Read Online The Plight of the Darcy Brothers by Marsha Altman - Free Book Online
Authors: Marsha Altman
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would take them to France. They waved, and between their son's skin hue and Bingley's red hair, they could get a good view of their beloved family until the London smog blocked their vision.
“Five shillings says we return and they're all blue,” Darcy said.
“Red,” his wife said. “I'll put five shillings on red.”
As London disappeared behind them, they shook on it.
THE ACCOUNT IN QUESTION
THE TRIP TO THE Continent—the physical landmass that was the continent of Europe—was mercifully short, with their arrival in Calais coming shortly before nightfall. Elizabeth was shocked to discover that the people on the other side of the Channel looked much the same as she did, at least in that major port town, and spoke English and were English—either stationed soldiers or English gentlemen fleeing their debts for the financial refuge Calais' laws offered.
“Did you expect them all to have green skin?” Darcy said, watching her face.
“No, we would have to be in Derbyshire for that.”
But this was not Derbyshire, or even London. It was Calais, a bustling but war-torn city. The streets and buildings were in disrepair, and even the best hotel was below Darcy's reasonable but meticulous standards.
It was terribly hard to procure a carriage to take them to Valognes, in Normandy. The roads were not clear, though the Darcys would have more to risk from the mud than from theFrench soldiers fighting counterrevolutionaries in the countryside. Darcy finally arranged for their travel. “We have to go west anyway. If the Hôtel des Capuchins is still under the same owner and has not been let, then there will be people I know there to aid us,” he said, and took her hand.
The trip to Normandy was uneventful. The roads were bad, but not at their worst (or so their driver said), and the land was quiet, its people exhausted by three decades of political and social turmoil. Elizabeth spent most of the trip watching the French countryside go by, while Darcy kept his head in a book of French phrases. “Don't worry, my dear. You will be quite sick of the countryside by the end of this and will not miss it one bit.”
“Perhaps our trip back will be more leisurely.”
“Perhaps.”
He had sent his card ahead, so there was some reception at the ancient manor that was now Hôtel des Capuchins. The stone building had once been a modest noble estate but had since fallen into a state of some disrepair. The man who greeted them was a soldier, probably a colonel, who seemed to be in his mid-thirties. “Mr. Darcy. And I assume, Mrs. Darcy.” He had a smile and a vaguely southern English accent. He was quickly joined by a modestly dressed woman with a young child at her side; there were bows and curtseys all around. “Mrs. Darcy, I am Colonel Audley, and this is my wife, Mrs. Audley, and my son, Robert.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Elizabeth said.
“It is good to see you again, though our stay will be brief, as we have pressing business in the south,” Darcy said. “Is that old room where I used to stay still intact? The one that contained some family artifacts?”
“Of course, though I would say it's too small for you now,” the soldier said with a wink. “We have done some personal renovations, but not in that part of the house, and we would never throw anything out without inquiring first. I believe your father was here some years ago.”
“Yes I do recall he made a trip to France before he passed on.”
“I heard about that. My condolences, Mr. Darcy.”
“It is the way of things.”
They were welcomed in and found a quiet sort of charm about the wing that was in use. After the Darcys were served refreshments, Colonel Audley gave them a tour of the manor, pointing out many pictures and items he admitted being unable to identify, but that probably had belonged to the d'Arcy family. The Darcys were then released, shown suitable quarters, and told that dinner would be at six. The colonel's wife was French,
“Five shillings says we return and they're all blue,” Darcy said.
“Red,” his wife said. “I'll put five shillings on red.”
As London disappeared behind them, they shook on it.
THE ACCOUNT IN QUESTION
THE TRIP TO THE Continent—the physical landmass that was the continent of Europe—was mercifully short, with their arrival in Calais coming shortly before nightfall. Elizabeth was shocked to discover that the people on the other side of the Channel looked much the same as she did, at least in that major port town, and spoke English and were English—either stationed soldiers or English gentlemen fleeing their debts for the financial refuge Calais' laws offered.
“Did you expect them all to have green skin?” Darcy said, watching her face.
“No, we would have to be in Derbyshire for that.”
But this was not Derbyshire, or even London. It was Calais, a bustling but war-torn city. The streets and buildings were in disrepair, and even the best hotel was below Darcy's reasonable but meticulous standards.
It was terribly hard to procure a carriage to take them to Valognes, in Normandy. The roads were not clear, though the Darcys would have more to risk from the mud than from theFrench soldiers fighting counterrevolutionaries in the countryside. Darcy finally arranged for their travel. “We have to go west anyway. If the Hôtel des Capuchins is still under the same owner and has not been let, then there will be people I know there to aid us,” he said, and took her hand.
The trip to Normandy was uneventful. The roads were bad, but not at their worst (or so their driver said), and the land was quiet, its people exhausted by three decades of political and social turmoil. Elizabeth spent most of the trip watching the French countryside go by, while Darcy kept his head in a book of French phrases. “Don't worry, my dear. You will be quite sick of the countryside by the end of this and will not miss it one bit.”
“Perhaps our trip back will be more leisurely.”
“Perhaps.”
He had sent his card ahead, so there was some reception at the ancient manor that was now Hôtel des Capuchins. The stone building had once been a modest noble estate but had since fallen into a state of some disrepair. The man who greeted them was a soldier, probably a colonel, who seemed to be in his mid-thirties. “Mr. Darcy. And I assume, Mrs. Darcy.” He had a smile and a vaguely southern English accent. He was quickly joined by a modestly dressed woman with a young child at her side; there were bows and curtseys all around. “Mrs. Darcy, I am Colonel Audley, and this is my wife, Mrs. Audley, and my son, Robert.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Elizabeth said.
“It is good to see you again, though our stay will be brief, as we have pressing business in the south,” Darcy said. “Is that old room where I used to stay still intact? The one that contained some family artifacts?”
“Of course, though I would say it's too small for you now,” the soldier said with a wink. “We have done some personal renovations, but not in that part of the house, and we would never throw anything out without inquiring first. I believe your father was here some years ago.”
“Yes I do recall he made a trip to France before he passed on.”
“I heard about that. My condolences, Mr. Darcy.”
“It is the way of things.”
They were welcomed in and found a quiet sort of charm about the wing that was in use. After the Darcys were served refreshments, Colonel Audley gave them a tour of the manor, pointing out many pictures and items he admitted being unable to identify, but that probably had belonged to the d'Arcy family. The Darcys were then released, shown suitable quarters, and told that dinner would be at six. The colonel's wife was French,
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