Dancing for the Marquis (eBook)

Edith M Ziegler (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2019 | 1. Auflage
200 Seiten
Vivid Publishing (Verlag)
978-1-925846-64-5 (ISBN)

Infos

France, 1879. The Marquis de Rays dreams of a utopian colony on a remote tropical island in Oceania north of Australia. He has never been to this place-a rain-drenched wilderness shadowed by mountains. Undaunted, he gathers investors, and hundreds of hopeful European battlers set out for the new world. In northern Italy, a young farmer, Matteo, convinces his wife, Rosa, that they should emigrate. Leaving him behind to sell their smallholding, she embarks with their baby on the Marquis' third expedition. Matteo follows later, only to discover his family are gone, there is no arable land, malaria is rife, and the captain commanding the colony is mad. Will Matteo find his Rosa and baby Angelo among other refugees who have fled to Sydney? And if he does, how will they begin again? The marquis, a historical character, destroyed the lives, hopes, and fortunes of many. In this compelling debut novel, survival and a fresh start may be the best his victims - the investors, adventurers and immigrants - can hope for. Although the novel is set in the nineteenth century, it touches on issues that have resonance in the twenty-first century - financial fraud, a loss of trust in once revered individuals and venerated institutions, refugee policy, and the perennial dreams of 'economic' migrants seeking a better life. In her research for this novel, Ziegler spent time in Conegliano (Italy), Marseille, and Barcelona, absorbing the atmosphere and detail of these places. Her great strength as a novelist is her ability to flesh out historical facts and fragments into a fully developed world inhabited by knowable and relatable characters.

Textauszug

TWO

Charles du Breil de Rays was beaming, and buoyant with self-satisfaction. After the last of those attending the April meeting of the Salon des Œuvres had left, he turned to Léon Roubaud.‘Well, that went off very well.’

‘It couldn’t have been better,’ replied the notary. ‘I’m so glad you came – the crowd was very positive and I don’t think we’ve ever had a speaker who attracted such a favourable response. Émile Sumien told me he’s going to cover the proceedings in Gazette du Midi, so I expect I’ll be getting a lot of follow-up enquiries.’

‘And when I publish La Nouvelle France it will sustain the enthusiasm I’ve created.’

‘Exactly.’

Both men were exhilarated. They sensed they were on the verge of an important endeavour. When they parted, Charles walked back to his hotel in la Canebière. He sniffed the briny air wafting in from the Mediterranean, and imagined the handsome sailing ship he was in the process of buying to carry the first colonists to Port Breton.

Émile Sumien had also left the meeting elated. He had been spellbound by the enthralling speaker, who seemed to embody all the vigour he believed was missing from French life. The marquis had exactly the powerful message that conservative Frenchmen wanted to hear. It was surprising he wasn’t better known. Sumien had already offered to act as editor-in-chief for La Nouvelle France, but now he decided he would become directly and closely involved with its content and production. He was fascinated by the marquis, and curious as to the origin of his colonisation ideas. In fact, Sumien wanted to fathom all the influences that had shaped this man whom he found so extraordinary.

A few nights later, Émile Sumien and Charles met for dinner at the appropriately named and richly appointed Grand Hotel, where the courteous and discreet staff sought to affirm the social superiority of the guests through compliant servility and implicit esteem. The hotel’s restaurant, Le Restaurant Louis XIV, was the most splendid in Marseille, and was lit by twinkling crystal chandeliers, candles in sconces, and tall tapers in gilded candelabra. Ornately framed mirrors covered the walls and multiplied the lighting to an apparent infinity. Intricately carved consoles groaned under domed échauffeurs, silver dishes, and polished cutlery.

A waiter showed the two men to their table, where they sank into fauteuils upholstered in crimson brocade. Émile Sumien was wary of opulence, and found the restaurant rather intimidating. To Charles, who assumed luxury as his due, the restaurant was a wholly appropriate milieu.

Monsieur Sumien was a lean man in his thirties, of average height, and wore a neatly clipped brush of a moustache and a close-cropped beard. His high hairline gave prominence to his dark eyes that were permanently lit with a burning zeal entirely appropriate for someone of such forceful editorial stances and resolute support for conservatism and the Légitimist cause.

The men carefully studied the menu, ordered their meal, and sat back to enjoy aperitifs. Sumien observed that Charles, if not porcine, was indisputably stout, but that this was masterfully disguised by excellent tailoring and the stiffness of his white shirtfront, which gleamed with gold stud fastenings. Was he self-indulgent? Sumien gave him the benefit of the doubt, and decided that the marquis’ weight made him authoritative and imposing rather than fleshy and undisciplined. Sumien was already being seduced by Charles’s geniality; it seemed made for him alone.

