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Chapter 07 - "Funeral"

Now Mignon took a step closer to Sauveterre. "Monsieur?" she asked politely. "May I ask a favor? May I sit in front with the chauffeur?"

"Oui, mademoiselle," the gentleman said gently. "I will escort you to the vehicle.

"Here," Bobby said, removing a child's navy blue coat from his right arm, "let's put this on first."

Mignon nodded at him silently and complied, then, trustingly, she took Sauveterre's hand and walked next to him, with Bobby and Alex following behind. Outside, one behind the other in the long driveway, two hearses were parked, vehicles longer than they had ever seen, with several limousines lined up behind. The funeral director loosed Mignon's hand, walked briskly to consult the driver of the second hearse, then came back up the stone steps to escort the three of them. As Sauveterre opened the front passenger door for Mignon, Alex patted her arm and whispered, as her mother might have, "Try not to fidget," then added gently, "We'll be right behind you."

"Yes," the girl said in a small, weary voice. "Thank you."

A few minutes later, settled in the deep back seat with Bobby, Alex said, low, "She's like Sara Crewe."

He gave her an inquiring look and she added, "Frances Hodgson Burnett. A Little Princess."

Bobby smiled wanly. "Well, you have me there, Eames. A book I haven't read."

Alex looked behind her through the glass partition. "I've never ridden in a hearse that also carried the family."

"There's the irony of it, Nicole following me into eternity," he said, leaning his head back.

"She'd better not," Alex murmured ominously, "or I'll have to get out my harpoon."

He chuckled softly without smiling, but rested his hand on hers.

"You were magnificent," she added.

"That's me, rescuer of helpless birds, abandoned dogs, and small children," he said wryly.

"Why do you sound apologetic?" she asked gently, leaning her head on his shoulder for a few moments. "Everyone should be on that crusade. Not just for animals and children. For the abused of any aspect. Isn't that why we gave Dec's money to the Suitcase Project and the Innocence Project? Liv Benson is a knight, too, just like you." A pause, then almost a whisper. "What happened upstairs?"

"Nothing very dramatic," he said, sounding surprised, "unless you count the fact that I was angry enough to kick the door in, but restrained myself. I knocked instead, fairly hard—when Luisa appeared, I said 'Does Mignon want to go to the funeral?' and I heard her shout 'Yes!' from inside—I'd heard her crying through the doors as I walked up—so I called, 'Then get her dressed quickly and Alex and I will take her.' Luisa let me into the suite, and as far as I can tell, Mignon was in the closet undressing before I finished the sentence.

"In just a minute or two she came out in the dress, pulling up her leotards with one hand, and carrying her shoes with the other. Luisa helped her finish getting dressed, then went into her bedroom and came out with a hairbrush to run through Mignon's hair so she could put on the headband, and Mignon shoved her feet in the shoes without buckling them before running back into the bedroom herself. She told me on the stairs that she had to wash her face before Madame saw her. She came back out with the towel still in her hand, gave it to Luisa, grabbed my hand, and out we came--until Luisa came after us with the coat. I had her stop at the head of the stairs to buckle her shoes, then I wiped her eyes with my handkerchief and whispered to her to walk with me slowly, to show Madame she wasn't afraid."

"I'd like to make Madame afraid," Alex answered grimly, paused a moment, then asked softly, "Did you notice? Nicole really did think she was your child—I'm surprised her middle name isn't 'Roberta.'"

Bobby's mouth quirked. "'Olivia'-'Oliver'—yes...I suppose it works better than 'Roberta' as a French child's name."

They rode the rest of the way to the church in silence.

Mignon sat between them in the pew, withdrawn and as still as possible for a nine-year-old at a long funeral High Mass. Occasionally Alex handed her a tissue or she would bury her face in Alex's sleeve for a moment. Once Bobby fished in his jacket pocket and gave her a peppermint Life Saver, which she accepted gravely. The lugubrious requiem music, and the fact that the bishop performing the service—apparently Pepin rated the honor—was heavy-handed with the incense, led Alex to have to pat her own eyes dry several times.

