by Jane Angwin
He shifted in his chair and after a moment, he said , "I am sure you are wondering why I am sharing these details with you, William, but I assure you there is a good reason." With that, he cleared his throat and resumed. "The night we assisted in Lemarchal's escape, and through the next difficult days, Lemarchal, my father and I, and many others found our way to the coast to board a ship in Bordeaux. It was full of people just like ourselves fleeing with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, and the ship was overcrowded and without the proper facilities to handle that amount of humanity. Although it was not to be a lengthy voyage due to the closeness of our two countries, we encountered a storm and severe headwinds at the outset. The Captain should have known the dangers of sailing that night, but the lure of earning lucrative passage fares, and his total disregard for our comfort prevailed. After many days of travel by foot and by coach to reach the ship, we were weak, hungry and desperate, and we naively boarded along with many others to sail into the storm in the dead of night. It was a brutal sail, huge waves lashing the sides of our ship, rocking us about like a child's toy boat with people holding on for dear life and sea sickness all around us. We faced such heavy winds that the sails partially ripped in places, and the conditions were unbearable." He put his chin in his hand and pursed his lips. "I thought we would die that night."
Darcy said, "What a foolish Captain to take to the ocean in those conditions. He must have been a drunkard."
"Yes, he surely had no regard for his ship, let alone his poor crew. Many of them were wailing at the rails or hiding in their quarters waiting for the certain breakup of the ship. During the worst of the storm, we encountered a young woman huddled in a stairwell, and she was obviously unwell. She appeared to be traveling alone, and we offered to keep her company and to assist her in any way we could. We introduced ourselves, and she told us her name was Angelique Dupree from a small village outside of Paris. Her mother had died when she was born, and she was raised by her father, Pierre Dupree, a known counterrevolutionary. She told us that one night, he was taken from their home, and several days later, she learned that he was massacred with many others by Parisian insurrectionists."
"How horrible for her," Darcy said. "How old was she?"
"She said she was seventeen years old, and her only relative was a distant cousin located in Bordeaux, so she traveled there alone, only to find that her cousin had fled to England a year or so earlier. She learned that she had gone to London and had opened a boarding house in the West End of the city for other immigrants, so she found her way to the docks and found our ship to board to hopefully locate her cousin. She knew nothing about London, but she was so grateful to us for our kindness to her, she said she would try to help us find a room in her cousin's boarding house if we made it to England."
He paused and took another sip of his cognac, deep in thought. He finally began again. "And so when we did somehow manage to arrive safely after our perilous voyage, we traveled with her to London, and she was as good as her word. We inquired throughout the area about her cousin, and when we found the small establishment, her cousin Giselle was overjoyed to welcome her. Angelique told her about how we had assisted her, and although the boarding house was already full of other French émigrés, she implored her cousin to allow the three of us to let a small room in the basement that was used for storage, and that is how we began our new life in England."
"I cannot imagine what a nightmare you experienced," Darcy said. "It is a wonder you survived such an ordeal. What was your reception by the English when you arrived?"
"For the most part, the English were quite tolerant of us and allowed us to seek safety in small pockets around the city. We found ourselves in an area called Soho in Westminster where many French had settled. The year before we arrived, many French had arrived in England and they immediately attempted to recreate their style of life from home. Soho had become quite a thriving French cultural district, but by the time we arrived, their money had begun to run dry and the glamour was dwindling. The English government had also become suspicious of the large influx of French immigrants and feared that perhaps there could be spies and dissidents among us, so we were forced to register with our names, ranks, occupations and addresses with the authorities. Even those who housed us had to provide similar details, and the law stated that violators could be deported and punished when they returned to France. We did not want to implicate the kind woman who gave us a room in London, and we also did not want to disclose our whereabouts and true identities, so we kept quiet, and we did not register. We took on new identities, and my father and I became Frederick and Gerard Charron, hoping to avoid discovery. It was a mistake, I know, but it seemed prudent at the time."
Charron examined Darcy's face to see if there was any look of disapproval. Seeing nothing other than a look of concentrated interest, he continued. "Due to the mass migration the previous year, Soho already had many French restaurants, hotels, salons, and even newspapers filled with discourse about the revolution and its leaders. There was even a brothel called Le Maison Blanc with French prostitutes for the French men and the high class English gentlemen's pleasures. My father was a skilled carpenter, and he was able to find work in the new brothel which was a garishly decorated house with risqué and bizarre themed apartments. He never really spoke of what he witnessed, but it paid him enough to help with our meager accommodations, and he never complained." He shook his head, remembering those unpleasant days.
