he remained on one foot. A bit of ivy pulled away from the brick as the foliage had weaved its way through the backs of the chairs before it continued its climb toward the roof. The chairs had nearly disappeared over the summer, abandoned by Meg in favor of a rocking chair and her twins.

"What did you wish to discuss?" I asked.

Claude laid his crutches to the side once he sat and I joined him in the shade. "What you have done for me and my sister, it is far more than I would have ever dreamed. I pray for you every night before I go to sleep, Monsieur. I pray that you are blessed, you and your wife and your children. I pray that you are always content."

I had never been content and God had not blessed me. I had spent my life as a recluse, bound to the shadows due to God's wretched designs. He was a terrible architect and I had been made into a monster, not in His image. I had no use for prayers or blessings.

"And I pray that you know how much I appreciate you," Claude said. His blue eyes glistened. He risked a glance in my direction and swallowed. "When I first came here to Paris, I didn't know the language and I had no friends. It was terribly lonely," he said. "As you know, my mother was ill, but she had no other choice but to continue working and neither did I. My feet hurt from long hours of labor, my hands were cracked and bleeding from chemicals used on the leather, and I thought… I thought this is all I have in this life. Suffering, I suppose, endless suffering until my last breath.

"When the building collapsed in August, I was certain that I would slowly suffocate or be crushed beneath the weight of the rubble. While I was beneath the debris, all I could think of was that there would be no one to claim my body." He shivered at the thought. "I would be tossed into a cart and hauled away to a massive hole and no one would ever think of me again when I was covered in dirt. But perhaps that was for the best because at least I would no longer go to bed hungry and exhausted after eighteen hours of labor." He gave a humorless laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. "And then I heard your voice and realized I wanted to be found."

He paused and we sat in silence for a long moment. The birds dared to return to the feeders while Bessie sniffed around beneath the tree and pawed at the soil.

"I was worried about you from the moment I heard the factory collapsed. If you had not survived, I would have spent a lifetime regretting our final conversation."

"As would I." Claude swallowed and pressed his eyes shut. "After everything you and your wife have done for me and my sister, I don't want you to think I am ungrateful," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

It seemed unfair that I already knew what Claude wished to discuss while he agonized over asking my opinion.

"You are not ungrateful for considering opportunities presented to you," I said. "Particularly given that you have survived an event that most could not have endured."

Claude exhaled in relief and nodded. "Comte de Chagny spoke to you already about The Elise?"

"He briefly mentioned his offer prior to his departure."

"Of course. I should have known since he is your friend that he brought it up before his next appointment."

"Indeed," I said, chuckling to myself at how Claude referred to the relationship I had with Raoul de Chagny. "What are your thoughts?"

"I was honestly more interested in your opinion."

I furrowed my brow. "My opinion?"

"Yes. Should I accept his offer?"

"My opinion should not sway your decision."

He made a face. "May I still ask for your opinion? As someone I greatly admire?"

I didn't speak immediately, preferring to watch Bessie as she sniffed every inch of the yard. My opinion contradicted itself. The employment Raoul offered was more fitting for a young woman, not a young man and yet I had employed a male teacher for my own son and compensated him far better than anyone else would have. My opinion was that I had very few friends and I had no desire to lose one, not even for a matter of months. And yet I wanted to see Claude do well for himself, to use his talents that were far beyond toiling away day and night at a factory.

In the evenings when I witnessed Claude reading with his sister before we began our Danish lessons, he was extraordinarily patient and doled out praise that brightened Apolline's face. He mimicked the teaching style Charles had exhibited over the years with Alex and I had no doubt the six girls still residing at The Elise would benefit from someone like Claude in their lives as he was patient and kind, his voice and mannerisms soft. He didn't bat an eye when I became agitated with the Danish language or when his sister had trouble spelling out words.

If Raoul or some of the other donors observed his teaching skills, I had no doubt they would ask him to stay for the entire six months, perhaps longer. Perhaps he would never leave at all and the home would re-open with a Headmaster instead of a Headmistress.

"What does the position entail?" I asked.