Before the Mass ended, the bishop requested in French that if anyone had tributes for the deceased, they should come forward. Neither Alex nor Bobby were surprised when Madame stood next to Marcel Pepin's casket and gave a pretty speech, of which Mignon whispered the gist to them—'obituary prose,' as Bobby had once termed it in DC—service to his country, a patriot, fine husband, fine father. Several other dignitaries with whom Marcel Pepin had worked gave short tributes, and a childhood friend read an elegy in verse. No one mentioned Nicole—indeed they had been surprised that she'd been included in the funeral Mass at all. Bobby had muttered something in the hearse about how Duplantier influence even apparently extended tentacles into the local parish. Nor did Alex and Bobby expect her to be acknowledged at the service—in fact Alex was thinking Nicole would be laughing with derision at the very idea of her being seen off in a Catholic church, or any church at all—but Mignon had forlorn eyes fixed on the lilac casket that held her mother's body, and when the priest asked if there were any more tributes, Mignon squirmed and gave Alex a quick, mute glance and Alex mouthed "You?" and the child nodded.

"Mignon has a few words she'd like to say," Alex said boldly, standing up, then escorted the girl from her seat as Bobby gave her a fleeting, approving lift of his chin, while the occupants of the pews shifted in their seats and made small noises of disapproval. Mignon led Alex between the caskets and then laid her small hand on the lilac one and said as loudly as she could manage, "Papa Marcel was a good man and...he did many good things for France. And he was the best papá, too, and loved me. He gave me a dog and so many books, but even better he taught me to ski and snowshoe in the mountains and play tennis and how to swim at Nice. We had happy times together. My maman-" and here she faltered and Alex squeezed her hand.

Again she began "My maman," and then her lower lip trembled and she shivered. Alex whispered "I'm here if you want to finish," and finally Mignon continued stolidly, "Maybe you don't think I listen when all of you talk, but I do, and I do understand. I know my maman has not been a good person all her life—she told me that herself. But she did love Papa Marcel and she loved me. She was the best mother." She sniffled, then caught Bobby's eye and he raised his chin, tapping underneath it, and she lifted her own chin and her voice at the same time, so it carried throughout the church. "I just wanted you to know that she was always a good mother."

Then she whispered, "I'm finished now, Madame Goren," and Alex led her back to their seats, hugging her when they finally settled again, and Bobby touched her cheek and smiled at her. Madame Pepin, she noticed, looked apoplectic, but Laurent gave her an almost indistinguishable, appreciative nod.

When the service was complete and they finally exited the pew, Bobby came up behind Alex and whispered, "You are a knight as well, Captain Eames."

Laurent then appeared, winding his way through the crowd and squatted to Mignon's level. "I think I liked your tribute best, little one."

"Thank you, Laurent," she said gratefully, then whispered, "Laurent? Is there any water? I'm very thirsty."

"I'll find you some, ma petite soeur," he said to her, then added to Bobby and Alex, "Catholics do not usually hold a graveside service, Monsieur et Madame. Perhaps we can summon a car to take Mignon back to the house? She looks very tired."

Alex realized she could do with a rest as well, and Bobby still had dark circles under his eyes from when they'd arisen that morning, which probably meant that he had lain awake even as she slept, but she dutifully asked, "Is there a reception?"

"It will be this afternoon, at the house," Laurent told her, "so that Maman can recover."

Alex's inner self seethed, "What, so she can load more barbs into her crossbow?" but she simply nodded in what she hoped looked like understanding. Bobby, however, quirked a brow at her after Laurent turned his head when someone called his name, and when she caught his eye, he nodded to let her know he knew precisely what was on her mind.

"Laurent, you are correct," he said aloud. "We would like to take Miss Mignon back to the house."

Once again Laurent looked puzzled. "You do not wish to stay yourselves?"

Bobby said matter-of-factly, "We're outsiders here, Laurent. You know that as well as I, even as generous as you've been, especially last night at dinner. We're here for our purpose and that's all. It will be more comfortable for the three of us back at the house."

Alex lifted her chin and gave an enigmatic smile.

One of the funeral employees brought Mignon a conical paper cup filled with water, and, as she sipped it and while they waited for the car to return them to Maison Duplantier, they stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the dignified men in their suits and the women in their dark dresses express their regrets to Madame Pepin as well as her children, who had lined up obediently at her right. Yves was a man of medium height, a younger, more solid version of his father, Stéphanie a tall woman with Madame's carriage but with more warmth in her face and Pepin's grave eyes. It was easy to tell the difference between the family friends, like the elderly gentleman who was openly wiping his eyes when talking with Yves, and the "connections" who were currying favor by intimately shaking hands with Yves and Laurent, and giving Madame and Stéphanie la bise. Alex could see Bobby ticking them off in his mind, and then raised her brows as a young, very tanned, bottle-blonde woman in a snug, short black dress approached Madame to offer her condolences. She could see the older woman's cheeks flush and wondered if Nicole had been correct the previous year about Marcel "straying."

