François had been eating his breakfast on the balcony overlooking the sea when the post had arrived. He had just spent Christmas in London with the DeCroix family and now had a couple of days to make ready before they came to Normandie to take on new year's with the Duponts. It would all have been a lovely couple of trips to finally bond the family before the upcoming wedding that was now only two weeks away.

Except.

Dupont's mail had begun as normal, bills, money from tenants, missives from abroad but then a letter in the beautiful handwriting of his fiance. He had opened it with a wine in hand expecting a lovely recounting of the previous few days and a well mannered description of how much she looked forward to their next seeing each other. Perhaps even an unnecessary apology for being taken ill and being unfortunately unable to show his sister her wedding dress. No, this was something else entirely, an elopement, a sudden marriage from under his nose? She wished for him to hear it from her first. The thoughts had sickened him as he recalled her smiling over dinner with his parents and even taking his arm for a polite walk around her garden. He had tried to write it off as some silly jest, perhaps some English custom she had picked up. But no, his contacts in the ministry had confirmed that the marriage was legitimate and registered on the 22nd to a chapel in Scotland.

It had taken him a day to come to his decision, the marriage was legitimate and he would be holding vain hope for an annulment. And even if that was a possibility, his own reputation would not stand him forcing the issue and begging to be her second best.

First he wrote a letter to Anton DeCroix, demanding a formal apology from his family. Then, he wrote a letter to Victor Frey.


Mr Victor Frey,

When there is joy there shall be pain
And all desire shall turn to shame
And you will pay, you will pay
For every kiss you take today.

I will write this in english as I hear you do not even have the good graces to understand French. May I first congratulate yourself and Mrs. Frey on your matrimony. You sir have snagged yourself quite the prize. But I might urge caution on dealing with a woman with apparently so little dignity and etiquette that would make a Greek blush.

Four and half years, sir, that is the time that you have cost me in preparing to honour this betrothal. You must be aware that this offence shall not be allowed to go unanswered. So, sir, I shall demand of you that you face me in a duel. I shall be on the rocks at Pointe De Groudin at 10 am sharp on January 6th of the new year. If you are busy, then this is now what you are busy with. Bring your second, bring your wife. I shall engage a French physician but you may bring your own.

Respond or do not respond to this letter, it matters not. My time has suddenly become very unoccupied so I shall be there on the 6th. If you are not I shall assume you are a coward of the highest order and unfit to be carrying about a wedding band.

That woman has come like the winter rain, I feel it a matter of time before she breaks your heart and crushes someone again.

Yours
François Dupont.