"Maman?" Gustave's hazel eyes leave his father's exit from the conservatory to turn to his mother.

"We can speak in the study." Christine lifts the napkin from her lap, dabs her lips, folds it and places the fine linen square on the table. "Margaret, can you manage the little ones? Emilie, please clear the table, Henry and Joshie can help."

"What about Kathleen?" Emilie pouts. "That is her job."

"I asked you to do it," Christine responds, her voice tight. "I asked her and Nanny to leave us alone, however, I am certain that when she see you helping, she will attend to the rest of the cleaning up. In the meantime, do as I say."

"We all want to know what happened to Meg."

"Yes, Ma," Margaret adds, her tears threatening to flow again. "What happened? Why did she die?"

Gustave watches his mother closely. Her invitation for them to retire to the study suggests there is much more to know, yet not suitable for his brothers and sisters. The youngest do not care – Ange and Lulu are oblivious to the tension in the room – happy with one another's company. While both their faces are still baby full – Ange will likely favor Papa at least in her coloring, the scar from her surgery blending into her full lips. Lulu is already the image of her mother, large blue eyes with dark lashes, the only exception being her red hair – like her father's. Despite all the inference Gregory was not Louisa's father, any remaining doubt will likely be quashed now.

Turning his attention back to the older children, he finds Emilie the provocateur as always – the twins on edge, forever unsure of their place in the family and how much they are allowed to participate. Joshie is trying his best to keep up with the conversation. Most of time the others give him due consideration by signing and looking at him directly when they speak – they are still children though, and forgetful. He can already see the weariness on the boy's face as he falls against the back of his chair, munching on a piece of toast, satisfied to watch and listen in his own special way.

Much as he loves his family, he finds he does not miss these breakfast squabbles. Maman and Papa have always encouraged them to openly discuss their thoughts and opinions, but after years of silent meals at the deChagny estate when he was a child, prepared him for a less raucous start to the day, he finds he prefers the calm.

Julia is completely agreeable with peace and quiet at mealtimes as well.

"Whenever things got to be too much with everyone talking at once, my Da would say "Everyone is wise until he speaks."

"That sounds like something Papa might say as well."

"Another of his favorites was 'Many times, a man's mouth has broken his nose,'" Ma would laugh and say he would be the best person to know about that."

"Our Emilie would likely be the one to carry that crown in our household, but for the fact she quite the beauty."

"Ah, yes, with many a lad laying his hat at her feet, begging for her love, if not now, then soon."

"It is enough you know she has passed and say prayers for her afterlife," Christine says. "I will say Meg was frail from years of ill health, and it is likely her body was unable to deal with the stress of the accident."

Henry frowns as he first looks at Margaret, then down at his legs. "Do you mean her feet, being crippled and all?"

Christine gives him a small smile, reaching her hand across the table to him. "No, darling, inside – Papa thinks her heart stopped because it was not very strong."

"So she just died?" Emilie asks. "Nobody saw it happen?"

"I believe she was alone, yes. Yasmine was on a break, so not in the room with her. It is likely she passed in her sleep."

"That is terrible," Margaret cries. "She must have been scared."

Gustave exchanges a look with Christine, then clears his throat, "Not if she was sleeping. She was frightened when we brought her to the infirmary, but once Papa and Gregory gave her medicine to stop the pain, she felt better. You know, like the aspirin Papa gives you when your back hurts? Then she was given other medicine to help her sleep through the surgery and afterward simply to rest."

"Did the medicine make her sleep?" Henry asks. "There is medicine for sleeping?"

"Yes," Gustave says, "there are medicines for all sorts of things."

"Like the cough syrup we take when we have colds?" Margaret asks.

"Meg was always taking cough medicine," Emilie sniffs. "Maybe she took too much of that."

"Emilie, enough. This is beginning to sound like one of your stories," Christine says, getting up. "Time to clean up. Now." Looking to Gustave, she angles her head toward the door. "Gustave I need to you to help me with some paperwork in the study."

