D'Arcy...Darcey...It all makes sense now.
Jacki introduced me to Madame d'Arcy, who had welcomed
Jacki into her home two months earlier. Madame d'Arcy
would've been alone for most of the summer, for her husband
and son were in England on family business, and her
niece and new husband were honeymooning in southern
France. She was grateful to have
'Jacqueline', as she called Jacki, keep her company for the
balance of the summer.
While Claude and Madame d'Arcy were deep in conversation, I
took Jacki and Fern aside and finally asked them, "Is this
why you didn't want me to come inside? Because of a sweet
old lady?" Jacki then explained that the d'Arcys were her
French ancestors.
"That's the first thing I did when I invented the time
traveler; I wanted to research my family tree", replied
Jacki, "I guess all that time spent studying quantum
physics and advanced calculus paid off."
Jacki glanced
lovingly at Mme. d'Arcy; then, Fern explained further,
"We're keeping this to ourselves. She doesn't even know; we
can't risk affecting outcomes." I mulled over that last
statement, "can't risk affecting outcomes."
Fern then
went on to explain that was why I was kept in the dark;
that is, until Claude Frollo revealed nearly
everything.
Jacki, looking at Claude, who was now
conversing with Kyle, smiled and said, "We had a feeling
he'd tell you sooner or later." She tried not
to break out in laughter as she moved her eyes from me,
then to Claude, then back to me. "Fern said you two have
become quite an..ahem..item."
I returned the smile, coolly saying, "Well...let's just say
that His Grace and I are...hmmm...'real' close
friends."
Claude glanced over at me; I guessed he picked up on the
giggles coming from our side of the room. He came over to
me while Kyle was still conversing with Mme. d'Arcy. "Did
they tell you everything?" I linked my arm in his and
replied, "Almost, but I'm still not clear on...
"How I
knew where to start
digging? Who filled in the holes of my research?", said
Jacki, who directed our attention to another elderly lady
entering the room, "Ask Aunt Perle."
Perle Darcey? Isn't that Jacki's daddy's aunt? His
95-year-old aunt?
Sure enough, all eyes were on the petite lady entering the
room. I only saw her twice in my life, once when I was a
little kid, and, at Jacki's high school graduation.
Aunt Perle steadily and cautiously made her way into the
room; she was leaning on a cane. At ninety-five, she was
still the picture of elegance and grace. Her floor-length beige-colored
linen dress, with its matching, wide-brimmed hat and
low-heeled pumps, highlighted her cafe au lait
complexion.
Her face, lightly dusted with powder and
rouge, looked surprisingly young and vital, despite Perle's
advanced years. Kyle offered to help Perle to her chair,
but she politely refused. "Thank you, honey", she said in a
warm, loving voice, "but I can manage. Been doing it for
all these years."
Fern, Kyle, and Jacki excused
themselves from the room. All Jacki could say was that she
and Fern were preparing something special for Sunday
dinner.
Perle settled herself in a chair next to Mme. d'Arcy,
turned to her, and said, "Marie-Louise, you have a lovely
garden; that nice gentleman staying with you showed me all
your flowers and trees.." She then turned to Claude,
looked at him for several seconds, then she smiled and
said, at last, "He looks something like you, but younger
and not as grand."
Claude Frollo looked puzzled, then
glanced at Mme. d'Arcy with quesioning eyes.
I managed to catch his eye and mouthed, "Who? What?" Claude
quickly shook his head, his face registered utter, yet,
pleasant, surprise as another figure entered the room.
I studied this tall, slender man approaching us; I could
readily see the family resemblance. But whereas Claude was
serious, austere, meticulous, and carried himself with a
regal air, this man's entire demeanor suggested endless
pleasure, an 'I-don't-care'
attitude towards life.
The man walked up to Aunt Perle and handed something to
her. "I believe you dropped these during our walk." She
thanked him as she took her gloves. He then turned to
Claude, who tried to keep his surprise in check. Claude
told me everything about his brother, Jehan; I felt I
already knew him, even before this meeting.
"Claude",
Jehan warmly began, as he clasped the elder brother's
hands, "I really wanted to come to Paris, make myself
known; but, I was having a such a lovely time here. Mme.
d'Arcy insisted that I stay; then I met this charming
lady." He smiled at Perle Darcey as if she were an old
friend.
