A reflection on September - JD writes home
Dec 14, 2019 14:39:55 GMT
Monique Adelina De'Ath likes this
Post by Jacques D'Mestos on Dec 14, 2019 14:39:55 GMT
Jacques sat in the dwindling light, replete from his exertions with Angnes and the food she had brought with her, nothing left but the smell of garlic and the faintest lingering of her pomander in the air. That morning Georges had brought him the letter from his family, the first word in these several months that he had had from Normandy and he had left the letter to read this evening on his own.
My son,
I have not heard from you since you left for Paris and informed us of your address. Your mother and your brothers have been concerned that you are not laying dead in a ditch somewhere. We have all heard the talk of the "demon Doctor" who by all accounts has cold blooded murder on his hands and will no doubt be dancing a jig on the rope at some point by the time that this letter reaches you. I trust that you have not managed to get yourself mixed up in that affair - I know all too well of your ability to somehow entangle yourself in matters you neither comprehend nor foresee their conclusions. I have once again enclosed a draft of livres that I am told by those merchants who frequent Paris is more than generous. Know that this money one day will stop arriving and I council you to make your own way in the world and do not count on my always being here to bail you out. Anyway, your mother wishes to include some words of her own so I shall sign off here.
Your Father,
Humphrey Augustine D'Mestos.
My darling youngest son,
I have been worried sick and can barely eat a morsel but think you have been beset by some tragedy that has prevented you writing to your dearest mama. Your father says I am too soft and that his business contacts have confirmed that you are well and living the life of a wastrel but I cannot imagine my Jacques to be so unfeeling and unkind. You will remember Lucie? the pretty kitchen maid? The blonde one? Well we have had to let her go as it seems she has got herself with child and she an unmarried girl of only 17 or 18. Such a shameful sin and one which I cannot help feel she will burn in hell for. Cook says that she likely will be due sometime in the next four months, but we have no clue as to who the father may be. I know Fr Mattieu would like to speak to the devil responsible and put some pressure on him to do the right thing, he gave a sermon last week on the topic. All the neighbours were staring at us as if we were to blame! I don't suppose you ever saw her with anyone? I shall pray for her and for you my son. Are you still going to church? Your father says I must stop writing now else we shall miss the rider.
All my love,
Maman.
Hmm. Not good. He'd have to write a reply and be quick about it. If he didn't his father may stop sending his allowance and he needed that money right now. Since Georges had made himself scarce when Angnes had arrived and likely wouldn't be back till morning he got up and found his writing equipment and while he was at it tested whether any of the dozen bottles or so on top of the table held any liquid. Finding one with a bare mouthful or so he swigged it and sat back down in his chair ready to begin.
My dearest family,
Thank you for your letter of concern last week. It arrived this morning and I have taken some time to respond to you. It has been a busy few months here in Paris and one simply doesn't have the time to remember petty provincial matters when one is caught up in the social scene here I'm afraid.
To my father I will say no, I was not involved with the drama involving Dr Spaghetti save offering to be his second at the duel where the opponent didn't turn up. I can say that the fellow was quite bizarre, before the date he seemed quite skittish and afraid and went so far as to tell me he would not be attending the duel and gave me a note to give to his opponent saying he was ill. Of course when the date arrived I was ready to pass said note on, but the Doctor turned up quite calm and confident and the opponent, well, didn't. Anyway, as you know he got arrested in some ghastly burglary gone wrong and while awaiting trial topped himself. Goodness only knows what was going on inside his noggin. I can only assume that the Physician General or whatever will slice him open and see if there's something wrong in there.
To my mother I will say of course I remember Lucie with the blonde hair and the smile and the full lips and soft hands and firm and large...
He paused. Maybe that wasn't quite what he should be writing in light of the revelations in his mothers letter. He crossed it out so as to make it utterly illegible.
To my mother I will say I vaguely recollect Lucie but cannot think to have seen her with anyone. I agree it is very shocking and I shall pray for her also. You will be glad to hear I have found a church I like and whose priest gives good sermons. He even went so far as to praise me a month or so back. His name is Fr Lachapelle and is a most Godly and wise man. He has become my confessor and advises me most piously and I shall be speaking with him soon.