"Reading and writing mostly," Claude answered. "And keeping the girls in line, which Comte de Chagny mentioned several times even though I can't imagine six girls being much trouble."

I raised a brow. Given how Raoul's two daughters seemed somewhat feral, I wasn't surprised by the Comte's advice to a soft-spoken young teacher.

"Do you feel comfortable teaching six girls how to read and write?"

Claude shrugged. "I think I would," he said. "And I have considered speaking with Monsieur Lowry to ask for his advice over the next two weeks so that I am more prepared."

"What is the overall condition of the home and grounds?"

"Sprawling," he said. "The dormitories were a bit small for the number of girls previously, but if there are two children per room and Apolline shares my apartment, which is far bigger than the one I was accustomed to, I would like to think that it's suitable. Comte de Chagny said that the current instructor has already hired two men to fix the roof where it leaks and repair some of the chairs. Plus the front lawn has these peonies up against the building that fragrant the air and the fields to the south are filled with lavender and–"

"Lavender," I said. "Like your painting with the dog and the piano."

Claude grinned. "Yes, precisely."

"Can you see yourself painting there?"

He hesitated, but I noted the slight smile on his lips and knew he had already considered what it would be like to reside at The Elise, to paint in the field and live in an apartment far larger than the one he had called home and to have an occupation that he would find fulfilling.

"It has a lot of potential," he said.

I wasn't certain if he meant the home itself or the opportunity, but assumed it was a mix of both.

"Do you feel you will be able to navigate the grounds in your current physical state?" I asked, nodding at his crutches laid out by his feet.

"I do," he answered with more confidence. "I will only have a few more weeks using the crutches at which time Dr. Anderson said I could walk with a cane if I am not strong enough to bear full weight. The grounds are quite large, but the home itself would not require much walking and all of the rooms are on the main floor so there would not be stairs involved."

"You sound as though your mind is made up," I commented.

"My mind was made up the moment the Comte spoke of financial compensation, a four poster bed, and a cook available to serve meals six days a week. But then…" He rapidly tapped his index finger over his heart, his bottom lip quivering. "Then my heart spoke up and asked, 'What about your friends?'"

Claude looked at me, frowning to himself, his blue eyes glassy. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve; his heart was pinned like a boutonniere on his overcoat, prominently displayed for the world to see. His heart swelled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, the promise of better wages and working conditions and the difficulties of being separated from everyone he knew.

"Pierre and Calista would keep in touch and I have no doubt Marco and Delphie would pay you a visit if you were there longer than three months."

Claude took a deep breath. "And you, Monsieur Kire? Would you keep in touch as well?"

His question caught me off guard. "I would correspond with you exclusively in Danish on a weekly basis and detail precisely what Bessie was fed beneath the table and what music Luc Testan criticized for the month."

Claude chuckled to himself. "Danish letters from my very first student. I would like that very much."

"First and favorite student, I assume," I said lightly.

"Yes, yes, of course also my favorite."

I paused and looked him over. "Claude," I said. "Did you think that I would not write to you while you were away?" I questioned.

Claude swiftly looked off to the side and worked his jaw in silence. "I wasn't certain what would happen as I would no longer require patronage with the funds provided from The Elise." His voice was kept low and he risked an uncertain glance in my direction. "If you were no longer my patron…"

His voice trailed away and I had no words to fill the silence between us. I pressed my fingers into my palms, resisting the urge to touch the masked side of my face to make certain the ugliness was hidden.

Selfishly I didn't want Claude to accept Raoul de Chagny's offer. From the finality of my uncle's death to the humiliation of Christine Daae denying me her hand in marriage, I dreaded loss. It had only been a few weeks since Claude had moved into my home, but already I had grown accustomed to our routine and found that I looked forward to when we finished supper and moved from the dining room to the study where he would patiently open a book, hand it to me, and request that I read a chapter in Danish.

I enjoyed working on music while he sketched in his notebook, turning the page at different angles before he was satisfied with his work. I appreciated his company while at the same time feeling ashamed to admit how much I looked forward to the time we spent together. Again I resisted the urge to touch the masked side of my face, painfully aware that I needed him as a friend far more than he needed me as his patron.

