A singular marriage E-Book

Max du Veuzit

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 260

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The eldest of five brothers and sisters, Christiane Chambreuil, after the death of her father, had to provide for her family; she accepted the job of "mistress of the house" in a Scottish family. She signed the commitment documents without even reading them and, to her amazement, learned some time after her arrival in Uam-Var that she was officially married to Edward Duncan, one of Sir Archibald Duncan's two sons. Christiane protests, storm.... It's too late! It's too late! A marriage by proxy is a marriage anyway. And "mistress of mai-son" is it not an ambiguous expression that implies "wife"? She had barely recovered from the shock of the shock she experienced at the castle, in the absence of their masters, a woman holding a very young child in her hand. "I bring you little Christian. Old Gertrude is dead and her family doesn't know what to do with your child. A singular marriage in truth

Leseprobe

A singular marriage

Max the VeuzitIIIIIIIVVVIVIIVIIIIXXXIXIIXIIIXIVXVXVIXVIIXVIIIXIXXXXXIXXIIEpilogueCopyright

Max the Veuzit

A singular marriage

Max the Veuzit is the pen name of Alphonsine Zéphirine Vavasseur, born in Petit-Quevilly 29 October 1876 and died in Bois-Colombes 15 April 1952. It is a French language writer, author of numerous romance novels with great success.

I

For the high arched window, narrow and austere, I see the gray expanse of the Highlands, this kind of bare and hilly steppe, drowned in time by a persistent drizzle. I see fade in the distance, lost in the mist, uncertain curves, battered by the wind, the desert glen.

Is that I am here before this hopeless landscape? Is this me, Christiane Chambreuil, finds me here in this frigid room, opposite the home of the spleen and fog, surrounded by walls and hostile to strangers?

I have to pinch myself to fully realize the reality of this nightmare, to persuade me that I do not dream, to convince me that it is me that this is, that this house is called Uam-Var - Great Cave - and, if I am, it's my own will, because nobody forced me to come, nor me there drag force.

I tear myself for a few moments in this window and this depressing panorama. My eyes fall on the large mirror that is opposite the upper canopy bed that I just left.

There is no doubt, it is good to me. This person is reflected in this mirror whose silvering almost blackened under the contempt of years, and that is hard to see in the uncertainty surrounding this ghostly light is Christiane Chambreuil. No doubt about it! The lines are slightly distorted by the surface of the ice does not seem to be quite flat, but it's still me it is.

And it is high Scotia that I am.

The room I occupy is not, as in Paris, two hundred meters from the Republic Square; this rainy country, where one sees only heather and rocks, nothing of the Sequani landscape. The impenetrable silence that surrounds me is not likely to be interrupted, one minute to the next, laughter fees for my two little sisters, Madeline and Rose-Marie, or soft and gentle call of my mother sweetheart.

Goodbye, Paris! Farewell, Madeline! Goodbye, Rose-Marie! Goodbye, Mom! Farewell, Jacques!

This time, it's really serious. There is absolutely no way to go back. I do not know if I'm right; I do not know if I have not committed the greatest and most irreparable folly of my life! But there is a certain and sure thing: at present, the road I have taken is final ... I can not go back!

A long shiver runs down my spine; an irrepressible tremor shakes me from head to toe ... I make an effort, I detach my eyes from the image that the mirror reflects me and I move closer to the window all the time to contemplate once again , the panorama of the moor embedded radar that fades in the fog.

It is seven in the morning. Watch the light that reigns in this desolate region, it might as well be six o'clock. It seems to really be the end of the world, and never, ever, or a flower, or a clearing or a ray of sunshine, will break the monotony of this hazy desert or brighten the gloom this lost country.

All readings of my youth in Scotland back in my memory. Grouse and heath, the rivalries of clans and the knights of Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe and ghosts lochs, all this set of medieval legends and Gaelic songs of Ossian surround myself with invisible presences, insinuating, heavy. I can not take me back.

My eyes still runs once around my room. This is more of a monastic choir as the bedroom. The high wooden walls, the huge fireplace, austere furniture, high poster bed, all this, of enormous dimensions, gives an impression of grandeur and coldness where privacy is banished. And to think that we need to live there now!

