Manof Chpt16

Chapter 16

(The drawbridge at Hautefort, above)

Later over lunch at the Manor, Marie Claude and Bruce continued the discussion.

"Do you think we'll learn anything from Biot?"

Bruce thought. "You never know. He's a prominent man but he swims in a river of thieves. Valuable art is a desired entity. The more expensive it is, the more someone wants it."

"Even if it can never be hung?"

"Yes, even so. Although, like many other works, it can end up in the home of some rich aristocrat or in a warehouse in Spain. It's happened before. We are dealing with criminal minds. The recipient of the drawing might keep it for his own personal pleasure or as a trophy related to his ego or wealth."

They sat in front of an arched window facing the tranquil Dronne River. The rooms of the Moulin de l'Abbaye were bathed in light. The décor was sophisticated and dressed in pink. There were others eating quietly. One had the sense of eating in a room of one's own, not in a hotel but in a welcoming home. It was picture perfect with the arched stone bridge to their left.

Approaching the Table with a Smile

The executive chef, Monsieur Guillaume, had worked with master chefs in some of the finest restaurants. He knew Marie Claude since she was a teen-ager, and he approached their table with a smile. He wanted to take their order personally. After an introduction and a genial smile, he made his luncheon suggestions.

Marie Claude ordered the lightly fried crispy Langoustines with spiced carrot juice. Bruce settled for the Tuna tartlets with green olive puree and Muscat Vinaigrette. The chef recommended an entrée of Asparagus and Foie Gras Mousse.

They talked about Barcelona, Carlos, Marie Claude's years married to an unusually aggressive man, and they talked about Maitre Picard.

They sipped cold white Bordeaux from St Emilion. It was tinged with sugar and enjoyed as a pre-lunch delicacy. For dinner they would select something more serious.

"Carlos Diaz bowled me over from the start. It was a coup de foudre, love at first sight; probably for both of us. He was tall, exceptionally handsome with curly jet black hair and alive Spanish eyes. He was from a royal family that had fallen on hard times. Remember, it was during the early years of the war.

Spain Had Lost Its Elan...

Spain had lost its élan, its enthusiasm, its drive and energy. People were depressed. Money was scarce. Royalty was a subject about which people only whispered. We did what we could to survive. I taught French to the few who could afford it. Carlos had an affection for swords, guns and antiques. He scoured the countryside for ancient pieces and what little we had was spent on these objets d'art.

We lived in an old apartment on the square facing, La Llotya, the old Art School where Picasso's father once taught and where Picasso and Miro studied. For a time we were happy. We would walk along the marina quays or on La Rambla, under the trees and talk about the future and the time we would be free of the Fascists.

But when the war ended and Carlos was again free to travel, he chose commerce over marriage. He often went to Segovia to look for swords. One day I was told by a friend that Carlos had a woman in Segovia. It had been going on for some time. I packed and returned to Hautefort. We were divorced soon after. It was Maitre Picard who attended to the papers. He has been our family lawyer as long as I can remember.

They ate in relative silence except for the utterances of pleasure over the food. They selected a Puy Fromage rouge for their meal and discussed the merits of red or white wine with seafood.
"For me, it is always a matter of taste" said Bruce. "I enjoy the different flavors at the same time."

Marie Claude Agrees

Marie Claude agreed. "But let me order the dessert," she said. "The Moulin has a unique pastry Chef who delights everyone with his sculptured deserts. You know there are five assistant chefs and 2 interns working with the executive chefs. Each has a special function. I suggest the Chocolat "Velvet" with toasted nougatine and orange Anise. If you don't like it, I'll eat it all."

"How do you maintain your figure with such exotic desires?"

"It takes work and discipline. I ride. Almost every morning I am at the riding school with my brother or alone. It's harder work and better exercise that one would imagine. It is my first love. I was brought up with horses. Until the war came to Hautefort I had a horse of my own. My father was a master rider and showed in all the local horse shows. Unfortunately, he died at the outset of the war. I think he died of a broken heart.

Hautefort Was HIs Life...

"Hautefort was his life. After the Germans arrived, all seemed lost. Nothing was the same for a long time. I ended up in Spain. My brother went into the army and Hautefort was used to billet German officers. Major restoration was needed when my brother returned. I came back in 1948."

"The war was a watershed for all of us. I'm sure it was difficult to start over. You were now coming home to a divorce, a fatherless young woman and a chateau under repair."

"Yes, but my brother is filled with a dream. He wants Hautefort to be put back in its original state, with some modernization of course. He will not be deterred from his dream. I am happy to help make that dream come true. We owe it to our history and to the people of the village who always looked to the chateau for their livelihood and well being."

"That is very noble."

"No. It is not for noble reasons that we do it. It's for history. It's our destiny. We shall succeed. We have already made great strides."

