The Phantomess: Pt. 1, Ch. 6

The Phantomess

Pt. 1
---------------------------------
Chapter 6


It took my breath away. Twins! I couldn't believe it!

"They are both fine and healthy," said the doctor with the utmost confidence. "There were no complications."

Thank God for that, I thought as he admitted me into the bedroom. There was Christine, a baby in each arm, glowing with happiness. The birth had gone much smoother, which was even more of a surprise considering she had to deliver two babies. Things felt better this time for both of us, in fact. My fear and anxiety passed away as I took the first-born, a daughter, into my arms. Christine kept the bouncing boy who was still hungry. I looked at the little girl. I could see immediately that she was a Chagny. It may seem very strange to say that, but I could feel it, clear and true. Her bright blue eyes gazed up at me with identical clarity. I could spy the first few strands of light red locks beginning to grow. The boy had a few light blond tresses of his own.

"Shall we name them together, dear?" asked Christine.

I smiled at her. At least twins made matters easier for names. "Certainly. I say we name the boy Christophe. It was my great-great uncle's name, and it is similar to yours. Do you approve?"

"It's perfect. And the girl should be Lotte. Our little Lotte. Does she not look just right for it?"

"Indeed she does."

"Can't I name one?"

I turned around and looked at Angelique. My heart sank. How had she slipped in without our notice? "Well, my dear, the naming of the children is really for the parents to do. The big sister is supposed to help the parents watch after the children."

I could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Oh, all right," she replied quietly. "Can I hold one of them?"

Through some strange force of instinct, I clasped Lotte a little closer to me. "Not yet, Angelique. It is better that they are not too overwhelmed. You will have plenty of time to hold them when they are a little older."

The girl was only three. I couldn't see how she could possibly hold a baby properly when she herself was still quite small. She was so young and naïve, I didn't dare to trust her yet. I confess I wasn't sure if I would be able to trust her at all. She had displayed some moments of high temper, fussiness, and all such pleasant traits lately, which admittedly was not very surprising. What if she accidentally hurt one of the babies, though?

"Why don't you go up to the music room now?" I suggested.

Her presence made me nervous again. I wasn't sure if she could sense it, but it was clear that my constant wish for her to leave the room grew tiresome. She did not try to mask it as she released a huffy, frustrated sigh and walked out without a word.

I gazed at Lotte again, trying to comfort myself. I hoped that my future relationship with Lotte would not be anything like the one I had with Angelique. As I told myself a hundred times before, that brunette, hazel-eyed child felt more estranged to me every day. I suppose I wasn't helping the situation either, for I feared being near her. What was it about her that made me want her to disappear? Besides her eyes, of course. That was clear enough. But certainly something besides someone's eyes should be reason enough to desire detachment from them. True, her moods were also nerve-racking. So quiet and sullen all of the time (with the occasional outburst), wandering here and there without speaking to anyone. Christine said she could be very charming when she wished to be. The difficulty lay in that she never wanted to be charming when she was around me, or practically anyone else in the household. I had the unusual and unexpected chance of passing Christine's quarters when Angelique was in her company. The child did not speak loudly enough for me to hear words, but there was a tone of pleasantness that I did not expect from her. I even heard Christine laugh a few times. They were never hard, side-aching laughs, but genuine laughs all the same that showed an enjoyment of the present company. I found it quite difficult to believe.

Angelique seemed to take a liking to M. Garron, as well, over the first few weeks as she learned the basics of music and her new instrument. However, this mutual acquaintance could only progress so far. I recalled how one morning M. Garron came to me an hour after the lesson with a worried expression on his face.

"Please forgive me, M. le vicomte, but I have become somewhat concerned for Angelique."

"Really?" I replied, not overly anxious at this news. There always seemed to be something wrong with her.

"Yes, but allow me to say, first of all, that she is a marvelous student, and is very kind and attentive. I could not ask for a more conscientious pupil."

"But . . ." I grew a little impatient since I had a meeting with my solicitor in half an hour.

"Well, monsieur, therein lies the problem. She is becoming very much absorbed in her studies. Almost too much."

"Why do you say that?"

M. Garron hesitated for a moment, apparently trying to collect his thoughts in just the right arrangement. I didn't have time for this.

"Garron, if you don't mind, I really need to be . . ."