"You are just going to talk more about Meg," Emily says.

"And if I do, that is my business, young lady," Christine replies.

"Why does he get to know more than us?"

"Just stop it, Emilie," Margaret says. "Goose is a grown up. He knew Meg better than we did. Maybe he wants to cry but will not because we are here."

Gustave smiles at the earnest young girl – coming into her womanhood – a real gentlewoman. What a treasure the twins are to the family. Whatever happened with Meg, and he was beginning to suspect something nefarious did happen, he preferred Margaret be allowed her fantasy about the former dancer she so admired and aspired to emulate. Do not speak ill of the dead. Why he wondered. Probably because they cannot respond. He would have to ask Papa, but that made the most sense to him.

"Meg tried to kill Goose…" Emilie snaps. Stopping herself, amber eyes enormous as she slaps a hand over her mouth.

"Where did you hear that?" Christine asks, turning to Gustave, who shakes his head.

"People at the theater," Margaret says. "But it is not true. Meg would never do anything like that. She loved Goose. She told me so. What a nice boy you were – so polite and kind to her. How she wished all boys were so blessed."

"Good lord – when did this happen?" Gustave asks.

"Like I said, at the theater," Margaret says, "when we were learning our dances. The boys were always so rowdy and would not listen and Meg would recall how polite you were when you were little."

"I never heard Meg say that about Goose, but she was always yelling at us boys," Henry says, "but I did hear William say something once when Meg was being really nice to him. Something about how things change."

"He means when did we hear she tried to kill him." Emilie continues. "During the shows we did. The chorus girls. If they saw us, they would stop talking, but things about how Meg loved Mr. Y."

"She did not!" Margaret declares. "Meg loved Darius and Raoul and Dr. Gangle."

"What did that have to do with Goose," Henry frowns.

"Meg was mad Maman and Papa had Goose," Emilie says, layering jam atop a generous helping of butter on her croissant.

"Ma and Pa were married. Why would she be mad if they had a baby."

"I am not really sure." Emilie licks her fingers. "I just know she did not like it."

"Anyway, we heard stuff all the time, usually when Meg and Goose were there together."

"My lord, you should have told us," Christine says, staring hard at her eldest child. "We could have discussed what they were saying."

"We thought you would not want us to know. I think those people wanted us to hear them, even if they pretended they did not," Henry says. "Maybe it hurt too much…like when I think about our Mam and Pap leaving us."

"Maybe because they were lying and it never happened," Margaret says. "Why would anyone be nice to someone who tried to hurt them?"

Christine sighs deeply. "I am so sorry."

Gustave places an arm around her, holding his head close to hers as he helps her back into her chair. "It would appear now might be a good time to have a family meeting."

"Your father and I…you…Raoul…oh, dear…" Christine shakes her head. "No."

"Not about that. No, definitely not about that, but I can tell them about the pier, I am, after all the person most involved," Gustave says, leaning into her, keeping his voice at a whisper. "Vi kommer att tala privat*."

With a worried look, she nods and squeezes his hand.

"What did you say?" Emilie asks.

"It was Swedish," Margaret responds with a grin. "We will speak in private."

Gustave laughs, "That was not terribly difficult, but I admire you know the language I was using."

"We are all learning French, but only you and Ma talk to one another in Swedish. I am learning."

"Considering what excellent snoops you have all become. I am happy I can keep some of my thoughts to myself, however, Margaret tells me perhaps I need to learn Farsi in order to do so," Christine says.

"Uncle Nadir is going to teach me Farsi," Emilie replies, a smug smile on her face.

"That is correct, well, maybe we can take classes together."

Emilie cocks her head, pondering the thought. A smile breaks out on her face. "I think that would be fun."

"Me, too," Henry and Margaret say in unison. "Joshie, too!"

"No!" Emilie says, slapping her hand on the table.

The twins pale at the vehemence of that single word.

"Emilie – what is wrong with you?" Christine asks.

