The Portrait of Elizabeth

by Jane Angwin

  Charron had met George and Anne Darcy while he was studying at the newly established Royal Academy of Art in London. He had studied under the first president of the Academy, Sir Joshua Reynolds, as well as the well known portrait artist, Thomas Gainsborough, and Darcy's mother, who was a great lover of fine art, became quite taken with this young unknown artist. She appreciated his obvious talent, and each year during the season when they stayed at their Grosvenor Square townhouse in London, she looked forward to inviting him to dine with their circle of friends and introducing him to members of le bon ton. She wished to help to establish him in the competitive London art world, and her recognition would do wonders for his budding talent. He was a very young man, and to have his art touted in this manner was quite remarkable and an opportunity few new artists could imagine.

  Along with her love of art, Anne was also a painter herself, and her husband, George had dedicated an airy, light filled room as a studio for her at Pemberley, their country estate, and he did the same with another similar room at their townhouse in Grosvenor Square in London. As a very young boy, Darcy would sit quietly and watch his mother as she lost herself in her painting, and he loved seeing the canvas come to life with her brushes and paint colors. She would hum to herself while she painted, and he could always smell the lavender she wore when he sat with her. On one such afternoon at Pemberley, he expressed a desire to paint something himself, so she set up a small easel and stool to encourage him to paint with her.

  From that first day, at the age of about six, Darcy exhibited extraordinary artistic ability, and when he could have been outside climbing trees and catching frogs, he preferred to be in the studio at his little easel drawing trees and frogs. As he grew a little older, and various Masters were employed to teach him languages, music, and the academics, Anne also insisted that he study with an artist, so she employed her young protégée Frederick Charron as Darcy's teacher. As he was quite aware that the Darcys had been recommending his work to their influential sphere of friends in the ton, he wished to express his gratitude to them, and so he readily agreed to come to their townhouse during the season and to travel the long distance from London to Pemberley in Northern England several days each month to work with young Darcy to develop his innate skill. Darcy would then practice until Mr. Charron returned again. After each lesson, he would work diligently on a new painting utilizing the new techniques he learned to present to his teacher, and this filled his days with joy and pride. Mr. Charron saw the promise that the lad had, and he knew that this boy could possibly develop into a fine painter someday if he diligently worked at it. Darcy's lessons with Mr. Charron and his daily afternoons painting with his mother went on for several years, and even though he was too young to realize why, he felt that it was important to share this with her. He treasured their mutual love of art and their hours painting together, and not too many years later, these times alone with his mother would be his fondest memories of his childhood and his mother.

  Frederick Charron had started painting landscapes in his early career, but with the encouragement of his mentor Gainsborough at the Academy, he gradually developed his skill at painting portraits, and that is how he became well known amongst the wealthy gentry and the peerage of London who wished to have their portraits painted. When asked to paint the Darcy portraits for their impressive portrait gallery at Pemberley, he readily agreed, but upon learning that Anne was with child, he readily saw that Anne was quite weak and ill in the mornings, and painting her portrait first was prudent. However, instead of sitting alone, Anne insisted on a portrait of herself and her beloved husband together, which was unusual, but not unheard of. She and her husband George were blessed with a marriage based on love instead of the usual tradition of couples marrying to combine estates and wealth, so she wanted the portrait to show their loving relationship "for all eternity" as she put it, and they sat for a portrait that beautifully captured just that. Darcy always wondered if his mother knew that her time on earth was short and this was her final gift to George.

  Charron really only needed to work with his subjects in person for a short time to capture the intricate facial features and the hands. These were the two most important features of any portrait, and his attention to detail was the reason for his stellar reputation and bookings years in advance. Once he had completed those features, the background and clothing could be completed in his studio in London. While Darcy knew he was artistically talented himself, he had to admit that he could never hope to capture the essence of a person like Frederick Charron did. He felt that painting facial features and perfect hands was far beyond his abilities, and he much preferred to paint landscapes with beautiful skies, mountains and lakes, fields of grazing sheep, and, of course, his beloved Pemberley.

