The Sunday morning sun was clear and bright. Charles-de-Tréville sat in the small parlor of the Tréville mansion, his eyes fixed on the chessboard before him. The sunlight streaming through the glass windows gave the small room more than enough light.
"White Knight, D2 to E4."
Charles recited the notation from the chess record as he moved the piece on the board.
"Black Rook, G1 to G4."
As the game progressed, the battle on the board grew more intense. Charles slowly became engrossed in the role of the player, savoring the pleasure of the intellectual contest.
Absorbed as he was, he didn't notice the parlor door being quietly pushed open.
"White Bishop, D4 takes F6."
Following the record, Charles prepared to pick up the white bishop and make the move.
However, he found a force resisting his own, vying for the piece. He reflexively glanced to the side and saw a slender, delicate white hand.
His gaze traveled up from the hand, and Charles found his sister, Forlan, standing beside him, watching. It was Sunday, so Forlan did not have to go to the art studio.
"Sir, you seem to be quite at leisure."
"Oh, it's fine," Charles replied casually, then wrested the piece from her grasp and completed the move according to the record.
"You haven't forgotten what you promised me, have you?" Forlan looked at her brother with a hint of reproachful affection, her sapphire-blue eyes shining with a mixture of worry and anxiety.
In French, there are two ways to say "you": the familiar tu and the formal vous. Vous is used to show respect or distance. Here, Forlan used the formal address to express her sense of grievance.
Charles finally tore his eyes away from the chessboard again.
"Of course I haven't forgotten."
"But is your method of helping me to sit in a room playing chess?" Forlan added a touch of severity to her words, though her soft, melodious voice dissipated most of it.
Charles picked up another piece and made a move.
"My dear Mademoiselle, anxiety will not get the job done. And the fact that I do not appear anxious does not mean I am not doing my utmost on your behalf."
"Then what stage are you at now?" Forlan immediately pressed. "Marie is suffering there every day. The thought of it keeps me from sleeping at night."
"It's almost done," Charles answered casually.
Just then, a servant knocked gently on the parlor door. Charles called him in and took the letter he was handed.
It's finally here.
Charles unhurriedly opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.
"My dear friend,
As per the information you provided, I have made some inquiries for you and now have some results:
The Marquis de Léaurand has a sister who returned from exile abroad in 1815. She later married a diplomat from the former regime. This diplomat had a considerable income and left her a fortune upon his death. Combined with the later government indemnity, this lady possessed a very large estate.
Not long ago, this lady passed away from illness. After an accounting by a notary, this fortune was valued at a total of approximately 1.7 million francs... What is more noteworthy is that the lady also left a will—a valid will, written while of sound mind and confirmed by a notary. This will designates her niece, Mademoiselle Marie-de-Léaurand, as the sole heir to her fortune. The reason given is that Marie was the only relative who cared for her during her severe illness.
In other words, Mademoiselle Marie-de-Léaurand is fully entitled to inherit this fortune, making her one of the youngest millionaires in France. Furthermore, according to my investigation, the day after her aunt's death, Mademoiselle Léaurand was sent to the convent by her parents.
Additionally, regarding the marriage you mentioned, I was unable to investigate many details as both parties are being extremely secretive. However, there is one matter of interest: your 'cousin-uncle,' Philippe, the son of the Duke de Tréville, is actively lobbying the Paris civil court to have the administration and ownership of the property transferred to her brother—his future son-in-law and your future cousin-in-law, the Comte de Léaurand—on the grounds that Mademoiselle has entered a convent to serve God.
So, I trust you can deduce the general outline of events with that sharp mind of yours.
I wish you success in resolving this matter. Also, remember to finish your book soon!
Your friend,
Catherine-de-Périette"
Charles slowly finished reading the letter. The final piece of the puzzle slotted into place in his mind, and the full shape of the affair became clear.
"What is it?" Forlan asked her brother softly, perhaps sensing something.
Charles looked up and studied his sister. Due to her slender frame, even while sitting, Charles was not much shorter than her.
The girl was looking at him with hopeful, sapphire-blue eyes. Her thin but vibrant red lips, set against her fair complexion, made her look like a figure from a painting.
Charles reached out and stroked his sister's soft, smooth golden hair. "Your friend will be returning very soon."
"Really?" the girl's face lit up with surprise.
"There are only a few small steps left," Charles replied with certainty. "And, I'm afraid you're in for a surprise."
"A surprise?"
"If fortune smiles, your friend is likely to become one of the richest young women in France..." Charles answered in a measured tone, taking the opportunity to continue stroking his sister's head (Forlan had grown increasingly resentful of this patronizing gesture ever since she had come of age).
"Huh?" Forlan was lost in astonishment, completely forgetting that her brother was once again taking the chance to pat her on the head.