"I want something of my own. Learning with Uncle Nadir was supposed to be for me…no one else. Not even you," she says. "I would not mind learning with you, but not all of them."

"We can talk more about this in private, but you must have more respect for your brothers and sisters," Christine sighs. "We are a family. While we have our differences we must always strive to love one another in spite of them. Please apologize to Henry, Margaret and Joshie."

"Sorry." Pushing her plate aside, she folds her arms, looking down at the table.

"Thank you," Christine says, "Now, Gustave wants to share with you his personal experience of that night with Meg everyone seems to have an opinion about."

"First, however, clean up this room as Maman requested." Glad to have the subject changed. Were things always so fractious between the twins and Emilie – really between Margaret and Emilie. Thinking back, he supposed so. Meg usually being the center of whatever argument it was they were embroiled in. The children groan but begin clearing the table and floor of any scraps of food landing there by accident or part of the small battles that often arise at mealtimes.

Meg.

Every time he allows himself to visit that time ten years earlier when he believed he might die certain elements never change – the look in Meg's eyes and how they changed from seduction, coaxing him to go with her – leaving before he could watch Maman perform. Encouragement when describing the pier at night, how much fun it would be. Their color actually changed from a bright cornflower blue to a dark, almost navy blue when enticement changed to demand. When her hand pressed against his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Looking down now, he can still see the impressions her fingers left.

The walk through the sand was tiring, so tiring, he wondered at her stamina, surely she felt the strain on her legs – even though they walked as much as possible on the sand wet from the tide…nevertheless the pain in his thighs was real and he stumbled several time as she pulled him along.

Throughout she kept up a monologue – something about Mr. Y and Maman and lies and that word again – bastard. The word from Paris crossed the Atlantic, it would seem. Bastard he must be. Was Mr. Y hisfather, he wondered at the time. Was that why he was called bastard? The deChagnys were certain someone other than Pere was his father. Meg was equally certain.

Why would it matter to her? Why was she dragging him out here now? She said she would teach him to swim, but at night, in the deep water. Everything was so black.

Then so many people appeared – one in particular, a foreign man he met in the lobby of the theater. He must have followed them. Was he concerned about Meg as well? Seeing him rushing up behind them, calmed his beating heart, allowed him to breath.

"Miss Giry! Miss Giry!" Nadir called out as he catches up with them at the edge of the pier. "Please stop – the young man lost his hat. I want to return it to him."

Meg's breathing is labored, and her knees weaken beneath her. "Who are you? Go away – Gustave wants his lesson."

"No! Let me go," I cried, twisting his arm, but her grasp was a vise. "I want my mother."

"Miss Giry, the boy is afraid. It is much too late and too cold for swimming now," Nadir said, opening his arms, one hand turned up, the other holding out the hat. "The morning will be bright again and would be much better for teaching and learning. Let him go. Let him see his mother."

Despite his words to calm Gustave was worried, she was looking down at the water. She said she was Maman's friend, but she was angry.

"His father will be worried as well."

"His father? Hah? His father cares only for himself and Christine – only Christine, always Christine. He is a freak – the boy would not want that man for a father."

The room cleaned, the children return to their seats watching Gustave as he paces back and forth.

"We are done, Goose," Henry says softly, touching his brother gently on the arm before retaking his seat at the round table.

"Gustave you do not have to do this now. There is time," Christine says.

"I am alright, Maman," Gustave says, continuing to walk back and forth, turning to his small audience, he begins the abbreviated story he decided he wants the children to hear.

"Meg promised to teach me to swim, but I did not want to go – she was talking about things I did not understand. I said no, but she insisted and pretty much dragged me to the pier. A man in an astrakhan hat we met at the theater followed us. Behind him, I saw others coming. I relaxed some, despite Meg's grip growing tighter on my wrist. Madame Giry walked toward us through the crowd, saying things to Meg. I could not understand her words. There was so much going on. Maman was crying – Mr. Squelch was holding her back. Mr. Y was talking to Meg. Then she shoved me abruptly to the railing and let go. I was free, but the wood was damp and slippery. I reached out once again for her arm but could not find anything to hold onto.

