Frederick's Heir

By Joan Clark

Set in the 19th
century and inspired by Edith Whartons women who were not passive victims of
their lives, Fredericks Heir is
the story of two girls who defy the conventions of convent school and parties,
the social system of Paris.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Fredrica Navarreau, known as Rica, tries to
live up to her grandfathers expectations.
Preparing to inherit his shipping company she tries to learn about the
ships and cargo ledgers, activities far outside the constrictions of her French
familys position. Unable to understand
her desire to use her mind her grandfather diverts her attention with the
celebration of the opening of the Suez Canal and a trip
to the Far East.

Celine Rabut, inchanted by the
theatre and theatre people, begins studying acting in Paris.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> She lives in the Navarreau home while Rica is
away and tries to help the family during the Prussian War.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> On her return Rica is dispatched to London
to marry the son of family friends. class=GramE>The young women fee to class=GramE>New York where
Celines career slowly grows as her parts become more important.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Rica, fearing she has alienated her family,
returns to Paris to find her
grandfather has died and someone has snatched her inheritance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 8, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418472092

Joan Clark

From Joan G. Clark: Researching for a class at The University of Texas at Dallas, I came across Walter Bower's book, "Studies in Genius." On his list of female geniuses in the American theatre was the name Adah Isaacs Menken. This unfamiliar name lead me to a trip to New Orleans and the beginning of the plot of "Brief Bright Star." I learned that in the late 19th Century there was a difference between the acting styles of Europe and America. This inspired me to write the character of Celine, who is one of the two leading players in my second book "Frederick's Heir." In turn of the century New York City, celebrity photographer Napoleon Sarony photographed all of the famous names of the day: Sara Bernhardt, Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde. His red signature scrawled up the side of each portrait he took made him the perfect flamboyant central character of "Double Shot! a Napoleon Sarony Mystery" co-written with Kay Sanford. Joan G. Clark received her BA from The George Washington University in Washington D.C. and her MA from The University of Texas at Dallas. Her children's play, "Lundy's Child" won an award at the National Youth Playwriting Competition sponsored by IUPUI, Indiana University/Perdue University of Indianapolis. Researching nineteenth century American theatre inspired her transition from writing for the theatre to writing about the theatre. Joan G. Clark's first two books were "Brief Bright Star" and "Frederick's Heir." She then co-wrote "Double Shot! A Napoleon sarong Mystery" with Kay Sanford. Joan G. Clark's first two books were "Brief Bright Star" and "Frederick's Heir." She then co-wrote "Double Shot! A Napoleon Sarony Mystery" with Kay Sanford.

Book preview

Frederick’s Heir

By

Joan Clark

Title_Page_Logo.ai

This book is a work of fiction. Places, events, and situations in this story are purely fictional and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

© 2004 Joan Clark.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 09/09/04

ISBN: 1-4184-7209-3 (e)

ISBN: 1-4184-3531-7 (sc)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Five

Paris 1869

Chapter One

Tears streaming down her already wet red cheeks, the young girl stumbled along the dark hall towards the staircase that stretched down two floors to the front foyer of the house on rue Port Royal. Her arms were limp at her side. As she came around the landing she looked through the banister and saw her grandfather enter the front door. Josette in her black housekeeper’s dress hurried to the door and quickly whispered to him as she took his gloves and tall hat.

Grandfather, the young girl called as she ran down the stairs. Before she reached him she broke down in sobs and gulps that she couldn’t control, so she sat down on the step. She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen, her mouth trembling.

NouNou died and it is my fault. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and snuffled. Grandfather, what is it I do that makes everyone die?

"Fredrica, ma petite-fille I am so very sorry about NouNou, his voice was kind, but it is not your fault. I would not lie to you dear one. You would never hurt your Nanny who loved you so much. He reached out and took her face in his hands. Listen to me, young Rica, NouNou was ill, her heart just gave out. His words didn’t seem to penetrate her grief. Putting his arm around her shoulders he wiped her eyes with his handkerchief to comfort her, and with soft command he said, Come with me, this is very important."

