Chapter Text
No man is more unhappy than he who never faces adversity. For he is not permitted to prove himself.
- Seneca
Laurent & Rosie
He held a handful of her black hair, his leg placed as he had seen his brother place his. Thigh against thigh, Rosie loose in his arms. For a moment he was conscious of everything in the world. There was space. He saw his choices. In the second moment he fell out of the world and into a space where Rosie luxuriated in his hold. She had everything she ever dreamt of and more. The master’s son had agreed to come to the outhouse, in the corner, a pallet covered with a clean soft blanket, surrounding them household goods, domestic fabrics, cleaning materials, buckets and other implements. She had booked her turn and lived in hope; her future might lie on that pallet. His brother had taken up with Hyacinth in the same way, there was a good chance they might each get what they needed from the encounter. His mouth fell on her after what seemed like an age, warm and welcome, then suddenly his body twisted out of hers. He was standing straight, one hand resting lightly on her arm. They had come adrift, his blonde hair alight, the blue eyes silver velvet, cat-like in falling light, the mouth which had kissed her was closed, the lips still a little swollen. For every light in his face, she reciprocated with a counter shade, golden skinned, mellow and lovely.
She glanced down his body.
He didn’t hide his non-existent physical interest.
‘You’re a good-looking girl, fucking gorgeous…I don’t know…’
‘You prefer him?’
‘Him?’
‘Laurent, you’re not like your brother. It’s natural for him. You’re different. I’ve seen you when you’ve come from…that stable…’
Laurent laughed, a twisted sly laugh, an unadmitted acknowledgment of truth.
‘It’s a pity. I can’t get my body to work for you…’
‘With any woman. You tried with Ruth. She told me. Grace too.’
‘I see my reputation goes before me…as does yours…’
It didn’t put her off. She only had this chance and had to try.
Her hand had slipped off and down his body, down and into the triangle of his groin. Revilement shook his body as her gentle hand tentatively took hold of him. He literally felt sick, something foul was lining his throat. He removed the hand and stood off.
He took a piece of a larger silver coin out of his breast pocket.
‘I don’t want your money…’
‘Take it…’
‘You can’t bribe me…’
‘You’ll bad mouth me one way or another…take it…you deserve it. You’ve done me a favour.’
‘If you try to get another girl, I’ll warn her…’
She took the partial coin and held it tight, it was worth a month’s salary. A whisper fell out of the side of her mouth.
‘Orlant will be happy…and I have compensation for my wasted time.’
It hadn’t been a waste of time for Laurent. He’d tried women of different type and age, each time proving his preference for men. It was what it was.
Laurent & Orlant
Laurent was sixteen and in those times judged adult. He was near his full grown size and in full command of himself. House girls striped him looks as did other men. Men who tended to be his superior or of familial equivalence. Their echelon had the resources to indulge the risk. His parents despaired, one son had gone to the bad already, and the second was surpassing him. When questioned about his unaccounted time, he would fix a lying facade on his face, one he had been perfecting since he was fourteen, when his father found him somewhere he shouldn’t have been, about to kneel and indulge in deviancy with a boy of similar age from the neighbouring estate, he claimed he had dropped his silk cravat and was picking it up. The chinese rose floral silk cravat which lay neatly folded on top of an expensive linen coat behind him. Both boys brazenly gazed into his face, showing no remorse or shame. Aleron spoke to the boy’s father without going into detail, implying the boy had corrupted his son. Aimeric was sent back to the Old World to finish his schooling there. For a few months, Laurent was on his best behaviour, fulfilling an ambition to give himself enough time to create a conniving ruthless version of himself. He took pleasure in thwarting his father, gazing into his eyes and defying him politely using arcane words, slippery lies and a disarmingly beautiful face. There were many times Aleron wanted to lay a pointless hand on him.
‘Orlant.’
‘Yes Sir.’
In public they maintained the correct social barriers which might lead to intimacy. They laid down rules for future encounters on their first instance. Laurent was the master’s son, Orlant was a craftsman, a blacksmith who shod horses, a competent cooper, and made or repaired the plantation’s metalwork. He was a valued member of the household, and had been educated beyond the needs of his trade. That was how Laurent had fallen into something with him. His horse lost a shoe and when he went into the forge, Orlant was eating his lunch and had a small book in his large hands. Laurent thought he recognised it, it looked like a cheap version of Les Égarements du cœur et de l'esprit ou Mémoires de M. de Meilcour (The Wanderings of the Heart and Mind), he had an illustrated leather bound copy in his room. It was literary, written for contemplation, not entertainment.