Charles told Forlan the information he had recently uncovered.
After learning of the situation, a mist formed in Forlan's eyes.
"They... they..." Forlan repeated several times. "How could they? Marie is their family! And... and Marie is so lovely and kind!"
"In this day and age, my dear Mademoiselle, 'lovely' and 'kind' aren't worth 1.7 million francs," Charles teased softly. Seeing his sister's rather hostile glare, he quickly added, "But Marie has had a stroke of great luck. She has made a good friend, and that's something not even ten times 1.7 million could buy..."
Hearing her brother's subsequent compliment, Forlan's expression finally relaxed a little.
"So what do you plan to do now?"
"I plan to pay a visit to our great-uncle and ask him, for the sake of the merciful Lord, to give Mademoiselle Léaurand a way out," Charles said with an air of stating the obvious.
Forlan stared at Charles as if he were a dirty, ruined canvas.
"Alright, if he doesn't listen, I'll threaten to leak the story to the newspapers. I know quite a few people in the publishing world. And this is a major scandal; the press is sure to pursue it relentlessly. The two families will be utterly disgraced, and at that point, the court won't be able to strip Mademoiselle Léaurand of her rightful inheritance in the face of such massive public pressure, will it?"
Charles explained his plan.
Forlan was finally reassured, though she still seemed a little worried. "Will that make the Duke de Tréville and the Léaurand family back down?"
"It should be no problem. Once something like this gets out, the family's reputation will be in tatters," Charles answered with conviction.
"Alright." After a moment's thought, Forlan nodded, accepting her brother's view. "Then I must thank you on Marie's behalf, Sir."
"Oh, you're welcome. It's what I ought to do."
"In that case..." Forlan resumed staring at him as if he were a dirty canvas. "Would you please remove your hand!"
Charles smiled awkwardly, then picked up the black queen and made the next move from the chess record. "Check!"
=========================================
Back in her own room, Forlan sat at her desk, her chin propped in her hands, considering things for a long while.
Then, she picked up her pen.
"Dearest Mathilde,
Please forgive me for using this address, but since our conversation the other day, I feel I may take the liberty.
I remember your promise, and I wish to thank you once again on Marie's behalf. Moreover, the time to test your promise has now arrived—you will have the opportunity to save Marie from a situation of utter ruin.
My brother has indeed not failed our expectations and has uncovered the truth of the matter: Marie's aunt passed away a short while ago, and because Marie was the only one who cared for her during her illness, she left a will bequeathing her entire estate to Marie.
What moving affection! How many people are left in our era who are capable of such a good deed? God, in the end, does reward those who do good.
But, as we both know, sin exists everywhere under the sun. To devour this inheritance, Marie's parents have actually sent her to a convent! They are now rushing to seize the property, and to this end, have even arranged a marriage with my great-uncle's family. How despicable!
Fortunately, the Almighty will not forgive such an evil act, and he uses the hands of us mortals to uphold justice. My brother is already doing his utmost to stop this, but I am not entirely at ease relying on him to charge in alone. Therefore, I ask you now to extend your helping hand and save this poor girl.
Your grandfather holds a high position, and his word carries great weight. The judges and magistrates who have likely taken bribes would surely not dare to trifle with him. If your grandfather would be willing to say a word on this matter, then the injustice against Marie could certainly be redressed.
Of course, my great-uncle is very well-connected, so perhaps your grandfather would be reluctant to intervene. However, I have heard that due to his advanced age, you often read letters to him and record his replies (please forgive me, I overheard this in idle chat among our classmates). Therefore, I imagine it would not be too difficult for you to write 'a letter from Grandfather,' would it?
But this, of course, is merely our last resort. If my brother is capable enough, we will not have to go to such lengths at all—I do hope my brother proves to be useful!
You said before that this new era has given us minds, allowing us to not be manipulated by fate. The opportunity to practice what you preached has now arrived. Surely you will not shrink from it?
From my brother's novels (he actually thinks I've never read them! I can recommend one to you sometime...), I have reached a conclusion—we women must not be like Du Barry and the Queen, each acting on her own and attacking the other. As long as we stand united, there is nothing in France we cannot accomplish, is there not? Oh, God, if only they had possessed our minds back then, how could France have possibly suffered the disasters that followed?
Your impertinent friend,
Forlan-de-Tréville"
Historical Note: The Comtesse du Barry, who came from common origins, entered the court of Versailles and became the last official mistress of Louis XV. She had a hostile relationship with Louis XV's granddaughter-in-law, the future Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, and the two engaged in fierce court struggles. After Louis XV's death, she fell from favor at court and was exiled by the new king, Louis XVI. In October 1793, the Queen was sent to the guillotine. In December of the same year, Du Barry was also sent to the guillotine. The two long-time rivals in court intrigue met their end within two months of each other.