Her grandfather led her across the hall to his library, a small quiet room with bookshelves along one wall and double doors that opened into the front parlor. She found her pocket-handkerchief and mopped her eyes.

Grandfather, NouNou’s sister says it is proper to take NouNou home and bury her there in the ground with her family.

Shush now. Rica listen to me. Do you see these books? He swept his arm towards the bookshelves. They are full of facts, all written by very wise men: Greeks, Romans, Persians, Frenchmen, and men from all around the world. They surround us with their genius. Now the wisdom in these books, he waved his hand to include all of the books again, tells us you are not at fault for anything, because it is God who ordains man’s life. He paused to let that sink in. NouNou did not have an easy time before she came here to care for the children in this family. After they were grown even though she was getting old she wanted to take care of you.

She took care of me when my mother was dancing. He nodded in agreement. Grandfather, did you ever see my mother dance?

No. He turned his head away and looked down at his desk.

I did. She continued. NouNou took me to the opera, and we waited in a large room until almost the end. Then we went to the side of the stage, and I saw her dance. She was beautiful wasn’t she? He nodded. She wanted him to say her mother loved her very much just as he had said NouNou loved her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word there was a rap at the door. It was opened as Josette spoke.

Pardon, Monsieur Navarreau, The doctor wishes to speak to you before leaving, and the family members are bringing NouNou down. They wish to use the front stairs, which are wider, if it is permitted.

Of course. Rica, my dear, wait in the hall.

Rica wondered about taking NouNou back to the town where she had lived so long ago. When her own mother died Grandfather had not taken her back to her home in America. In fact Rica remembered quite clearly that she and her nanny boarded a train. Then they walked with a group of people to a small cemetery. Everyone put violets on the grave.

When they returned to Paris, Rica and NouNou had come to live in this house. Later Josette had arrived, and Rica was told it was good to have Josette with them because she was an American, like Rica’s mother. Rica, herself, wasn’t a baby anymore, but things were still confusing.

In the hall a housemaid supported Yvonne, the cook, who stood at the foot of the stairs, a handkerchief at her eyes, a hand on her ample bosom.

She was a wonderful human being. Yvonne sighed. She took such good care of the children. She loved them even when they did bad things. Yvonne blew her nose and continued, and when the young Madame came from America she took care of her.

And me too, Rica added.

Yes, you too. Look they are bringing her down now.

Yvonne crossed herself as the men maneuvered the wooden stretcher holding the shrouded body. Proceeding carefully down the stairs, two men, one holding the front was backing down, and the other was holding up the other end of the stretcher. NouNou’s sister accompanied them. Father Paul, hands together in prayer, followed them slowly out the front door. A wagon waited outside by the front steps. The men gently lifted the stretcher onto the wagon. Rica and Josette watched as the wagon pulled out of the cobblestone driveway. We shall miss her, someone said.

Josette, do I still need a Nanny?

I’m sure you do not, but you will need someone to assist you, to take care of your things, and perhaps just to talk to when your Grandmother is not up to the task.

Is Grandmother sick again? Rica asked. Is that why she didn’t come out of her room?

Josette shrugged her shoulders as she looked across the hall.

Monsieur Navarreau stood in the doorway of his study.

I’m going to walk with Paul. Henri, his valet handed Monsieur his hat and gloves. As he stepped through the doorway he turned his head saying, Fredrica, I believe your grandmother wishes to speak to you.

Rica sighed and turning slowly climbed back up the stairs.

Entering her grandmother’s room had once been an adventure. The length of the bed was along a windowless wall with a crown canopy drape of green silk that began at one end of the bed and soared to a crown on the ceiling and down again to the other end of the bed. Inside this silk canopy were flowing inner draperies almost hiding the spread. A multitude of pillow shapes heaped upon the silk spread edged with tassels that wiped the floor. In the center of the room was a square table with toilet articles spread over it among perfume bottles and hairpieces. In the center was a large oval frame with a mirror on both sides.