Hmmm...Claude told me Jehan has a habit of...Oh no!...sponging off not one...but TWO sweet old ladies?...this man is too much...
Claude greeted his brother, to my surprise, in like manner.
"Jehan, you could have informed me...I'm glad you're here.
You look well."
Jehan then turned to me and said,
"So...you're the one." What did he mean by that? Does
Jehan know that Claude and I are lovers?
Claude
Frollo, sensing the slight tension in my expression,
quickly spoke, "This is Fern's friend", as he took my hand
and completed introductions. "She's very pretty", Jehan
smilingly said, then he leaned over and whispered
in Claude's ear, "You always did have excellent taste."
With that, Claude and Jehan broke down in laughter and
embraced each other, just like loving brothers.
Claude told me that he raised Jehan from a baby, ever since
the death of their parents; he tried to instill in his
brother the same virtues that made Claude a successful
man.
However, Jehan liked to gamble and have fun,
drifting from one thing to another;
he was almost always broke. Claude loved his brother
dearly, despite Jehan's shortcomings.
"Minister Frollo", said Mme. d'Arcy, "your brother has been
absolutely wonderful. Even with Jacqueline here, we two old
ladies are grateful for his company." Claude just replied
with a slight smile and glanced at his brother as if to
say, "Oh, I know why you're here...you'll never
change..."
Kyle then returned to the room to announce dinner was
ready. Mme. d'Arcy then proudly announced that, "My dear
Jacqueline and her friends have prepared a special dinner."
She then turned to Kyle and asked, "Now, young man, what is
the main course?"
Kyle replied, "What you are about to
experience is a summertime Sunday dinner that is common in
the New World, that is, my part of the New World."
Perle
laughed as she added, "Isn't that something, to come all
the way to France just to eat Fern's fried chicken."
Claude's eyes widened in anticipation; he looked at me and
said, "Fried chicken? You promised me such a
meal...remember?"
He started laughing as I helped Perle
to her feet; Jehan escorted the ladies to the dining room.
I then took Claude Frollo aside and whispered in his ear,
"Well...we were...er...busy", referring to that crazy,
passion-filled night.
Claude was overcome with humor as
he
escorted me to the dining room.
A traditional Sunday dinner served in countless homes
across the
Midwest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, hot bread,
green beans, sliced tomatoes, Fern's homemade blackberry
cobbler.
It was a meal that Mme. d'Arcy, Claude, nor
Jehan had ever experienced.
Over the course of the
summer, I served Claude a variety of native American foods,
of which he liked pecans and corn best.
"Mmm...'corn'", said Jehan, helping himself to seconds (or
was it
thirds), "and I like the red things...'tomatoes'." The
conversation was a delicious as the food. Mme. d'Arcy
praised Fern's culinary talents; and Aunt Perle, who nodded
at Jacki, said, "Jacki cooked the beans, just like I taught
her and her Mama."
I leaned over to Perle
and
whispered, "When are you going to tell us the family
history?" Perle whispered back, "Marie-Louise always takes
a nap after dinner; you all will know
all about the Darceys then."
Claude had his brother in
stitches as Claude repeated that "Hoosier and Kentuckian"
story. Fern laughed and whispered to me, "Well, I've seen
someone's been tellin' those stories again."
Jehan then asked about other native American foods. "Fern,
you talked about pumpkins. I understand they're only
available in the fall." Fern nodded, then I piped up,
"Jehan, why don't you and Claude come for Thanksgiving
dinner. Then you can eat all the pumpkin pie you want."
Jehan looked puzzled. "Thanksgiving? What is that?", he
asked.
Claude knowledgably replied, "A holiday unique to
their part of the New World; they set aside
a day to give thanks for their country's bounty." All eyes
were on Claude as he continued, "They celebrate with family
gatherings and serve foods native to their
country."
Kyle, his eyes wide with amazement, said,
"Wow, Your Grace, you sure know a lot about
Amer...ahem...our country." Then Claude Frollo glanced
lovingly at me. "My boy, I had a marvelous teacher." I
tried to be modest about it all; indeed, I had told Claude
much about American history and culture.
