Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.

15 February 1019
Mont-Havre

Dear Journal,

Much though it pains me to attribute ill motives to M. Sabot, I have begun to think that Jack is right to be suspicious, and that there is something underhanded afoot.

I hastened here on the Amelie this morning, leaving at first light, in order to provide Jack the wherewithal to keep body and soul together. I handed him a small packet with no fanfare, no trumpeting of horns, for I know what it cost him to ask for help. For Jack is quite right: I should gladly have him living with us were it not that the provincial life of Bois-de-Bas would send him stark staring mad. Jack needs to be doing, and there is nothing in Bois-de-Bas to which he might set his hand.

Were he a novelist, I suppose Jack might write as well in Bois-de-Bas as anywhere; but he is not, and he needs access to his source material, whether it is the War Records Office or the boulevards of Mont-Havre.

Have provided the necessary succour—and a pie, from Amelie—I made my rounds. I visited M. Fournier, and offered to buy a stake in his new venture with the printer, M. Tetrault; he demurred, but will keep my offer in mind. I paid my respects to His Majesty’s Governor-General—or, rather, to his secretary, for, I was informed, His Lordship was Not In. I got the distinct impression that His Lordship was very rarely In, that so far from regarding his position as a serious duty—but let it pass.

It seems that the office by which Lord Doncaster kept tabs on the colony during his tenure as governor has been allowed to wither; no help is to be found there, not even the help one might expect from a third rate Cumbrian Embassy in the back of beyond.

But Mr. Blankenship, His Lordship’s secretary, was cordial enough, and a few oblique questions were enough to determine that whatever M. Sabot’s activities might involve, they have not come to the attention of the Governor’s office.

His Majesty is honoring his pledge to allow his Armorican subjects to govern themselves, and so I suppose it is unsurprising that his appointee as governor might regard his appointment as the merest sinecure. I pray he might not live to regret it.

Thence I lunched with Leon Suprenant and discussed various matters of business, to our mutual satisfaction; and at his request I tested his younger lads for the talents required by a Former’s apprentice. I am delighted to say that his youngest, Thomas, seems to possess them in abundance, and Leon agreed that Thomas should come to us on his tenth birthday, which is not so far off.

Leon also gave me the names of two députés of Le Grand Parlement with whom he is acquainted, and so after a pleasant stroll in Durand Park while I waited for the members to return from their own luncheons I made bold to speak with them.

I suppose I should have been been building bridges with these men all along, for it can only be to the benefit of Bois-de-Bas and of Tuppenny Wagons to be well in with them.

But today I had a different goal, and after much posing and prosing with M. Poincare, the député for the region that includes Bois-de-Bas I was able to ask about M. Depillage ne Sabot, and his doings.

M. Poincare had little enough to say, though he had heard the name; I suppose a country town and its environs might hold little interest for a Royalist agitator.

Agitator—it is a hard word, and almost I am ashamed to use it; but after speaking with M. Agintour and M. Haribeaux it seems to me be le mot juste. Both were familiar with him and had spoken to him numerous times. Agintour was guarded in both words and demeanor, but Haribeaux spoke candidly enough.

“He wishes to see the Royal line back on the throne of Provençe. He is here seeking support for this goal; and he is not promising titles of nobility to those who support his aims. Not quite.” And here Haribeaux made a motion with his hand, tilting it left and then right. “Depillage has not advocated rebellion against His Cumbrian Majesty, not to me, n’est-ce pas?. But these titles at which he hints: who is to grant them? Not His Cumbrian Majesty, I am sure.

“I would like to call him a madman. Why would we, whose fathers left Provençe when le ancien regime still held sway, wish to return to those days in a land that is ours?” He shrugged massively. “But fools we will always have among us, M. Tuppenny; they are as common as le mort et les impôts. There are some who listen to him.”

When I asked, “Has anyone brought this to the attention of the governor?” M. Haribeaux simply blew out his lips and gave me a look, at which I nodded ruefully.

Nevertheless, tomorrow I will try again to speak with His Majesty’s governor.

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