Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [19]

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Chapter 19. Chaumont

The train ride was long but Claude, still hungover, slept through most of it. He awoke at one point and looked out the window at the passing countryside of farms and woods and small villages dotting the landscape. The rocking of the express to Chaumont soon put him back to sleep.
    Chaumont is a quaint city southwest of Pairs. Louis Jaudon, brother of the first Claude history records, started a fruit business back in 1781 that was passed down through the oldest son until, when our Claude arrived from Texas, Louis Jaudon III owned it and slept in the master bedroom.
    Our Claude had been in contact with this Louis, his great uncle, about a wife, and Louis had sent him a picture of a strikingly beautiful woman who was 22 and without family or support. Her father was killed by a highwayman, and her mother was Louis’ second cousin (she was Claude’s fourth cousin). After her death, Louis took her in, but with no money or a family name, she had little hope of being married off, and Louis was afraid he would be stuck supporting an old maid. Then the American side of the family contacted him, and his hopes rose.
    The train had started to enter the city, and Claude could see a large castle on the hill and tall church steeples over the tops of the houses. The town was clean and looked to be well-laid out. People along the street, all well-dressed, stopped to look at the train, and some waved. Claude waved back.

    The train stopped at a pink building where a number of people waited on the platform to see or meet the passengers. Claude had only his one bag, which he had kept beside him on the train. Descending onto the station platform, he looked over the heads of the milling people and spotted a sign bearing his name.
    He pushed his way through the throng and addressed the man holding the sign, “I’m Claude Jaudon!”
    “Very good, sir. Follow me. I have a carriage waiting for you.” The man spoke very good English and sounded as though he was from England. Claude worried about his own French, because it had become clear to him that his French was not bon.

    The carriage ride was pleasant, the road smooth and the countryside beautifully kept. There were rows of grapes, apple trees, pear trees, and other trees that he had no idea what they were. They all lay dormant, awaiting spring. Claude found it all very picturesque, a nice change after Paris.
    The carriage itself was one of the finest he had ever ridden in. It soon turned off the main road and went along a field of row after row of apple trees, until entering a courtyard and stopping at a huge stone house. Six stone steps led up to the house’s round entrance. The footman got down, set a stool on the ground, and opened the carriage door. As Claude stepped out, a servent raced down the steps to retrieve his bag.

    He walked through the big wooden door and was greeted by a butler, who, in English, said, “If you will follow me, sir, Master Jaudon will greet you in the den.”
    Claude was led into a room more the size of a ballroom than any den he had ever seen. A man almost as tall as Claude turned from the fireplace when he heard the two men’s footsteps. Claude felt as though he were looking into a time mirror. He could see himself in the older man, and he thought he might look like that someday himself. He and his father, James, looked nothing alike, and that had bothered him until now. His father was the one who didn’t look like a Jaudon!
    Louis crossed the room and threw his arms around Claude. “Welcome home. You are the other half of our family’s story. Today we are complete.”
    Claude pulled back a little and looked Louis in the face. At six-two, there weren’t many men he could do that with. “Thank you for having me. What a wonderful place you have here.”
    Louis took Claude’s arm and guided him to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Sit here and get warm.” He raised his hand and two glasses of cognac on a silver tray were placed on the table between them. Louis raised his glass in a toast: “This is our own cognac, made from our own grapes.”
    They swallowed some of the drink, and Claude was in love. The cognac had a bite to it, but along with that came a honey-orange flavor. “This is the best I have ever put in my mouth.”
    Louis smiled. “You must take a few cases back to America with you.”
    “May I call you Uncle Louis, or would you prefer something else?”
    “Uncle Louis will be just fine.”
    “Well, Uncle Louis, I have noticed that everybody is speaking English. Is that for me, or is it normal?”
    “The Jaudons learned and have used English ever since your namesake, my great uncle Claude Napoleon Jaudon, fought alongside the great General Marquis de Lafayette. It is our way of showing our pride.”
    “So, it wasn’t because of me?”
    “But a course! It is all because of you. We speak French here. English is a second language, and it is fun to use, but we do not use it without a good reason.”
    Claude laughed. “I thought as much. Thank you for your kindness.”
    Louis stood. “You have had a long trip. My man will show you to your room, and the maids will prepare you a hot bath. Rest, because tonight we’ll be having a welcoming ball in your honor. There you will be introduced to our distant cousin Dominque Dewitt. I’m afraid she has no dowry to bring to the marriage, but she is a hard worker and very well educated – and obedient. She will make you a good wife.”
    “We’ll see, Uncle – she may not even like me.”
    Louis raised his hands. “At twenty-two and with no dowry, it won’t be a choice for her – she’ll like you and obey you.”
    Claude started to say more, but thought better of it. “Thank you again, Uncle Louis. I’ll see you tonight.”

That night, crowds of people poured into the house. Food and fine silverware were laid out on three tables, and servants offered tea and wine. A small band played the latest hits, and couples danced. Claude was introduced to Dominique and they both seemed to like what they saw.
    Dominique was darker than the average French person. She had dark eyes and almost coal-black hair. She spoke perfect English and was interested in the West that she had read so much about. Louis had painted a picture of a submissive, timid young woman, but she was neither. She and Claude danced and talked for hours. Toward the end of the evening, Louis stopped the band and called for everybody’s attention.
    First in French: “Merci d'être venu. J’aimerais annoncer les fiançailles de ma cousine Dominique Dewitt, à Claude Jaudon, de San Antonio, Texas, aux États-Unis d’Amérique.”
    And then in English: “Thank you for coming. I would like to announce the engagement of my cousin Dominique Dewitt to Claude Jaudon, of San Antonio, Texas, in the United States of Amerca.”
    The crowd parted and Dominique and Claude stood alone on the dance floor while everybody clapped. Claude leaned close to Dominique and whispered, “I didn’t know he was going to do this. I wanted it to be your decision.”
    She whispered back, “I wasn’t sure I could go through with it until I met you. I believe we will grow to love one another very much. I already like you and there are a lot of married women in this room that can’t say that of their husbands.”
    Christmas came and then New Year’s. They were to marry on the first day in May and then honeymoon in Paris and attend the 1889 Exposition Universelle (world fair). They were sleeping together and having a hard time keeping their hands off each other when not in bed. Dominique’s prediction that they would grow to love each other very much happened a lot sooner than either had thought possible.
    Claude had yet to tell her of his mixed blood, and the intensity of his love increased his fear of losing her. He tried to convince himself that her darkness could account for any black child they might have, but in his heart, he knew it couldn’t.

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Rogers