‘What are you reading?’
Orlant put down the crust of bread and covered the leftovers of yesterday’s evening meal, his wife never wasted food, they were frugal, there is a baby, and a possibility of another in the near future. She has plans for her husband and family which require him to stay on track and work hard. Laurent was without qualm. If he wanted something he took it, it didn’t matter who it belonged to. He was trackless and rich.
Orlant stood, he was the same height as Laurent, that is taller than most and physically bigger. His hair was dark, almost black, his skin showed he worked outside with his hands, and his eyes were an amazing green-grey. They sparkled with interest drawn from Laurent’s direct attention on him. Normally he dealt with the plantation manager or a workman.
‘Les Égarements du cœur…’
Laurent cut in and across him.
‘Where did you get it?
Orlant looked Laurent in his face. He didn’t answer immediately, both of them were slightly insolent. If he answered Laurent’s question he would have to justify how he got it and why he was reading it. He was not doing that. He answered with his own question.
‘Have you read it?’
Laurent gazed evenly at him, he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed him before, assessed him, and decided he liked Orlant, their temperaments matched. He was a little rude. His energy twinkled. He felt drawn and responded with a gambit.
‘Yes. What did you think of Madame de Sénanges ?’
A lesser character, someone who is out for a good time not a meaningful relationship, experienced, and a possible mentor. Orlant looked at him under his eyes, rolling a look down, then up Laurent’s body, cock to face. Laurent swallowed a little, his face flushed pink. Orlant’s response was transparent and non-verbal, his reply indicated intent.
‘I liked the Comte de Versac, he had tactics…and knew what he wanted. I do not like games.’
Both sets of eyes had darkened.
A few days later Laurent came to the forge on the pretense of wanting to know how the horse was. Orlant invited him to come and have a look. He went ahead, Laurent followed and closed the stable door behind him. The next time Laurent took a book and they ‘read’ for an hour. Once a routine was established, he’d go to see Orlant early or on days when that area of the plantation was quiet. Sometimes they just read, and sometimes they shared lunch, it wasn’t always about feeding the sexual part of their relationship. People noticed but said nothing, it was better than him going into town and getting beaten up. But Orlant has a wife and a child, the baby is nearly two, and another baby is now definitely on her horizon, he is nonchalant and disinterested in making a baby. She re-lays the track for him. Obedience is required. Orlant is dragged back into being a good husband. Laurent doesn’t mind, he knows Orlant is a resource he can return to at any time.
His parents turned a blind eye to his thing with Orlant, they had other ways of making him return to the fold; he was getting to an age where decisions relating to his future needed to be made. They know they cannot change him and hope that there will be a young woman who only knows about his position in society. He can help manage the property, his personal life can be his. He does not seek their advice. He is his own person and in moral danger. Aleron sends for an older relative. The brother-in-law will not be fobbed off by Laurent’s patent rudeness and will know how to manage the situation. Aleron had not listened to his advice when Auguste digressed, he will listen now. Auguste is married to a very suitable woman but is living with his common-law Caribbean wife and their two children back home in Arles.
The Uncle
Nobody knows how but it does not take long for his Uncle to find out about his thing with Orlant. Laurent has started to patronise a place in town, he and Orlant have an arrangement. Laurent was sixteen when they started, he’s eighteen now. Orlant is twenty-six and in his prime. They make a grand pair. They learn ‘things’ about each other and Orlant does not always take the lead. The wife has her sources of information, she works in the plantation house and is aware her husband is not ‘compliant’. The Uncle is a compassionate listener and admires her ambition. On a quiet day, he finds his way down to the forge and when he pushes open the back door, he hears his nephew and the blacksmith quietly seeking joy. Laurent is leant over the workbench, Orlant is behind him, and they are dressed in their shirts, other items of clothing are strewn on pieces of equipment or hung on nails. Boots lay shucked on the floor. They are at a key moment.
‘Good Morning! Oh!’
There is a rapid finding of clothes, nobody uses the back door it opens onto a storage area for wood, and a well. The forge is secluded and set away from the main path. There’s no reason to enter the forge from that door. They know someone has told on them.
Orlant loses his composure. He speaks when he doesn’t need to.
