Charlotte: The Practical Education of a Distressed Gentlewoman

by Amelia Grace Treader

  The meeting was awkward. Marie and Katherine verbally danced around each other, sparing for wind and wanting to talk about things that the presence of a husband and his daughter made difficult. “Marie, Katherine,” Simon finally interjected, “I'll take Henriette for a walk, down to the harbor, maybe pick up a sweet.”

  Henriette and Simon strolled down to the harbor. They were both silent within their own thoughts. The tenor of their thoughts matched the gray sky and drizzling weather. With the peace, the level of activity in the harbor was rapidly increasing. Only three months ago there was just a scattering of fishing boats but now there were several ships unloading cargo and producing a level of activity that hadn't been seen since before the revolution. While they were watching the activity, Henriette turned to Simon and stated simply, “You're not my father.”

  “I know, Mademoiselle LeBrun, but your mother and I were good friends. She nursed me when I was sick, maybe she even saved my life, so I owe something to both of you.”

  “That might be, but I'm French and you're English, un rosbief.”

  “True.”

  “Mother made me come for this visit, I didn't want to come here.”

  “I expect so, it's a bit of a bore isn't it? Do you enjoy life at Lion D'argent?”

  She replied in a tone that suggested otherwise, “It's good.”

  “Tell me about it, do you have friends? Do you go to school?”

  “I did, but.”

  “But?”

  “I finished parish school, and l'academie doesn't accept girls.” Henriette clearly was not happy about that, she liked school.

  “Oh, that's not good, did you know I can do something about that if you want?”

  Henriette brightened for a moment then added, “Mama needs me.” She was resigned to living at Lion D'argent, even if meant her dreams of better things would remain dreams.

  “I see, that brings up a question I wanted to ask you, about your mother.” Simon paused, “Is she well?”

  “I don't know and she doesn't say anything to me, but she often visits Dr. Moulin.” Simon knew better than to probe further. He could always talk to the good doctor later.

  “Well, Henriette, we should walk back to the inn. By now Mrs. Bates and Mme. LeBrun will either be firm friends or they'll appreciate a referee calling time.”

  “Didn't you promise me a sweet?”

  “We can stop at the patisserie on the way.”

  “Bon, I'd like that,” she skipped along, staying in front of Simon as they walked back. “Come on, I'm hungry, hurry up!”

  With the weather finally breaking into a spectacular sunset, Katherine grabbed Simon for a stroll along the Boulevard Sainte-Beuve, up toward the bluff to the north of the city. “You've been sitting too long Simon, and we need the exercise.”

  As they left the gray city with the tidal flats below it extending into the harbor and started the climb, Simon asked, “Katherine, what did you think of Marie?”

  “Frightfully common, but nice enough. I'm glad you showed at least some taste, Simon.”

  “So you didn't fight?”

  “Not at all, she's a farm girl, runs an inn. We don't have much in common.” Katherine left off the unspoken, “except you.”

  “That's good, better than what I expected.”

  “And your daughter Mlle. LeBrun?”

  “She's a sweet thing, bright, but destined to be a farmer's wife. Not sure it isn't a bit of a waste, though.”

  “Simon,” Katherine's tone was dangerous, “We're not supporting her if,” she paused, “Or at least not any more than you already do.”

  “You know about that do you?”

  “Of course, do you think I'm ignorant of your doings?” Simon had been diverting the occasional few guineas to Marie's family, using his connections with 'Captain' John Wolfe of the foreign office and some bank that financed the sale of wool cloth, nominally to Denmark but in reality to uniform the Grande Armee, to send the funds covertly. Changing the subject, he added, “Did Marie seem healthy to you?”

  “She's just old, that's all.”

  “I'm not sure, Mlle. Henriette said she sees a Dr. Moulin often. I'm going to have to find out why.”

  Katherine was not pleased with this idea and would have let Simon know, in no uncertain terms, what her opinion of it was, when they were interrupted. A bedraggled man dressed in the remains of a French uniform stood in front of them and pulled an old army pistol from inside his tattered greatcoat. “Your money. All of it. Give it to me. Now.”

