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

24 November 1023, L’Isle du Grand-Blaireau

Amelia,

Much has changed here on the island since I first saw it two months ago. The public spaces on Joyeux are largely finished and ready for use, and we have completed and furnished two guest rooms on the second sloop, the Marguerite—which, like Joyeux, is not at all the name she bore in Le Maréchal’s service. I am unsure as to why His Napes chose that name, but judging from M. Henricot’s smirks I presume that your brother’s puckish sense of humor is in play.

The first time Jack brought me here he had to back the caravan up to the bridge that leads from the bank to the Joyeux. It was a cumbersome and difficult maneuver, with great potential for disaster. We have now built a sort of dock on the river bank: a wooden platform high enough from the ground that the caravan can simply be positioned next to it, and connecting to one end of the bridge. Mr. Tuppenny’s men have added a second door in the middle of one side of the caravan, and now our passengers can simply step on to the dock and then proceed into the inn.

There have a been a few changes made for the comfort of the staff as well. The old bath house has been refurbished and extended, and our quarters have been connected to it and two the sloops via a board walk. We will share the bath house with our guests, of course, but it now has a private area just for us. Jack plans to have a number of walking paths built and marked with stones once spring comes; as it is, snow will soon cover all.

John has been here for almost two weeks since I last wrote you, and I have only seen him once since the day he arrived—though I am sure he has asked to see me many more times than that. It is astonishing to me how carefully my brother is being managed; Mr. Tuppenny is leaving nothing to chance. In this instance, His Napes and I received an invitation to tea at the Tuppenny’s house, with an inscription that Mr. John Gamble would also be in attendance.

The two of us left in good time, riding not in the caravan but in a much smaller vehicle His Napes calls a sky-chair. It is enclosed like the caravan but has only two seats with a small place behind for packages. We now have two of these, as we must have a way on and off the island in case of emergency; it wouldn’t do to rely solely on the caravan. I have not yet learned to operate one, but His Napes tells me I must, “for your own safety, darlin’.”

Mr. Tuppenny greeted us at the door and escorted us into the parlor, a comfortable space as different from a Yorke drawing room as can be imagined. Just as tidy and well cared for, mind you, but very much the place where your cousin’s family spends time together. Your nieces were much in evidence, though not present in body; but only Amelie and, looking rather sad, my brother.

Amelie greeted me warmly and then left the room, saying, “And now I shall fetch the tea, n’est-ce pas?“, while your cousin said, “Jack, can you step into my workroom for a moment? I have an idea for you.” It could not have been plainer that John and I were being given time alone together.

I went and embraced him, and we sat side by side.

“It’s good to see you, John,” I said, and then, judging that I should retain the initiative, “How do you like your new house? Have you started working on anything interesting?”

He brightened immediately, and started telling me about two projects he and Master Luc have begun working on. I asked many questions, for John’s projects, however ill-fated, are always interesting. But I mustn’t write of them further, for your cousin has asked me not to. “Not until we decide whether we can make use of them,” he told me.

But in time John’s face fell again. “But it isn’t the same without you, Cathy. You know how I think. I have a lad helping me now, young Renaud, but he’s not fit for much but fetching things and handing me tools. He can’t read my writing, and when I try talking things over with him all he says is, ‘Oui, Monsieur’.”

“Give him time,” I said. “He’ll catch on.”

John just shook his head, and looked away. “Cathy, they say I mustn’t—” he began; and at just that moment Amelie returned with a tea tray followed moments later by Mr. Tuppenny and His Napes.

“Bon!” said Amelie, setting down the tray. “Now we are ready.”

And then we had a pleasant tea, though again, very different from what one might have had in Yorke. We spoke about the on-going work on the island, and our plans for welcoming guests.

“There are a few rough edges, I am sure,” said Jack, “but I believe at last we are ready for a guest or two. And we are certainly ready to open the bar parlor of an evening.”

“I am glad of it,” said your cousin. “Mr. Suprenant and his wife are coming to see me in a few days, and I should like you to put them up for a night or two.”

“We’ll do them proud,” said Jack, “and gladly. Leon was a good friend to me during my time in Mont-Havre.”

And very shortly thereafter I embraced my brother once again, and His Napes and I flew off to the Sloops in great contentment.

The whole affair was arranged for my comfort, which I’ve been wondering at a little since. John is the one who might profit Tuppenny Wagons, not I, and yet Amelie has shown me constant and steadfast friendship since I arrived, and long before I had done anything to deserve it. Even your cousin has been markedly warmer towards me since I began working with your brother.

I do not see why they should be so protective of me. But I am grateful for it, Amelia. And I am grateful to you also. I cursed you many times on the journey here to Armorica, and many more times in the deep of the night during my first month here, but now I see that you have done me nothing but good.

Thank you. I hope I may repay it in time.

Cathy

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