  As he watched Mr. Charron work on the final touches of Georgiana's facial features, Darcy noticed that there on the table was the ever present glass of Cognac that Charron insisted on while he painted. He facetiously claimed that it eliminated his insecurities about his "lack of talent" and it "greatly enhanced his creativity". It was part of their arrangement that Darcy would provide him with a fine Hennessey Cognac to imbibe during his work. Darcy always scoffed at Charron when he claimed he needed spirits to make up for his lack of talent, but he silently concurred that it might relax the mind and guide the brush more creatively to enhance the outcome. "Perhaps I should try that next time I attempt to paint a portrait", Darcy mused to himself.

  While difficult to obtain from France in those days of conflict between the English and the French, Darcy had always managed to obtain the cognac and other fine French wines from his unnamed sources. He knew that to secure French goods that were not allowed in the country, and to avoid the high levied taxes on other much desired goods brought to England, these coveted items were covertly transported in the dead of night by illicit means through treacherous waters. Once the goods arrived on the shores of England, whatever methods were used were of no more interest to the authorities. It was the interception at sea that they focused on, and stories abounded of ships that would tie large barrels of the cognac and wine to the side of the sailing vessels from France, securely attached to individual anchors so that if the ship was sighted by the Coast Guard, the ropes would be cut and the barrels would sink, marked with small buoys to mark their spot for later retrieval when the danger of discovery passed. These exciting stories of success or failure at sea were those ardently discussed in many parlors and drinking establishments, and although most assuredly illegal, that point was often overlooked, and acquiring these goods and barrels became a badge of honor. Darcy felt some pangs of guilt at involving himself in this prohibited practice, but the widespread acceptance of it, even among some of the authorities who enjoyed the fine goods themselves, gave him some comfort.

  As he turned to leave the Conservatory, Frederick called out to Darcy and asked him if he would mind giving him a few moments of his time at his convenience. As Charron rarely spoke to Darcy about personal matters, and in fact, rarely spoke at all while working, Darcy knew it was something of importance that needed his attention right away. "Of course, Mr. Charron." When you have finished for the day, I will be in my study, and you can join me at any time before dinner." With that, Charron nodded and turned back to his canvas, however, Georgiana had taken this brief interlude as her cue to stand and stretch, and rather than ask her to sit again and elicit a petulant response, he told her that he was finished for the day and began to put his supplies away. She unceremoniously lifted her long skirt and practically ran from the room. Darcy was a bit frustrated with his sister, but he did understand that a girl of sixteen had better things to do on a beautiful sunny afternoon than sit still for hours smiling at a man she barely knew, and he also knew that she was greatly troubled by a recent unfortunate experience that had greatly affected her demeanor. The great difference in their ages made it difficult for Darcy to talk with her, and it was at times like this that he deeply missed having his mother there to help guide he
r through this troubling time.

  Chapter Two

  The Gift

  Darcy walked quickly to his study, as he knew that Frederick would be following him shortly. He tried to think what it could be that the artist would wish to discuss with him, but nothing readily came to mind. He hoped that he wasn't ill and would have to pass the finishing of the portrait on to his assistant in London. He knew this was often done by the busy artists who worked on many pieces at the same time and were in most demand, but Charron was not one to do that. A Frederick Charron signed portrait was always his own work in its entirety and the ton knew it. Darcy also didn't think it could be about his remuneration, as he had been paid a large upfront fee to begin the portrait, and all his expenses were covered for travel, meals, and the very finest cognac, of course. He sat down at his desk, but before he had an opportunity to ponder the situation any further, there was a knock at the door. Darcy rose from his chair and said, "Enter."

  Mr. Charron walked into the room carrying a small, odd looking flask of some type, and as he approached Darcy, he bowed and set it down in the middle of his desk. "Master William, may I inquire if you have two snifters available?"

  Darcy returned his bow, and sat down, reaching for his lower drawer to retrieve two short bell shaped crystal glasses and replied, "If we are to share a drink together, Mr. Charron, I find it necessary to remind you that I am no longer a young boy, and you may call me William, or Darcy, as my friends choose to do."

