Vendémiaire · Alfred's Ambition (Part 1)
"Are you serious, Al? Holy Mother Mary, I thought you were just making an offhand remark!"
"Of course I'm serious. You didn't think I was exaggerating, did you?"
A gold louis was worth twenty francs—meaning Alfred had received an income of four thousand francs today, more than Louis' entire yearly earnings.
Louis couldn't fathom how Alfred had come by such a sum beyond his annuity and estate income. The annual yield of the Grandville estate exceeded this amount, but as Count Fernand had explained, those payments were made quarterly. There was no way Alfred could have received it all at once!
Perhaps to tease his friend, Alfred didn't immediately answer Louis' burning questions after dropping this bombshell. Instead, he tucked Louis into the warm bedding, took the bill with him, and left Louis waiting in suspense.
When Alfred returned, he had changed into an olive-patterned cashmere robe and cream-colored sleep trousers. He tiptoed into the bedroom like a mischievous sprite, then suddenly threw back the chintz bed curtains and pounced on Louis, pinning him down with a triumphant cry: *"La capitulation!"*
Louis, startled at first, quickly caught on. *"The Gypsies never surrender!"*
He fought back, wrestling with the down comforter just as they had during their schoolboy games at Saint-Étienne. The mock battle soon devolved into a tangle of limbs, rumpled sheets, and nearly toppled bed curtains—though now, unlike their boarding school days, there was no stern supervisor to scold them.
The skirmish ended with Louis exhausted and conceding defeat. Even after Louis gasped *"La capitulation!"*, Alfred gave him one last tickle before collapsing beside him, pulling the covers over them both. Panting, they looked at each other and burst into laughter.
"Your stamina's gotten worse, my little Louis. Too much time in carriages!"
"Look who's talking! With Paris' roads the way they are today, I refuse to believe you walk anywhere!"
Side by side under the warm down comforter—another quintessentially Parisian luxury, trimmed with impractical English lace that would scandalize provincials—they lay shoulder to shoulder, chatting.
"You've fully taken over managing your family's lands now, haven't you? I've always worried your gentle nature might make it hard to keep those people in line after your father passed."
"It's manageable, though sometimes frustrating. You know my neighbors—they still sneak into my woods to illegally cut timber, forcing me to cover their winter heating costs. They're cunning, and my tenants have their hands full during harvest season. It's hard to police every petty theft."
"You're too soft! That's why they think they can take advantage. Sometimes you can't indulge the poor—they'll only push further. If it were me, I'd keep a pack of fierce hounds and hire enforcers. Let's see who'd dare then!"
"No need. When things get busy, I still hire them temporarily. They work harder than outsiders, and overall, the losses aren't significant."
"If my father faced people like that, he'd fly into a rage. He can't tolerate commoners disrespecting the Grandville name."
At the mention of Count Fernand, both fell silent for a moment. Louis nudged Alfred with his elbow.
"Al, I won't hide this from you. We grew up together at Saint-Étienne—there's nothing we can't discuss." He hesitated. "Before coming to Paris, I visited your father. Count Fernand de Grandville."
Alfred remained surprisingly calm.
"Ah, I suspected as much when I saw you," he admitted. "You're not the type to impulsively dash off to Paris. The expense aside, this city isn't to your taste. And you found me directly—only my father could've given you this address."
Louis stared at him in surprise. "So you knew a lot already."
"A servant from next door mentioned seeing another coupé carriage with my family crest nearby," Alfred said, rolling onto his side to prop himself up on one arm. "But it looked too plain, so he wasn't sure if it was connected to me. The description was vague, but I knew instantly—it had to be my father's."
"Then you know why the Count came to Paris?"
"What else? My attempt to access that deposit must've alerted him. I'm certain Baron Barbet de Beaudauire corresponds with him." Alfred waved a hand as if swatting away an invisible fly. "I don't trust that sly old fox, but Father insists that since he survived the upheavals decades ago, he understands his struggles better than I do. Ridiculous! He clings so stubbornly to family glory, blind to how times have changed. History means nothing without money to back it!"
"The Count is deeply concerned about you touching the principal of that deposit. What's going on, Al? I can't fathom why you'd need to. Is your annuity not covering expenses? Just the rent here must eat up over a quarter of your income!"
"Louis, this is Paris! Honestly, I'm quite pleased with this place—private courtyard, stables, no prying neighbors. Privacy is a luxury here. Fifteen hundred francs a year seems reasonable. If you think this is extravagant, you should see the real money pits in the 8th and 16th arrondissements. Some places demand ten thousand francs per quarter just for rent!"
Alfred lay back down, pulling the covers up slightly.
"But the math doesn't add up, Al! Beyond rent, your expenses are endless." Louis adjusted his pillow and began counting on his fingers. "Your annual income is only six thousand five hundred francs. Rent takes fifteen hundred. A carriage must cost at least two thousand. Three servants' wages—another six hundred. Then there's food. From what Marie said, you spend lavishly—let's say four francs daily. That's fourteen hundred a year, totaling another two thousand. You're left with just one thousand francs. How can that possibly cover heating, clothes, socializing, let alone your beautiful Marguerite's whims? She burned through over a hundred francs in one evening!"
Alfred blinked, then poked Louis' cheek in amazement.
"Am I hearing correctly? My thrifty little Louis isn't scolding me for extravagance or urging me to ditch Marguerite, but earnestly calculating whether my spending exceeds my income?"
Louis glared.
"Just because I earn less doesn't mean I don't understand Paris is costlier than the provinces," he grumbled. "The more I calculate, the more worried I get. How do you plan to fill such a massive financial gap? And here you are, teasing me!"
"Ah, if only my father understood my situation half as well as you do!"
Alfred sighed heavily, lacing his hands behind his head. "Once, I mentioned in a letter that I spent fifty francs on a simple dinner for classmates at Chez Véry. Guess what? He wrote back berating me for wastefulness—Holy Mother Mary, in Paris, that's nothing! After that, I stopped being candid about my expenses."
Louis propped himself up on one elbow, studying Alfred.
"Emotionally, I'm on your side. But the Count's concerns aren't unfounded. Everyone needs food, clothing, and shelter, but the standard one can afford depends on their means. Your income can't sustain this lifestyle! You're considering dipping into the principal—isn't that going too far?"
"That money isn't for daily expenses. Fine, I'll confess—I've invested in a business. It's volatile, but these past few months, the returns have nearly matched my annuity. Like I said earlier, it brought in two hundred louis today, though I'll receive the sum in two installments."
Louis raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of business offers such returns? I'm tempted myself."
"The tea trade. A classmate from the University of Paris manages operations. I provided part of the capital."