"I fell into the water. It was black as pitch. Why did I not learn to swim sooner? My clothing felt so heavy. The water holding on tight, enveloping me. I fought to hold my breath, pushing my arms and kicking my legs. Then I felt the man holding me, the stranger speaking softly to me."

"I am here, Gustave. Kick your feet, breath, try to relax."

"Uncle Nadir!" the children called out in unison.

"Yes – he saved my life."

"Meg took you to the pier to teach you to swim?" Margaret asks.

"Yes."

"That must have been scary." Henry says. "I am scared on the pier during daytime."

"I was scared."

"I still do not understand why she did not wait for Ma and Pa," Henry says, leaning forward in his chair, resting his chin on his fist.

"Meg has always been very stubborn – you know that."

"Meg was crazy," Emilie scoffs. "Everyone knows that. Why did you go with her anyway."

Christine opens her mouth, but Gustave raises a hand to stop her.

"She was Maman's friend, and she was very nice to me," Gustave says. "I must admit I did get scared and tried to make her stop…to wait."

Joshie watches each of his siblings carefully, trying to follow by lip-reading and listening as hard as he can. "Goose," he says finally. "She lied to you. That was bad."

Gustave nods. "Yes, she did – yes, it was."

"Good thing Uncle Nadir was there," Henry sighs.

"Yes, when I tripped and fell, he dived into the water to save me."

"So, Meg did not try to kill you," Margaret states firmly, looking squarely at Emilie.

"It was an accident," Gustave concludes, hoping to put the discussion to rest, wanting to leave the story of the pier behind, once and for all. Anxious, now, to find out what happened to Meg – why she died so unexpectedly.

"Why you call Papa Mr. Y?" Joshie asks, disturbing the sense of resolution settling in among the group.

"He did?" Emilie quirks her eyebrow.

"Did I?" Gustave's face flushes. "In those days everyone called him that, I guess I did, too."

"Margaret and I called him Mr. Y," Henry says.

"Before you were adopted." Emilie says. "It seems odd, now that Joshie mentioned it. I would be calling for my Papa at the top of my lungs."

"Papa was talking to Meg, trying to get her to let go of Goose," Henry says, "Were you not paying attention?"

"Everyone called him Mr. Y when there was a large group of people around." Christine's face loses all color, rising from her seat, she says, "I think we have heard quite enough about that night. I, for one, would like to forget it happened. Your father is likely going to be miffed he was not included in this family meeting."

"The agreement was to hear the story about the pier," Gustave says, "now be off to your studies. Maman and I have things to discuss and if I catch anyone snooping I will…well, you do not want to know what I will do." Snatching Joshie up into his arms, he tickles the boy's belly.

At Joshie's squeals, the toddlers wake up from the nap they fell into after playing hard and eating their cookies.

"Margaret, Emilie – take the girls to the Nursery. I will ring for Nanny, then off to the school room. Study on your own until Miss Fleck joins you."

Gustave's eyes meet hers. He mouths, "I am sorry."

Christine shrugs and shakes her head giving him a half smile. "Leave it to the little one who cannot hear properly. I hoped to put that bit of family history off for another few years, forever, if possible – at least until after someone named Emilie eventually discovered that damned book." Taking his arm she says, "Come, let us have our talk."

"Is it very awful – what you plan to tell me?"

"Yes, but I think different people will have different reasons for why it is awful," Christine muses. "You will have to make your own decision in that regard."

"Oh. I think I am beginning to understand – not so much what happened to Meg, but who did the deed."

"Yes. Here we are," she says, leading him into the study, closing the heavy door behind them. "You may want a glass of Papa's brandy.

Gustave raises an eyebrow.

Pour it, then decide when I tell you the story, you can decide on whether you want to drink it or not."

"Fair enough." He follows her advice and sits on one of the leather chairs. Christine taking a seat across from him. "Now tell me."