Christiane, you have to shake you, damn it! Why let you go to so much sadness and so much discouragement? No depressing visions, girl. We must not allow this poisonous atmosphere rub off on you.

This is to react, to consider the situation in the face and not give in to despair. Let's stop for a walk up and down, let us sit here quietly, trying to put some order in this whirl of sensations and in this crossover nightmares that haunt me. Let us, once and for all, to see clearly.

Let us, as I suggested in the Guérand Father, my good friend and advisor to always make an examination of conscience.

I am French, a gay natural, healthy, reasonable. I will not accept losing a moment none of these qualities. Parisian sparrows are known for these two characteristics that make them legendary in the world: they are optimistic and resourceful ...

Suppose I am a Parisian sparrow in exile and act as he would!

*

Uam-Var, like most other residences highland I spotted so far, is a large house which is both the castle and the large farm. The buildings, joined to each other, look like large rocks chilly. The windows, narrow and thin, it opened, small and rare.

high Scotia residences were clearly always witnesses to the history of this country: war and poverty.

No flowery lawns here as in Sussex; no large trees and bushes so little! The course Uam-Var are paved with large slabs and identified by almost black stone buildings. This shade is the unchanging color of all the buildings I've seen in this corner.

When we close the large carriage door in the evening, it seems that a prison door has just closed on itself.

I smile, despite myself, ice referring me my image.

God's goodness ! But I do not have to be the first woman to live in this old mansion! There must be others, who were born, who grew up, who lived, who were happy here. These women were definitely young. They enjoyed the sun, the smile of spring, the joy of being, and everything that makes glad the heart ...

So do they not see flowers desired, since there is nowhere?

Either these women have never been happy?

Perhaps the happiness he has never touched his wing? ... Maybe they have never smiled and they always and tirelessly been sad?

But another assumption is presented to me.

Perhaps, in this wild and arid area, was it prudent, passed through the centuries, erecting thick walls, the bard of iron, digging ditches, to think that to lose ground and time to grow plants say approval?

I really difficult to accept that it is me who came to Scotland, countries that seemed, on the map, after all, not that far, but I think now the end of the world .

I am seriously beginning to wonder if I had all my senses - that sound common sense which makes the main force of the French people - the day I accepted this singular market ... Because it is vain to conceal the : it is a market - in short, a strange market - it is.

Again, I try to calm my fears, to moderate the beating of my heart, to curb the phantasmagoria of ideas and images that took possession of my brain ... I must reflect, I order my thoughts and memories.

I have my resume in hand, as we advised our philosophy teacher, whenever something was wrong. A severe analysis - but just - circumstances is essential, if I do not want to lose control of myself and my reflexes.

Otherwise, I feel that regret will come and I will sink into despair ...

Calmly, calmly, dry eyes and a clear mind, it is to relive dispassionately events.

II

It's Tonkin I was born at the confluence of two rivers.

An old Hindu custom says it is necessary to bury at the confluence of two rivers, of royal blood heirs. My old Annamite nurse said that the soul of a Hindu prince had passed by metempsychosis, in mine, thanks to the peculiarity of my birth, and I surely end up in the skin of a queen or something similar.

It's a story that has since always made me smile; but the fact remains that, throughout my childhood, I really believed. This may explain a lot ...

I was born to French parents, of course. My father, who was to later become senior officer, was when I came to the world, mere lieutenant. He was sent successively in Haiphong, Hanoi and Hue, during his stay in Indochina; then randomly garrisons, he met successively Madagascar, Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, to be ultimately assigned to the Colonial Office in Paris, where he returned with his family.

It may be that childhood, conducted around the world, I kept a taste for travel and the lure of adventure. And yet nothing to me is comparable to Paris.

Paris! that's where I went to school, I grew up, I became a girl where my character was formed, which my nature, frank and exuberant, could feel the easy.

All my memories tell me about Paris ... The cruellest too ... And some are like the other me too expensive.

It is true that life is the best and the worst and the events mark their mark on our souls, regardless of whether they are favorable or unfortunate.

It is not even certain that the happy events help us make expensive a certain place or a certain city more than the sad events.

I even believe that it's the opposite.

I feel that until I die, I will be deeply, intimately linked to Paris, because that's where I met my first sufferings and my father stopped living last year ...