"I used my artistic abilities to find work with a local English artist by painting small miniatures to earn a little money to live. My English was not very good, but he was impressed with my work, and he suggested that I meet with a friend who was opening the Royal Academy of Art in London. Much to my amazement, my work was appreciated, and I was accepted into the school, however, the honor of being accepted and allowed to train there meant that my father and I did not return to France as many others did."
Charron swirled his cognac, and sat thinking about those difficult times, finally continuing. "Due to our fear of the English government learning that we had not properly registered and being returned to France, I continued painting under the name of Frederick Charron. As my reputation grew, thanks in great part to your parents' guiding hands, my paintings began to sell, and the "Frederick Charron" signature was becoming popular among the ton."
Darcy nodded, showing his understanding, and Charron nodded back, acknowledging Darcy's subtle acceptance of his chronicle thus far. "It was entirely too late to divulge my true identity, and sadly, the deception continues until today. I very much regret this, William, but I choose not to look back on my past decisions, and I try to make the best of my life today. I have a decent life and make a good living, and hopefully my art will remain long after I am gone. Perhaps by then the truth will have come out, and the scandalous tale of Francois Chastain will make Frederick Charron's paintings even more prized." He chuckled and smiled for the first time during his account.
Chapter Four
The Request
Darcy sat quietly, not wanting to break Charon's concentration, but he finally spoke up. "I am indeed quite fascinated with your narrative, Frederick, but I am still unclear how I can be of help to you."
"Yes, yes, of course, I am getting to that. The stress of our journey, as well as the death of my mother and the unknown status of our family - not to mention having to hide our true identities all these years, has caused my father's health to greatly deteriorate, and I am quite concerned about him. He is no longer able to work, and although I do quite well financially and our living situation has greatly improved, he still lives in fear and will not venture out for exercise and socialization. I have taken him to see a French gentleman who had been a doctor in France, but since his arrival in London, he has been unable to practice his trade and other than herbs and tonics, he has no medicines or supplies. He has tried to determine my father's ailments, and although he cannot say for sure what his illness is, he feels it is serious enough that
it is imperative that I find proper medical help for him, or he could possibly die."
Darcy winced when he realized that Charron had left his father alone in London while he traveled to Pemberley to paint Georgiana's portrait. "I wish I had known of this before I requested that you come to Derbyshire. I would not have asked you to leave your father alone!"
"I know, William. But I could not say no to you. Your family helped to make me who I am today, and I could never deny you anything. And he is not alone. Angelique and I have remained good friends, and she truly is an angel. She has been helping me with my father while I paint, and she cares for him as if he was her own father. She too has had a difficult life, and I have done my best to improve her situation as well." He stared out across the room with a wistful look about him, making it clear to Darcy that he held a great fondness for the woman, and he wondered if it was perhaps more than friendship.
"I know that when I came here to paint your parents' portrait, your mother had become quite ill, and your father had called in the very best physicians to diagnose and treat her. I realize that this is perhaps quite improper of me to ask of you, but to best protect our identity, I choose not to take my father to a London doctor, and I would like to ask if I could bring my father here to Derbyshire and have your personal doctors look at him. I may be much too mistrustful and obsessive regarding our anonymity, but I know that at your direction, they will not ask any questions, and they would not betray your trust. I will gladly take a room at the Lambton Inn for both of us, and I can well afford their services. It is just their confidentiality I require."
Darcy moved up in his chair and put his hands on the desk. "Frederick, you have been a good friend of our family for many years, and it would be my pleasure indeed to have you bring your father here to Derbyshire. However, I insist that you both stay at Pemberley for as long as is necessary. You know that my mother and father would have felt the same way if they had known your true story and your father's unfortunate situation. Georgiana and I are not going to London for the season this year, and we obviously have plenty of room for you here. Let us make the arrangements to transport your father here immediately and anything and everything that can be done for him will be done."
"Master Darcy, there are no words to express my gratitude to you," he replied, forgetting his previous permission to call him by his Christian name. "I will depart tomorrow and accompany him back myself. He is quite weak, and he cannot travel alone." With that, Frederick poured more cognac in both glasses, and they toasted each other again. Realizing that Darcy had mentioned not returning for the season with his sister, he inquired "Are you not going to present Georgiana to the court this year? Will she not be coming out?"
Darcy inhaled deeply and shook his head. "No, we will not be going to London for her coming out this season. We choose to wait another year at least until Georgiana feels ready. You have noticed correctly that she is not of the proper frame of mind to experience the demanding requirements of the 'coming out' process and the pressure she would feel being the object of admiration by all the young dandies in London looking for a rich bride."
After a few moments of silence, Darcy inquired, "Please tell me, Frederick, what happened to your brother and sister? Did they find safety?" Charron looked quite pained at this point, thinking through these memories, so Darcy added "Please, my friend, if you would like to rest and continue this discussion at another time, please know that I am at your disposal".