  Simon's reactions were swift. With his cane, one that was not simply fashionable, but fashionable and weighted with an iron bar, he knocked the pistol out of the man’s hand and into the field, quickly pushed the cane into the man's midriff and then gave the poor man a crack on the head that dropped him. Examining his handiwork, he paused. “I think I know that man.” He stretched a bit, stiff and sore from the exercise, and said in a slightly breathless voice, “Katherine, I think I'm getting too old for this. Time to settle down somewhere in the country, on one of your estates, maybe. We could raise sheep or something.”

  As the object of his handiwork slowly recovered consciousness, he looked up at his assailant. “Oh my head, what, who, wait you're Bates, Lieutenant Bates wasn't it?”

  “Colonel Bates, and you're Lieutenant O'Reilly late of Legion Irlandais, aren't you?” The man started to nod his head but winced at the pain. “Yes. Les Battlion D'estrangers.”

  “You used to be a honest man, O'Reilly.”

  “I used to have a full belly.”

  Simon thought for a moment, considering his options, then handed the man a couple pounds worth of Francs and added, “Get shaved, have a bath, something to eat, some clean clothes, and meet me tomorrow morning at L'Hotel d'estrangers.”

  “Simon! No! Please, not again.” Katherine was not overjoyed, this wasn't the first time Simon had picked up an encumbrance during their travels. It had not always ended well for the encumbrance. There was a string of graves through Eastern Europe and Spain from various encumbrances who had come to bad ends in the service of the British crown.

  “You'll be there O'Reilly, won't you? Or do I need to talk to the gendarmes?”

  “I will.”

  “Good, now Katherine, let us continue our perambulation, unmolested. The sunset is especially beautiful, I'm so glad you convinced me to take this stroll.”

  “Ahem,” the waiter coughed, interrupting Simon and Katherine's breakfast.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir, there is a personage who wishes to speak with you.”

  “Oh? Can you show him in?”

  “He is not suitably dressed for the dining room.”

  Vaguely presentable, but battered, bruised and showing it, Charles O'Reilly, lately Lieutenant of the Legion Irlandais, and somewhat earlier sergeant in His Majesties 4th foot, patiently waited in the courtyard. He had mixed thoughts about that damned Englishman, Bates. He'd have much rather not accepted charity from him. Nonetheless, O'Reilly had to admit that a wash, a shave, a full belly and clean, if well used, clothes restored some of his normally optimistic lookout on life. Bates emerged from inside and promptly walked over. “Sorry about that, last evening, but highway robbery, O'Reilly, that just won't do, just won't do at all.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Depends, you know, it rather depends on what you are willing to do.”

  “I don't like you English.”

  “I'd gathered, sergeant, but you're stuck with us.”

  “So Colonel Bates? What are you planning?”

  “I need an agent. You aren't associated with the Fenian's or any group like that are you?”

  “No. I am, no was, a professional soldier.”

  “Good.”

  “Simon! Where are you?”, it was Katherine. “I warned you not to – Oh, it's your friend O'Reilly.”

  O'Reilly continued, “I'm not sure about you Sir Simon, how do I know I can trust you?”

/>   “You don't. O'Reilly, let me put it this way, you're damned lucky I was there and acted first. Mrs. Bates would have just blown your head off.” O'Reilly looked at Lady Katherine and saw a blank, hard almost hungry stare pass across her face. He gulped, he'd seen that look before, but never on a woman, he turned to Simon and noticed that he didn't object, indeed the same look flickered across his face as well. O'Reilly shivered, the last time he'd seen that look, its owner was a Prussian officer who would kill a man with as little compunction as he would have had in swatting a fly. He looked back, and the bland expressionless, slightly vacant look of the English upper class had returned to their faces.

  Simon continued, “We've been keeping count and Katherine's tally is higher than mine. She tends to be impatient, while I prefer to use finesse.” He paused and then continued, “So O'Reilly, what's your price?”

  “I want to go home, to Ireland, free. Without a price on my head.”

  “That's a tall order, but is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  Simon offered his hand, and O'Reilly took it, shaking on the deal. “Done. We'll arrange it, but I must warn you it will not be easy. Might take a little time to get it arranged. Go to the servant's entrance and let them know that you're Sir Simon Bates' head groom, They'll find you a place to sleep. We have an errand in town and will be back in a few hours.”

  Katherine looked at Simon, “An errand, dear?”

  “Yes, my love, Dr Moulin. I thought you didn't want me to visit him alone?”

  That was an understatement.

  “I don't want you to visit him at all, Simon. But if you insist, I'm not letting you go alone and make a bigger fool out of yourself than is absolutely necessary.”

