Written 15 April 2024

1893

Beaux tossed a coin in the air as he walked down the dirt road to the town's center. He had just turned Nineteen that fall and expressed interest in becoming a writer. The thought evoked a humorous response from his parents who as he knew expected Beaux to take over the family’s plantation. He was born into a respected Creole family in Cloutierville, Natchitoches Parish, Louisiana on ‘The Melrose Plantation’, synonymous with wealth and luxury. His family had owned the plantation and the 18,000 acres of land it sat on since before the French and Spanish war. He adored his home, it was a huge white mansion with over a dozen french windows and pillars cascading the home. In summers his family would host parties and Beaux and his friends would run up to the second floor balcony that wrapped the plantation and throw leftover food to the dogs running around the magnolia trees hunting cicadas. As he walked into town, his Friday ritual he nodded, said a polite ‘Bonjour’ and tilted the aged beige cowboy hat he inherited from his grandfather to everyone he passed. His father spent most of the year in France and summers on the plantation with Beaux, his mother and his sister, Eloise.

Creator: Library of Congress | Credit: HABS

Bonjour, Madame Du Pont. How y’alls doin’ this fine mornin’?

Bonjour Beaux, we’s alright. Comment va ta mère, chérie?

I reckon she’s doing just fine. Taking rest due to this heat.

Oui, chérie. This Louisiana sun is almost as hot as the islands. What can I get for you this morn’?

I’ll take a few peaches and some of those strawberries there, Madame. He pointed.

She packed his fruits into a small wicker basket and he handed her a few coins. You’s such a good young man, Beaux. I reckon you excited about the big cotillion ball up in New Orleans? I spect’ you’ll find a good light wife.

Yes Madame, well I reckon I better be off to check on maman. He said avoiding the subject of the ball all together. For months that was all anyone could talk about. Especially his mother. She was determined to see him married into a proper family and by proper she meant very fair skinned and rich, Beaux himself was fair enough to almost pass for white. His father was a Frenchman and his mother a Quadroon Creole. Beaux’s hair was a sandy brown with silky waves he wore parted on the left side. Just like his grandfather, Joseph. He stood about 5’11” and was quite lanky in stature. He had his fathers pointed nose and square chin and a birthmark on his inner right eye shaped like the boot of Louisiana.

Charles had just arrived in the Parish from Toulouse, France. He descended from the Duke of Orleans and was now exiled to the territory. He decided to take a stroll through town to see why the French loved this place so much? He paused for a moment, across the road was this euphoric sound. Inside of what looked to be a bar was a young man playing an old piano. But the music was strange, it was harmonic, messy and the rhythm was tribal. The notes danced around his body. He couldn’t describe it, but he was entranced. He slowly walked along not being able to take his slender pale face off of the bar when he bumped into Beaux, knocking the basket of fruit to the ground.

Excuse you, you should watch where you are going.

I think it is you sir who should watch where you’re going. Clearly you aren’t from around these parts.

Clearly. Good day.

Good day.

Beaux and Charles parted like a hurricane blowing through the cane river. Beaux hated white men like his father coming to the Parish to make Creole women their mistresses. He hated the ball season and couldn’t wait to run as far away from Natchitoches as possible.

Photo Credit: James Rosenthal - Library of Congress

Thank you for coming to the Basilica of The Immaculate Conception Monsieur Orléans. The Priest Monsieur Du Bois said reservedly.

Monsieur Du Bois, votre service était excellent. Have you met my nephew, Charles Orleans?

I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Charles, what brings you to our little Parish?

Before Charles could utter a word his uncle intervened to tell the Priest he had come to secure a marriage and to help with the family land.

As Beaux and his family were exiting the Church the priest stopped them to make formal introductions. Beaux’s family were well regarded in the Parish and he and Charles were about the same age.

Charles, may I introduce you to the Solitaire family? Beaux if you could show Monsieur Charles Orleans around the Parish I’m sure our blessed Lord will see fit to reward you in the after life.

God helps those, who help themselves. Beaux uttered without a second thought.

His mother gave him the look that said disobedience would not be tolerated and replied, Bien sur!

Mais, Maman. I already have so much to do in preparation for the ball in New Orleans.

Nonsense Bo Bo.

A ball in New Orleans? Replied, Charles's uncle.

