A little Jane for the Holidays: Plains of Chalmette

The holidays are fast approaching and it seems like an ideal time to indulge in our two favorite things at Austen Variations, share our variations on Jane Austen’s works.

Sunday, October 2, 1814

Matthew enjoyed an after-dinner cigar in the Melançon courtyard with his host while the ladies sipped a bit of wine, carefully sitting upwind of the gentlemen. Matthew had become a regular fixture at dinner in the Melançon household. He could be found there several nights a week and after Mass on Sunday, and it was not because of the quality of Mme Melançon’s kitchen. It had far more to do with Mme Melançon’s niece.

“Major Harville, he is well?” asked M. Melançon. By common agreement, everyone spoke English during Matthew’s visits.

Told that he was, Mme Melançon added, “I am sorry we have not seen him recently. You must tell him he is welcomed here, as well.”

Matthew’s ears reddened as he recalled Jacob’s recent remark about visits to Rue Bourbon. “Nah, you go on without me. Matt. I don’t want to get in the way of your courtin’. Hope you appreciate my sacrifice. Mrs. Melançon sets a mighty fine table!”

He glanced at Anne-Marie. He could not lie to himself. He was courting Mlle Dansereau and was very pleased with his progress. It was the highlight of his day to see her pretty face and dancing eyes. Her bright smile every time he walked through her uncle’s door did away with any frustration he carried due to his lack of progress in his official duties. He knew he was falling in love with her and hoped she was doing the same.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that, ma’am.”

“Has the major heard recently from his intended in Tennessee?” Anne-Marie’s sweet voice seemed to float in the air.

“He has, Mlle Dansereau. He got a letter just yesterday. Fanny writes regularly.”

“This lady, she is very devoted. Major Harville is fortunate.”

Matthew nodded. “Devotion is necessary to preserve affection, particularly when one is far away. Nothing lifts a soldier’s spirits like a letter from home.”

“Devotion must go both ways, if the parties involved are to resist temptation.” Mme Melançon lifted an eyebrow. Matthew knew a message had just been sent, but he knew not the reason.

“Yes, madame. It would not be right for a soldier to expect his wife to be faithful while . . . err, taking advantage of opportunity, you might say.”

Anne-Marie frowned. “Opportunity? What opportunity may tempt a soldier far from home?”

There was no way Matthew was going to answer that question. But to his surprise, M. Melançon replied conversationally, “Camp followers, chérie. Cooks, laundresses, seamstresses, and the like. Many are wives and families of the soldiers, but many are not and think nothing of offering . . . comfort to lonely men. They have been with every army since time immemorial—eh, Major?”

Matthew coughed. “Yes, that is true.” Apparently, the Creoles were far less circumspect about sexual affairs than most people.

Anne-Marie lifted her chin. “But a righteous man would resist temptation.”

For the right woman, he would, Matthew thought, looking Anne-Marie in the eye. “Devotion and righteousness go hand-in-hand, I think.”

“And do you value those attributes, sir?”

“Anne-Marie!” her uncle cried. “How can you expect our guest to answer such a question?”

The young beauty lowered her head, and Matthew took pity on her.

“Mademoiselle teases me, I think.” Matthew gave the girl a big smile. “She knows a gentleman cannot answer her with any satisfaction. Who but a fool or rogue would dismiss those virtues? Yet, a scoundrel would praise them to the skies, all the time leading a life of dissipation. No, mademoiselle, I shall not fall into your trap! I shall live my life as I always have, and you must decide for yourself whether I am a villain or an honorable fellow.”

Anne-Marie pursed her lips. “And do you have any advice on what to look for to see if a man is upright?”

Matthew relished their banter. “Of course! His profession, for one. I have found officers in the United States Army to be a superior collection of gentlemen.”

Anne-Marie laughed. It was not the tightly-controlled twitter of the society girls of Baltimore, but a full, healthy display of mirth, issued by a lady open and transparent. Matthew admiration for the girl grew further.

The Melançons shared a look. “Major Darcy, would you be so kind as to join me in my library?” his host asked as he rose to his feet. “There is something I must discuss with you.”

“Uncle!” Anne-Marie appeared mortified, and Matthew had an idea what the good man had to say to him.

“I am at your disposal, sir. Ladies.” Matthew bowed and followed the gentleman into the house. Once M. Melançon closed the library door behind him, he began.

“Normally, Major, this task would fall to a young lady’s father, but as my niece is here under my roof and her father is not, the duty is mine. After that exhibition, I must ask your intentions towards her.”

Matthew swallowed and felt like a schoolboy called on his bad behavior. “I am sorry, sir. It was not my intention to alarm or insult anyone. I am afraid I got carried away.” He gathered his thoughts. “I do admire Mlle Dansereau exceedingly. If things were different, I would have approached M. Dansereau by now. As things now stand, with the enemy possibly targeting the city, personal desires must be set aside.”

“I see.” The man paced the room. “Are you aware of Anne-Marie’s situation?”

“I . . . no.” Matthew was confused. “I know she is an only child, her mother passed away some years ago, and her father owns a farm outside the city.”

“Hmm. Young man, Anne-Marie is the only child of a very wealthy man. I understand where you come from it is exceedingly rare for a daughter to be the heir to a great fortune. Here, it is not unusual. There are many who pursue Anne-Marie not for her charms, but for Dansereau Plantation.”