Poor daddy ... He showed great fortitude in the last months of his life, but his death was truly awful. He died of cancer that ravaged her part of the face ... Some doctors have argued that dragging this evil from his stay in Indochina; others, however, claimed that only the years of captivity were responsible.

Anyway, none has managed to save him.

Dear Daddy ... Why did he leave? Why has he left us without a guide, without support, my mother, my four siblings and myself? Without knowing it, without realizing it, we live happy and carefree when, in one way or another, he was watching over us. While he was there, we never knew what had the need nor the discomfort.

I was still too young to measure the financial difficulties of that terrible time; but I understand from that, compared to most people, we were so privileged. It's the same, I believe that security in which I lived during my adolescence that spawned this recklessness that would play me such nasty tricks later.

Then Dad returned from captivity and war finally over, life had returned to normal and seemed to flow, clear and happy, smoothly and without jerks.

I was preparing my degree in English in order to realize my dream to translate into French the beautiful imperial works still little known. And my father approved of my project.

The eldest of my brothers, Jacques, was preparing his punt, hoping to appear at Saint-Cyr and military career.

Maurice, who always had a practical turn of mind, had come to the Central School and become an engineer.

With a pretty amazing precocity, Madeline, who had always been very unselfish, had chosen to be a social worker.

As for Rose-Marie, our youngest, perhaps in contrast to the very reasonable attitude of the rest of the family, she said, in a beautiful laugh, despite his twelve years, she wanted to be film artist, actress or circus rider.

Everything is bright and extraordinary attracted. We were a little stunned by these rather unusual trends in a family, in fact, highly conformist; but it was probably necessary, in the interest of a balanced understanding, a touch of madness and a hint of anarchy should come as a kind of leaven, work the dough too reasonable of our philosophy.

However, deep in ourselves, we felt that over the years Rose-Marie would eventually settle down and change their minds.

These windfall projects have destroyed a few months after the death of my father.

How is the collapse coming? ... How everything that made our lives, our hopes, our future, collapsed like a dam collapsing under the pressure of the water, smashing and crushing everything on their passage?

It is difficult to explain a cataclysm that disrupts a household of six lives, without having been able to foresee the bad blows of fate. The storm that slammed into the house of Chambreuil left nothing intact behind.

This is, most of the time, when is in turmoil. The lack of experience prevented to realize the damage. It is swept away by the cyclone.

It cites the case of an airship caught in a hurricane, having crossed three hundred kilometers, while its occupants had the illusion of stillness.

The adventure that happened to me is similar in all respects; it was not until the end of race that I realized the road traveled and the abyss where we tumbled.

Mom became ill after Dad died. She was always quite fragile and poor heart could not withstand the terrible separation ... this separation, this time, was, alas! final.

My parents had always formed a united couple, without a crack and without disagreement.

After the funeral, my mother had to take to his bed.

It's mom's disease as everything else flowed.

The doctors called in haste, were categorical: it had to be avoided at all our sick and tired any concern.

His condition inspiring the most serious concerns, it is only with attentive care and extreme attention we had hoped to save.

Doctors are extraordinary people. When decreed: "You should go three months in the mountains," they do not care about whether you have only afford to spend a weekend in Compiègne. They decide in the absolute, regardless vain contingencies. No worries as if it was the man's power to have none!

One can imagine how such diagnosis alarmed our young souls, completely helpless already by Dad died. It only remained for us that our mother. That it was possible or not, whether it was feasible or not, it was absolutely necessary to save her, to comply with the edicts of the Faculty.

All our good will, combined with our deep affection, would strive, by all means, follow to the letter the requirements of specialists consulted at great expense.

I was the oldest. In the circumstances we were passing through, so it was me who became practically and hoped temporarily, the family head.

Anyway, there was no need to quibble, it was necessary to go through it. It was one of those compelling situations with which fate puts you and what it is not possible to escape, whether you are or not ready to do it.

Life is otherwise demanding an examination or a teacher. There is no draft. The failed test in July can recover in October.

If you are on the floor, you will stay forever.

To begin, I suspended my studies. He had run the house and replace, to the extent of my strength, dear sick who, momentarily, was unable to continue, even partially, its task.