Her grandmother’s favorite overstuffed chair was by the window. Beside it was a side table just large enough for a few personal items: handkerchief, a small book, and a cup of tea.

Rica would have loved to explore the birdcage that hung between the curtains in the window, and inspect the tambour frame where her Grandmother embroidered in the morning sunshine. Rica longed to examine the small porcelain pictures that were on either side of the glass-domed statuette on the mantle, but these things were not allowed. She could only enter the boudoir on gentle command and await her grandmother’s instructions.

Downstairs Rica had free reign in the drawing room and even in her grandfather’s study though she never trespassed there, nor did she dare to enter his bedroom upstairs. She had peeked in once only to see that it looked like her grandfather slept in a tent. On a table next to his bed stood an Argand lamp with a reflection piece to increase the light. She knew the name because she had asked him what it was.

This day Rica paused in the upstairs hall, her face calm.

"Entre," was heard through the closed door. She entered the room and just inside the doorway she curtsied and waited. NouNou had taught her how to present herself in her grandmother’s presence.

Come here, Rica, my dear. I know you are sad about NouNou, we all are. The frail elderly woman beckoned to Rica and patted the upholstered footstool in front of her. A faint scent of roses floated in the air. Rica sat down and looked at her grandmother whose thin gray hair was pulled back tightly away from her narrow face. The tight skin on the back of her hands showed heavy blue veins running from her wrists to her knuckles. She held a letter in her hand that she had been reading with the aide of a lorgnette.

This is such good news. I know you will be as happy as I am. Rica waited patiently.

This letter is from my sister, Emilie Armandier. She is your great aunt. Emilie has been visiting her daughter, Louise, in the Far East and is now returning bringing her two grandchildren with her. They will stay here, of course. Adrianne is a little older than you-a year I think. A beautiful child, I am told, with dark curls and violet eyes. Emilie writes that Adrianne wants to be a ballerina just like your mother. Madame looked up from her letter. So you see, you have lots in common already. I thought you would like to share your room with her, so I’ve instructed Josette to put a bed in the alcove at the end of the room. She lowered the letter to her lap as she continued. Pierre will be studying for entrance into the military college and will need quiet, so I am putting him in Paul’s former room.

Did Father Paul move?

Yes, while you were at the convent school. He is now living at Val de-Grace, the Benedictine community. She reread the letter. Emilie says they had to take a British ship so will land in England where they may visit friends before coming on to Paris. Your grandfather can check, but I expect them quite soon, perhaps within a week.

A week?

Yes, and that means you will not return to the convent school. I want you here so that you and Adrianne can get to know each other and become true sisters. Now go see how Josette has arranged your room.

Rica stood and kissed her grandmother’s cheek that had been turned to her just as Josette knocked and entered.

They are here, Madame.

What is it, Josette?

Madame Armandier and her friends; they are downstairs.

Emilie! Oh, my dear sister!

Rica ran after her grandmother and looked over the banister at the chattering group of relatives and servants bringing in luggage and ushering guests into the parlor. Rica scurried down the stairs. As she reached the bottom step a young girl with long dark curls and violet eyes walked over to her.

You, take my muff and wrap, and Mademoiselle Celine’s coat, and our hats. Oh, and see to my satchel. She piled up things on Rica’s arms and turned away. Rica looked for Josette and followed her down the hallway to a small cloakroom where the wraps and bags were put temporarily. When she returned everyone was in the parlor, Grandmother had ordered tea, and great Aunt Emilie, an imposing figure with a face surrounded by tiny flat curls, was introducing her friend.

Marguerite, dear sister, when we were in convent school we had a classmate we called Beauté. Well, Beauté married George Rabut, Eleonore’s father, and Eleonore married Charles Fechter, the famous actor. We met in London and when Eleonore said she was coming to Paris. I just knew you would be delighted to have her stay here.