‘It’s a bit hot…we were just…’
‘About to fuck…’
Laurent finishes the sentence.
The Uncle is droll and staring at Laurent’s legs.
‘Yes…It should be shirts, not trousers that are abandoned. Laurent. I wanted to discuss some business options with Orlant. I will see him later…with his wife. Will you come back to the house with me?’
Without a word Laurent got dressed and walked past his Uncle. He went to the stables, got his horse and rode into town. He knew a period of reform was coming and needed to be out of the house to assess how to handle this situation, and talk to people could help him.
The Uncle was not coming from a faultless position. He had his own set of personal problems to sort out. His son had abandoned him with good reason and in fear of losing his well-being. He was not an Uncle by blood he had arrived in the family as Laurent’s grandfather’s brother-in-law’s child, descending from a good, poor family whose only hope was advancing in society by marriage into a richer better-placed family.
At twenty he married Laurent’s mother’s twenty-five year old sister, who was a kind genteel woman in need of a well-connected husband to relieve the financial burden on her father, and get away from a brother who saw no use for her and wanted to keep her money within the family. Laurent’s aunt was good-natured but delicate, The Uncle performed his husbandly duties with aplomb; he behaved well with the Aunt but had interesting friends whom he did not invite home. The Aunt fell pregnant and blossomed, pregnancy suited her, she bloomed and was happy. The labour was hard, the baby had not turned; the nurse endeavoured before and during the labour to turn the baby After thirty hours, everyone feared the worst. An Accoucheur was called who tried to bring the baby out with big forceps, failed and had to announce that nature would take its course and sat in the room watching, whilst his patient was made comfortable with pillows, salves and calming tisanes. The Aunt preserved her energy, the baby eventually came, feet first, but she did not prevail. For several days she was tended to with great care, a wet nurse took the child, but the toll on her body and loss of blood put her to rest. Her husband to his grace, did show remorse, sending her off with a great show of black-dressed carriages, gold lanterns and many black horses, a full mass and then a procession to the family tomb in Arles. The wet nurse stayed six months and had to return home to her family, The Uncle was at a complete loss. He took the child into his bed. Heads were turned and his behaviour accounted for by grief. After a while this incongruous habit became normal to him and people made little jokes about it until the practice went beyond the child’s early years. There were plenty of rooms the child could have slept in and sufficient money for a nursery maid. People stopped commenting and stayed away.
Hennike & Aleron
On Laurent’s return Hennike and Aleron spoke pleasantly and held their tongue. They told him they had missed him and welcomed him back. At dinner that night The Uncle sat minding his own business, offering words of entertainment and compensation for the poor atmosphere. Hennike and Aleron pretended nothing had happened and only asked where Laurent had stayed and if it was a nice place. They knew better than to ask who he was with. They had a very good idea, there were only so many places he could find comfort, and the people who frequented such places were not invited to their table.
Aleron found that The Uncle had no remedy for Laurent’s situation. The Uncle had not been able to explain why Orlant had left the plantation without his wife and child, nor why his son had gone missing. Orlant was a valuable asset, he would need to employ two people to replace him, he felt obliged to support the forlorn wife and had no choice but to accept that his son was not likely to marry nor listen to anything he would have to say. So it fell upon Hennike to speak with him when he returned. Laurent made his luck. He had places to go and people to congress with. Other men like him lived a life of misery tied to families who did not want them, disowned them or offered them up for judgement, forcing them into abhorrent lifestyles. His parents counted their happiness, they had lost one son and did not want to lose the other.
The next evening his mother pleasantly mentioned the daughter of a neighbouring plantation, the Jolie Meadow. It was misnamed, although the working men were treated fairly they were indentured and had to serve their contracted time or risk being seized and punished. He understood why his mother was being patient and why patience was wearing thin. He had been staying at a house frequented by men who had little time for women. Men who did not dislike women but had a preference for the companionship of other men. When Orlant had had to appease his wife, Laurent spent time with those men and Hennike found out where he went. She had a good relationship with her son, and could separate out the needs of the business from the care she knew he needed. Laurent perceived her motherly interest with the good intention she always had for her son. He would always remember her lilting words. She was soft-spoken, and able to guide him at times when his father’s harshness turned him away.
'Have you seen Estienne? I’m told he has interesting guests, I should invite him to dine, you are friends aren’t you? I assumed you were there…I’m told you frequently visit him.'
