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

13 September 1024, L’Isle du Grand-Blaireau

My dear sister Amelia!

What joy, to call you sister in truth!

This last month has been a whirlwind, but it is done. His Napes and I have made it through, the Two Sloops has made it through, all Bois-de-Bas has made it through—

—I fear that our wee dram this evening might have been larger than usual. I shall try to write sense.

I am sitting at the table in my new sitting room, in my new home on L’Isle du Grand-Blaireau. His Napes is sitting nearby, writing his own letters. The curtains are drawn, for the sun is down; but if they were open and if there were light, I should be see the wooded hills and valleys far below us, rolling off into the east.

Eloise is on duty at the Two Sloops: light duty, for we—we, that glorious word!—we have closed the inn for business this week, and all the guests are family or friends, easy to take care of and well pleased to be here.

And I—I am now Mrs. Jack Montjoy, or Mrs. Napes as he is wont to call me. I have never been so happy.

But you will want all the details of our wedding day, this past Saturday.

In Cumbria the custom is to have the wedding in the morning, followed by the wedding breakfast, after which the couple might escape to some other place for a time; but here in Bois-de-Bas it is different. Here the wedding is held at the church in the early afternoon, followed (weather permitting) by an early supper on the green with the whole community in attendance; and then the couple go to their new home, which the community helped build for them.

Therefore I rose, late and well-rested, on Saturday morning, and broke my fast with Armand and Amelie and their household for the last time. I shall miss them, for I have grown quite attached to little Anne and Maggie and the rest.

Amelie and Elise Frontenac helped me dress, supervised by Madame Truc who sat in a chair and offered many comments. All three gave me much advice and shared many secrets of the sort you can well imagine but which I shall not put to paper. 

Madame Truc’s advice was especially pungent, and ended with, “And do not allow your husband to be eaten by le grand-blaireau.” There are grand-blaireau on the island—small ones at present, relations of the monster whose grand pelt is spread on Armand and Amelie’s bed—so her advice is well taken.

You will wish to know about my dress. We are country folk, now, living in a country town in a young colony; and so my dress was elegant but practical, made of good cloth, and intended to be worn not just for the wedding but on Sundays and other special occasions.

We waited at Armand and Amelie’s until the guests and the community were assembled in the church; and then Amelie and Elise escorted me hither. We entered—and my heart leapt to see His Napes, dressed in his best suit, waiting at the altar with Armand and Marc Frontenac.

All those I love were there save you and Maximilian. Brother John walked me up the aisle, having been brought to the church by Master Luc. Madame Pôquerie winked at me as I passed, as did Eloise. Leon Suprenant and his wife smiled broadly, as did another gentleman, a bookseller, I believe. Your parents beamed as I passed the front row—they have been all that is gracious, Amelia, and I gather they are well pleased to have His Napes married off at last.

But I scarcely had eyes for any of them, for His Napes was waiting.

It was a short ceremony, in deference to those in attendance who, like your parents, are not of the Old Religion; and then we went out with amid many smiles and cheers to our wedding supper.

I should like to tell you in detail of all of the good wishes we received and the happy exchanges with all and sundry, beginning with your parents…but it is all a blur.

And then His Napes—my husband!—escorted me to my sky-chair, which had been decorated with bells and ribbons, and off we went to our new home at the edge of the island. The work is not quite done, but sufficiently so to receive us.

His Napes prudently declined to carry me over the threshold, but drew me into the sitting room to watch the sunset. It was the most amazing thing, Amelia: for though we are on the east side of the island the setting sun shines past and under the island on the land beyond, turning the trees and hills to gold; and we stood at the window as the island’s shadow moved eastwards and vanished into darkness.

We have spent the days since visiting with your parents, and hearing stories about doings in Yorke and in Wickshire, and showing them around the area, even taking them to see the Hot Springs, though they declined to try them. Armand and Amelie have often been with us, and also Marc and Elise; and tomorrow we shall take your parents to Mont-Havre and see the sights there. There could be no better guide than His Napes.

And then we shall return here, and resume our duties at the inn. And if our new home remains a work in progress, well. So are we both—and now we shall progress together.

Huzzah!

In all bliss,

Cathy

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Photo by Jason Mavrommatis on Unsplash