Sumien addressed the marquis directly. ‘Although I’m one of your admirers, Monsieur, and we’re planning to work together, I don’t really know much about you, and I was hoping that this evening we could rectify that.’ Afraid this might appear too bold, he qualified his comment hastily. ‘I hope you don’t think me impertinent.’

‘No, of course not. Not at all.’ Charles du Breil never needed much encouragement to talk about himself, though what he disclosed wasn’t necessarily reliable. He was glad to expound on his ancient lineage and rightful privileges.

‘Shall I begin at the beginning?’

Not entirely realising what he was in for, Sumien replied, ‘Oh yes, please do.’ He then lent forward so as not to miss a word. As he did so, he was momentarily distracted by the gleam of one of Charles’s patent leather shoes protruding from under the table. Sumien distrusted foppishness, and was uncomfortable. Was the marquis vain? The shoe was unsettling, but soon forgotten when Charles began to speak in his mesmerising voice.

‘I was born in Lorient in Brittany, where my parents spent several months each year, but for the most part we lived at the Château de Quimerc’h near Bannalec in Finistère – which is where I still reside most of the time with the marquise and our children.’

‘The château – that’s one of Brittany’s historic monuments is it not?’ Sumien was testing a recollection.

‘Hardly! It was erected about fifty years ago and it’s a not particularly distinguished manor house. “Designed without taste, without rules, and architecturally bizarre,” was how the Chevalier de Fréminville described it in his survey of Brittany’s buildings.’

‘Goodness . . .that sounds rather harsh.’ Sumien then paused, ‘But am I right in thinking there was an older château?’

‘There most assuredly was.’ Charles was emphatic, ‘The original château dated back to the fifteenth century, and it was perfectly splendid.’ As he spoke, Charles was conjuring up an image of its conically topped towers and turrets, of parapets and pointed windows, of fortress-like walls and arrow slits. He could picture its moat and drawbridge and portcullis, and its setting in a dense and extensive forest. This older château evoked a feudal age of jousting tournaments, of chivalric honour, of gallant knights, and Christian virtues. For Charles du Breil the past had a material reality.

‘What happened to it then?

Charles answered Sumien with a slight snarl. ‘The Revolution is what happened to it – and the decade of military conflict afterwards, when my grandparents and their children had to flee for their lives to England. They weren’t able to take much with them except the family’s silver. Almost all our possessions, including our ancestral portraits were left behind. The Republican Army appropriated the château and used it as a barracks. The soldiers took no care of it. The floors were splintered from being walked over by men in spurs; the beautiful pier glasses between the dining-room windows were shattered.’

Sumien was properly disgusted. In his mind, the vile disorder of the Revolution had stained the nation’s ethos and damaged its patrimony.

At this point, the soup arrived, and several waiters danced about, busily unfolding fresh white damask napkins and pouring wine. A little later, they returned to carve and serve a roast of beef. When they had finished, Charles savoured his meal with epicurean discernment, and then recommenced his account.

‘When the château no longer suited the army’s purposes, the local commander put it up for sale. All its carved oak boiseries were prised from the walls, and its magnificent furnishings were auctioned off. Even its centuries-old silk and wool tapestries were taken down and sold. They had been specially woven for the du Breils, and depicted falconers and hunting parties in verdant forests with birds and flowers, and were very valuable. Some of our family portraits had been used as target practice. They shot out the eyes of my forebears with pistols for no better reason than malice!’

Sumien inferred that all this vandalism still rankled, but he was slightly puzzled.

‘So it was sold and yet the modern château is in the same place?’

‘Some time after our family returned to France, my father bought back the château from its then owner. It had not only been looted but was in a deplorable condition, and my father had it demolished. Can you credit that? I used to say to my mother, “How could he have done such a wicked thing? Surely the château could have been repaired?” but she told me, “Your father was insistent. He wanted a comfortable, modern home.”’

Charles’s face and tone showed how much he deplored and resented his father’s action. Apparently the single redeeming feature of the new château was its approach – a long allée of venerable beech trees that had miraculously survived the Revolutionary period unscathed.

‘My father died when I was six, and I inherited his title and what remained of his estate. My mother had to raise her six children all by herself, but she was resourceful, and we lacked for nothing. She’s renowned in the Bannalec district for her kindness to the poor, and her support for the Church.’ Then he exclaimed with some emotion, ‘my mother is the most marvellous person, truly blessed, a paragon amongst women.’

Sumien stared intently at Charles as he expressed this reverential...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 11.3.2019
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• ISBN-10: 1-925846-64-4 / 1925846644
• ISBN-13: 978-1-925846-64-5 / 9781925846645