"No, thank you, William. For your sake as well as mine, I would like to relate this one time only. As you can well imagine, my father never quite forgave himself for leaving my mother and his children that night. We were certain we could send for them once we found a safe home for them, but our communication stopped once we learned about my mother's death, and it was another three years before we found out where Janine and Nicolas had secured safety." Charron closed his eyes and said, "We learned that they had boarded a ship bound for America and had settled in a place called South Carolina. They knew of a distant relative by the name of William Beaumont residing in Charleston, South Carolina, a descendant of a man named Beaumont who had married our distant relative, Marie Chastain. He had fled France, settling in that area with other Huguenots that had escaped religious persecution in France. By that time, the death of my mother and the uncertainty of knowing my siblings' fate caused my father's health to decline, and I couldn't subject him to an ocean voyage to join my family in America once we learned where they were. Sadly, we have not seen any of them since we fled our homeland."
Darcy quietly asked if he had received any further communication from them, and Charron replied " I did learn by way of a few letters from my sister Janine, that they were living on Beaumont's large plantation that cultivated cotton. She revealed that my brother Nicolas was working with the steward on the plantation, learning how it functioned. He would be about 20 years old now, and I think my sister would be just about Georgiana's age. I received a letter from her not long ago, and she expressed a desire to return home to France. I wrote to her before I came here to work on Georgiana's portrait and told her of our father's illness, so perhaps she will find a way to come to England. I would very much like to reunite with her, and I know that Father would be overjoyed as well. Nicolas has not expressed a desire to return, as it seems he has become quite ensconced in his stewardship on the plantation, so I cannot say if he feels the same way."
Darcy was quite moved by the story so far, but he still had another question. "Whatever became of Lemarchal?"
"Well, yes, Lemarchal was finally able to safely return to France, where he founded his cognac trading house. Every few months a package is mysteriously delivered to my studio containing a small keg of this cognac, and although there is no note or marking denoting its origin, it is quite obvious from where and from whom it comes. I know that cognac is being smuggled in, and I am certain this finds its way to me in the dead of night across the ocean, but he desires to show his gratitude to my father and I for what we did to help save him from death." He again raised his glass and swirled the gold liquid around several times and took another sip. "And that is the story of my grande évasion and my nouveau nom, or as you English say, my great escape and my alias. And, of course, this luxe magnifique," he said as he lowered the glass and observed the look on Darcy's face.
"No need to translate for me, Monsieur Charron. Yes, we most definitely should toast to your astonishing story and to this magnificent luxury."
"And to Lemarchal," Frederick said as he raised his glass.
"To Lemarchal," Darcy repeated.
They both finished the remaining cognac in their glasses and Charron stood to signal the end of their meeting. "I will leave you now to return to my chambers and rest before dinner. I find that I have exhausted myself reliving these memories." Saying that, he bowed and turned to leave the study.
Darcy called out to him, "And Frederick, please feel free to invite Miss Angelique to attend to your father on your journey. We have many extra chambers here, and she will be most welcome. I will arrange for a second carriage and a maid from my townhouse to accompany her as a chaperone while traveling with two single gentleman." Charron turned and smiled, nodding his head, and quietly shut the study door behind him.
"A most interesting afternoon, I daresay," Darcy thought to himself. "It seems we all have many secrets to hide." With that, he removed himself from his study and went to locate his valet to change for dinner.
That evening at dinner, Darcy informed Georgiana that Frederick would be leaving in the morning. "Oh," she said, "I did not think we were finished with my portrait."
"No," Darcy replied, "Mr. Charron has to return to London because his father is ill."
"Oh dear, I am so very sorry to hear that," Georgiana politely said, turning to Mr. Charron, although she was secretly relieved that she didn't have to sit for her portrait any longer. Then, feeling somewhat guilty about her thoughtlessness, she said "I do hope that your father will recover soon.
"
"Actually, Georgiana, Mr. Charron will be returning to Pemberley as soon as he can collect his father and bring him here to stay with us."
Her surprise was perceptible, but she recovered and said in a cheerful tone, "That is quite lovely, Mr. Charron. Our air is much cleaner in Derbyshire than in London, and he will certainly find it more restful here. I look forward to making his acquaintance."
Darcy was pleased that she seemed unaffected by the revelation that they would be taking care of an ill house guest. Much to his surprise, Frederick began sharing a shortened version of his story to Georgiana, leaving out the part about his false identity. The intrigue and danger of the tale seemed to capture Georgiana's imagination, and by the time dinner was over, she was quite agreeable to helping Mr. Charron and his father settle in at Pemberley for the duration of their stay.