Madame Navarreau’s normal French reserve was shocked. How could her sister assume such a thing? Emilie had evidently been among the English far too long, but a hostess must be polite.

Is your home still in France? Madame groped for polite conversation. She was impatient to talk to her sister.

No, my home is wherever Charles is, except that now he is in America. I am taking Celine, my niece, to Milan. She has a lovely voice, and we want to see if there is a possibility it can be developed. Then I will join my husband in Boston.

Madame had already turned towards the young people.

Let’s see, this tall young man is, of course, Pierre, and this lovely girl is Adrianne, and your name is? She looked at Celine who lifted her chin and answered.

Celine Rabut. Her aunt turned to Rica.

Fredrica, I am so very glad to meet you. I was a close friend of your aunt Adah. She was a very intelligent woman and a fine actress.

Did you know my mother?

No, I didn’t know her although I saw her dance, and like everyone else I admired her personal beauty as well as her glorious dancing.

I’ve been dancing all my life. Adrianne spoke up. I’m going to study dancing at the Paris opera and become the greatest dancer ever to dance there. I will be the most famous with the most admirers. She smiled to all and swept her curls back from her face.

Rica, her grandmother’s voice alerted her. Show your cousin where she will stay. Perhaps the three of you should prepare for tea.

The three young girls stood and left the parlor: Rica, Celine, the tallest and the oldest by half a year, Adrienne next in height and a year older than Rica. As they started up the stairs, Adrianne looked at Rica and said, I can’t believe your mother was a ballerina, you are such a nothing.

Further down the hall, Josette was pleading with Henri, Monsieur’s valet. This faithful servant had seen many things and suspected more, but he pretended not to notice anything outside of his duties.

Henri, I need your help. I know you only take care of Monsieur’s needs, but this is an emergency.

What are you saying? Henri’s voice was a bit stern.

The third floor rooms are not ready. Some of the guests must stay there and since we had no notice I now find there is no bedding. I need you to get the carriage and…

No, I couldn’t do that.

Oh, please! Why not? Josette was frantic.

Well, it wouldn’t be right. What if Monsieur came home and I wasn’t here. There must be ample bedding. Have you looked everywhere?

Yes, Henri, I have looked. If you won’t go will you serve tea so that I can go myself? Yvonne is preparing everything now.

Where will you go? He still wasn’t sure of the arrangement.

I have a friend, Madame Remy, at the Hotel Athena. She will lend me bedding and, if luck is with me, an extra housemaid for a few days.

Very well, since it is an emergency, I will serve Madame and her guests. As a matter of fact I polished the silver just this morning, but if Monsieur returns I will have to tell him the truth.

Thank you, Henri, you are most kind. Josette rushed down the back stairs.

Rica led the way down the second floor hall to her room. The three girls entered. Adrianne went immediately to Rica’s bed and sat on it, claiming it for her own. It was a modest copy of her grandmother’s bed. The tall swag was of mousse-line, and there were only two pillows on the spread.

Where will you sleep, Celine? Oh, there is another bed in the alcove. Good, we’ll be together. Adrianne walked back and forth.

This miserable room has barely enough space for my daily exercises. She ignored Rica and chatted with Celine across the room. Rica tried to enter the conversation.

Adrianne, Grandmother wants us to become close friends, like sisters.

So it seems, but looking at you, you’re a disaster. Frizzy hair and your legs are too short. What a dupe you are. You really are a nothing. Come, Celine, let’s go down to tea. Adrianne hastily walked ahead. Celine followed slowly, and as she passed Rica she said.

Don’t let her upset you. That’s what she wants.