I can judge today how I was inexperienced and unconscious. But at that moment, I indulged myself the illusion of competence that I was only imagining, and I was going to wonder at the relative ease that included the assumption of a household.

At times, only prescience of danger gave me a warning that I should have considered beneficial, but regularly I rejected these fears of a shrug, by covering the carelessness of my coat.

The truth is that I was without any experience. Five children to feed, clothe, represented moral and material crushing burden for the carefree girl I had been before.

Five grown children have teeth long and demanding with every meal hearty and substantial dishes. In addition, other manifestations of existence, they need to be held, the loose, monitored.

Germoise, the cook, who had been with us for many years, I seconded his best on this occasion. Unfortunately, she had no principle of economy and, as for me, I confess to having always been of incompetence for all that relates to the figures and administration.

My mother had such a habit to dictate Germoise about the expenses of the house, the old woman had, for years, to comply with the orders. By dint of obedience, you end up killing itself any initiative.

As for me, as long as the table was abundantly served and that my brothers would not complain, nor in respect to the quantity or under that of quality, I was not worried about the price of things. I could see myself not even that money was spinning between my clumsy fingers. And Germoise in his naive candor, was all it took for this bleeding it continued with a vengeance.

It was, indeed, a veritable bottomless pit! ...

You had to pay the doctors, pay for medications, pay for four students education, pay for their clothes, pay for their shoes, pay for their worldly and social obligations.

The thousand tickets were leaving, spun. Only the bursting of a dam can give a rough idea of ​​the speed with which the money was rolling.

How did I not realized, then, that the source of this money was not inexhaustible, that it would eventually dry up one day or another? It is not an example of a full tank remaining, when draws constantly, if not the constant inputs to feed As we empty.

I lived in a sort of daze, and even today I wonder by what aberration I never saw such a lifestyle could go on forever. Logic would have suggested to me that, necessarily, I ran to the disaster.

But perhaps there is a kind of addiction that keeps watch's face and draw the logical consequences? Addiction through which the most absurd facts and less reasonable finally seem normal.

I guess the natives of some Pacific islands, where earthquakes occur on average once or twice a year are considered natural volcanic eruptions and find odd years when their islands are devastated by one or two tidal wave.

When I had no money in my pocket, I was writing a check to my mother, who was too weak to judge correctly the situation and even establish any addition.

Then I went to the bank touch. When, again, the amount was exhausted, I began again, and so on.

He did not even come to the idea that our account could dry up.

I think I was deeply convinced that I could draw well in there until the end of time, without the Pactolus cease to flow.

However, I was not doing any unnecessary expenses. But I spent lavishly. Truth compels me to say that I never knew calculate. There is some time this inability to figures seemed a horrible monstrosity, something like a wart on the nose or a lump in the middle of the back. I have since learned that I was sharing this feature with many humans, it was a widespread disease, and if sick there, it might be more accurate to speak of an epidemic .

I paid everything without question. This is, indeed, a trait that is not necessarily related to money matters. All pay without discussion does not necessarily mean that one does not take all the money: this means that one hates the discussion.

In truth, it is so: I have always hated the discussion. Not that I am not combative, full of initiatives, able to cope with the most difficult situations (following my history has proven abundantly). No, just I hate the discussion.

It seems to me that any discussion is pointless, it's a waste of time and a waste of energy that could be usefully employed for other purposes.

Anyway, money glided like a handful of sand between my fingers innocent, and I must say to my confusion, I have not seen the misfortune to come.

... One morning - it's amazing, this formula devoted to begin a story, even if that morning is for you to be one of the most unpleasant that may be, - one morning, so I introduced myself to the bank with a check for ten thousand francs naturally signed by mom. I urgently need the money because it was the end of March, and I had a number of bills to settle.

I gave my check, with a smile, to the employee's desk, who knew me - everyone knows me to the bank. I remember even punctuated my gesture of a definitive and highly original remark about the weather, - it poured - as he handed me the small metal token which was marked by the number which I would be called at checkout.

Every detail of that morning is anchored in my memory. Armed with my precious token, I went to sit on a bench in front of the body, until we called me. I knew that it required, in general, five to ten minutes.

But that morning, the waiting continued. There was a quarter of an hour I was sitting on my bench and I was getting impatient.

