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Mercedes Dupont ([info]mercedes_dupont) wrote in [info]toujoursliberer,
@ 2008-05-29 20:00:00

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Entry tags:augustin_laurent, mercedes_dupont

Making Port with the last of the Laurents
Subject: Making Port
Who: Mercedes Dupont
Where: Dover Port
Warnings: none
Open to: Augustine Laurent


The crossing had been quick this time, and Mercedes was thankful enough for that. It had not been the easiest of pick-ups, with Dunkerque crawling with soldiers and revelling, drunken Revolutionaries. But they had made it out, although he and his latest cargo had had to get their feet wet in the attempt. Better have damp boots than lack a head, of course.

The Apollian bumped against the quayside, and he smiled to himself for another job well-done. Very well done indeed, although he hadn't managed to get any more of Aimé's belongings, he believed he had found something much, much better. Aimé would be so pleased, of course. He couldn't wait to share with him the news of his brother's return from the Revolutionary camp.

"Monsieur Laurent?" He called to the man, "Welcome to England. Vous êtes chanceux il ne pleut pas." The merchant added with a wide grin as his shipmen set down the gangplank and made the ship fast to the docks. "Would you join me?"


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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-05-29 07:52 pm UTC (link)
Yes, Augustin supposed they were lucky that their arrival hadn't been met by the famous English rainfall, but as the crossing had been inaugurated by more than just a little splashing of water, he supposed it really wouldn't have made that much of a difference should the skies have decided to open up and drench them. But the weather managed, miraculously, to hold during the voyage, and Augustin spent most of the time on deck, eyes intent on the line of blue that gradually rose to become the scraggly coast.

Now, upon hearing his name being called, his eyes swiveled away from their study of the dock and the shipmen efficiently carrying out their tasks, resting now on the figure of one Captain Dupont, the man who'd capably ferried them across from the hotbed that was France to England, where he, supposedly, was seeking sanctuary. A poorly healed bullet wound was the cause of the hollowness to his cheeks and the loss of weight that made his clothes sit ill on his form, but contrary to the story he told Mercedes, that wound had not been one of the factors forcing him to abandon the ideals he'd ascribed to all those years ago -- ideals he still carried firmly in his heart.

"England is teasing us newcomers," he replied as he joined Mercedes, sending one final look at the sky before returning the other man's smile with a quirk of his lips. His English was marked with the same accent borne by so many others, slightly rough from disuse, but certainly fluent enough. "Getting our hopes up, I think is the phrase, non? And I would be honored."

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[info]mercedes_dupont
2008-05-29 08:42 pm UTC (link)
"Attempting to tease us, Monsieur. But no matter what safety England offers, it could never be the home to us that France was." Mercedes replies, a little sadly. "But France isn't the home for many of us that it once was." He explains, shrugging. "But for those of use, like yourself, used to Brittany, should see much difference in the weather here and the weather there."

"Are you hoping to find a suitable residence in London and get yourself settled?" He asked, bowing slightly as he gestured Augustine down the gangplank first. "I could provide you with the address of your family, if you prefer to find them before you settle?" He added, although privately hoping he would be able to reach Aimé first. "I am sure your youngest brother would be very glad to see you again, even if your elder sibling may take a little time to adjust to your arrival." He added, following the younger man.

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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-05-29 09:08 pm UTC (link)
Mercedes' gesture, probably done more out of common courtesy than anything else, provoked in Augustin a strong impulse to refuse and insist that the citoyen disembark before him. The urge was suppressed, however, and Augustin strode down the gangplank as invited, keeping his back turned to the ship as he waited for Mercedes to join him. Thus momentarily hidden away from the other man's gaze, the reaction to the mention of his brothers was allowed to bloom across his expression, which was at first one of the distress and worry he felt and that had not lessened over the years; and which faded gradually into one of faint concern and resignation.

"Non, Capitaine, I think I shall wait. As you see, I am not at my best, and my elder brother..." He shrugged and made a short sound of derision. "He was difficult even when we were on good terms. And Aimé--" Another shrug, and he cut himself off with a muttered, "Well," struck again by the fear of what his little brother would say to him. He was silent for a moment, then sighed and glanced askance at Mercedes. "Settling first is the best thing, but I would appreciate an address. As for myself, I have made arrangements. Once everything has been sorted out, I will have you over," he added. "A fine feast of a meal has never failed to show a man's appreciation for a rescue."

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[info]mercedes_dupont
2008-05-29 09:32 pm UTC (link)
"I think that might possibly the wisest thing. I have heard that your father is not in the best of health- arriving unannounced may not improve his condition." Mercedes agrees, remembering his last conversation with Amié, and the young man's eagerness to find a doctor for the ailing man. In Mercedes opinion, it was old age, and the worry he had experienced in the last year or so. He didn't think there was much even an expert physician could do in such a situation. "Your escape certainly could not have been better timed."

"It is Oxsridge House, on Barkley Square." He said, almost too quickly, "At least, that is what I believe it to be." He finished, with a shrug. "They may have found another residence in the meantime, of course."

