his letters and mine. If he is not immediately demonstrative of his true feelings upon this family reunion, it will only be because he wishes to appear a man, and thus, even with me and others, he does his utmost never to show his distress in public. As you can imagine, he still carries a great burden of guilt upon his young shoulders, and I fear always will, where the birth and health of his little brother are concerned. I have no wish to distress you or cause you to relive such a sensitive episode, but as I have been charged with your son’s welfare, I think it important you know his state of mind.
This reunion has filled him with the greatest apprehension, not only because it will be the first meeting of the brothers, but even more so because he wonders how you will receive him. I know. I know. You will both welcome him with joyful open arms, but it does not matter that I tell him so. He must experience it for himself, and then I think his mind will be settled.
As you do not keep any secrets from each other, I write openly and always honestly. But as to the next topic, I have enclosed a separate sheet of parchment on the understanding that you may wish to burn this particular page, given its sensitive nature, and yet keep the rest of the letter intact. I trust you will not think this gesture an impertinent one, but one born of necessity. Thus I will continue now on separate correspondence stock before returning here to finish my missive.
[Editors’ note: Here is the aforementioned single sheet, on separate parchment (written both sides), now returned to its original letter. It was not burned as was advised or predicted, but found amongst M’sieur le Duc’s most sensitive correspondence, in one of several locked red leather portfolios found in the secret stairwell within the Treat library.]
M’sieur le Duc, to be brutally honest, your visit here and our return to Paris with you cannot come soon enough. While this delightful sojourn in Constantinople has been one of our most pleasant foreign stays, we have prolonged our departure by a twelvemonth, and all because of Julian’s carnal association with a particular female whose husband is attached to the Russian Embassy.
I do believe had we made our plans just over a year ago, Julian would have acquiesced without question, and been glad of the change of scenery. He was growing restless by that time, for us to make the voyage by sea to Alexandria. We had discussed visiting Cairo and then making another sea voyage along the coast of Africa and on to Gibraltar, and thence up the Channel to France, to return to Paris.
These plans I had almost in place when they were thwarted. Julian caught the eye of the wife of the Russian Chargé d’affaires , one Prince Vladimir Rostovsky. The husband is frequently away from the city and to other parts of the empire, on business, leaving his childless wife behind, she preferring not to travel. She, too, is nobility, a princess of the Gargarins, and they both conduct themselves as if their umbilical cords are attached to the Empress herself. Meaning, they look down upon those who are not of equal status, and are as one blind to any menial below that of an Imperial lady-in-waiting. She expects all gentlemen to be in awe of her beauty, and he that every gentleman bow and scrape before him. In short, they are a well-matched couple.
The Princess Sonia Natalia Gargarin-Rostovskia is a willowy beauty, with pale skin, dark eyes and coal-black hair. She is eight, possibly ten, years Julian’s senior, but looks younger. And so she should, because her time is spent almost exclusively in the upkeep of her person. And yet, for all her vanity, she is an accomplished linguist, and such are her abilities that she is often called upon by the embassy to sit in on meetings requiring an interpreter. I concede she is a gracious hostess and pleasant enough company, from what I have witnessed on the handful of occasions I was in her presence at an
This reunion has filled him with the greatest apprehension, not only because it will be the first meeting of the brothers, but even more so because he wonders how you will receive him. I know. I know. You will both welcome him with joyful open arms, but it does not matter that I tell him so. He must experience it for himself, and then I think his mind will be settled.
As you do not keep any secrets from each other, I write openly and always honestly. But as to the next topic, I have enclosed a separate sheet of parchment on the understanding that you may wish to burn this particular page, given its sensitive nature, and yet keep the rest of the letter intact. I trust you will not think this gesture an impertinent one, but one born of necessity. Thus I will continue now on separate correspondence stock before returning here to finish my missive.
[Editors’ note: Here is the aforementioned single sheet, on separate parchment (written both sides), now returned to its original letter. It was not burned as was advised or predicted, but found amongst M’sieur le Duc’s most sensitive correspondence, in one of several locked red leather portfolios found in the secret stairwell within the Treat library.]
M’sieur le Duc, to be brutally honest, your visit here and our return to Paris with you cannot come soon enough. While this delightful sojourn in Constantinople has been one of our most pleasant foreign stays, we have prolonged our departure by a twelvemonth, and all because of Julian’s carnal association with a particular female whose husband is attached to the Russian Embassy.
I do believe had we made our plans just over a year ago, Julian would have acquiesced without question, and been glad of the change of scenery. He was growing restless by that time, for us to make the voyage by sea to Alexandria. We had discussed visiting Cairo and then making another sea voyage along the coast of Africa and on to Gibraltar, and thence up the Channel to France, to return to Paris.
These plans I had almost in place when they were thwarted. Julian caught the eye of the wife of the Russian Chargé d’affaires , one Prince Vladimir Rostovsky. The husband is frequently away from the city and to other parts of the empire, on business, leaving his childless wife behind, she preferring not to travel. She, too, is nobility, a princess of the Gargarins, and they both conduct themselves as if their umbilical cords are attached to the Empress herself. Meaning, they look down upon those who are not of equal status, and are as one blind to any menial below that of an Imperial lady-in-waiting. She expects all gentlemen to be in awe of her beauty, and he that every gentleman bow and scrape before him. In short, they are a well-matched couple.
The Princess Sonia Natalia Gargarin-Rostovskia is a willowy beauty, with pale skin, dark eyes and coal-black hair. She is eight, possibly ten, years Julian’s senior, but looks younger. And so she should, because her time is spent almost exclusively in the upkeep of her person. And yet, for all her vanity, she is an accomplished linguist, and such are her abilities that she is often called upon by the embassy to sit in on meetings requiring an interpreter. I concede she is a gracious hostess and pleasant enough company, from what I have witnessed on the handful of occasions I was in her presence at an
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