Perle then said to Jehan, "Honey, if you come to my house,
you better bring your appetite, because I cook everything:
turkey, ham, cornbread, greens, chitlins..."
Jehan
interrupted, "Beg pardon, madame, but what are 'chitlins'?"
Jacki looked at me, I looked at Fern, whose face
registered a certain level of disgust. She looked Jehan
squarely in the eyes and said, "Jehan, my mama cooked those
things every Christmas and Thanksgiving. She made sure to
set that stinkin' pot right next to me,'cause she knew I
hated 'em."
Everyone except Jehan started laughing; I
had told Claude all about Fern's 'chitlin story' a few days
ago, when he had asked the same question.
I just said to Jehan, "Sugar, don't ask what they are; you
don't want to know."
That said, we continued to enjoy a pleasant Sunday
afternoon dinner and lively conversation.
"The d'Arcys fell on hard times during the 18th Century.
Some of the family began emigating to the American
colonies." Perle began to explain how the French d'Arcys
became the American Darceys.
Mme. d'Arcy had gone upstairs for her after-dinner nap.
Everyone else gathered around Aunt Perle as she began to
recount her family's history.
"My great-great grandfather was Henri d'Arcy. He settled
near Lake Charles, Lousiana, bought some land, and started
a small sugar plantation."
Claude asked Perle, "How are
you related to the d'Arcys; and, how did the the name
change to 'Darcey'?"
Perle paused a few moments, then, collecting her thoughts,
continued the history lesson. "Now, you all who are living
in these times will have to understand; don't tell
anyone else what I'm about to tell you. Or else", she
paused and glanced around at the visitors from the 20th
Century. "None of us would be here right now."
So
that's what Fern meant by not changing the outcome -- If
anyone altered the past...we wouldn't...I wouldn't be here
with Claude now...
Perle continued, "Henri had a son, Jean-Paul. He was my
great grandfather. Well, he had a wife; but, he also had a
mistress. That was Sally, one of the house slaves." Claude
and Jehan were both visibly disturbed at the word
'slave'.
"That's right, Claude", I said, as I held his
hand, "America has a dark, ugly past..." Claude's eyes were
now scanning my entire face.
"That explains your
coloring, your features...the brown skin, the full
lips...your hair...Danisha, your African ancestors were never willing immigrants...", Claude looked somewhat bewildered as he
fingered a lock of my hair.
He then turned to Perle and
said, "She's been telling me of your country's history,
about slavery, the war..."
Perle looked at him with
reassuring eyes. "Yes, and we managed to rise above it
all." She leaned over and patted his hand, then
continued.
"Jean-Paul and Sally had a baby boy. That would be my
grandfather, Joseph. He was so light he could pass; of
course, in those days, a drop of Negro blood meant you were
Negro. And a slave, if you were living in the
South."
Jehan then asked, "And what happened to your
grandfather?" Perle took out a lacy handkerchief, genteelly
blotted her face, then continued.
"After the War, and emancipation, my grandfather moved
North, to Tennessee, near Gallatin." Perle's eyes were on
me as she said, "Honey, I believe your daddy's family's
from Gallatin." I nodded, then Perle continued, "Now, this
was 1869. My grandfather had married and owned a little
farm. My father, Russell, was born in 1870."
"But how
did the name change?", asked Kyle.
"My father was still
a baby when the census people came. Neither of my
grandparents could read or write", explained Aunt Perle.
"Now, most slaves had no real last names; they always took
the name of their slaveowners. Well, since Jean-Paul d'Arcy
was my grandfather's last master, that was the name he
took. 'Course, when he had to give the census people his
name, I think they just wrote down what it sounded like,
'Darcey'."
At once, Claude understood the name change.
"It was those responsible for recording the names...that
explains it", he began, then added, "Yet, obviously, your
father, and then you, were able to secure a proper
education. Surely the name could have been changed to its
original French."
Aunt Perle and I couldn't help but
smile at Claude's innocent statement. "Your Grace", replied
Perle, "times were different then. Why, Joseph
Darcey could've passed as white, but he didn't. Do you know
what those d'Arcys would've thought if my father, or me,
showed up on their doorstep and said, 'Y'all remember me?
