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

15 September 1023, Bois-de-Bas, Armorica

Amelia,

Three days ago I was welcomed to Bois-de-Bas in a manner I am not yet comfortable with. I was sitting on the porch of the Grier’s house after breakfast, enjoying the sunshine and wondering what to do with myself, when a woman I did not know drove up in a floating pony cart.

“Mlle. Gamble?” she said.

“Yes, I am Cathy Gamble,” I said, rising to my feet.

“Bon! And I am Elise Frontenac. Mme. Tuppenny has sent me to collect you.”

Somehow I found myself climbing onto the seat beside her.

“Has she? For what purpose?”

“Zut alors, is it not Sonnedi? And it is not good for you to sit all alone, you know. It is time for you to meet the women of Bois-de-Bas.”

“It is?” I felt stupid and bewildered, feelings I have always hated.

“Mais oui!“

“Very well. And—”

“And you wish to know many things. Premièrement, Amelie and I are dear friends. Marc and I came to Armorica on the Lombard with M. Tuppenny, and Marc is a partner in the wagonworks.”

“I see. My brother is an old friend of M. Archer, who married M. Tuppenny’s cousin.”

“I know it well!”

She continued to chatter about her husband and your cousin, which I shan’t bother to repeat as I expect you’ve heard it all from him, and then we stopped near the village church.

“We are going to church?”

“Is it not Sonnedi? And Marc is in Mont-Havre, so I shall be glad to have you by me.”

I know you have converted to the Old Religion, Amelia, so you will understand how strange it was to me: in Provençese rather than Cumbrian, in a dim church of wood rather than stone, and with bells and sweet smelling smoke, so different from the vicar’s austere services in Nexing Cross. I did not know the responses nor did I understand the prayers, so I sat mute. Truly, I must learn Provençese! But despite my many misgivings, I felt a peace I had not felt on the sunny porch.

After the service she led me out, introducing me to the priest, Père Chambord, in passing. He smiled at me and welcomed me to Bois-de-Bois. “I am new to Bois-de-Bas myself,” he said in accented but excellent Cumbrian.

Mme. Frontenac took me by the arm and led me to a trestle table on the green, where we sat and had Sunday dinner with the Tuppennys and a great many of their neighbors. Amelie greeted me cheerfully, while Armand nodded at me with an odd expression on his face. However, he said nothing.

I enjoyed my meal, which was simple but good, letting the many names fly past me. It is hard for one who has led a retired life to be confronted by so many names at once!

And then it was back to the cart. But instead of turning toward the Griers, as I expected, M. Frontenac took the road north, following a great many carts and folk on foot.

“Where are we going?” I said in surprise, and she beamed at me.

“The hot springs,” she said. “You will see.”

And then followed a ritual I expect you have heard about, but which was nearly outside of enough.

We followed the throng to a field where we left the cart, and then into, of all things, a cave, where we separated from the menfolk, going our own way; and thence to a room where I was given a towel and made to remove all of my clothing; and thence to a grotto lit by oil lamps and made to sit on a wooden bench in a pool of hot water surrounded by other women who were similarly attired. I felt once again that I was in a dream. I wanted shrink back and not be seen, but Mme. Frontenac sat me between her and Mme. Tuppenny and made sure to introduce me to all the women in earshot—of whom there were many.

The talk was all in Provençese, with scattered words of Cumbrian, and many cries of “Bonjour, Mlle. Gamble.” Once in a while Mme. Tuppenny or Mme. Frontenac would lean towards me and say, “We are explaining that you are a friend of M. Tuppenny’s cousin, Mme. Archer, come to live here,” or “Mme. Coterie has been quarreling with Mme. Gagnon, and we are putting a stop to it,” and things of this nature.

I found it impossible to respond in words, so I just smiled as best I could and nodded at everyone while wishing to disappear. I am sure I was beet red and not just from the hot water! But in time we were done and I was able to dress; and Mme. Frontenac returned me to the Griers.

I was still unable to speak, but Mme. Frontenac made up the lack.

“Today was just to introduce you to the women of the town,” she said. “Next time we shall bring you into a smaller circle, where we can get to know you.”

“Next time?” I said. I fear I might have squeaked.

“Bien sur!,” she said. “You must find your place among the women of the town, and where better to do so than in the hot springs, where everyone is the same?”

You did not tell me of this when you sent me here, Amelia. I wish to put salt in your tea.

Cathy

Next letter.

____

Photo by Zach Lezniewicz on Unsplash