"It is just that . . . through all of my years of performing and instructing, I have learned to discern true genius and passion from mediocre talent. And your daughter, monsieur, possesses a great potential for genius. I feel honored to be tutoring such a prodigy. But, there are times when such genius . . . can have a negative effect on the mind."

I was beginning to tap my toe on the inside of my foot when he came to this part. My attention was fully seized for a moment. I was too nervous to ask the question in my mind for several moments.

"Are . . . are you implying . . . that Angelique may be . . ?"

"Oh, Lord, no! Well, not now, anyway. But such a thing is not impossible if you do not keep her in check."

My native temper began to boil as I stepped closer to him. He could see the dangerous wrath in my eyes.

"No Chagny in this family will be labeled as a lunatic! And certainly not a musical one, at that!"

"Please, monsieur, you must understand! Angelique merely requires interaction with people who share her gifts and interests. She needs to be with those who can understand her strong passion. I am sure you are a busy man, monsieur, and for more reasons than anyone else could ever give. You cannot possibly spend all of your time tending to your daughter and her talent. It will make things much easier for both of you if she has a chance to adjust and develop her gift at the proper place."

"You want me to send her to a music school," I said flatly. The temper had died down, but the bitterness still remained.

"You need not do so right away - merely when she is the proper age. It will help her a great deal."

I did not doubt that M. Garron's intentions were noble and altruistic, but the idea of sending Angelique to a music school, and for such a reason, made my blood churn. Respectable ladies did attend music schools for short periods of time so they could develop their skills and tastes. But that was a form of decorum. I would have been doing this because it would help Angelique manage herself mentally. It hurt my pride, the Chagny pride. These emotions were not out of concern and love for Angelique, but more out of the very idea of placing a Chagny in a music school simply to prevent her from going insane. It was horrendous!

"While I thank you for your concern," I said with tension, "I am perfectly able to manage the affairs of my family without taking such extreme measures. There is nothing wrong with anyone in my family. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go. Good day to you, monsieur."

I stormed off, still trying to restrain myself from flying into a frenzy. The very notion! It was insulting! I was determined to lift up our family name from the taint of degradation in had fallen under, and I would do it without putting myself through such a humiliation.


I now left the children with Christine and began to pace about the halls with this memory in mind. I still strongly objected to this choice. As far as I could see it, it would have worsened Angelique's situation rather than improved it. Send her to a music school? Sending her to an asylum would do as much good. Surely Garron must have exaggerated everything. Despite what I knew of Angelique's nature, I did not think that she was genius enough to eventually turn mad. It was simply ridiculous.

When I came to the music room, I stopped and looked within. Angelique sat at the pianoforte all by herself. She began to play a song. It did not sound difficult, but it was played very well. I could hardly believe it. I took notice of her posture: she made the effort to sit up straight and focus on the music, and her fingers drifted up and down the keys with a graceful flow. She must have known that music by heart, even after three weeks. Her lessons were only an hour and a half long. Garron told me he originally intended to go through the basics in those first weeks. By the end of those weeks, however, she was playing a full-fledged song with complete ease.

As I watched, her body began to slump downward. Her head fell more and more forward until it was perpendicular with the keyboard. I wasn't sure what the song itself was supposed to sound like, but it went from a calm, peaceful tone to one of melancholy. Suddenly her fingers seemed to give up for no reason, and they dropped like weights. Her hands and arms fell with them. She sat there for several moments, letting out the occasional shaky sigh. Then she sat up again, closed the lid of the piano, hid her head in her arms and softly started to cry.

I clenched my teeth in nervousness. She was probably upset at my dismissing her from the room. That was nothing new, though, and I had never seen her cry before because of it. Then again, I usually did not see her for quite a while after telling her to leave.

Perhaps Garron had a point. Angelique had no one kindred spirit with whom to interact. She spent most of her time focusing on her music lessons. It was almost all she ever thought about. That suddenly made me shiver.

Then another thought came to me. What would happen to the twins once they were under the care of their older sister? Would her reclusive habits and obsession with music be passed on to them through her influence? That was certainly the last thing I wanted to happen. Christophe and Lotte would be different. They would be proper, sociable aristocrats. They would be what a real Chagny ought to be.

I looked at Angelique once more before turning away. She was still weeping, and had even dared to slam her little fist against the carefully polished wood.

And if it means separating them from her, I thought with a swallow, then so be it.

*~*~*~*