A Seed Sown

Mr. & Mrs. Beaulieu are scholars, as well as artists, merchants and entrepeneurs. Mrs.Beaulieu has been a dancer, an actress, has studied sciences, has lived at sea. Mr. Beaulieu has been a professor, a stage managor, a tailor and, for a brief time he will only discuss after one too many glasses of brandy, an animal trainer. They have done a little bit of everything.
As a consequence they find they accumulate a fair number of acquaintances, other scholars and thespians and so forth they have met once or twice at symposiums or lectures. They exchange addresses and keep them carefully tucked away in purses and pockets until they can later be listed in an adress book. Both of their address books are filled to bursting. They are often called by almost-strangers who require advice or trade tips about antique book sales, exclusive dinner party invitations or secret artisan or guild meetings. They are surprised when, instead of receiving a letter, the man in black appears at their door.
He arrives shortly before tea, one day, on an afternoon both Beaulieus have happened to be at home. Unprepared, Mrs.Beaulieu gathers herself, has tea made early and sent to the parlour. The man is shown into the front hall where the Beaulieus greet him, are given an unmemorable name, and lead him  to the parlour. He takes a seat in a chair across from them. Mrs.Beaulieu offers him tea, but he politely declines. She takes a marzipan cake for herself.
Neither Beaulieu can remember where they have met the gentleman before and they are both too embarassed to ask him to remind them. When they discuss the affair after the fact, they agree he must be some fellow from the series of historical lectures they attended in New Castle, though the details of such an encounter evade their recollection.
They exchange pleasantries, discuss teh weather and Mr.Beaulieu's current business (chocolatiering) before the man in blac maes any consequential remark.
"You have such a lovely home, and so many hobbies. Have you spared any thought to an heir, for you estate and belongings? It would be a shame indeed to leave it all to the bank one day."
The Beaulieu's exchange a glance. They have spared throughts, a whole platoon of thoughts, to the natures of parenthood. Mrs.Beaulieu brought it up once quite soon after their marriage and Mr.Beaulieu did not protest. They are not in a rush but would not begrudge having a child sooner than later.
"Such as child would recieve a great education, under your tutelage and in your abode," he continues on. "And the child herself would have to be nothing short of extraordinarily gifted." The man in black produces a dim grey card from the pocket of his waistcoat and holds it out to them.
Mrs.Beaulieu takes it and reads the typset name of the orphanage before passing it to her husband.
The man in black is quiet, regarding them without comment for some time as the silence in the room swells, kept at bay by the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
Their companion does not stay much longer. He waits for their teacups to empty before informing them he must depart. They thank him for coming as they walk him to the door and wish him a good afternoon in the shadow of a Mayan snake statue.
They dismiss the call as a strange occurence and are otherwise content, yet Mrs.Beaulieu finds in herself increasing desire to visit the address on the card given to them, left on the teatray in the parlour and cleared away with the tea accoutremonts. It has since been left on the desk in Mr.Beaulieu's study where it has been collecting dust beneath chocolate smeared praline recipes and more recently patches of embroidered cloth.
Her eyes frequently wanter to it when she enters her husbands study to entice him out for a walk or dinner (as of late he has been transitioning professions from chocolatier to merchant of textiles and fabrics, which requres far more writing than he would like and he is constantly composing letters and making lists of stock for inventory).
Mrs.Beaulieu approaches the subject one night before bed, several weeks later. "I'm going to take the train down to the Orphanage tomorrow," she says. "Would you care to join me?"
Her husband has been ruminating on the fewest number of cargo ships he will require for a shipment of silks to an accentric customer in transylvania with numerous daughters and, possibly, numerous wives. New he looks at his wife and registers her previous statement. He would like to get his mind off of work.
"Yes, that would be lovely. The eleven o'clock train?"

Art by Melanie Delon

Text by Lucie MacAulay