Affronted, Matthew shot back, “M. Melançon, I do not like your insinuation. I know nothing about this, and I would not give it a moment’s thought if I did.”

Melançon seemed amused. “Very noble, Major. Tell me, if you were successful in your pursuit of my niece—ah, do not deny it! Your attentions have been obvious, particularly with regard to the recent conversation in my courtyard tonight!” Matthew could say nothing. “To continue, assuming you won Anne-Marie’s affections, how would your support her? Do you plan to take her away to Maryland?”

“I will not return to Maryland. It is not my home any longer.”

“Indeed? I thought your family had a farm there.”

“My brother has a farm there—or I should say, my half-brother, John. In Maryland, many follow the old practice of leaving the property to the eldest son. My mother was my father’s second wife, and my half-brother, jealous of his mother’s memory, resented her. Nothing changed when my sister, Mary, and I came along. John disliked us intensely. He refused to accept us, no matter how strongly my father admonished him. For a time, he had to be sent away to his mother’s family. That did nothing to endear us to him. Once my parents died, John felt free to cut any relationship with Mary and me.”

“I am sorry to hear that there is ill-will between you and your brother,” said Melançon compassionately. “Shall you then live with your sister?”

“I do not think I will. Mary married a good man, and I would be welcomed, but her husband and I do not agree on politics. I support Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison, while he, a Federalist, is against all I believe.” Darcy offered a small smile. “He is very passionate about his beliefs, and disagreements would be unavoidable. Distance would guarantee a cordial relationship. My sister should not have to choose between us.”

“Then what shall you do?”

“Buy a farm, probably in Virginia. My father left me a bit of money.”

“So you will take her to Virginia.” Melançon stroked his chin. “I must be blunt. You can afford to buy a farm?”

“Yes, I can.” Matthew said coolly.

“Your father left you more than a bit, then.”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

Melançon gasped. “So, I see you are a wealthy man, too.”

“The money came from my mother. Unfortunately, my brother, John, is of the opinion that everything should have gone to him and has pursued my inheritance in the courts. He has been unsuccessful so far, and I have been forced to hide my money in a bank in Virginia under an assumed name. I should be safe from him in Virginia.”

“The law is different here,” Melançon pointed out. “You would be very safe in Louisiana. Such a suit would be thrown right out of our courts. Many Americans have come down here and bought land for their plantations.”

“I have not considered that,” said Darcy. “What is raised here?”

“Sugar and indigo, mainly, and more are planting cotton. All these crops require many hands to work the fields, and slaves are expensive.” Darcy frowned, which caused Melançon to add, “Does the expense trouble you, or are you uncomfortable with our peculiar institution?”

“Both, I think. I grew up with slavery—many large farms have slaves in Maryland. But my family did not, and I admit to some ambivalence about it. So many slaves are cruelly treated.”

“I am well aware of that,” said Melançon. “My brother-in-law, a kind and generous man, does not mistreat his people, yet he is condemned as a fool by the other planters. C’est la vie.” He thought for a moment. “Not all farms require slaves to be profitable. You could raise beef. Meat is always in demand, and you would not need many hands to manage a herd.”

“M. Melançon, I thank you for your advice. I had always thought of settling in Virginia when I left the army. I know the people and climate well. I did not know much about plantations in Louisiana, and you have given me much to think about.”

“You are a clever man, Major Darcy. I am satisfied you are no fortune hunter.”

“I thank you for that.” Matthew tried hard not to sound sarcastic.

“Do not take offense, young man! If you knew how many bucks prowl around Anne-Marie, you would appreciate my concerns.” He thought for a moment. “I must talk to my niece. For now, you may continue to visit my house, Major Darcy, but I make no promises. The final decision falls to M. Dansereau.”

“That is fair. When all these troubles are past, then we can talk of more pleasant matters.” He rose and shook hands with Melançon. “Please call me Matthew, or Matt.”

“I like you, Matthew,” said the older man. “I wish you good luck.”

Matthew let himself out of the library, eager to be in Anne-Marie’s company again. He did not hear M. Melançon mumble to himself, “Et vous aurez besoin de chance, j’ai bien peur.”

~~~

Night was falling and it was time for Major Darcy to return to his barracks. Anne-Marie silently begged with her eyes to see the officer out alone. After a moment, her aunt nodded her permission. At the front door, she handed Major Darcy his hat.

“Shall we see you on Sunday, Major?”

To her surprise, he took his hat in one hand while holding her hand with the other. “You shall.” She held her breath as he raised her hand to his lips. The touch of his kiss upon her knuckles caused her to gasp. “Until Sunday, mademoiselle.”

“Anne-Marie.”

His eyes were as dark as night. “Pardon?”

“Anne-Marie,” she repeated in the same soft tone.

The decision to request that he call her by her Christian name was impulsive and extremely forward. But something deep within Anne-Marie told her to give Matthew some encouragement. She was losing her heart to him. Did he feel the same? He would not—could not—speak of love unless he was assured she would not be harmed.

His smile lit up the night.

She was relived he was not offended, but the intensity of the moment forced her to turn away. Still, she squeezed his hand. The world stood still.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Until Sunday . . . Anne-Marie.”

She thought her heart would burst in her chest. “Until Sunday . . . Matthew.”

He kissed her hand again and was gone.