Let me tell you a little about my life here, let me tell you about last month. To begin with it was a most dreary month weatherwise and my man Georges had a terrible sniffle but thankfully my hearing was also bad so I didn't have to listen to it too much. I had tried unsuccessfully to join the Picardy Musketeers the previous two months, you would not credit the excuses they gave for not admitting me but last month the army was reorganised and there is now a regiment raised primarily from Normandy. Of course as soon as I heard I leapt at the chance to serve in such an illustrious battalion and was commissioned Captain of the 8th company. My men are a tough and base group of humanity but I'm sure when our time comes they will show their mettle and do our Province proud. I cannot say that Angnes is particularly taken with the uniform it is quite plain and she has told me it is a little too loose in places but I'll get that sorted out. Besides, I don't plan on staying a Captain very long. Our Major is quite old and I feel with some encouragement he might feel that retirement is a much better prospect than a cold Flanders field.
The first two weeks of the month I spent in holy reflection and study, first at Fr Lachapelle's parish and then to hear another priest, Fr La Basse speak. He isn't really in the same calibre as Fr Lachapelle but he did alright, exhorting us to exhibit good citizenship in this life to guarantee paradise in the next. Pretty ordinary stuff frankly. The third and fourth weeks we went to some memorial events for the lads lost at the front during the campaign season. Several regiments have taken a bit of a battering, mainly due to poor tactics and generalship it seems to me but still, that hardly should detract us from a good drink in honour of their sacrifice. The first event was quite quiet sadly, organised and paid for by a recently knighted Chevalier no less. It was OK, the wine was good and the company reserved but could have done with a few more bodies. To be honest I think he expected more to turn up than actually did but I have to say he was really good about it and spent quite a bit of time talking to me about the realities of front line service and was not at all uppity about the discrepancy in our ranks. A true gentleman.
The second memorial was better attended but sadly the same cannot be said for this host. A member of the Dragoon Guards, he's a captain just like me but God is he a snob. Wouldn't even talk to me despite inviting us to the party in the first place. I think it's probably that his military knowledge is shall we say limited and that he's more an "artistic" type and you know how I feel about all that. What's worse though is that then he had the bloody cheek to do a runner when the time came to settle the bill. You'd think that if you're going to organise an event then you'd have the tin to pay for it, but apparently that's not how Captain Azur works. Let me tell you that the wine from Hunters is not so fine that they can charge what they charge. Still, it was a nice enough event and I did get to speak to a few people there.
Alas, as you can see I'm at the end of the page and I have no more room to write another word.
I will write again soon, your loving son and brother,
Jacques.
My son,
I have not heard from you since you left for Paris and informed us of your address. Your mother and your brothers have been concerned that you are not laying dead in a ditch somewhere. We have all heard the talk of the "demon Doctor" who by all accounts has cold blooded murder on his hands and will no doubt be dancing a jig on the rope at some point by the time that this letter reaches you. I trust that you have not managed to get yourself mixed up in that affair - I know all too well of your ability to somehow entangle yourself in matters you neither comprehend nor foresee their conclusions. I have once again enclosed a draft of livres that I am told by those merchants who frequent Paris is more than generous. Know that this money one day will stop arriving and I council you to make your own way in the world and do not count on my always being here to bail you out. Anyway, your mother wishes to include some words of her own so I shall sign off here.
Your Father,
Humphrey Augustine D'Mestos.
My darling youngest son,
I have been worried sick and can barely eat a morsel but think you have been beset by some tragedy that has prevented you writing to your dearest mama. Your father says I am too soft and that his business contacts have confirmed that you are well and living the life of a wastrel but I cannot imagine my Jacques to be so unfeeling and unkind. You will remember Lucie? the pretty kitchen maid? The blonde one? Well we have had to let her go as it seems she has got herself with child and she an unmarried girl of only 17 or 18. Such a shameful sin and one which I cannot help feel she will burn in hell for. Cook says that she likely will be due sometime in the next four months, but we have no clue as to who the father may be. I know Fr Mattieu would like to speak to the devil responsible and put some pressure on him to do the right thing, he gave a sermon last week on the topic. All the neighbours were staring at us as if we were to blame! I don't suppose you ever saw her with anyone? I shall pray for her and for you my son. Are you still going to church? Your father says I must stop writing now else we shall miss the rider.
All my love,
Maman.
