Courfeyrac: Business Contacts
(If you have not read this yet, go read it now. You may also find this useful.)
Rene Courfeyrac (though currently, with the young republican home for the summer and playing the part of the arrogant royalist his family thought him to be, the correct form of address was Rene de Courfeyrac) glided into the elaborate, quiet restaurant in the port town of Saintes Maries de la Mer on the sweltering August day in 1831 and paused in the doorway to compose himself. What waited for him inside was a delicate, cream-colored sea in which high class men in suits and pale women in frothy day dresses floated. Rene had to work to hold down the look of annoyance, even contempt, which kept surfacing on his face as he too joined the harbor of sailing bourgeois. He hated being home, he hated being here to make a minor business connection on behalf of his father's shipping and supplying company. You need the practice for when you inherit the elder de Courfeyrac had told him, and as Rene paused to search for the man he had been told to come see, he couldn't help muttering, "Practice? I'll show him practice..."
The contact he was looking for was not difficult to spot; the British navel captain uniform stuck out cleanly in the ocean of land-bound men and women. Courfeyrac walked quickly over to the table at which the man with the uniform sat and stood before it. "Captain Hornblower, I presume?" Even as he said it, something at the back of Rene's mind tugged at him like a taunt rope, and not for the first time, telling him there was something strangely familiar about the name.
The young man, for Courfeyrac realized suddenly that the navel officer could not be any more than thirty, looked up from the menu he had been reading, startled. "Yes..." He blinked incredulously. "You're Luc de Courfeyrac?"
"His son, actually," came the reply as Courfeyrac slid into his seat. "My father was unable to come, so he sent me to represent him. It's Rene."
"Ah." They shook hands.
"Enjoying France?" Rene asked amiably as he picked up the menu and began skimming it.
Horatio's reply was almost hesitant. "It's quite...warm."
"That it is," Rene grinned at him. "They say it hasn't gotten this hot in years. I'm beginning to find it bothersome myself...Of course, I spend most of the year in Paris and it's usually a bit cooler there." When the explanation got little response, Courfeyrac couldn't help thinking that, of all the people his father sent him to talk to, it had to be the unsociable one. After a pause when the waitress came and they ordered their lunches, he tried again. "So, what is the British navy up to around here now that they're no longer blowing up things?"
That, at least, got a slight chuckle out of his companion, albeit a nervous one. "Patrolling, Monsieur."
Courfeyrac smirked, the sarcasm in his voice evident. "What, you don't trust us? Even with the emperor gone? I have un ami anglais who used to be in the navy," he mused suddenly, "Arch-"
And just in the nick of time, Courfeyrac remembered exactly what was so familiar about the name Horatio Hornblower, previous conversations with the said English friend coming back in a tidal wave:
Who's 'we', anyway?
I was referring to a fellow officer - Horatio and I served together since we were midshipmen...he's going to be captain one day, mark my words...
I'm actually technically supposed to be dead...Dr. Clive gave me a way out...No one could know, not even Horatio...
Rene stopped short, but a strange look- surprise? fear? confusion?- had already creased the navel captain's otherwise utterly calm face. For a moment the two sat in awkward silence, Horatio afraid to ask for the name, Rene knowing better than to continue.
Finally, Horatio broke the silence.
"But I believe we are here to discuss an exchange of goods, are we not?"
"Oh yes, of course." For once Courfeyrac found himself relieved at the man's unsociableness. "My father's company has agreed to restock your ship with supplies we have acquired through our own trading if a reasonable price can be agreed upon."
The two haggled for a few minutes, and an agreement was soon reached. When their food arrived a few moments later, they ate in silence, their earlier conversation forgotten, or at least shoved underwater and out of sight for the time being.
When they had finally finished eating, the two men stood. "You'll thank your father and his company for us, I hope?" Hornblower asked.
"No need. It's been a pleasure doing business." They shook hands again and Horatio turned to go.
Rene was about to leave as well, but suddenly the captain stopped and spoke. "Monsieur, you didn't say that you know Archie Kennedy, did you?"
Courfeyrac paused. "No, never heard of him."
"Ah. Sorry, must have mis-heard." He nodded, then turned around and left, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
Rene watched him go, a slight frown on his face, then too left the bay of content bourgeois beings.