STORY

[headmaster.]

It all started with once upon a time. A love story. A tragedy. A vow.

Along the rugged coastline of Normandy, lived two cousins - Hélène Brideau & Aurélie Courtois. One, from a wealthy family, the latter - an orphan.

"Do you really think that one day, we'll be happy and married?" the younger one whispered, her voice muffled by bedsheets. "And in love?" she asked, her eyes eager as they peered into the others.

"Yes. I know so." Hélène Brideau replied to her cousin, her own eyes squeezed shut with visions of white ponies and gallant knights upon them. The two broke into a peal of laughter, trying their hardest to muffle the sound because it was a late hour of the night and they believed the entire chateau to be asleep as they were supposed to be.

Aurélie Courtois smiled to herself at the memory. Years and years ago, tucked in beside each other, she had asked her elder cousin of their fate. Of their happiness. Now they were young women, their fates so different from what they had dreamed of as small children.

The woman wrung her hands together in anticipation. She was getting married. Today. She was getting married today, to a handsome soldier. One with proper status now. She could hear the bells chiming outside her window. A grin plastered itself across her delicate features. Despite her lowly status as an orphan, she had found a way to be happy.

"You're sure you want this?" Henri Mercier asked aloud. The room appeared empty but he knew he was not alone. "You are sure that this is how you want things to be?"

His voice was low but sharp. His long fingers gripped the edges of the metallic rimmed armrest, his eyes falling shut as he once again addressed seemingly no one. A soft rustle came from his left. It moved slowly, pulling the curtain towards itself, revealing a beautiful, porcelain face.

"Yes. I am certain. You'll make her happy." Hélène replied simply, her face emotionless. She tried to smile, but no ounce of that emotion could be mustered. "Marry her and have lots of children. She can make you happy," the woman teased, trailing a finger down Henri Mercier's left shoulder. Even through the heavily padded cloak, her touch sent chills down his spine.

"Hélène - " He was interrupted by a finger to his lips.

"Please, say no more. Marry my cousin and be happy. You know I am already wed. I am happy. You should be too."

He couldn't answer. With his heart, he knew otherwise. But he could not summon the words he needed to refuse this last request of hers. Suddenly, the door opened and the distance between Henri and Hélène gaped.

Frédéric Allemagne appeared from behind the heavy wooden door, a gentle smile on his mouth. "My sweet, let's take our seats." Frédéric Allemagne held out a hand to his wife, his eyes falling on the swelling bump beneath her robes. Hélène smiled softly as she slipped her fingers into her husbands and sat down to watch the festivities, a hand pressed upon her swelling belly against a tiny kicking foot.

"I am happy for her, I truly am," she whispered to herself.

"Of course you are. You've worried about her since you two were children. Her status would hinder her, but she's a great young girl. Marrying Mercier would suit them both." Frédéric answered, smiling as he watched on, a hand still entwined with hers.

❣ ❣ ❣

The years slipped by like grains of sand in an hourglass. Love's true breadth was never breached and words never ventured past broken lips.

Upon the death of Aurélie's uncle, Hélène's father, Aurélie came into custody of a castle in Saint-Michel, Normandy where Aurélie and Hélène spent most of their childhood. Aurélie had always loved its drafty halls and beautiful seaside views. It was of no real wealth to the family - Hélène and Frédéric gaining the Brideau's magnificent Parisian home.

Henri and Aurélie had a beautiful girl, Violette. As Violette grew, Aurélie wanted to do something truly revolutionary. She wanted to turn the old Normandy castle into a school - a school for girls. Knowing his wife's loving and generous nature, Henri conceded. Hélène immediately became interested, and along with Frédéric's background in academia, the four of them began to build Académie d'Ouvrard - named after Aurélie's mother's maiden name. Tales were told of moments between Henri and Hélène, but most believed that to be just village gossip.

A year or so after the school had opened its doors, a fire engulfed the west wing of the castle - destroying many valuable paintings and chests full of old books and beloved mementos. No one knew how it had begun. None of the students were hurt, but for unknown reasons, Aurélie and her young daughter were caught in the west wing, the fire taking their lives. Henri Mercier was left to mourn the lives that could have been, and his very own.

The ensuing year brought another tragedy with the death of Frédéric & Hélène's child, Leah. The treacherous coastline was put to blame but to this day, no one could explain what the child was doing alone out by the waters or the whereabouts of her mother were at the time.

The funeral was held four days later. That was the last day that Henri Mercier was seen alive. He had attended the funeral, paid his respects to the little girl many said he considered his own kin and disappeared leaving nothing but an old chest full of books behind.

Gossip spread like wildfire amongst the village but no one dared breathe a word to Hélène or Frédéric. The two themselves were hardly seen again in public for a handful of years. It was only the birth of their second and last child, Édouard, that brought them to the public eye again. The boy was rarely allowed to play outside and as a result, grew up sheltered and frail. His mother, Hélène Brideau, disappeared two days after his seventh birthday. No one knows exactly what happened to her or why she left. But a small carriage was reported leaving the village in the early hours before dawn.

Frédéric grew old, his son taking over the estate and continuing the school that his aunt and mother had founded on Courtois property. The last of the founders, Frédéric Allegmagne died at the ripe age of eighty-two, alone in his bed in the dead of winter. Édouard buried his father and remained unmarried his whole life, committing himself to the Académie d'Ouvrard.

Today the school exists for the intellectually gifted male and female students from lower schooling of grades 9 through 12, and upper schooling of university years one through four. The four houses have been named after the school's founders - Courtois, Brideau, Mercier & Allegmagne. And although the academy's take is that the tale of the school's is just that - a fairy tale, spun from the bored minds of students, there lays remnants of the truth hidden amongst the stones of the ancient building. But one thing is for certain -

You can never forget your past.