The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy (65 page)

BOOK: The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy
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“Of course.”
She lifted Patrick out of his arms and into hers, rocking him into complacency as they sat down to eat.According to Benedictine
custom, no one spoke until they were all finished. That was when Grégoire showed the abbot his writing tablet, and some of the Latin translations he was working on. “I would be honored if you—”
“I would love to.”
The abbot spent the afternoon going through the Latin translations of the columns, rough drafts though they were. The subject matter would vary, and Grégoire was wise enough to rely heavily on quotes from church fathers, rather than making the key points himself, but the undertone was the same. The joy he found in a humble, ordinary life was transmitted perfectly. The arguments ranged from simple to complex, and he had scattered notes about revisions in between the lines, but he had apparently found his calling—and an audience. That he believed that his entire life was destined to follow a specific path was reinforced by his stubborn attitude.
As he read, the abbot occasionally looked up and through the window. Young Patrick was still mastering being upright, and his father was helping him walk along the shore, the waves lapping at his tiny feet. Grégoire had finally found people to pour his love into—people who deserved it, and not just dead saints.
“My son,” he said the next day, when it came time to depart, “can you forgive me for all the ways in which I have wronged you?”
Grégoire smiled. “Considering what the consequences were, I cannot help but thank you.”
“I'm old, Grégoire. And tired. I want to step down as father abbot,” he said, continuing despite Grégoire's look of surprise. “I have to move on, and I cannot do it without your forgiveness.”
“You would be surprised by what you are capable of,” Grégoire replied. “Father Abbot, I bear you no ill will. I never have.”
They embraced one more time. The gig was ready to go, and the abbot was ready to leave. He left behind his staff, and Grégoire made him a parting promise to send along the Latin compendium of his works, and he sent his greetings to all the brothers
he missed so much. Mrs. Bellamont curtsied politely to him, and Patrick's good-bye consisted of babbling as he flailed his free hand in the abbot's direction.
As the abbot boarded the gig to sit beside Father O'Banon, the priest remarked on the loss of his walking stick.
“In the presence of a saint,” he replied, “you find yourself without need for further support.”
The End
Historical Notations
ANY MONASTIC RESEARCHER will quickly discover that there is a great wealth of information on monastic life in the medieval period leading up to the Counter-Reformation (mid 1500s) and a good deal of material dealing with modern, post Vatican II (1962) monasticism. Between those periods is more of a gray area, and I've done my best to show life in a monastery in post-Napoleonic Europe, but I was probably wrong about a couple things.
A good deal of material was made up for the sake of narrative. There was no archbishopric of Oviedo. Spain in 1817 only had five archbishoprics. Some of the monasteries had been dissolved by this point, but plenty of them still existed, particularly Benedictines. Pope Pius VII may well have had an older brother, but the abbot in this book is pure invention.
Much of the material for the scenes in India are derived from the autobiographical accounts of Dean Mahomet, who moved to England and opened a shop in Brighton that is mentioned in this book. The scenes in China are similarly derived from late Qing Dynasty sources.
As noted in previous books, the Prince Regent (soon to be King George IV) had several children out of wedlock, or in wedlock with his Catholic wife (the marriage was not considered valid). Some of these were fairly public knowledge and some are more historical theories. Frederick Augustus Maddox is imagined, as his
mother, so he certainly never met his grandfather King George III because he is not a real person, though to be fair, George III was quite mad by this time and probably met an incredible number of imaginary people.
Also, none of the events of this book occurred and the overwhelming majority of the characters never existed. So there's that.
Bibliography
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. New York: Doubleday, 2004.
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Priests, Prelates, and People
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Beales, Derek.
Prosperity and Plunder: European Catholic Monasteries in the Age of Revolution, 1650 – 1815
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Brooke, Iris and James Laver.
English Costume from the Seventeenth Through the Nineteenth Centuries
. New York: Dover Publications, 2000.
Bury, J. B.
The History of the Papacy in the 19th Century
. New York: Schocken Books, 1964.
Callahan, William.
Church, Politics, and Society in Spain, 1750-1874
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Cusack, Mary Frances.
An Illustrated History of Ireland from AD 400 to 1800
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Dorner, Klaus.
Madmen and the Bourgeoisie
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Duckett, Eleanor.
The Gateway to the Middle Ages: Monasticism
. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1988.
Howlett, D. R., ed.
The Confession of St. Patrick
. New York: Liguori Publications, 1996.
Mahomet, Dean and Michael Fisher.
The Travels of Dean Mahomet
. Berkeley, California: University of California Press, 1997.
O'Neill, Kevin.
Family and Farm in Pre-Famine Ireland.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1984.
Parker, A. A.
The Catholic Church in Spain from 1800 Till To-Day
. London: Catholic Truth Society, 1938.
Parry, David and Waal De.
The Rule of Saint Benedict
. Leominster, England: Gracewing, 1990.
Rochie, Edward Hardy. “The Dead Sea Discipline and the Rule of St. Benedict.”
Journal of Bible and Religion
.Vol. 25, No. 3 (Jul., 1957), pp. 183-186.
Smith, E.
George IV
. New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1999.
Sullivan, Thomas P. “Benedict on Authority.”
Improving College and University Teaching
.Vol. 9, No. 4 (Autumn, 1961), pp. 179-180.
Tuathaigh, Geariód.
Ireland before the Famine 1798-1848
. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1990.
Vidler, Alexander.
The Church in an Age of Revolution
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The Catholic Church through the Ages
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Acknowledgments
TO THE LORD OUR G-D, King of the Universe: why can't You let me write on Saturday, huh? But I love You anyway.
All praise not normally reserved for a Higher Power of unfathomable nature goes to Brandy Scott, my best friend and editor, not always in that order.
Roger Savage worked very hard and at very last minute to clear up some American-isms in the manuscript and doing other editing that I could not have managed myself.
To my parents, thank you for keeping faith that there would be a fourth book in the series, even when I had almost given up.
Jane Austen deserves credit for writing one of the greatest novels of all time and allowing it to lapse into public domain.
To my Sensei, for providing most of the inspiration for Mugin.
Thank you to all of the patients of my father's office in Rutherford who keep buying my book and even telling my father that they liked it in a follow-up visit, with an occasional note to pass on the message to me. You should know that you're not actually required to buy your dermatologist's daughter's books to get a good appointment.
Aliza Gellar, my current roommate, gets an acknowledgment for moral support, which is what I say when I give my roommate a freebie for helping pay the utility bills.
A number of people at Ulysses Press need to be thanked: Keith Riegert, Bryce Willett, Karma Bennett, Claire Chun, and the additional behind-the-scenes people I don't know the names of.
Hillary King Chapin came through at last minute with some important Latin translations, and I'm very grateful for that.
To all of my readers: the original readers at
Fanfiction.net
and the various Jane Austen fan-fiction sites, thank you for reading from beginning to end, and for your continued support. Thank you to all of my Facebook friends, especially the ones who are also my Farmville friends and fertilize my virtual crops. Two birds with one stone right there.
Carey Bligard, Regina Jeffers, Abigail Reynolds, and Lynn Shepherd deserve thanks for helping me with some last-minute historical research.
And if there's anyone I forgot, I'm sorry. And thanks for whatever I'm thankful for.
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