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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-05-29 10:04 pm UTC (link)
Though he and the patriarch of the family had never been on good terms, Augustin was not the sort of man who carried a resentment so great of his father that he wished him dead. Mercedes' revelation was met by a short nod -- the man was getting on in years, and change of the degree the family had experienced rarely sat well with even the most hale of people -- and then he turned so that he was looking more fully at Mercedes, struck, perhaps, by curiosity as to how readily the man had spoken the address

"I will remember it. Thank you." He paused, almost as though he had thought better of what he was going to say next, then offered a half-smile as he continued: "It seems you are very well acquainted with my family. I suppose I should thank you for that too, oui? The Revolution has not been kind to people like-- to them," he corrected, "and one more friendly face has never done anyone any harm."

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[info]mercedes_dupont
2008-05-30 08:33 am UTC (link)
"I am only as well acquainted as a simple merchant might hope to be." He smiled, inclining his head slightly, "Your elder brother ensured that in his family's presence I remained aware of my station. " He pauses, and can't resist adding, "Aimé, however, showed me the highest kindness. It would have been wrong of me not to repay his kindness with friendship, even if Antoine does not approve." Although Mercedes had no doubts that the eldest Laurent son would have approved if Mercedes had been a titled merchant, with a whole fleet to his name and half the treasures of India in his cargo-holds.

At the mention of the Revolution, however, he shrugs. "Turmoil is unpleasant for all. But I am told it is the means to an end, although some would say the end of France." The thought didn't bother him as much as it should have done, perhaps, but the sea was a richer, larger, freer country than any he had ever come across, and he would always love it more than he would countries built on land.

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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-05-30 10:32 am UTC (link)
The smile that softened his features did not quite meet his eyes. "Hardly the end of France," Augustin said in quietly murmured French. No, this revolution was for France's benefit -- but of course, those robbed of what they believed to be their god-given superiority would never see it that way. He checked himself, cleared his throat, and shook his head as though attempting to clear his mind of the bleak thoughts that supposedly weighed heavily on him, and a moment later, added, "She has seen worse and still has overcome," saying one thing but meaning another -- a habit that he would no doubt become intimately acquainted with over the coming months in this country. "Although many might despair and lose hope, I believe it's only a matter of time."

The mention of his brothers -- both of them, but especially Aimé -- brought a genuine warmth to his smile. "To be perfectly honest, I don't have high hopes for a reconciliation with Antoine; I might have changed, but by your account, it seems he hasn't. We were always butting heads." He shrugged, pressed the palm of his hand against his cravat, smoothing it as his fingers brushed over the side of his chest where the wound still seeped blood into its dressings; and then dropped his hand to tuck it inside the pocket of his coat. "But Aimé is kind, as you say, and I'm glad he has people like you to number among his friends."

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[info]mercedes_dupont
2008-05-31 10:36 am UTC (link)
"Your youngest brother has a great many friends." Mercedes said, although as soon as he said those words they saddened him. Not friends, admirers, lovers, patrons. He tried not to wonder if the boy had any actual friends. But the these were not thoughts to entertain now. He forced himself to smile again, and moved down the docks as this sailors began to speedily unload the Apollian's cargo. "But I do not believe your eldest brother has changed, not at all. He was just the same when I met him in France as he is here." He said, remembering the wet evening when the other three members of the Laurent family, Antoine was just as disagreeable and pompous.

"You have a residence in mind? Then do you wish me to have your baggage sent on, or would you rather wait? The docks are not the best of places for a gentleman to wait, I am afraid." He explained, although for some reason he felt the words were unnecessary, this young gentlemen seemed undaunted by the taverns and warehouses that lined the quay, and the young women that waited against crumbling walls for their next punter.

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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-05-31 11:52 am UTC (link)
Mercedes was right; the warning was unnecessary, as Augustin had loitered in areas far more decrepit than this. The glance he cast around their immediate surroundings travelled smoothly over the women, picking out instead inns and taverns, before returning to a rest on the figure of the captain. "There's a coach later today," he explained, "and as you can see, I did not bring very much with me. There's no need to send anything on; I'll take it myself." He smiled, as if to say, old habits die hard, keeping one step behind Mercedes as they avoided the working sailors.

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[info]mercedes_dupont
2008-06-01 06:13 pm UTC (link)
Mercedes bowed his head. "Of course. I'll ensure it is unloaded for you as soon as possible." He promises, glancing back to see if any of the man's bags head yet been brought from the ship, although as yet only the cargo brought from the hold was crates.

"Perhaps we could find a suitable place for you to wait until your coach arrives, Monsieur Laurent?" Mercedes asks, gesturing them towards a slightly better looking Inn on the waterfront.

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[info]augustinlaurent
2008-06-05 05:29 pm UTC (link)
"How is the fare in there?" Augustin asked, slipping back into the English language as he followed Mercedes lead, gesturing with a hand at the inn they had approached. "Actually--" he broke off with a dry burst of a laugh, "--how is the fare in this whole blessed nation? Are the horror stories true? Will my delicate French palate be offended by the local cuisine?"

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