  "Very well, William, then you must call me Frederick." With that he put his hand out to shake Darcy's hand and said "Thank you for your kindness and your time this afternoon. I trust this should not take too long." Darcy waved his hand over the glasses to signal it was now in Charron's hands.

  Charron took his seat across from Darcy, remaining still for a moment and then began. "First, before we enjoy this drink together, I must ask you a rather sensitive question about your sister." He nervously adjusted himself in his chair. "I apologize for being so bold, but I have been painting portraits for quite some time indeed, and one is able to read much about a person by studying their face for hours at a time. I can usually discern when there is a deep discomfort or troubled feelings beneath the facade they try to project."

  He sighed and continued, "Again, please forgive me if I am venturing into an area that is none of my concern, but I do feel great consternation when I see such difficulties behind her eyes, and especially in one so young. It is clear to me that there is something bothering your sister, something she has perhaps not been able to resolve."

  He glanced at Darcy to see if he was shocked at his observation and boldness, but instead, Darcy slightly nodded his head and said, "Please go on."

  "I have been attempting to capture Georgiana's lovely countenance for several days, but it has been difficult to even achieve a slight smile from her long enough to paint her essence properly. I apologize for this imposition, but I felt it important enough when observing this to bring it to your attention or to see if you are aware of anything that might be bothering Georgiana."

  Darcy sat quietly for a long time, staring at his hands that had curled into fists during the past few minutes. "Should I simply tell him that she is a normal teenage girl going through physical and emotional changes and her moods are erratic from time to time," he thought to himself, "or should I share the uncomfortable truth of Georgiana's near elopement with a blackguard and miscreant last summer?" Neither was a viable choice. Discussing Georgiana's emotional ups and downs was too personal for two gentlemen to discuss, and it was absolutely mandatory to keep the truth of what happened to Georgiana last summer from him, as well as the rest of the world. The knowledge of it would surely ruin her reputation forever, and he could not allow this to happen. Instead, Darcy chose to use the weak excuse that as a very young girl, Georgiana had watched Mr. Charron paint the portrait of her parents a very short time before her mother died, and most likely being seated for this portrait reminded her of her deceased mother and father. That didn't seem to satisfy Mr. Charron entirely, but he was wise enough to know that he had said enough, and if Darcy hadn't been aware of her inner struggles, or if he already knew there was something troubling Georgiana, William would surely handle it in his own way.

  "Now, Mr. Charron", he started, then paused. "Please excuse me, Frederick, it is difficult to address you so informally after all these years. What pray tell is this odd looking vessel you have placed on my desk?"

  Charron reached across the desk and pulled the two glasses closer to himself. He then took the brown leather flask and slowly pried open the top. He poured a generous amount of a beautiful gold liquid into each glass and pushed one toward Darcy. "I am well aware that you are a connoisseur of fine spirits, but this beautiful golden nectar plays an important part in my narrative with you this afternoon. First, we are enjoying a very fine cognac, but this one may be new to you. The Hennesey that you so very kindly provide to me is superior, and I do enjoy it very much, but this cognac is quite special to me, and to enjoy it we must follow the proper manner in which it is to be consumed."

  Darcy nodded, knowing the genteel convention of the way to drink a cognac quite well, but allowed Charron to expound. "Before we take a drink, we must hold the bottom of the bell of the glass in our palm for several minutes. This warms the cognac slowly so as not to evaporate the aroma." They both picked up their glasses and put the short stem of the snifter through their fingers and held it in their palms. Then, holding his glass up to the light, he continued, "Then, pay special attention to its color. You can determine the age of Cognac by the color, from the younger lighter colors through yellow, amber, gold, and even to the oldest, red. Now, to enjoy the beautiful aroma, position your nose at the rim of the glass and gently inhale." They both lifted their glasses to their noses, and Darcy did as he was told, drawing a breath through his nose to smell the fragrance.

