The Legacy of Marshall Cousins

1. TWO YOUNG MEN

1

TWO YOUNG MEN

LYON, FRANCE - MARCH 1712

A boy becomes a man when he learns to fend for himself among his peers.

Laurent de la Fleure to Henri d'Arringnon - 1694

Laurent de la Fleure spent many hours in his library room checking the accounts, perusing the news, contemplating civic papers, pondering upon the idiocy of men, debating and plotting the appropriate course of action for both important and trivial issues, reading books, and sipping brandy behind the closed door. He liked the plain white ceiling, the oak cabinet with carved doors, the maps of the world and of France on the wall, and the high bookshelves full of leather-bound volumes, but he did not like to wait for his son. Laurent had summoned Antoine half an hour ago - where was the young reprobate?

Two years ago, Laurent had recognized that Marguerite, bless her heart, most excellent wife and mother, doted on Antoine and spoiled him beyond reason while the young man took shameless advantage of her devotion. “If he continues to hide behind a skirt, he will never become a self-reliant and judicious man,“ Laurent had explained to his wife. He brutally overruled her loud objections, cut the apron strings, and sent Antoine to military school for a taste of independence and acquisition of life experience. The young ruffian's education in military school had forged his self-reliance and now Antoine's arrogance and disrespect for authority caused disorder in the household. Antoine could do nothing wrong in Marguerite's eyes, but Laurent begged to differ. This difference of opinions caused more and more heated arguments between Laurent and Antoine, between Laurent and Marguerite, and set a bad example for Raoul…

Laurent's annoyance mounted. Just how long does it take for a young man to traverse their residence?! Laurent had lost his temper yesterday, when Marguerite had eloquently expressed her contrary opinion about their son's imminent departure to fencing school. In retrospect, perhaps he should have mentioned his plans to his wife before arranging for Antoine's immediate future…

The door opened and the defiant young man finally marched inside. “Father. You sent for me?”

Laurent silently regarded his seventeen-year-old son, and once again, recognized himself at that age. God only knows if he was just as much of a trial to his own father. He waited till Antoine exhibited signs of impatience.

“I arranged for you to attend the fencing school in Montpellier.”

“Why?!” his son yapped. “Pardon me, father, with all respect, but what will I learn there that you have not taught me?”

“You might benefit from extended exposure to different styles of fencing. I trust you will grace the fencing school with your illustrious presence longer than your embarrassingly brief sojourn in military school.”

“Yes, father,” Antoine answered through clenched teeth, although he managed to maintain a relatively civil tone despite the rather obvious resentment and defiance simmering under the surface. “May I ask, father, when are you planning to ship me out into this, this… glorified exile?”

Laurent slowly exhaled. Any questions phrased in this form inevitably lead to arguments, and each of these arguments was followed by an unpleasant discussion with Marguerite, frequently culminating in a night in the library for Laurent. Definitely, a hundred miles between himself and his beloved son would bring harmony and order to the household.

“We are leaving the day after tomorrow. I trust this is enough time to arrange your important affairs in order?”

“Yes, father.” The fury raged in his gray eyes, but his face maintained a mask of indifference.

Montpellier, France - April 1712

Laurent de la Fleure and Francis de Brangelton abandoned their elder sons to the tune of exuberant celebration and retired to Laurent's lodgings for a dignified dinner of roasted lamb to celebrate the occasion of establishing a distant, although probably very temporary, residence for their beloved heirs.

“What happened in military school to the elder son of the famous, respected, legendary, etc, former Lieutenant of His Majesty's Musketeers?” de Brangelton asked after a second large glass of excellent burgundy wine.

Laurent refilled the glasses. “After four months, my arrogant son was bored stiff and began to question the wisdom and expertise of every military leader until he was advised to refrain from expressing his opinions. He paid no attention to the warning, and it was not long before the headmaster sent me a formal request to remove my precious son from their care… What is so amusing?”

“Were you any different at his age?”

“Imagine my surprise when I met Antoine on the road, three days travel behind him, at his tender age of sixteen.” He attempted to smother his pride, but it crept into his voice. “His teachers' forbearance ended sooner than I expected, and they locked him up in his own room. He packed his belongings, climbed out of the window, and saddled his horse in the darkness of the night. Before he escaped, though, he shot the lock on his door off to make his point.”

“Commendable,” de Brangelton said, lifting his goblet in a toast. “Henri lasted only a couple of weeks in military school.”

“You don't say. A de Brangelton in military school? I pity the school officials. How did that absurdity happen?”

“Watch your words. It was Henrietta's idea. I could not stop laughing long enough to object, and so off he went. After a week, Henri compared the tedium of military school routine to a monastery, and announced that a monastery could be more entertaining and useful if the monastery was located close to a nunnery and the monks were teaching him the skills of making liquor. Since he delivered his tirade within the hearing range of the honorable headmaster, feathers ruffled and tempers flared. The headmaster threatened to have Henri whipped, so, in response, Henri took a hostage.”

“And you nurture the delusion that your son is reasonable?”

“My son made very reasonable demands, namely, for the headmaster to expel him and, of course, promise that there would be no retribution. The poor excuse for a headmaster had to oblige since the hostage with a knife to his throat fainted. Then my son composed a letter detailing unreasonable actions by the aforementioned headmaster. Henri concluded his epistle by asking if he should head home, or if I would visit and, I quote, 'talk some sense into this buffoon of a headmaster.' Stop laughing.”

“Like father, like son.”