Chapter Two

After a long evening, the house was now dark. Josette was hurrying along the upstairs hall carrying a lamp. She had moved NouNou’s iron bed into the large bedroom prepared for Mrs. Fechter so that she and her niece could sleep in the same room. Josette paused for a moment to think if she had forgotten anything. The rooms were all prepared, and the two housemaids tucked upstairs were instructed in their duties. Yvonne had charge of the kitchen, so that was not a problem. Henri took care of Monsieur. Mentally Josette went over her own area of responsibility. In the back of her mind she heard something…crying. It came from NouNou’s room. Raising the lamp, she looked in. Rica was curled on the floor where the bed had been. An old coat was covering her, and she was sobbing.

Rica, what is the matter? What happened?

There was no answer.

Talk to me. What are you doing on the floor? How can I help you, my dear?

Rica squinted up at her and stammered.

They took over my room.

Come, get up. This has been a long emotional day for you.

Josette, I miss my Nanny so much, and I don’t know what to do to make those two like me.

"Tomorrow, I’ll move the extra bed out of Mrs. Fechter’s room and put it anywhere you like. Do you want it down in your room so that all three of you can sleep together?’

No, I want to sleep here, Josette.

Come along, we can’t do anything until morning.

Josette took Rica’s hand and carrying the lamp they went up to the attic floor to the servant’s rooms. Josette’s room was cramped. The ceiling slanted up sharply from the windows. There was a small chest and a single bed. Josette handed Rica a plain cotton nightgown, then turned aside as she took down her hair and slipped into her own gown. With her hair down Josette didn’t look much older than Rica who climbed in the bed. Lying beside her Josette began to talk in soft tones confessing her hopes and dreams.

Tomorrow, I will prepare to move into that little room where I found you tonight. Next to it is an alcove now a storeroom, but I will make it into an office. First, I will inventory the entire house and keep records so things like sheets can not be misplaced or stolen. Next, I will keep all the household accounts.

Her voice grew more animated.

If you like, I will teach you to keep records so that you will know all that is in this house, because someday it will all be yours. She became wistful, I will tell you a secret. I don’t wish always to be a servant, a personal maid, or a housekeeper who answers the door. No, I wish to be a lady. I will learn all I can from your grandmother. I will study her walking, pouring tea, using the silver, everything. The most important thing I learned while working for your aunt Adah is that if there is something you want with all your heart, you must keep that in your mind and never, ever, forget it. Miss Adah said never look left or right, always straight ahead and never take your eyes off of your heart’s desire. Eyes bright, Josette turned to Rica, but Rica had fallen asleep.

Within a few days Mrs. Fechter and Celine had left for Milan to settle Celine with a voice coach. Perhaps, with luck, the Lamperti School would agree to hear her.

If Celine could sing and Adrianne could dance, Madame thought that surely her granddaughter must have a talent to be encouraged. She talked to Rica about playing the piano, and a teacher was hired to instruct in scales and chords. It didn’t interest Rica, who was upstairs most of the day working with Josette on the house inventory and setting up the house records. Her cousin still had Rica’s bed. Josette had tried to move Adrianne to the alcove, but Adrianne had thrown shoes, books, brushes, anything she could get her hands on. One shoe barely missed Josette’s head and the other smashed a vase and nicked the frame of a painting of Rica’s mother. It was a portrait painted from memory by Monsieur Laure and, because Madame Navarreau wouldn’t allow it to be hung in the parlour, was hung in Rica’s bedroom in a special place with a vase for flowers by it. The shoes were flung without regard to anything but Adrianne’s anger, and she really didn’t care if one nicked or destroyed a silly picture that meant nothing to her. Actually she couldn’t believe that Ceska Navarreau could be mother of this thing she had to put up with. The dullard must take after her aunt who was a common entertainer, perhaps worse.

Every day, Rica rushed to the tiny office to begin working with Josette. They had now counted and catalogued everything in the parlor and dining room. Henri had been assigned the task of recording everything in Monsieur’s bedroom into a black ledger. Today, was the day to list everything in Grandfather’s study including all the books. It was a pleasant task for a bright young girl who didn’t care for the piano.

Josette, why did you work for my aunt Adah?