That was untrue. He visited when he could get an invitation. He had booked a room at the Inn and word got back to Estienne about the creepy Uncle. He was sympathetic, they were acquainted and he was advised that Laurent needed his support. Taking him into his house would send the message that he was under his protection. Estienne was independently wealthy and chose to live on the island through love of place and people. His attention and regard was a symbol of trust and warning. He was liberal not a libertine and ran his house like a gentleman’s club, a place for men of culture to meet and make ‘gentle’ acquaintance. Sexual preference was irrelevant, that kind of love was actioned elsewhere.
Laurent was on edge, his words came out a bit wrong.
'What’s frequently?'
His father joined the conversation at this point. He was blunt.
'Don’t confirm our worst fears. How is our family to continue?'
'Ask Auguste. He is my elder, has a wife and prefers fighting in Vere to creating a legitimate heir here.'
It was true, Auguste had joined the Veretian army in the Chastillion province. Laurent’s unspoken and passed on responsibility was to inherit and run the property in the Caribbean. The parents did not intend to stay. The property was in a good shape. Their son was not. He mixed with the wrong people and showed no interest in the family business, claiming the industry it supported was corrupt and immoral.
He gazed on them. Soft mouth open, eyes steely.
'At least I don't have any bastards running around...'
'Laurent!'
His mother started weeping. His father had words.
'You admit it!'
'Admit what! The reason you sent my brother home was because he did his best to procreate with one of our neighbour's servants and succeeded. He has not hidden that he has two children with Hyacinth. He likes women with dark eyes and black hair. He grew into adulthood around them. His legitimate wife comes from Delpha and looks Akelion. He does not love her. He has no need for children with her. He has a common law wife, whom he does love and will never leave. That is undeniable. You cannot cure him. That is how he is made, that is his nature and sensibility. He mourned his life here and took another in the army, where he can try to forget everything you brought him up to believe. He knows what he likes and so do I. He cannot live without Hyacinth; that is why he took her and the babies back to Arles. He makes his living the best way he can for his beloved family. I will not follow him down that fucked up road.'
'Laurent!'
'I will not tell a lie. If you force me...'
'Do not threaten me!'
'I speak of the consequences of forcing your son into a marriage of convenience. You tried to drive him away from his true love. You want to drive me into the same dark place.'
The dinner table was a quiet and simmering place after that. His father picked up his knife and fork and silently ate. His mother could not stand the atmosphere, tried to eat and left the room, silent tears streaking her face.
'You do not care your mother..she has not slept this past month. She is very upset. . You come and go from this house to disparate places, places not fitting for a person of your status and background. It is shameful. She weeps when she comes to my bed. A natural place...you are unnatural, people talk about you, and she has to hear, they make sure she knows about you and your sick habits. It is not seemly...'
' I have ears but no inclination to listen. Goodnight.'
'Laurent!'
The Uncle has a Suggestion
The Uncle continued to slope around the plantation, getting into Aleron, making suggestions, pretending to have solutions for the Laurent problem.
‘He won’t change his preference. He is fully involved in that culture, you may as well accept it Aleron.’
Aleron took a sip of his fruit punch, it was a week later, they were sitting on the back verandah and looking out on a wild tropical landscape of bold colours and dense foliage. Hennike had gone upstairs to write some letters, one of which would be going to her son in Arles. She fully intended meeting her grandchildren despite Aleron’s firm refusal to acknowledge them. She did not give up on her children.
Aleron wondered what might come next. His brother-in-law had been visiting disreputable spots which catered to his son’s preferences. He had his own sources and concluded that his brother-in-law was equally depraved if not worse. He saw that the marriage had been a deftly handled cover and shield.
‘We are not blood…there may be a way of resolving this issue…we are family…I have lost a son…I could take him as…’
‘As what?’
The Uncle crossed and squeezed his legs together, he sucked his mouth as if relishing something very desirable. Aleron watched his physicality change, as it often did when he spoke to or about Laurent. He laughed.
‘Do you mean that you have the resources to persuade Laurent to go back to Arles with you as some kind of companion? You cannot be serious!’
‘Matelotage? Companion? Nephew? Son? There are different options with the same aim. If he came back with me, he would have choice. He has not reached his majority, he behaves like an adult. If you would allow I could give him formal instruction which would guide him into a more natural life. He would stay within the family and be within the influence of people who care about him.’