I'm Henri's great-great granddaughter!'."
Even though I
knew of the gravity of Perle's explanation, I was overcome
with good-humor. I turned to Claude and said, "My mom's
side of the family is really mixed up! Her father
could easily pass...but he didn't. People still had a tough
time figuring him out."
I think it was then that Claude
Frollo finally understood what I had been telling him. "My
dear...I had no idea..."
He then turned to Jacki,
surveyed her warm, light-brown coloring, and asked, "So
this explains the travel through time, to find your French
relations." He then leaned over to Aunt Perle and smilingly
said, "You must be extremely proud of your grand-niece;
she's very brilliant."
Aunt Perle just laughed, her
face beaming with pride. "Oh, honey, we all knew Jacki had
special talents", she said, looking lovingly at her
nephew's daughter. "Yes, sir, the Lord's really blessed
her." She then grew serious. "You know, Your Honor, I
thought I'd never get this opportunity."
Claude Frollo
raised an eyebrow and politely asked, "And what is
that?"
Perle sighed, glanced around the room once more,
and said at last, "I always prayed that before I leave this
world, I would finally meet my French family. Only I didn't
think I'd have to travel back in time!" With that, Aunt
Perle was overcome with good humor; her high laughter
infected everyone.
Fern then said to me, "You know, we oughta throw a farewell
party." Kyle and I immediately jumped on this.
"Yeah",
I said, "it could be a farewell-thanks-for-the-memories
party." Jehan Frollo, pouring himself another cup of wine,
commented, "A party? Oh...I do love a good party, even
though my brother thinks they're a waste of time."
"Oh
really", Claude answered his brother, "since when did
I dislike a party?" He then told Fern that he
enjoyed pleasant social gatherings, "As long as the
festivities are not too raucous."
Fern just
looked at him and said in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'm not
suggesting a wild, no-holds-barred orgy; you forgot that I
was at the Feast of Fools this past winter. Now that
was wild."
Claude acknowledged this as Fern continued,
"Our party'll be just good, clean fun. Good music,
good food, good company. So, Your Grace, can I count on
your presence?"
I quickly glanced at Claude with an
expression that read, 'You better say yes'. Claude,
sensing this, immediately told Fern that he "would be
delighted to attend your little function". Then, he added,
"And, so you won't have the whole of Paris swarming all
over your home, I'll have my men block off the streets to
traffic. That way, your guests may freely mill about the
neighborhood."
Jehan then spoke up in mock-indignation,
"What's this? My brother's actually using his authority
just to please his new-found friends?" Perle got up and
walked over to Jehan. She patted him on the shouder and
chuckled, "Baby, sometimes it's nice to have important
folks as friends, and your brother's one of them." She then
told Fern, "I hope you plan on some nice barbeque; I always
enjoy good barbequed ribs."
Once again, Jehan Frollo
asked about another American custom totally foreign to him.
"And what is 'barbeque'? Sounds odd but delicious", he then
turned to his brother, who began to loftily explain as
everyone started laughing.
"'Barbeque'", began Claude
Frollo, "is taken from the American Spanish word..."
I remained outside while Claude, two guards, and a servant
went inside the cottage. He wanted me to stay outside
because, as he reasoned, I may be put off by the soldier's
injuries.
It was the servant who came to Paris with the
information. Apparently the ex-soldier had been gravely
injured and taken to the cottage to recover.
I know I shouldn't think like this...that soldier must
be pretty banged up...but...I hope Snowball's
OK...
I paced outside, waiting for Claude.
What's taking so long?
Just then, a stableboy, a
fine, black horse, and another figure approached the
cottage. Immediately I could make out the face of the
man.
"Jehan!", I exclaimed, running up to him. I
embraced him and said, "But why are you here? How did you
know Claude and I were here?"
Jehan Frollo returned the
embrace (sibling-style hugs -- Jehan knows not to mess with
his brother's women). "Oh, didn't the servant inform my
brother? Damn! I knew this would happen..."
He then said
to me, "I'm the one who found the man, and Snowball. The
horse is fine, but that man...Danisha, I don't expect him to
survive...he's that badly injured."
Copyright©1997 by FrolloFreak