Chapter 5

“My father is Armand Henri Emmanuel de St. Sebastien, le Duc de Fronsac. Our primary estate— our chateaux— is in the Bourdeaux. You know Bourdeaux, yes?” He looked to them all for affirmation, but his eyes paused until Georgiana nodded.

“I should think!” Bingley responded. “Wine country!”

“Oui, the wine country. Our Bouchet grapes have been grown there since the days of the Romans. Alors, I was born at the chateaux and not yet three years old when le Duc, my father, was called to Paris for le Estates General. He brought us all, ma mère and my older sister also, for he feared the countryside even then and did not want to be parted from us. You know what occurred,” he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, his brow furrowed. “The unrest, the Bastille… We could not return home or even leave our house in the city.”

“How awful for you,” cried Jane.

“I cannot remember, Madame Bingley. I was too young,” he replied solemnly. “But the stories of those times have been told again and again in my family.” His voice caught. He rose and stood at the fire for a few moments to compose himself. “It became too dangerous in Paris.  Laws were broken by the mob with impunity.” He turned back to them. “The homes of my father’s friends were attacked, some burned. He decided then, like so many others, that it was time to flee. We became émigrés in Austria for several years.”

“When was that?” Darcy asked.

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