Hmm. Not good. He'd have to write a reply and be quick about it. If he didn't his father may stop sending his allowance and he needed that money right now. Since Georges had made himself scarce when Angnes had arrived and likely wouldn't be back till morning he got up and found his writing equipment and while he was at it tested whether any of the dozen bottles or so on top of the table held any liquid. Finding one with a bare mouthful or so he swigged it and sat back down in his chair ready to begin.
My dearest family,
Thank you for your letter of concern last week. It arrived this morning and I have taken some time to respond to you. It has been a busy few months here in Paris and one simply doesn't have the time to remember petty provincial matters when one is caught up in the social scene here I'm afraid.
To my father I will say no, I was not involved with the drama involving Dr Spaghetti save offering to be his second at the duel where the opponent didn't turn up. I can say that the fellow was quite bizarre, before the date he seemed quite skittish and afraid and went so far as to tell me he would not be attending the duel and gave me a note to give to his opponent saying he was ill. Of course when the date arrived I was ready to pass said note on, but the Doctor turned up quite calm and confident and the opponent, well, didn't. Anyway, as you know he got arrested in some ghastly burglary gone wrong and while awaiting trial topped himself. Goodness only knows what was going on inside his noggin. I can only assume that the Physician General or whatever will slice him open and see if there's something wrong in there.
To my mother I will say of course I remember Lucie with the blonde hair and the smile and the full lips and soft hands and firm and large...
He paused. Maybe that wasn't quite what he should be writing in light of the revelations in his mothers letter. He crossed it out so as to make it utterly illegible.
To my mother I will say I vaguely recollect Lucie but cannot think to have seen her with anyone. I agree it is very shocking and I shall pray for her also. You will be glad to hear I have found a church I like and whose priest gives good sermons. He even went so far as to praise me a month or so back. His name is Fr Lachapelle and is a most Godly and wise man. He has become my confessor and advises me most piously and I shall be speaking with him soon.
Let me tell you a little about my life here, let me tell you about last month. To begin with it was a most dreary month weatherwise and my man Georges had a terrible sniffle but thankfully my hearing was also bad so I didn't have to listen to it too much. I had tried unsuccessfully to join the Picardy Musketeers the previous two months, you would not credit the excuses they gave for not admitting me but last month the army was reorganised and there is now a regiment raised primarily from Normandy. Of course as soon as I heard I leapt at the chance to serve in such an illustrious battalion and was commissioned Captain of the 8th company. My men are a tough and base group of humanity but I'm sure when our time comes they will show their mettle and do our Province proud. I cannot say that Angnes is particularly taken with the uniform it is quite plain and she has told me it is a little too loose in places but I'll get that sorted out. Besides, I don't plan on staying a Captain very long. Our Major is quite old and I feel with some encouragement he might feel that retirement is a much better prospect than a cold Flanders field.
The first two weeks of the month I spent in holy reflection and study, first at Fr Lachapelle's parish and then to hear another priest, Fr La Basse speak. He isn't really in the same calibre as Fr Lachapelle but he did alright, exhorting us to exhibit good citizenship in this life to guarantee paradise in the next. Pretty ordinary stuff frankly. The third and fourth weeks we went to some memorial events for the lads lost at the front during the campaign season. Several regiments have taken a bit of a battering, mainly due to poor tactics and generalship it seems to me but still, that hardly should detract us from a good drink in honour of their sacrifice. The first event was quite quiet sadly, organised and paid for by a recently knighted Chevalier no less. It was OK, the wine was good and the company reserved but could have done with a few more bodies. To be honest I think he expected more to turn up than actually did but I have to say he was really good about it and spent quite a bit of time talking to me about the realities of front line service and was not at all uppity about the discrepancy in our ranks. A true gentleman.
The second memorial was better attended but sadly the same cannot be said for this host. A member of the Dragoon Guards, he's a captain just like me but God is he a snob. Wouldn't even talk to me despite inviting us to the party in the first place. I think it's probably that his military knowledge is shall we say limited and that he's more an "artistic" type and you know how I feel about all that. What's worse though is that then he had the bloody cheek to do a runner when the time came to settle the bill. You'd think that if you're going to organise an event then you'd have the tin to pay for it, but apparently that's not how Captain Azur works. Let me tell you that the wine from Hunters is not so fine that they can charge what they charge. Still, it was a nice enough event and I did get to speak to a few people there.
Alas, as you can see I'm at the end of the page and I have no more room to write another word.
I will write again soon, your loving son and brother,
Jacques.