The house next door was deserted. It had a worn stucco finish. The closed, faded blue shutters hung listlessly, showing the neglect of time. The brambles and overgrown brush engulfing the place revealed the truth of long time emptiness. It’s size exaggerated the sadness felt. The neighbour, Albert, a 50ish French ‘fonctionaire’, (like a civil servant) was in charge of regulating the furnace for the owner, to protect all the antiques inside, I guess.
One day he invited me to go with him into the mysterious ancient manor. From his house we had to pass through a gate in the wall to followed the river. We walked along to the manor and passed through another large wooden door in the wall that led to the grounds of the old house. The tunnel of brambles from the river was evidently carved out by Albert to reach the house. We passed through a dusty door. From a dark, small hall that joined the furnace room, we continued up the stairs to a large vestibule. We saw a door to a kitchen at one end of the hall and a large wooded door at the other end. which opened unto ‘le grand salon’, a magnificent large room with a library, a bar and most interestingly, a grand piano. It was breathtaking in the dusky light, in the silence which held the secrets of the past and in the smell of stale, humid air. We had entered into a different world.
Madame Delaage, a renowned concert pianist, was one of three children of the owner, her father, M. Delaage. He had renovated the manor, called ‘Chevre Chou’, into three apartments for his three children. Her two grand pianos were drawn into the blue prints.
My mother, Elizabeth, came to visit us in France and, coincidentally, Madame Delaage was visiting her deserted home. We had the privilege of being invited to listen to her play her grand piano. The imprisoned grand salon came to life as the massive shutters creaked open, allowing the sun’s rays to penetrate the dark and dank space. Her music lilted on the air currents and drifted into our souls. We listened to the angel play, watching the dust particles linger on the vibrations of each note, the humid air barely noticeable as her music engulfed us. We were transported.
When Mdm Delaage’s father fell ill she wanted to sell the house as soon as possible. It was no wonder that I jumped at the opportunity to buy it. But Don wasn’t of the same sentiment. He felt I was leading him to financial ruin. He knew if he saw it, he couldn’t resist the impulse to own it. So he refused to see it. I dragged him, flailing and screaming, but see it he did. Two months later we were moved in.
At the time of purchase, we didn’t know how many rooms or bedrooms it had. We just loved it and bought it with the confidence that M. Delaage had done a perfect job in renovating; after all, he was the ‘Chief Architect for the Chateaux and Large Palaces of France’. We thought we’d approve of his work! The house had three kitchens, five bathrooms, four bedrooms and three living rooms. It was superlative!
It needed a little work, but not as much as one might think. The musty smell came from a mouldy cupboard, which we removed and rebuilt. The shutters, pale from years of neglect, perked up with a fresh coat of paint. The exterior grey white stucco turned bright white with a power washing. Our neighbours came and helped paint and scrub. We had the brambles dug up in the garden and replaced with a green lawn that would be the envy of any golf course.
As we were removing the brambles, we noticed a small fence next to the house with stairs going down.. to something… The stairs were all overgrown with dirt and grass, and there was a door at the bottom of the stairs. We thought maybe there was a wine cellar full of wine, so we proceeded to dig our way to the bottom. When we got the old wooden door opened, it was ‘Eurika!’ It was a vaulted roofed ‘cave’ full of wine, hundreds of bottles!
Under the earth of the back yard were pathways of bricks leading to other patios as well as a brick lane under the arched rosary that hugged the wall to the gate at the road. We even found wide steps going to the large wooden door in the wall along the river. Everything was a discovery. We dug away at the dirt, revealing the bricks. The yard was beautiful.
After three months, we said that was all we were going to do.We were only here for three years.. to see Europe, not to labor all the time on the house… so that was all we were to do , now onward, to enjoy the rest of our stay.
We had given the boys $400 each for helping fix up the house. That was a lot of money in 1990. The boys each decided to buy a Canon Camera. It was their prized possession, of course.
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