Subj: Quentin in 1795, chapter 3
Date: 2/25/00 7:35:58 PM Central Standard Time
From: Beverly LaCroix
There was something gentle about the young man that pulled at Joshua that his son Barnabas lacked, Joshua thought as he held his hands away from his head. He would be a Collins, Joshua thought to himself as Jeremiah walked to him, and was readying to speak, until Joshua held his hand up to silence him.
"Do not speak, brother. This man is a Collins and will be introduced to the rest of the family, and the town as a distant cousin." Joshua said in a whisper that only his brother could hear.
Jeremiah didn't argue with Joshua, he knew from the set of his jaw that it would be pointless. He would trust him as usual, he hadn't been wrong yet.
"Jeremiah, get him a change of clothing, and burn the ones he's wearing," Joshua commanded his younger brother.
"What are you saying, Joshua? This man is probably in league with the devil." Abigail retorted.
Joshua had forgotten his sister was in the room, he had been so caught up in studying the young stranger, and her voice went through him as if he had been struck by lightening. The thunder roared as he turned to face his meddling sister, and she could see the beginning of storm clouds gathering on his face when he answered through clinched teeth, "we will take this up in the drawing room, Abigail. Jeremiah, do what I said."
Jeremiah nodded at Joshua, and leaving the room, he winked at his older sister, further inflaming her, and she trounced out of the room right behind her younger brother.
"André, we do not know of a Quentin Collins," the Countess said argumentative.
"You do not remember, Nċtalie. Old age must be catching up with you, that much is obvious," André shot back at his sister.
"Yes, of course, it is coming back now. He was just an infant when we saw him. His father and mother were on their way to Switzerland, is that not correct, André? It is the same Collins' family?" Natalie said going along, but she would get the answers out of her brother as to why this charade the moment they were alone.
"He wasn't brought up in France altogether. He has spent some time in England, and other English speaking territories. That's why he only has a trace of a French accent," Jeremiah embellished, knowing that flaw would be questioned immediately.
Joshua shot his brother a look of thanks, and listened to the conversations, and they were fading away as his mind went back to the stranger. The doctor had arrived, and said he had a concussion, and gave him something for the pain, otherwise, he was in excellent health was the diagnosis.
Where was Naomi? He would have to explain the stranger to her, and he hoped it would go as smoothly as it had with the DuPrés family. He was certain that André being the astute businessman he was was not going to do or say anything to interfere with a Collins/DuPrés alliance. He would never mention it, number one he was a gentleman, and gentleman did not question their hosts on any account.
His headache was disappearing as he knew it would. Being immortal did not mean he couldn't get hurt or feel pain, it just meant whatever the cause, the Portrait would absorb it. What about The Portrait? Did it still work here? He imagined so, being he was here.
"Hello." a little girl said, startling Quentin.