  Charron continued, "This is known as the 'montant odor'. The volatile and subtle scents are often hidden to those who are new to the magic of a fine aged cognac." His dramatic phrasing amused Darcy, but he maintained his solemnity. Charron withdrew his glass and said, "Now gently swirl the glass in your palm and smell it again," which they both did. "Every time you swirl and sniff, a new bouquet will arise. And, finally, now take a small sip and keep it in the front of your mouth for a time before you let it pass over your palate to enjoy the complexity of its flavors. A young cognac will be quite sharp, but an older variety, such as this fine specimen with be more gentle."

  "And to what shall we drink?" asked Darcy.

  "To the truth," replied Frederick. This took Darcy by surprise, and he immediately thought he was being called out on the poor excuse he had given regarding Georgiana.

  "The truth?" he repeated.

  "Yes, the truth, William. I have been keeping a secret about myself for many years, and I have told no one until now. I have chosen to tell you for reasons that I hope will become clear to you." They both took sips of the sweet liquid, and after letting it lightly burn down his throat, and while enjoying the aftertaste, Darcy exclaimed, "This is exquisite, Frederick. You are correct. I have not tasted a cognac quite like this, but I can attest to its superiority. From where does it originate?"

  Charron nodded. "That is part of my tale, and I will soon explain."

  Chapter Three

  Le Grande Évasion

  Darcy remained quiet and let Frederick collect his thoughts. He raised his eyes and looked into Darcy's eyes and began his story.

  "First of all, my dear friend, my name is not Frederick Charron." He paused, and watched to see Darcy's reaction. Darcy opened his eyes wide and waited for him to continue. "My true name is Francois Chastain, and I am from a small area near the town of Cognac in Southern France." He raised his glass as if to emphasize the reference to cognac and toasted Darcy, saying "à votre santé".

  Having a good understanding of French, Darcy understood the meaning of Charron's statement, and he raised his glass responding
in the British manner. "Cheers".

  Charron sat back in his chair and began again. "For nearly a century, a family by the name of Lemarchal owned vineyards in our town that helped to sustain our village by employing many of us to assist in the distilling and aging of wine and a light fruit brandy called Eauz-de-Vie. Baron Jean Lemarchal, the great grandson of Baron James Lemarchal, the landowner, grew up in the family business, and although I was several years younger than him, he was a friend of mine. Like you, I began painting as a young boy, and when I wasn't working in the vineyards, I painted canvases of our town and many scenes depicting his vineyards. Although I wasn't formally trained, he liked my paintings, and he paid me for some of my works to hang in his ancestral home."

  He took a sip of his cognac and continued. "As he grew older, he became a highly respected gentleman of the town, but he was also extremely vocal about his feelings against the Revolution, and he boldly expressed criticism of the regime. He was arrested and sentenced to death in 1793, but on the day before his execution, several of us in the town forced our way into the prison where he was being held, and we were able to free him. In the middle of the night, knowing full well that if we were caught we would be sentenced to the guillotine, many of us left everything we owned and fled the country."

  He looked off into the room, obviously remembering something unpleasant. "Unfortunately, my mother was ill at the time and much too sick to travel, so she and my younger sister and brother were left behind with my uncle and his family. It was a difficult decision, but we promised to send for them as soon as we found safety in England. Although we feared the bloodshed and the tensions of war and politics, we felt sure that they would be safe with my uncle, and they would not be punished for our part in Lemarchal's escape." He paused again and hung his head. "But how wrong we were." He took another sip of his cognac and sighed deeply. "The government found them and demanded information about Lemarchal and our whereabouts. My uncle claimed ignorance and said he did not know anything about our escape, but they continued to go to his home trying to weaken his resolve. They threatened to imprison him if he didn't cooperate, but he remained fixed on his account. They began threatening my mother saying that my young sister would be taken from her if she didn't provide information about us, and the fear became too much for my mother to handle in her condition. Sadly, she was weak and succumbed to her illness. My uncle had barely buried my mother when he was once again threatened with death, and that night he fled with his family and my sister and brother, making their way to Bordeaux as we had done, hoping to find a ship to board and find safety. He wrote one last letter to us to inform us of my mother's passing and their intentions to escape by ship, but we didn't know where they were going and even if they found safety." He shifted in his seat and paused again. "It was excruciating."