‘What of your son? Where is he?’
‘He is lost. A runaway who left in the middle of the night.’
This is not strictly speaking true. Nicaise had left on the pretence of visiting a neighbouring house, he was thirteen and drifting towards the same inclinations as Laurent, broken into the culture by his own father.
‘What have you done to find him?’
The Uncle realised that the conversation was drifting away from his goal. He could not go back without raising more fears. He spent many minutes explaining how he had alerted the authorities and walked the streets for days with several of his staff, in search of his son. The latter was true, he felt he needed to be seen looking for him, and advise the boy on what to say about their household. He seemed unaware that everyone in the neighbourhood knew or suspected his domestic arrangements, and that if asked, his neighbours would help Nicaise leave that damned house. The Uncle hoped that his explanation would suffice; he could tell from Aleron’s demeanour that he needed to leave the subject of Laurent to another time but Aleron would not let go of the matter.
‘I heard you say Matelotage? What kind of marriage is that! Between two men? The piratical kind?
Aleron sneered.
The Uncle swallowed.
‘It is a form of partnership, we could enter a formal and acknowledged relationship…we are not blood - it is possible, an accepted practice here in these parts, other men do it.’
‘That is not without sin and is a form of pederasty. Who would perform such a service? Nobody with moral standing.’
Aleron had not dismissed the premise, his objection was that The Uncle had landed on an unconventional option used by sailors to protect their gains or ensure a close ‘friend’ was protected after the death of a familiar. The Uncle sat within himself, a shell of dissembling embarrassment and brazenness. The father was looking beyond this first proposition. It gave The Uncle time to gather himself, and vaguely rejoice, he might succeed after all, and get what he wanted.
A sliver of hope bedded itself in his black heart.
Aleron fell silent and contemplative.
The Uncle felt a crease of joy begin to open within him, but it was followed by the crashing of all hope.
‘I won’t speak of our conversation. I dislike my son’s choice of partners, your wider proposal has merit but I don’t think that I can live with the idea that you take my son as an informal partner, with a licence likened to marriage and none its benefits; nowhere in the world can two men marry or live openly together as sexual partners. You would place him in such danger his life might be taken. Think on. There are other ways.’
With that Aleron withdrew, he would not give his son away, there were other means by which he could resolve this difficult situation. Laurent was still dependent on the plantation for his allowance, he wouldn’t have to go as far as The Uncle wanted, but between them, some path might be paved in a way that would bring him back under the family’s control and influence.
The Ball
Governor Mathe holds a party to celebrate the King’s birthday, and of course the de Veres are invited. Their family is aristocratic, they have met the King, they are high status if a little too interesting. The family has old money and made a lot of new money from their plantation and other trade. Aleron set a precedent, he had left Vere when he fell out with his father over his marriage to Hennike who was not Veretian and merchant class. Her father had made a lot of money from trading in the New World, doted on his daughter and gave her a large dowry. Aleron wanted both the dowry and the naive helpless young woman. His children inherited his transgressive nature and evidenced the trait in their own form of disobedience.
Aleron finagled his way into a Lieutenant Governor position. A position from which he could maximise his income and enhance his status, on the island and at home. These positions were not given to natives. The Old World provided the gift of self-serving effective administration and strategies for grifting. The other Lieutenant Governor is all about punishing people, he campaigns on a moral bandwagon. The moral bandwagon family are dry and full of good works, and like to bring notice to non-conforming individuals. Aleron decides to focus on trade, he knows his family situation is not fit for publication. It’s known and largely sympathised with. Everyone knows the second son is other inclined, so he needs to maintain a socially proper facade and get him married like the other son. The Governor has three daughters, the last one is not married, is the same age as Laurent and an irrepressible sweetheart who is insisting she will not marry. The two families can see a solution for their wayward children, and would like to see their young people come together; they are worthy of each other, of equal status, and their nonsense must be brought to an end.
Laurent is the wrong side of good. His disarmingly sweet features have been replaced by a devastatingly handsome face and fine form, his appearance is another factor which is not beneficial to him. He is a fitting suitor but has too much going on with him. Hennike has been talking softly to him, he’s mellowed but he’s still coming and going as he pleases, sometimes to Estienne’s house, other times to a hotel which can meet the ‘discreet’ needs of their guests.