Oui, Monsieur. Debutants from all over the south will come to the annual ball.

Madame Solitaire, would it be possible for my nephew, Charles to attend? Monsieur Orleans spoke charmingly whilst looking at Charles to warn he had no choice.

Monsieur, you can attend with my Bo Bo. The carriage departs at 04:00 Saturday.

Merci, Madame.

A week later the coach was prepped and ready to go with four black and brown horses to carry them off with several trunks of clothing and bottles of sugarcane moonshine for Beaux’s relatives in New Orleans. Sarafina, the Solitaire’s housemaid, prepared baskets of food for the twelve hour ride and wished them luck. Beaux adores Sarafina. Her apron was always tightly wrapped around her round waist and she always smelled like collard greens, fried okra and hot water cornbread.

Bonjour, Monsieur Orleans.

Bonjour, Monsieur Solitaire. Are you ready?

Pardon?

Êtes-vous prêt?

I heard the first time. Your accent sounds terrible. Where might you be from? Clearly not Orleans.

Not even in the coach and starting already Bo Bo.

Only family and friends call me Bo Bo, and you Monsieur are neither.

Clearly.

So, where are you from?

Toulouse. My family moved there after the revolution.

I see. Après-vous, Monsieur. Beaux motioned for Charles to enter the carriage.

Merci.

The ride was hot and tiring. So as not to fall asleep for fear of wrinkling their suits they decided to break bread.

I must say Bo Bo, your maid makes a good gumbo.

As I stated before, only friends call me by that name. I doubt you know anything about gumbo.

Mais, bien sur. We had a creole maid when I was a petit enfant. Charles boasted.

Beaux ignored Charles’s disregard for boundaries and lack of manners. He heard Charles was banished from his home for ungodly acts. He could only wonder if being a nuisance was ungodly? As they rode along the red river past Alexandria the silence broke.

So, Monsieur, why were you banished from Toulouse?

Charles’s face went pale. Another intermission of silence filled the carriage. Charles poured a glass of wine and downed it.

Back in Toulouse I had a lover.

She must have come from a really poor family. Imagine being banished for a mistress.

She was a he. Maintenant, I must find a wife.

Oh, I see. Beaux exhaled, not sure how to react.

Does that bother you?

Well, it’s no secret your Third Great Uncle the Duke of Orleans was known to enjoy both sexes. I believe we should have the right to choose whom we love or bed.

Charles chuckled at Beaux’s remark.

Et vous Monsieur? Are you still a virgin? Charles responded whilst pouring Beaux a glass of wine.

No. I’ve never been with anyone. I’m not sure what I like, but I do know I won’t find it in Louisiana.

Charles moved closer to Beaux and held his hand. He rubbed Beaux’s hands between his and caressed the gold ring on Beaux’s pinky finger. Beaux looked into Charles’s deep brown eyes and for the first time noticed a faded scar under his left eye and he kissed him there. They began removing their suit tails and boutonnieres feverishly kissing each other's lips and necks. The ride to New Orleans was filled with bumps, so the carriage driver wouldn’t have noticed them tossing each other around making passionate love.

They lay on the floor of the carriage, their clothes strewn about. The sunset flickered through the shaded window as beads of sweat glistened from their naked bodies like the early morning dew drops on magnolia flowers in spring. Beaux’s fingers traced the outlines of Charles’s chest. His lips caressing his ear; Charle’s nectar sweet honey on the tip of his tongue.

This was amazing, but I’m afraid it can not happen again. Charles whispered.

What do you mean?

You know this is unacceptable. We can’t do this again.

(Tap, tap, tap.) The carriage driver alerted them that they would be arriving half past.

We should dress. Beaux said.

They entered the ballroom greeted by a table of older women orchestrating the event. Both Beaux and Charles took turns waltzing and dancing a quadrille with the most eligible bachelorettes lined up along the walls. After hours of dancing and flirtations exchanged at the punch table the ball had ended. Dozens of couples were matched that evening including Charles. Lucinda Lacroix a native Texan, had come to meet a match. She was as fair as can be with blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair in a done up style with ringlets. Whilst most of the girls there wore white taffeta dresses she wore a blush colored chiffon dress and dazzled. Had she not been so passable it would be illegal for the pair to marry. But she was from Texas and no one other than the inner circle knew that her great great grandmother was of African blood. The wedding was set for June. In 3 months time Charles would marry Lucinda Lacroix.