Suddenly a voice came to my ears:

- Miss ... Miss Chambreuil Chambreuil ...!

Turning his head, then I saw the same man who, earlier, had handed me the order number. Clearly, he was trying to get my attention. It took a few seconds to realize that it was me he was. In general, a cashier merely to call my number. I approached, held out my token, we counted down to me the check amount, and that was it. But this time, it was the employee visas that had come to me and calling me by name. Bizarre! ...

I approached him, questioningly.

He had frozen on his face, a stereotyped smile, but the look on his face indicated a discomfort.

- You called me? I asked, without seeing, at the time, the perfect uselessness of this.

- Yes, miss Chambreuil.

He leaned forward over the counter like to entrust me with an important secret.

- Mr. Bordier, our proxy, would wish to talk to you, miss.

- Talk to me ?

I stood there a moment, speechless.

I do not say :

- Is anything wrong ?

At that time, I had no idea that there could be a hitch.

- Mr. Granger, the employee went on without raising the question, turning to the usher who was constantly in the hall, will you lead Miss M. Bordier. He waits.

And turning to me:

- Would you be so kind as to follow the usher miss Chambreuil? Thank you miss.

Then, as if I had suddenly ceased to exist for him, he ignored me and spoke to another customer.

He did not ask me my opinion, but it was clear that, for him, the matter was settled and that I would see Mr. Bordier, without further ado.

He was right. I followed the usher indeed, without protest and without requesting further details.

My peace was total and soul in perfect peace. No concern is inside me. At most, I thought he was missing a date or signature, or any stamp on the check, and that it would work out automatically, within seconds. I was an unwavering optimism.

I was immediately introduced into the office of Mr. Bordier, who received me with great courtesy, but without his usual smile of kindness. He told me a chair.

Mr. Bordier was a graying mustache and glasses. I think I will never forget.

He was holding a steel ruler and my check.

- Miss Chambreuil, that check was signed by Ms. your mother, is not it?

- Yes sir.

- There is a long time since we had the pleasure of seeing your mom.

- My mother is very sick and can not leave his room.

- I understand, I understand ... You lost your father last year, I think?

- Yes sir.

- Of course, it all seems very clear. Your mom is not able to keep a precise account of the situation.

That meant all the circumlocutions? What was he getting at? As I was not a gesture, nor said a word to help him - I was incapable, because I did not understand at all what it was - he continued, after having cleared voice, with an air somewhat embarrassed:

- You see, miss, to our regret ... great regret we are unable to pay the check. It remains to your credit that three hundred and fifteen francs. With our best will ... I understand your mother, sick, could be wrong. This is of course a mistake ... I think you might usefully consult your notary. Perhaps he envisaged arrangements for Ms. your mother's current account is replenished, or a new credit facility is granted to it. As for us, we unfortunately, to date, no instructions about it ... You see me sorry, miss.

It was like a dreadful thunderbolt. I do not know what I said. I do not know what I stammered. I do not know how I took leave of M. Bordier, or how I presented the check in my bag.

I found myself outside in the rain, as stunned by a blow with a club.

III

First, I did not at all understand what the bank's incident meant.

I came home, soaked, at home, and I was kept me from breathing a word to a living soul of the events of the morning. Especially my mother!

He had at any price give it a cause for concern that could jeopardize the improvement of his condition. On the other hand, I wanted to give myself to myself time to think and consider the situation calmly.

Frankly, I could not see very clearly. I vaguely thought to myself that there must be an error numbers, that the notary had certainly neglected to transfer songs or whatever similar.

Basically, I was convinced that everything would be explained and get sorted.

I really was the victim of an incredible illusion by showing such a blind trust and unjustified!

Obviously, the best was undoubtedly going to see our lawyer, be it only to have the heart net.

Just finished lunch, I decided on this approach.

I did not do long antechamber.

Me Ducourget received me almost immediately in the big room with the English woods where I had come several times after the death of my father.

Ducourget me was not one of these notaries spectacles and favorites, such as found in the room directory. He was a man of about fifty, wearing beautiful, dressed in full of good cut, looks rather a big industrialist as a notary.

- What can I do for you, dear miss? me he asked after having indicated a comfortable chair, while sporting a winning smile.