Laurent turns up at the ball. The daughter is put in front of him. He plays his part.
‘Evening Malia, how are you?’
‘Good. How are you? I hear you have recently come from town.’
‘Hmmm…what did you hear?’
‘Come…let’s get some punch. I think you have more interesting news than you can speak of here.’
She took his arm and dropped her voice.
‘My pet name is Talik…’
An attractive brown-haired girl of similar age, came out of nowhere. She had been observing them keenly and watching every word that came out of Malia’s mouth. She is slim, elegant, assured and uncompromising, and handles herself with clear intention. People stand off and leave her alone. Laurent takes note. The two girls have a line of communication which does not need to be expressed. Talik is smaller, rounder, sweeter and dark-haired, her skin lit like pale honey. Talik gave off docile, a different kind of assurity, a nice polite girl who would make a good wife.
‘Do you mind if my friend joins us? Her name is Vanessa. I call her Vannes. We are very good friends. Her family are from Arles, that’s where your family is, right?’
‘Yes, my family is Veretian, but we have been here for over twenty years, my parents go back and forth, my brother is there now.’
‘Ah…your brother. I heard interesting things about him…’
‘Really…What have you heard? Oh! here is your friend.’
Vannes arrives and stands off his shoulder. She is very composed, there’s a friendly reactive twitch in the corner of her mouth.
‘Good Evening Laurent. I see you are taking good care of Talik. How do you do?’
‘I’m well Vannes.’
‘Oh…Heh! Heh! Heh!…She has let you into our little secret.’
Vannes gave him a very lewd wink. Laurent caught on immediately. Talik hooked his arm tightly, Vannes took the lead and walked them all into the glass-framed orangery connected to the house which led into the garden. A few steps away were garden seats and a table, some people were taking the night air, she walked past all.
‘There’s a gazebo, just up there. Very charming, and discreet. It’s our favourite place.’
Another knowing look.
She beckoned one of the housemen, who had a tray but no drinks.
‘Alfred, bring a jug of punch and three glasses…and some of those savouries please. Miss Malia will need her throw. We’ll be in the gazebo…Oh! Alfred, bring a citronella lantern too please.’
‘Yes M’am.’
He stepped away rapidly, she was in charge, he was very happy to assist.
‘Are you always like this?’
‘Yes. Talik likes it…You like it too…You’re more compliant than your pretty scowl indicates. I can read your body language. Talik, you can take your hand off him now, there’s no-one you need to convince here.’
This woman was too much for him. She was bossy. Talik stepped off and put her arm through Vannes’, they looked very cosy, and compatible. Talik let Vannes be, and Vannes was confident to be who she was around her. Laurent suddenly felt he was intruding, followed by a visceral reaction, this is what he should be aiming for. He felt envious, no one was going to comment on their behaviour, they were women; women were allowed to have very close friendships and could be could be physically close in public without demur. The same was not true for men. A close male friendship with overt affection or physicality was treated with suspicion, and liable to bring trouble. Laurent sealed up his feelings and went quiet.
Talik sat and patted the seat beside her.
‘Come sit by me Laurent, Vannes will sit on the other side.
Laurent sat down. He felt like he was being plunged into a different way of thinking. The two girls were very content, he didn’t know how it might work out for them, but for the moment they seemed to have everything they desired.
‘You have to be bold. What do you want?
Vannes’ eyes were bright and warm.
‘I haven’t given it thought.’
It was true, he was too busy fighting Aleron and the rest of his family to think that through.
‘What are you good at?’
He disobeyed for fun and liked causing disruption, he was good at that, except it wasn’t fun anymore. More a tool to get what he wanted. He’d made that his focus, getting what he needed, that highly charged hormonally driven section of his life was over. He was on the cusp of another life and forced into acknowledging it by this simple question. He had been going through a phase, come out the other side and stalled. Hennike wasn’t fighting him as his father was, but her aims were the same, she wanted him to see him settled with a woman, and whatever happened, compromise and unhappiness were coming his way. The question reformed in his head.
What was he good at?
Laurent was shook. He had never fully contemplated this. His life was one of excess without consideration, by comparison to ordinary working people, he had never wanted for anything, and working was optional. The plantation was managed by his father and the overseer, all he had to do was listen to and agree their plans, occasionally he might have a better suggestion and rarely, argue coherently to overturn a decision. He did not work nor considered what he might do if he did not have the resources of the plantation. Aleron made all the strategic plans, Laurent swept in and out of the business on whim. That plunged him into deeper thought. The girls sat patiently, waiting for him to come back from his stream of thought.