She didn’t wish to take the long ocean voyage from the United States to England alone, and I suppose she wanted to make a good impression, so she asked me to attend her.

Why you?

My mother attended another actress, and I knew what the position called for.

Where is your mother now?

She is still attending Mrs. Ritchie. While you were enrolled at the convent school, I went for a visit. Mrs. Ritchie retired from the stage and lives in England.

Rica stopped writing and watched Josette for a few minutes then spoke.

Do you know anything about my mother’s family?

Josette looked up from her ledger.

Your aunt said that she and your mother grew up in New Orleans. They were both dancers in the opera house there. Then your aunt Adah eloped in an effort to become an actress. When she returned to New Orleans her family had disappeared. She tried everything to find them, then decided that if she became famous her family would hear of her and be reunited.

It didn’t happen, did it?

No, everywhere she went she sought them. In England she hired a detective to travel to France seeking them. He found that your American grandmother had died on the trip from New Orleans to France, but there was no information about your mother. Finally, your aunt heard that the beautiful talented prima ballerina at the great Paris opera might be her sister. She rushed to the opera house. Because of the heavy makeup and the lighting she couldn’t see clearly from where she was sitting, so she hurried backstage. Standing in the wings she saw your mother step on stage. You know the rest.

Yes, her costume caught on fire. NouNou and I had been waiting for her. We went to the hospital where Father Paul blessed her. Rica’s eyes were teary. We must get back to work. I will start on this bookcase.

Each day was a busy one. Rica avoided Adrianne. For her part Adrianne appeared oblivious to all but her own desires. She was preparing for an audition for the ballet chorus and went to a private instructor everyday. Pupils, between the ages of seven and ten, attended school. Students who were older were accepted only when they showed exceptional promise.

Grandmother and her sister were always in Grandmother’s room reminiscing, recalling their school days and their days as young brides, their children, and their dreams. Grandfather, of course was at his office running the Navarreau-Drumont shipping line. Rica wasn’t too sure about what that meant. Josette was more and more busy setting up records and now accounts from the kitchen in addition to the inventory and her regular chores as housekeeper. She was so busy that she couldn’t take the time to listen to Rica and told her to stop whining.

After all, she said, life isn’t always fair.

There isn’t anything in this whole house that is fair, Rica muttered. But remembering one happy world, she decided to go there. She took her coat from the hall rack and slipped out through the kitchen. Their family carriage driver wouldn’t take her to rue Laffitte because he said Monsieur would need him. However, he believed that rue Laffitte was off rue St. Denis or blvd. de Sebastopol. Rica decided to walk down blvd. Port Royal where she lived and stop in a shop and ask directions. No matter how far it was, she determined to return to the place where she had been happy when her Mother was alive.

When Josette realized that Rica was gone, she became frantic. Finally she was told that Rica had walked to the carriage house, but the driver was no longer there. She knew she must find Rica, then tell Monsieur it was her fault that Rica had run away. Josette dashed out in front of the house and saw that there was a fiacre standing by the side of the hospital across the square. She waved her hand. The driver pulled the horse over, and she quickly got in before she realized she didn’t know exactly where she wanted to go. He waited for instructions. Finally she told him she was looking for a young girl who might be going to rue Laffitte so to go slowly in that direction. He shook his head and snapped the reins for the horse to head down Port Royal towards blvd. St. Michel.

There, there she is. The driver pulled back on the reins as Josette jumped down and ran across the street.

Rica! Rica! she called and waved. You must come back. I’m so sorry if you left because of me. Please come back. Rica by now realized that she didn’t know where rue Laffitte was so she came quietly, but didn’t speak to Josette.

Once home Rica was warned. Your grandfather wants to talk to you, but first you must be made presentable. Upstairs there was a private bathtub room between her grandmother’s and grandfather’s bedrooms. The only other tub for bathing was down back of the kitchen. Here water was heated on the stove and poured into the oval tub. Josette tested the water with her finger.

"Why am I having a bath? Am I going to confession? Has Father