The ride home was stale and silent. Beaux wanted to scream at Charles, but feared the driver would be alerted and cause a scandal. He glared with hate in his eyes, the kind that comes only after loving someone. Charles felt obligated to not cause any more scandal to his family’s reputation. He wanted to kiss Beaux, but felt it would only make things worse. As they arrived back in Cloutierville the silence was broken.

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Let’s run away Bo Bo.

Quoi?

Let’s run away. It’s stupid for me to deny my feelings for you. The moment I bumped into you in town I knew you were the one for me. There’s a ship setting sail for Paris this summer. One comes and goes every three months. We can leave this place and live a life there.

You’re talking madness, Charles.

Am I? I know you feel the same about me as I do you. Your eyes nearly burned through my soul this entire ride.

PARCE QUE! Because, you made me feel seen, feel loved and then acted as if I were invisible. And now, you’re marrying Lucinda Lacroix.

Then say you’ll run away with me! If you say you will have me, I will break it off with Lucinda. We have time to plan this. We'll empty our savings and buy a small apartment in Paris, right in the 13th arrondissement where you can write great stories, Bo Bo.

Only family…

I know. You always say that.

Beaux hesitated for a moment.

Yes, I’ll run away with you.

As Charles heard the words spill from Beaux’s lips he couldn’t help but to kiss him passionately. Charles’s aunt peering through the window waiting up for him saw them kissing in the carriage and shuttered at the site. She knew it best to marry Charles off as quickly as possible before scandal erupted in their small parish.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of:

M. Charles Orleans & Mme. Lucinda Lacroix

15th June 1893

The Basilica of The Immaculate Conception Church.

As Beaux reread the invitation his heart exploded. Only days before they were planning to run off to Paris, and now… Charles was getting married. He had no choice but to go. Every affluent family in the Parish would have to attend.

The day had arrived. Beaux waited in the lobby of the old brick church, the stained glass windows cascading a rainbow of colours along the foyer. He paced up and down as the guests were chatting inside waiting for Charles’s arrival.

There you are, I was hoping you hadn’t gone in.

Charles, what is this? We were supposed to run off.

My aunt. She saw us in the carriage. She’s forced this upon me.

We must run away today then.

And go where? The next ship to Paris isn’t for a fortnight.

No, but there is a ship to England leaving in 2 days. We can make it to New Orleans by sunrise and be on that ship.

He kissed Beaux. Go get your horse and meet me in Alexandria where the cane and red rivers meet. I’ll meet you there. I need to get some things before we go.

Okay, I love you, Charles.

I love you too, Bo Bo.. NOW GO!

Beaux gathered a suitcase of clothing and a sac with food. He saddled up his white horse and galloped off to Alexandria. His grandfather's cowboy hat matching his suit stood firm on his head as he galloped off.

Beaux slept under moonlight by the river that night. Charles never showed. Rather than face the shame of going back home and having to see Charles and his new wife parading around town every day he decided to leave for London and from there he would go to Paris.

1895

Two years had passed since Beaux Solitaire left his home and moved to Paris. It was a beautiful spring afternoon, he was writing at a cafe near Sacre Coeur when he noticed a beautiful woman. She seemed all too familiar to him.

Eloise, is that you?

That’s Mrs. Guillaume to you Monsieur.

They both laughed and hugged in a tight embrace only siblings share.

What, you’re married, and what are you doing in Paris? How’d you know I was here?

Yes. I married a Frenchman. His business is here in Paris. I read your letter to Charles. Clara, the Orlean’s maid, received it.

So, he never saw it?

No. I’m afraid not. You see Bo Bo…

Bo Bo… boy, I haven’t heard that name in a long time. His eyes glazed over.

Big brother… Beaux looked into his sister's worrisome expression. Her green eyes filled with tears.

What is it, Eloise?

Charles was killed by Lucinda’s father. He discovered Charles trying to leave his daughter and knew of the two of you. That’s why the marriage was rushed. He shot Charles right off his horse.

Beaux’s eyes filled with tears. The tears flowed heavy like the cane river. He realised Charles had loved him.