‘Ermm…I don’t know what to say…’
‘At least you don’t bullshit…’
Talik giggled.
‘She’s rude sometimes.’
Vannes came straight back.
‘Honest. If you don’t know what you are good at, how will you get what you want? You know nothing about yourself. You’ve had it easy. Look at you. You’re a man, you have been given every advantage. You look like a fucking God! People couldn’t keep their eyes off you in there. And you walk around behaving like you can get anything you want. You have to deserve it!’
‘Vanessa! I’m sorry Laurent, she’s a passionate person. Look; we heard you were unhappy and we wondered if we could help…’
‘I wonder myself…fuck…’
Vannes came back into the conversation, resolute and true to her nature.
‘Fuck is right. Laurent, I have my own money. My grandmother wanted me to be independent. My father tries to make me conform, my mother tries to control me. I don’t do what I want. I walk a fine line and make compromises so I can spend time with Talik. She is sweet-natured but strong-willed; young and dependent on her parents for her living. Her parents tolerate me because I am rich and my family is influential. We are playing a waiting game. Have you considered your position?’
Laurent dropped into a feeling of worthlessness. He led the life he thought he wanted but things were beginning to kick him into a place of uncertainty. His father had not directly threatened him, his method was to make him realise his responsibilities by calling upon him more often to assist with running the plantation. He had to justify his bills and reason the expenditure. He had had to pay the last hotel invoice by cash, the previous invoice was questioned strenuously, items were picked out and he could not speak for each line. Things he could not name for shame of his natural tendencies. He accepted his father would eventually control his behaviour through his lack of an independent income and increasingly evident that independence would only come on his father’s death. On his recent 21st birthday, his allowance became dependent on his involvement in plantation management, a change which was forcing modification of his behaviour and spending. His Uncle-in-law stepped back and did not bother him directly, but he felt his influence. The net had been spread wide and being drawn in. Comments were made. He was reminded that the family’s business extended beyond the plantation and Island trading; the Veretian properties needed management and a de Vere should be involved in managing de Vere properties. The errant elder brother took no interest and had been dismissed. A choice was coming.
Estienne warned him by clearly outlining his position. For now, his parents did not want to lose him and he was in little danger but if they tired of his behaviour and lost patience, they would break his will by stopping his allowance, how would he manage? Had he money set aside? How long could he maintain himself without their help? He held the thought in mind and put aside the ramifications of being set adrift, now it was being re-presented to him by the girls. Estienne had strongly recommended he rein in his temper and consider his future. He wanted to be treated like an adult and with that came with responsibilities, he offered him short term respite in the form of a place to stay if he needed it. Long-term, If he wanted independence, he had find the resources and money to support himself.
He looked up.
‘I am going to have to leave home…aren’t I?
Aftermath
The following evening his mother pleasantly mentioned Talik. She was brought up in context. The conversation drifted this way and that and eventually to life prospects. Reference was made again to Arles, business and futures. Talik was held up as a perfect potential wife, a little young but charming and with mettle, sufficient that she and Laurent could manage their own household with a little help from his parents if they took a little house on the plantation.
Then his father again mentioned that he had been seen coming out of a house, a house frequented by men who had little time for women. He needed to change his ways, it was no longer a question of tolerating youthful exuberance. He stuttered with impatience. His mother took over, lilting and softly phrased. She tried to show understanding.
'What is it that you find so interesting at Estienne's house? He only keeps the company of gentlemen. People are talking. Adric and Charron, they say you visit often?'
At least she acknowledged he was not low class. Estienne was known to be very wealthy, and had income from his family’s estate. He was West Indies native, his family having originally made their money in Fortaine from shipping and trade.
'What is often?'
His father butted in.
'Don’t be flippant. You confirm our worst fears. How is our family to continue?'
'Ask Auguste. He has two boys. They are bastards but most assuredly his.'
'Laurent!'
His mother started crying. His father was furious. Laurent was smirking.
'You admit it!'
'Admit what? He knows what he likes and so do I. No admittance needed. You know my preferences.'
'Laurent!'
'I will not tell a lie. What are my options if I must live in truth?’
The next morning he went into town, that was the last night he spent at home.