I made aware of the incident to the bank and my disappointment - because, internally, it still was for me a disappointment.

For the first time, presenting the facts, then I saw the events in their true light.

Many times I had heard of checks. I had read in the newspapers, that such offense sometimes led its author to the Depot. Until then, these kinds of actions had appeared to me as unreal stories, things happening in a world apart, completely apart from where I used to live.

In front of the notary, I was suddenly struck by the idea that on the same morning, whether I like it or not, I had to my credit history a check bounced!

Immediately, I realized that the deposit was not at all a figment of the imagination, but rather a building intended to accommodate those who allowed this kind of joke, and I had the grim ample vision and bars strong padlock!

On the face of Ducourget me, the welcoming smile had completely disappeared, to make way for an expression both surprised and concerned.

- You see very surprised me, miss me he said with an embarrassed tone, when I finished my story. Ms. your mother is well aware of your financial situation, and I do not understand how she could take all of his bank account.

- Mom is very ill, master. She has not left his bed for several months.

- However, it is she who signed the checks.

- Yes, of course, but in truth, it was I who libel and my mother know about all of this is happening ... his condition does not allow him to take care of these issues.

- I see I see ! I did not know that Ms. Chambreuil was so much suffering. You see me sorry. But I can guess that you yourself do not seem to be very knowledgeable about your situation ...

- Dad therefore did not leave home titles that could be ...

- Alas! no. The few titles he owned were sold shortly before his disappearance. The bank had agreed on it a line of credit, then, to your father's needs, she had sold.

- Dad's illness was very expensive, I guess.

- That's right. However, when your father died, the current account at the bank, was about eight hundred thousand francs, if I am not mistaken.

I did not. But this should correspond to reality.

I lowered the nose on my chest. I was not proud of myself.

- I'm sorry to hear that you could spend a large sum so quickly continued the notary. I regret to confirm that there is more at home any title you own. I am therefore unable to get you a new credit line at the bank.

- But then ... How am I doing?

- You need to go obviously, miss; your family has to live in the present, the retirement of your mother.

I found myself, half an hour later, alone and desperate, sitting on a bench in the Champ de Mars.

The rain of the morning had given way to a pale winter sun, trying to comfort me, as a vague promise and a barely sketched smile.

I had a heavy heart. My eyes were finally unsealed and I was doing mentally stock of the situation.

Without a doubt, she was not bright.

It was useless to try to curse fate or want to reject the responsibility on others: it was brighter than the sole responsibility was me.

There was no doubt that the pension my mother was absolutely insufficient for us to seven people, including Germoise, eat our fill.

And there was not just the food: there were children's education, the train home, mom to care, etc.

He then appeared to me that my responsibility was engaged in such circumstances, one way final. I felt guilty, as if deliberately, I had dissipated the capital left by my poor dad.

The wind had brought the party and a cold air rising from the banks of the Seine, entirely appropriate to refresh my mind and make me and the lights that had me hitherto sorely default.

Thus, in my blindness and my ignorance, I do not even have the excuse of trying to delay the deadline at which I found myself cornered now. My unconscious was such that, even in the morning, the bandage I had on my eyes had not fallen, and I was still convinced that it would arrange intimately.

I could out of my mind the expression of both pity and slightly contemptuous of me Ducourget when I left the study.

The only clear thought which floated with me was that he was on no mom perceiving anything. I do not know how I would go about it, but I was sure I would arrange for me not to tell him.

Now, sitting on the bench, I was trying to put some order into my ideas, summarizing the events suggested that in spite of myself, at first, my extreme youth could have considered as mitigating circumstances, but that a cold examination of things rather tended to bring out as aggravating.

For example, I remembered, when Dad was buried, have ordered the most beautiful mausoleum that one could find. In general, whose chest was studded with decorations, to an officer who had almost everywhere on the globe, a hundred times risked his life for France and was wounded several times, could I skimp?

Of course, yes, it would have to skimp, since, having virtually taken over the destinies of the family, my main duty should be to ensure continuity and to impose a fairly wise administration that this continuity was not compromised.

Similarly, when I saw our poor sick mom, and our regular doctor spoke of heart specialists, the most prominent of the capital have not seemed too great luminaries to ensure the health of those who we still had. And God knows what those big fees cardiologists asked me!