Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 9

When I came closer, carefully trying to avoid stepping on Moreau's violin case, I saw that Moreau was hunched over his desk, writing a letter. I glanced over his shoulder, but I could only make out the first few sentences.

My Dearest Gertie,

Thank you so very much for your kind letter last week - I'm glad to know that you are doing well. As for myself, little has changed since the last letter I sent to you, although life in Paris has become quite chaotic since Bergmann's death. The police still don't know who killed him, and the thought of a killer on the loose in this city worries me greatly. Also, the slight predicament I've found myself in obviously still presents an issue. I know this is strange to ask, but do you have any advice? I just don't know what to do anymore about...

All of a sudden, Moreau noticed that I was reading his letter. He dropped his pen and immediately flipped the paper over as I asked him, "Who's Gertie?"

"Just a girl I know," he said. When I raised an eyebrow, he quickly explained, "We're not...together or anything. We're friends, just like you and I are friends."

"I wasn't suggesting anything like that," I said. "I just think it's funny that you know someone named Gertie too, since that's my older sister's name."

"It's a common name," Moreau said, but he looked visibly nervous as he pushed the letter aside. "How has your day been, by the way?"

"Other than the police showing up at Bertrand Sylvestre's house, it was fine."

Moreau looked surprised for a moment. "Why were the police there?" he asked.

"They're investigating Johann Bergmann's murder, and they questioned Mr. Sylvestre and I about it," I explained.

"Do they think he did it?"

"It's hard to say."

Moreau paused and adjusted his glasses. "I like to think that my old composition teacher would never kill anyone, but Sylvestre has never liked Bergmann much. There are plenty of people in town who dislike Bergmann, but none as much as Bertrand Sylvestre."

"Sure, but that's not enough to convict him of murder."

"You're right," Moreau said. "There has to be some other evidence." There was a long silence, and then Moreau said, "This isn't what I wanted to talk to you about though."

"What is it?" I asked.

"I saw you outside the boarding house with Léa Valencourt."

"And?" I said, unsure where Moreau was going with this.

"She's not the sort of person you want to befriend, Miss Brackenborough."

"She seems perfectly nice to me," I said, rather offended on Léa's behalf.

"How did you even meet her?"

"It was simply a chance encounter," I said. "I went to the bakery, and she happened to be there. She also started a fight with the baker on my behalf..."

Moreau rolled his eyes. "That's typical of her," he said.

"What do you have against Miss Valencourt?" I asked.

"She...she's just not the sort of friend a respectable lady like yourself should have."

"Why not, Mr. Moreau? What's so wrong with being friends with Léa Valencourt?"

"She drinks too much, she starts a fight at every possible opportunity, she's slept with most of the men in the city, plus a good portion of the women..."

"You're just slandering my new friend, aren't you?"

"It's not slander if it's true."

"Well, I think Miss Valencourt is a perfectly upstanding woman," I said. "She stood up for me at the bakery, and nobody's ever done anything like that for me before."

"That doesn't automatically make her a good person. Knowing her, she probably had ulterior motives," Moreau said. He sighed and then added, "It's your choice, Miss Brackenborough, but if I were you, I would keep my distance from Léa Valencourt."

"Thanks for the advice, Mr. Moreau, but as you said, it's my choice," I said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I told Miss Valencourt I was going to meet her at the fencing hall."

As I walked away, Moreau simply shook his head and resumed writing his letter. Meanwhile, a million thoughts buzzed through my head as I went downstairs and walked out the door. Part of me wanted to turn around and apologize, but Moreau had been awfully mean to Léa. I was almost certain that none of what he had said was true, but if it wasn't, then why had he said it? Maybe he was jealous of my newfound friendship, or maybe there was something he wasn't telling me, some other reason why he didn't like Léa. Either way, I resented him for speaking ill of my friend.

Then again, I had been unkind to him as well. I spoke too harshly, I realized as I looked up into the Paris sky, hoping that I wouldn't lose one of the few true friends I had in this city. We hadn't known each other for long, but I didn't want our friendship to fall apart over something so trivial. We were stronger than that.

I opened the door to the fencing hall, and there she was, fighting a man twice her size. Her sword clashed with his, and as she lunged toward his stomach, I took a seat and watched the fight.

The two of them continued to attack and counterattack, but all of a sudden, Léa's sword hit the man's arm. She gave me a self-satisfied grin as he backed away, and she said, "Mattie! I didn't think you were coming."

"I'm a woman of my word, Léa," I said.

"Well, it's good to see you here," Léa said. "I was just practicing some new fencing techniques. Care to watch?"

I nodded, Léa and the man began to fight again, and for a moment, I didn't care what Moreau or anyone else thought of me. It was my life, and despite everything that was going on around me, I was the one who was in control, and nobody could take that away from me.