  It did not take long to find the good doctor, and they waited in his consulting rooms while he dealt with the morning's clientèle.

  “Entrez,” he finally came to the elegantly dressed English couple who were paging through the ancient copies of L'Moniteur that littered his office. Simon was sure he'd find a copy of his reward notice, but was disappointed. The papers were too old.

  “What is the problem?”

  “I need to ask you about one of your patients, a Marie LeBrun?”

  “I don't discuss my patients with strangers, who are you?”

  “Sir Simon Bates, and my wife Lady Katherine Bates.”

  “And how do you know Mme. LeBrun so well, that you would ask about her health?”

  Simon cleared his throat a little nervously, looked at Katherine and replied, “I'm her English Mi'Lor. She may have told you about me.”

  “Oh,” the doctor paused, “Still, I cannot discuss details with you.”

  “I don't want the details, is she well?”

  “No, she's dying.”

  “Consumption?”

  “Non, a growth, now tell me. Why are you curious about her?”

  “She is an old friend. Can you tell me what will happen to her daughter when she dies? Does Henriette have family to care for her?”

  “No, not really, the war took her cousins, all her family. She'll be a ward of the parish.”

  “Damn.” Given normal French bureaucratic efficiency and especially how much worse it would be in these chaotic times, she'd starve before the parish even knew she needed help.

  Katherine's eye's flashed, signaling her discontent, a danger signal that Simon rarely ignored, “Simon you will not, I will not take.”

  “Katherine, what would you have me do? I owe Marie. In fact you owe Marie as much as I do, if not more, because without her help I'd have never returned from France. I can never repay her for that, but I can help her daughter. Now Dr. Moulin, how long, roughly, does she have?”

  He gave a Gallic shrug of indifference. “It is hard to say. Tomorrow, a few weeks, maybe a few months, but not long.”

  Simon pulled a letter from beneath his coat. “You can read this when we go.” Here again he looked at Katherine who was steadily simmering underneath her outward cultured veneer of calm, “It contains my address and an offer to house Mlle. Henriette LeBrun. It may be useful, when the time comes.” He paused, for he knew what he would say next would deeply upset Katherine. He felt he had no choice, “And, please, send your bills to me. Mme. LeBrun has enough to worry about.”

  Katherine muttered, in English, through clenched teeth, “Simon, please don't embarrass us.”

  “If you can, don't tell her who is paying. Please keep it secret.”

  “Of course, I'll be discreet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get on with my rounds.” The doctor rose and showed them out.

  It did not take Katherine long to let Simon know what her feelings were. He listened without reaction as she explained, in detail, why it was impossible that they should support Mlle. Henriette LeBrun and how outraged she would feel if he tried to support her, and why this was not a good idea, at all. Not now, not ever. When she was done, he replied, “Katherine, believe me, if there were any honorable alternative, I'd use it. However, there really isn't. If I just pay for her, everyone will think she's my natural child. It will ruin her.”

  “You know that if they see you two together, they'll know. She looks so much like Alice.”

  “Not if we adopt her.”

  “No, never. I'm sorry Simon, no.”

  “Yes. I'm serious, Katherine, I really am. She is a lovely, well-mannered child. She will need a family, a governess, a chance.”

  Katherine was silent, lost in her thoughts. Simon continued, “You aren't still jealous of Marie are you? Whatever happened then is not Henriette's fault. If there hadn't been this damned war, Marie would still be married to her Henri, and you'd be pushing me to try for a bishopric.”

  After a moment she said, “Simon, I don't know, I'm not sure I can be a stepmother to her, to give her the care she will need.” Simon squeezed her hand. “I'm not sure I can be a stepfather either, but I don't know anyone else who could do better.”

  Endnotes

  i

  A dress maker.

  ii The 'republican's' were the radical left of the day. Whigs were the liberals, and Tories the conservatives. Don't confuse the Regency usage of republican with either American or Irish Republicans.

  iii Since renamed Milton Street, though the exact location, in Cheapside, is a bit debatable.

  iv The rule of inheritance is if there are no male lines, then the daughter's husband takes the rank. If the line is completely extinct the position reverts to the crown.

  v Juvenal, Who guards the guards themselves?

  vi Local gaol, typically used for minor offenders or holding people in transit to the more serious punishments meted out for serious offenses.