Mignon had finished the water and was standing motionless, silent and unhappy, the cup crushed in her left hand, staring wistfully at the open double doors of the church where the lilac casket and its pewter-grey companion lay in state, and when the car came she seemed grateful to climb in the back seat between Alex and Bobby and fall asleep against his arm.

. . . . .

When they returned to Maison Duplantier, it was almost lunchtime, and Luisa met them at the front door, patting Mignon on the shoulder. "There you are, Miss Mignon. You should eat some lunch, even if it is difficult to swallow. It will help. Come up to the nursery and I'll warm some soup for you. Monsieur et Madame Goren, luncheon is almost ready in the breakfast room. The chef has made consomme, croissants, roast beef, baked fish, and pork terrine sous vide."

Bobby said mildly, "We'd prefer some soup ourselves, Luisa. Can't we eat in the nursery, too?" a suggestion that made Luisa pause incredulously. "In fact, may we speak with the chef?" and, taking Mignon by the hand, he struck out for the south wing, past the library, breakfast, and dining rooms, and through the swinging door to the servants' staircase, a plain, scrupulously clean space painted in mint green, which led to the ground floor level and was redolent with the scent of all the items being cooked for luncheon in the kitchen. Alex swallowed a smile as she trailed in his wake with an astonished Luisa.

Once in the expansive saffron yellow and white kitchen, filled with high-end appliances and a ten-burner stove, with Mignon's help since the daytime chef spoke little English, Bobby explained to the puzzled woman that they were "craving something simple," perhaps a bowl of chicken broth with small pasta, followed by open-faced roast beef sandwiches served on tartines? A mystified Mignon was solemn as she relayed instructions for arranging slices of roast beef over the tartines and then adding a sauce of beef gravy over all. The chef just nodded, exchanging a glance with her assistant that clearly communicated "ces américains fous."

"Merci beaucoup," Bobby said, understanding the glance perfectly but keeping a straight face as the chef said she would have the meal sent up to them as soon as possible, then they retreated, still via the servants' staircase, to Mignon's suite.

"Here," Alex coaxed as they entered, "why don't I help you change your clothes while Bobby and Luisa set the table?" and she escorted the little girl into the closet, while Bobby accompanied Luisa into the comfortable "nursery," a big schoolroom/playroom painted in greens and yellows, with a trim desk and chair setup stocked with school supplies, a tall bookcase crammed with textbooks, a few stuffed animals obviously bought when Mignon was younger and now kept for sentimental purposes, and a square, adult-size table with four chairs. Tipsy trotted at Luisa's heels, barely acknowledging Bobby's presence. Mignon had tried to coax the fluffy dog into the closet where she and Alex were softly chatting—Alex tried to distract her by asking her more about their tour of the city the previous day, things like "what is an arrondissement?" "You would call it a 'neighborhood,' I think, or perhaps a 'district'"—but Tipsy seemed to have shifted her allegiance permanently to Luisa as Bobby helped the solemn woman set out places for lunch. Mignon had simply shrugged in defeat and Alex's heart ached for her.

When the food arrived, Bobby smiled nostalgically when he saw the star-shaped pasta in the soup. "Stelline," he said. "My mother made them when I was a kid if Frank or I had a cold." The open-faced sandwiches had been made per instructions, and Mignon carefully watched the adults as they addressed them. Once she realized you ate the dish with a knife and a fork, she relaxed.

Their luncheon complete, Mignon asked, a little hostess to the last, "What is it you would like to do now, Monsieur et Madame?"

Bobby blinked at her, wanting to joke "Take a nap?" but instead offered soberly, "Could we watch a movie?"

"What would you like to see, Monsieur?" Mignon asked dutifully, so that when Luisa returned to see if they were finished with their meal, she blinked in surprise—probably thinking, Alex joked later, "those crazy Americans," as the chef and her assistant had—to discover Bobby, jacket and tie removed, with his arm around Alex, and Mignon with her head in Alex's lap, watching The Wizard of Oz on the child's television.

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