Masson's interview with Raoul went as well as could be expected, considering Masson's prior late career as a heartbreaker par excellence. He said "Yes, but…", the 'but' being that the wedding date not be set yet, and his consent being provisional. Raoul wanted to see them together over time, and I couldn't disagree. He wanted to make sure that Massons' passion wouldn't flare and die or find another object next time the wind changed. Further, I think he wanted to let a bit more time elapse since Miri-ange's scandal.
Once the mothers heard the news they went into paroxysms of ecstasy, and they swept the bewildered youngsters along in a flood of plans for the social event of the season, firm date or not.
But the happy couple was adorable; they whispered and blushed, walked in the garden holding hands when they thought no one was watching. Initially, like Raoul, I had doubts I didn't want to give voice to. They were so young, and life could be cruel. As I watched them together, however, I recognized the light in my son's eyes: he'd found his angel.
Predictably, Masson agonized over the protracted engagement. I counseled him, as a father of daughters myself, to let it be and not pester Raoul.
"You don't understand, Papa," he whined.
"Don't I? I was twice your age and then some before I had anyone but myself for company, if you get my drift. Go make yourself useful somehow or I'll put you to work building a chicken house."
"What? We don't have chickens!"
"That's beside the point; hard physical labor is just what you need!"
Raoul put a deposit on a little house in Paris for Liselotte and Masson; so much for my preaching about saving money and providing for one's wife. He and I had to team up against the mothers and insist they butt out and let the couple have some say about both the décor of their first home and the conduct of their wedding. They were running roughshod over the children. I pitied the dazed couple; many times I wished I could help them elope.
-0-0-0-0-
In the midst of all these wedding plans, Sofie accosted me. She could not understand why the newlyweds were unwilling to return to their beds in their respective family homes after the wedding.
"When they marry, they'll be like Mama and Papa, Pickle. You know Mama and Papa like to sleep in the same bed. It's what married people do."
"No! Papaaa! Liselotte can have sleepovers here, and Masson can have sleepovers there."
"But they want their own home."
"Papa, please tell them they can't go away!" Even Marie Antoinette looked irritated with me.
"Pickle, they'll visit us often. You know how close Paris is; we will see them often, I promise. They'll come for supper, and we'll go into Paris and see them. You'll see."
Poor Sofie. She importuned everyone in the house when she saw I wouldn't cooperate. She worried Masson and Liselotte silly.
-0-0-0-0-
As that drama unfolded, Miri-ange came to me and said that she had a beau; he wanted to speak with me. Naturally, I was effusive and ready to meet with him at his earliest convenience. I assumed that Jacques had found his tongue, but that would have been too simple. Since the betrothal, Miri-ange had taken to accompanying Liselotte to the symphony; afterwards the children and some of Masson's friends in the orchestra would go for dinner. Imagine my surprise when she said she'd met a man, and had seen him often at the symphony.
"He is not exactly my age, Papa; he is a bit older."
Egad; not again. "How much older, precisely, Angeline?"
"Um, I suspect he is about Raoul's and Mama's age."
I nodded. Thank God. "Alright, Love, I'll be happy to meet him. You love this man, then?"
"Oh, yes, Papa, he's wonderful. He's the gentlest soul; he loves poetry, music, all the arts. He longs to see my work. I know you and Mama will love him!"
Christine was transported when she heard that her little girl was in love, and rushed next door to share the news with Manon. When I suggested she might wait until we'd actually met, Christine glared at me as if I was suggesting the two of us perform a rude act in public.
Sunday afternoon, both families were together on the balcony, preparing to share dinner. Darius approached me with a card; I saw from Miri-ange's squirming and whispering to Liselotte that she expected her beau. I plucked the card from the tray and read: 'Cesar Marie-Josee de la Viez Boulanger Charbonneau'. Jesus Christ; of all the men in the world, Miri-ange.
"Christine."
"Hm?" she looked up brightly.
I beckoned her close. "Miri-ange's gentleman is here; if you all would excuse us for a moment," I called to our guests. I handed the card to Christine as we entered the house.
"Erik! Isn't this—"
"Yes, it is; according to Miri-ange, the age would be correct."
"Oh, no! What shall—"
"No doubt this will be a shock to him too. We'll see what we shall see, Angel."
"But, Erik—"
"Christine, if she loves him, if they love each other, there's nothing for it. I can't let her suffer for the mistakes of my past."
"You can't tell her, Erik!"
"Of course not; I'll have to sort that out with M Charbonneau. Don't worry, Angel; I'll see to it. I just didn't want you taken by surprise if we come to an agreement and I bring him out to dinner."
Cesar Charbonneau was on his feet, awaiting my arrival. He was essentially unchanged from our conversation twenty-odd years ago. He moved with swift grace to take my hand. "I apologize, Monsieur, for the shock my card must have given you. I only realized who you were after Mirielle and I had agreed that I would call on you Sunday."
"Not at all, Monsieur; it was undoubtedly a tremendous shock to you as well. Please, sit; may I offer you a pleasant cognac?"
"Thank you." He was resplendent in a green suit with a velvet collar; whoever his tailor was, he obviously knew his business. It appeared Miri-ange would want for nothing material, at least, if she made this marriage.
"So, Monsieur, I believe we know why you originally came, but tell me; now that you know the identity of your intended's father, is it still your intention to ask for her? I would not have you engulfed in unpleasant memories every time you behold your bride."
Charbonneau nodded; his black eyes were soft and sincere. Miri-ange seemed to have a weakness for the sensitive, poetic types. "It is my intention, Sir. Your daughter is my delight; I have grieved for my sister long enough."
"Quite long enough. Are you widowed?"
"No; I have never married." My raised eyebrow encouraged him to say more. "I've enjoyed my youth, I will not deceive you. Until I began to age and I saw my friends married, I had not realized what I would be missing if I remained a bachelor. When I was ready, I found that the women I had loved had moved on."
We discussed his family; his father's ancestry was that of Portuguese merchants and shippers and French planters in Martinique. His mother was a servant of the family, but I understood that in the islands such things were of little importance; classes and races mixed more easily there. At any rate, with my face, how could I object to this handsome man's dusky hue?
Charbonneau's finances were in good order; he retained the shipping business and a plantation on the island, all managed by capable overseers. Except for the occasional trip, he assured me that he had no intention of spiriting Miri-ange away to Martinique; he found France much more cordial. Christine would be glad of that. There remained just one final question to settle.
"Monsieur—"
"Please, Cesar."
"Very well then, Cesar," I smiled. "I would prefer if you never mentioned our prior association to Mirielle. My wife knows the truth of my involvement with your sister, and blessedly has forgiven it, but I would prefer if my daughter were spared the…inconvenient knowledge of my…indiscretion."
"Of course, I understand perfectly. I see no reason it should ever come up."
"Well then," I smiled, extending my hand, "I believe we have a betrothal."
Cesar beamed and embraced me; passionate creole. "Thank you, Sir—"
"Erik…"
"Erik, thank you Erik. She'll want for nothing, I swear to you!"
"It's love I want her to have in surplus, Cesar; not things."
"I understand; I'll love her always!" Another bone-crushing embrace.
"Come; meet the families," I gasped. "I hope you'll stay to dinner."
So the best girlfriends were both betrothed; much squealing and giggling ensued. The ability of Miri-ange to garner a marriage proposal put Raoul's fears about the lingering effects of the scandal to rest, and soon the mothers were involved in elaborate deliberations about which wedding should occur when, and where, and…