"So you are saying that you refuse to accept my terms for a settlement?"
The Duke's question, heavy with the weight of an ultimatum, sent a jolt of alarm through Charles.
To be honest, before paying his visit, Charles had worried that the other man might prefer a physical contest to a battle of wits, opting for bodily education over verbal persuasion. But after careful consideration, he had concluded that the Duke was unlikely to tear their relationship apart and resort to violence over this matter.
Besides, during their conversation, the distance between Charles and the Duke was extremely short. Even if there were a hidden wall or secret passage containing hundreds of musketeers, Charles was confident he could rush forward and capture the king to defeat the rebels, so to speak.
With that in mind, even in the worst-case scenario, Charles reckoned he would have no problem overpowering his frail and elderly great-uncle.
Thinking this, Charles relaxed slightly.
"You are correct." Charles decided to lay his cards on the table. "I came to visit you today precisely to discuss a solution—on the condition, of course, that Mademoiselle Léaurand must be brought back immediately to live her own life."
"Fine."
"If you do not agree, then I will..." Charles continued with his rehearsed lines, then finally caught up. "Hmm? You..."
"Fine. I am not concerned with Mademoiselle Léaurand's fate. If she wishes to return, she may return. It is of no concern to me," the Duke said, his aged face a mask of indifference, as if he were wearing an exquisite prosthetic.
"But weren't you the one actively working to strip her of her property rights?" Charles questioned.
The Duke did not answer, merely continuing to look at Charles with that same indifferent expression.
A moment later, it dawned on Charles. "You mean to say that as long as you get what you are owed, you will not obstruct my efforts to have Mademoiselle Léaurand return to Paris?"
"It was never my affair to begin with. I only need to see the agreed-upon marriage concluded and receive the money that was set aside for me," the Duke stated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But if they cannot get the inheritance, will the Léaurand family still agree to the marriage with you?" Charles persisted.
A moment later, he understood the Duke's unspoken subtext.
"As long as Mademoiselle Léaurand agrees to transfer her inheritance to her brother..."
The Duke did not answer, which seemed to be a tacit admission.
Charles fell into thought. This, it seemed, was the bottom line the Duke was offering in their negotiation.
"Generally speaking, even the most gentle and kind-hearted person would not so easily give up a fortune of millions that has already fallen into their pocket, would they?" Charles mused aloud.
"That would seem to be the case," the Duke agreed with a nod.
So in the end, you've said nothing at all, have you?
A flash of anger went through Charles. He decided he was done wasting words on the old man.
"Then we have nothing more to discuss. It seems I must take my leave. By the way, starting tomorrow, the press will be airing all the dirty laundry between your family and the Léaurands. I'd like to see then how you manage to strip her of the property she is owed!"
Charles issued his threat, then turned to leave.
As he reached the door, the Duke finally spoke, just as he had hoped. "Too hasty, young man."
"Do you have something else to say?" Charles walked back.
"Monsieur, you have us by the throat—I don't know how you managed it, but you have. You can indeed cause a great scandal for us. And, it appears, you may very well be able to ruin my plans..." the Duke analyzed, his voice impassive. "So what you mean is, you expect me to simply swallow this loss in silence?"
"Of course, that is not what I mean."
"But what you are saying makes it sound exactly so."
Charles suddenly smiled.
"At the end of the day, why must you marry your granddaughter Charlotte to the Comte de Léaurand? I know the man. He has neither talent nor looks and is not a reliable marriage prospect at all."
"But he at least has a good name and requires no dowry," the Duke did not refute Charles's assessment of the Comte.
"You said something wrong just now," Charles suddenly changed the subject.
"What was that?" the Duke raised an eyebrow.
"You said that poor Mademoiselle Léaurand still does not know that she is the heir to a great fortune. That statement was wrong," Charles said slowly.
The Duke looked at Charles.