“I went to retrieve my son. That enterprise involved forcibly prying him away from the passionate embraces of a well-endowed nymph. I brought him along on a minor business of mine, and assigned him for the lookout one evening. This rooster of mine was distracted by a swaying skirt below a tight corset. He abandoned his post to follow her! So I followed my young buck, restrained him, and choked off the air to his lungs till he passed out. I also nicked his skin with a knife for good measure. When Henri regained his consciousness, I lectured him that, first and foremost, he must pay attention to business and not rely on his father, or mother, or maybe his younger sister to save his life each and every time his groin overrules his mind. When I mentioned his sister, he swore at me. Next time my boy stands guard, he hopefully will not notice a naked Venus sauntering by. I pray he learned the lesson for life.”

“And yet, you are wasting money for the fencing school.” Laurent left the question hanging.

“Ah, yes. Henri's brazen womanizing did cause mayhem at the de Paulet's household …”

Montpellier was first populated by Romans. Later on it became an important center of commerce and learning: The University welcomed the scholars from all over the known world since the fourteenth century; the pilgrims on the way to Santiago de Compostela traveled through; and even if the port had dried up, the scholarly reputation would have remained and the legacy of striving commercial and trading glory would linger. The long history, a mix of cultures and influences, prevalence of commerce, a military garrison at the Citadel, and a sizable student population made Montpellier a colorful, clamorous, multi-faceted town, as well as a perfect place for Henri and Antoine to relish their independence. Their fathers, in their infinite wisdom and zealous quest to unburden themselves of their heirs' troublesome presence, allowed Henri and Antoine the freedom to handle their own finances. Certainly not coincidently, the allowances were for the same amount.

In their search for suitable lodgings, Henri and Antoine concluded that there was no reason to stay in a respectable, boring, and outrageously expensive neighborhood populated by Montpellier's noble families and conceited pampered classmates. They had found a boarding house in the University's district, where the other occupants were either students or junior officers, and the atmosphere was boisterous and carefree. Henri and Antoine rented an excellent set of rooms consisting of two separate private rooms with a common sitting room and bath closet. This arrangement also set aside even more funds for entertainment. In a short time, Henri and Antoine were pleasantly surprised to discover that the fencing school prided itself on providing exposure to fighting techniques from other parts of the world – they learned to handle a scimitar and practiced with cutlasses and sabers. Antoine landed himself in an affair with the young wife of a pompous Law Professor at the university while Henri acquainted himself with every good-looking young woman in town. All in all, the two young men happily settled in Montpellier.

Henri arrived at the Promenade de Peyrou with a quarter of hour to spare before Bernadette's appointed time. Due to her scatterbrained disregard for punctuality, it meant he had half an hour to spare. He leaned on the parapet next to Antoine and they contemplated the crooked city streets below and the hazy skies above.

“A music recital!” Antoine voiced a complaint. “She wants me to attend a music recital with her because she thinks all noblemen must patronize music. Yesterday she persisted in asking my opinion on a pair of new gloves because I will have to pull them off. The other day, she wanted me to pick out ribbons for her because that's what lovers do. I am absolutely fed up with her demands.”

“And with her bed?” Henri inquired.

Antoine slapped Henri with a hat. “Why do women insist on being so high maintenance after only a month of dalliance?”

“Will you ever figure out how to treat a woman right? Just play along with her little whims.”

Antoine shrugged his shoulders. “Why should I dance to her capricious tune? If I cared to march to orders, I might as well be at home, where my father quite delights in instructing me. Or in military school. He insists that I must understand that I am a member of the de la Fleure family.” Antoine cleared his throat in preparation for his best impression of his father's lecture. “The name of de la Fleure is one of the oldest and most respected in Lyon. We have the responsibility to promote civic prosperity in our town, as we always have. Your lack of interest and your ignorance appall and mortify me.” He switched to his normal voice. “I was happy when my father consigned me to Montpellier and thus removed me from his overbearing presence. Now I find myself an object to other sermons. She complains -”

Fortunately for me, Henri thought as Antoine kept talking, there are no worthwhile civic activities in Ferrand for my father to involve himself into. He never bothers to discuss his plans and aspirations. No, he drops everyone into situations with only one course of action, such as exiling me to this fencing school. Why not marry Charlotte to Simon de Paulet instead and unload her into that family? Because no reasonable person can deal with the de Brangelton girl, that's why.

“…she presumes I exist solely for her pleasure,” Antoine concluded his monologue.

“Next time my family visits, ask my sister to assist you in your love affairs,” Henri said. “No woman will speak to you after such a disaster.”

Antoine adjusted his cuff lace. “Would you care to elaborate?”

”Do you remember the de Paulet sisters? Henrietta is a year older than me. Eliza is a year younger. I rather like Henrietta; she has a nice, full figure. To curb the temptation and to avoid suspicion, I paid as much attention to Eliza. She's no hag, by any means. She has pretty eyes…”

Antoine closed his mouth.

“…and neither Henrietta nor Eliza suspected my gallant address to the other, until one fateful day, when Mme. Constance announced that she expected Jean- Louis to marry Charlotte. My sister proposed to marry one of de Paulet sisters to me instead. Both Henrietta and Eliza were excited at that ridiculous idea.”

Antoine regained the faculty of speech. “What did happen between you and… both sisters?”

“Nothing more than few kisses with either one,” Henri admitted, choosing to withhold that such a situation was not for his lack of efforts or desire. In hindsight, he suspected that Charlotte warned them about his duplicity “I raised hell with Wildcat for landing me in such a predicament, and lo and behold, Charlotte made the sisters aware of my duplicity and rallied both of the de Paulet brothers to blacken my character. My devil sire cast me away till Henrietta and Eliza are married off, and neither one to me.”

Antoine slapped him on the back. “Count your blessings!”