(Click here for the next chapter)


	Chapter 16 (The drawbridge at Hautefort, above) Later over lunch at the Manor, Marie Claude and Bruce continued the discussion. "Do you think we'll learn anything from Biot?" Bruce thought. "You never know. He's a prominent man but he swims in a river of thieves. Valuable art is a desired entity. The more expensive it is, the more someone wants it." "Even if it can never be hung?" "Yes, even so. Although, like many other works, it can end up in the home of some rich aristocrat or in a warehouse in Spain. It's happened before. We are dealing with criminal minds. The recipient of the drawing might keep it for his own personal pleasure or as a trophy related to his ego or wealth." They sat in front of an arched window facing the tranquil Dronne River. The rooms of the Moulin de l'Abbaye were bathed in light. The décor was sophisticated and dressed in pink. There were others eating quietly. One had the sense of eating in a room of one's own, not in a hotel but in a welcoming home. It was picture perfect with the arched stone bridge to their left. Approaching the Table with a Smile The executive chef, Monsieur Guillaume, had worked with master chefs in some of the finest restaurants. He knew Marie Claude since she was a teen-ager, and he approached their table with a smile. He wanted to take their order personally. After an introduction and a genial smile, he made his luncheon suggestions. Marie Claude ordered the lightly fried crispy Langoustines with spiced carrot juice. Bruce settled for the Tuna tartlets with green olive puree and Muscat Vinaigrette. The chef recommended an entrée of Asparagus and Foie Gras Mousse. They talked about Barcelona, Carlos, Marie Claude's years married to an unusually aggressive man, and they talked about Maitre Picard. They sipped cold white Bordeaux from St Emilion. It was tinged with sugar and enjoyed as a pre-lunch delicacy. For dinner they would select something more serious. "Carlos Diaz bowled me over from the start. It was a coup de foudre, love at first sight; probably for both of us. He was tall, exceptionally handsome with curly jet black hair and alive Spanish eyes. He was from a royal family that had fallen on hard times. Remember, it was during the early years of the war. Spain Had Lost Its Elan... Spain had lost its élan, its enthusiasm, its drive and energy. People were depressed. Money was scarce. Royalty was a subject about which people only whispered. We did what we could to survive. I taught French to the few who could afford it. Carlos had an affection for swords, guns and antiques. He scoured the countryside for ancient pieces and what little we had was spent on these objets d'art. We lived in an old apartment on the square facing, La Llotya, the old Art School where Picasso's father once taught and where Picasso and Miro studied. For a time we were happy. We would walk along the marina quays or on La Rambla, under the trees and talk about the future and the time we would be free of the Fascists. But when the war ended and Carlos was again free to travel, he chose commerce over marriage. He often went to Segovia to look for swords. One day I was told by a friend that Carlos had a woman in Segovia. It had been going on for some time. I packed and returned to Hautefort. We were divorced soon after. It was Maitre Picard who attended to the papers. He has been our family lawyer as long as I can remember. They ate in relative silence except for the utterances of pleasure over the food. They selected a Puy Fromage rouge for their meal and discussed the merits of red or white wine with seafood. "For me, it is always a matter of taste" said Bruce. "I enjoy the different flavors at the same time." Marie Claude Agrees Marie Claude agreed. "But let me order the dessert," she said. "The Moulin has a unique pastry Chef who delights everyone with his sculptured deserts. You know there are five assistant chefs and 2 interns working with the executive chefs. Each has a special function. I suggest the Chocolat "Velvet" with toasted nougatine and orange Anise. If you don't like it, I'll eat it all." "How do you maintain your figure with such exotic desires?" "It takes work and discipline. I ride. Almost every morning I am at the riding school with my brother or alone. It's harder work and better exercise that one would imagine. It is my first love. I was brought up with horses. Until the war came to Hautefort I had a horse of my own. My father was a master rider and showed in all the local horse shows. Unfortunately, he died at the outset of the war. I think he died of a broken heart. Hautefort Was HIs Life... "Hautefort was his life. After the Germans arrived, all seemed lost. Nothing was the same for a long time. I ended up in Spain. My brother went into the army and Hautefort was used to billet German officers. Major restoration was needed when my brother returned. I came back in 1948." "The war was a watershed for all of us. I'm sure it was difficult to start over. You were now coming home to a divorce, a fatherless young woman and a chateau under repair." "Yes, but my brother is filled with a dream. He wants Hautefort to be put back in its original state, with some modernization of course. He will not be deterred from his dream. I am happy to help make that dream come true. We owe it to our history and to the people of the village who always looked to the chateau for their livelihood and well being." "That is very noble." "No. It is not for noble reasons that we do it. It's for history. It's our destiny. We shall succeed. We have already made great strides." (Click here for the next chapter)