"That's right. I was the one who let her know," Charles said, his face wreathed in a smile. "The young lady is quite shrewd. Although she was rushed off to the convent in a hurry, she used the pin money she had on her to bribe an old nun inside to pass messages for her. That's how my sister was able to receive her plea for help..."
"You went to see her?" the Duke asked, a note of interest now coloring his previously flat tone.
"The young lady has already promised me that if anyone can rescue her from her tragic fate, she is willing to pay a reward of three hundred thousand francs."
"Just a promise?"
"She wrote an IOU."
"She wrote you an IOU directly?"
"Yes. In her current situation, she's not afraid of me breaking my word, is she? It's not as if things could get any worse for her," Charles explained with a light laugh. "I told her that her parents were on the verge of succeeding in stripping her of her rightful inheritance. If she did nothing, she would be left to grow old and die in the convent. If she did as I said, I could get her back to Paris to live the life of a millionaire. Any girl with a bit of sense knows how to choose, especially after suffering so much... So she did as I said and wrote this IOU as my operating budget. Of course, I never mentioned your name..."
"Three hundred thousand?" the Duke repeated, seemingly in thought.
"You stand to make three hundred thousand francs just by sitting here. What is there to hesitate about? It's not as if Charlotte has no other marriage prospects. There are still other opportunities, are there not?"
"And you? You want nothing?"
"That's right. I want nothing. I only need to complete the task my client gave me," Charles said, looking the Duke straight in the eye. "I do not yet know the composition of this inheritance, so I cannot give you a precise method or date of payment—after all, liquidating real estate can be troublesome. However, since we have an unambiguous IOU, I imagine the young lady will not be able to go back on her word."
"The inheritance consists mainly of bank deposits, long-term government bonds, and banknotes. Payment or transfer would be quite convenient..." the Duke fell into a pensive silence.
Historical Note: French long-term government bonds of the era were bearer bonds, making them very easy to transfer.
This old fox really did investigate it all already!
Charles said nothing more, letting the other man think.
It wasn't long before the Duke smiled, his aged face breaking into the kind of warm, affectionate expression an elder shows upon seeing a promising young relative.
"Charles, well done."
It was the first time he had addressed Charles by his first name.
"I hope I was able to be of assistance, Great-uncle," Charles replied with the smile of a nephew for his elder.
"Now that it's settled, we must be quick!" The Duke's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I will contact the court immediately to confirm Mademoiselle Léaurand's inheritance rights as soon as possible..."
Charles, for his part, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the Duke's desk.
For the sake of this piece of paper, the Duke would be even more motivated than Charles to see Mademoiselle Léaurand's inheritance secured.
"Very good." The Duke placed the note in his drawer, then looked up at his tall, slender, and rather scholarly grandnephew. "Charles, you are worthy of the Tréville name."
Charles bowed. "Thank you."
"Would you like to stay for dinner tonight?" the Duke asked suddenly. "Actually, Charlotte is quite beautiful..."
Is he shifting his aim to me now?
"I have an appointment with someone tonight. Perhaps next time..." Charles declined with a smile. "Well then, I shall take my leave."
"Be careful on your way."
And just like that, stepping into the hazy moonlight, Charles left the residence of the Duke de Tréville.
Charles didn't want any reward. Or rather, his sister's gratitude was already the best reward he could ask for.
Besides... there was another, much deeper reason.
With the connection he had forged this time, Charles felt that the plan agreed upon in the secret meeting—to "win over the Duke de Tréville and others"—was no longer so distant. Using someone else's three hundred thousand francs to buy himself a massive favor, Charles suddenly felt his luck had turned for the better. Was his fortune finally changing?
If France itself could be the reward, then the risk he had taken this time was truly insignificant.
In the future, to realize his dream, there would surely be countless life-and-death situations to navigate, and hardships even more perilous than this to overcome.
However, the dream of leading the French nation through its destined calamity of 1870 was getting closer, more hopeful.
May God bless France!
Charles looked up at the hazy night sky.