Vendémiaire · Alfred's Ambition (Part 2)
"The tea trade?"
Louis racked his brain but couldn't recall Alfred ever mentioning such a venture.
"I don't remember you writing a single word about this golden opportunity," he said irritably, swatting Alfred's arm. "It sounds absurd—are you fabricating a nonexistent business just to placate me? You've barely had time to settle into the annuity and estate from the Count. Where would you get extra funds to invest in tea?"
Alfred caught his hand, torn between amusement and exasperation.
"Have you forgotten? During my four years at university, I never spent all my allowance!" he said. "My mother left me around five thousand francs—money I could use freely. Combined with my savings and leftover stipends, it became the capital for this venture."
Louis frowned skeptically.
"You never breathed a word of this in your letters. Not one."
"Because Solonais Grosstête—my law school classmate, a miller's son with a knack for schemes—and I dabbled in more than just tea back then." Alfred began counting on his fingers. "We tried earning through newspaper articles, trading flour, fabric, and cheap perfumes, even smuggling—we dug a tunnel to bypass Paris' customs gates. Failed, thankfully without getting caught. Eventually, Solonais discovered this tea trade and found a reliable agent."
"Now you see why I kept quiet, my dear Louis." Alfred shrugged. "I know you—you'd have lost sleep worrying. Same with my father. Given his royalist fanaticism, he might've dragged me to the magistrate! But this doesn't affect our friendship. No one is more trustworthy than you, and our current business is perfectly legal. The past stays buried."
Louis listened, dumbfounded.
"Holy Mother Mary! I always thought you were the steady type, Al!" He collapsed back onto the bed. "You actually broke the law—defying tax collectors! If you'd been caught, a criminal record would've ruined your life! What possessed you?"
"Oh, it's nothing. Youthful recklessness." Alfred waved it off. "I'd lost over a thousand francs on the perfume venture and got desperate. But the risks outweighed the rewards, so we quit."
It took Louis a moment to recover.
"So what's this tea business about?" He frowned. "Al, I'm not doubting you, but after hearing how Solonais nearly landed you in jail, I question his character. And these returns sound unreal! How much capital could you have invested to earn four thousand francs? Ten thousand in the highest-interest bank yields barely four hundred a year. Doesn't that terrify you?"
"Louis, this is Paris!" Alfred said. "Fortunes are made overnight here. With enough daring, any profit is possible. Besides, I trust Solonais. The four thousand is just the start—my goal is forty thousand annually. Only that can buy respectable standing in Paris."
"Was that why you tried accessing the seventy-thousand-franc deposit? To invest it all in this scheme?"
"Partly. We faced a rare opportunity requiring twenty thousand. We were four thousand short, so I inquired at the bank. They said I needed my father's consent."
Alfred edged closer. "I knew then it was hopeless. Touching that money would bring him racing from Chablis. To him, any trade stains the Grandville name. So I dropped it."
"Then how did you solve it? What was this 'once-in-a-lifetime' chance?"
After a pause, Alfred confessed.
"I visited a gambling hall. Won five thousand francs."
This shocked Louis more than the smuggling tale. He nearly bolted upright.
"Good God!" The cry escaped before Louis stifled it, his face burning.
"Al—you gambled?" In his agitation, harsh words spilled out. "How could you pick up such vice?"
In the provinces, "gambling halls" belonged only to wastrels. Card games might wager a sou per round, ending once someone lost a franc. The word conjured images of ruined heirs. No wonder Louis reacted so strongly.
"Louis!"
Alfred tugged him back, tucking the covers snugly to ward off chills.
"Listen, I'm careful! I only go to cash-only houses—no credit allowed! And rarely! That time was pure luck. I brought just twenty francs to clear my head, fully prepared to borrow the rest from a moneylender. Never expected to win big!"
"You considered a loan shark?!"
This only fueled Louis' fury. "Do you have any idea what those Jewish bloodsuckers charge? Between gambling and usury—Al, what were you thinking? These are forbidden territories, yet you speak of them like buttering bread! Has Paris bewitched you into seeing devils as tools? At this rate, I fear for the Count!"
He made to rise, but Alfred pinned him down.
"Louis." Alfred's voice softened. He rested his head on Louis' shoulder, as they'd done during boarding school punishments. "Aside from Father and my poor little sister, only you would fret over me like this. Others would just marvel at my winnings. You alone care if I'd lost my shirt."
Like a pricked balloon, Louis' anger deflated.
"I'm worried for you, Al."
"I know," Alfred said. "I know gambling and loans are evils. But for my family—for Madeleine, whom I'm reminded of whenever I dine at Père Denis's—I need more money. Sometimes, risks can't be avoided."
"But look at the risks you're taking!" Louis pressed a hand to his forehead. "This isn't the Al I remember. Paris has changed you."
"Money begets money, Louis. If our family still had its three-hundred-thousand-franc income and vast estates, I could thrive here as Father wishes. But on a few thousand a year? To carve a place in Paris, I must take chances."
"You already have six thousand five hundred annually. Couldn't careful estate management grow that steadily?"