If I asked it of him, I knew that Claude would tell Raoul he was not interested and remain in Paris. Our lessons would continue when I returned from Denmark. I would compose and he could sketch and perhaps in time he would find himself satisfied with his decision, the one I had forced him to make.

Claude inhaled sharply before I could speak. "The other night at supper, with Apolline and Lisette sharing dessert and Alex telling stories from their lessons, I realized how lonely I have been since my mother died and Apolline was taken away to live at The Elise." Claude paused, bowing his head. "I don't want to lose this feeling of belonging."

I suppressed a shiver, feeling the unexpected grief Claude's words brought to the forefront of my mind. He made it difficult to set aside my selfishness, to want something for a friend that took something away from myself.

"How old were you when you lost your mother?" I asked.

"I had turned thirteen a few weeks before she took her last breath. I remember being disappointed that she would not be making a special supper for me and then once she was gone, how selfish I felt for thinking in such a manner. I know I did nothing to hide my frustration and I'm certain I hurt her feelings." He sniffled. "I wish I would have apologized to my mother and told her that I was simply grateful to have her company on my birthday. I suppose at the time I didn't realize she would no longer be with me when I turned fourteen."

"I have mentioned my uncle to you previously, yes?" I said.

"Alak," Claude replied. "You named your son after him."

I nodded. "I was two months shy of turning thirteen when he passed," I said. "The loss was…" There was not a single word in any language that seemed suitable when describing how seeing his lifeless body had made me feel The sensation had not only lasted in the moment he passed, but every day since he had died and I had been forced to exist without his compassion. "The loss was tremendous and I had no idea how I would survive without him. There is much I wish I would have said to him."

Claude readily nodded. "I prayed for weeks that my mother's death was simply a dream and I would wake to find her in the kitchen making my favorite meal," Claude said. "And that by some miracle Apolline would come back from the home and we would all be together again. Exhausted and starving, but together. It was foolish, I know–"

"Not foolish," I said. "And not selfish, either."

"She was so terribly ill," Claude pointed out, his voice breaking. "Far worse than I realized."

I swallowed back the lump in my throat. For years I had wondered how I had neglected to see how ill my uncle had been. With most of my time spent alone I had berated myself for being selfish, for allowing him to dote on me while I in turn I failed him.

"She didn't want you to know," I said.

Neither did my uncle, I knew. He had palmed my head, smiled at me when he spoke, and encouraged me to play the violin. He distracted me with his kindness and attention, the likes of which no one had ever shown me before. He overlooked my faults and I only saw a good man when I looked at him.

"But still, I should have realized-"

"She didn't want you to worry about her, either, same as how you didn't want your sister to worry about you after the factory collapse. She cared deeply for you and in turn you care deeply for Apolline."

Claude pressed his eyes shut and made no attempt to wipe away the tear sliding down his cheek. "I wonder what my mother would say now," he whispered. "What decision she would have me make." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"She would say that she is proud of you and that she wants you to do what is best for yourself and for your sister," I said. "And I believe you are already aware of where that will lead you."

He nodded slowly. "I would very much like to give the girls who have lost their families an opportunity to learn to read and write so that they may live better lives."

"Your selflessness is quite admirable, a quality that you should be proud of possessing."

"But what if I am gone for so long that I lose my friends? What if the club disbands and I never see or hear from Pierre and Marco again?" He looked me in the eye and shook his head. "What if I lose everything and everyone? I don't want to lose you." Claude blinked at me. "You are like..."

"Patronage may end," I said. "But no matter the length of time you are employed at The Elise, there will always be a seat at our table or room in our home for you and your sister if you are in need of a place to stay."

"I appreciate the offer."

I studied him for a moment, this young man I had grown to admire. "Not an offer. It is a promise that you will always have a friend here in Paris, one who is not only immensely proud of you, but proud to call you a close friend."

"Monsieur." Claude exhaled. "I don't know what to say other than you are..."

"Claude," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. I addressed him in the language his mother had taught him, the language that would solidify a relationship with my maternal grandparents. "I er familie."

You are family.