” That’s my Last Duchess painted on the wall

Looking as if she were alive…”

R. BROWNING

Gentle reader:

Please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Kathleen, Duchess of Wedgewood. I haven’t always been a Duchess, rather I came to the title by marriage.

But that is a story in itself.So let us begin at the beginning, and, in homage to another English writer, Charles Dickens, let us start with

CHAPTER ONE: I WAS BORN

My birthday is August 30. It was a most insignificant day, so insignificant that for many years no saint’s feast day was observed on August 30. Perhaps that was an omen when it came to my parents’ choice of my given na, Kathleen. There is no Saint Kathleen. There are many Saint Catherine’s, even a Saint Kateri, but alas, no Saint Kathleen. Thus, I started life on a day that reverenced not a single saint and I was named after no saint at all.

What good could possible come from such an inauspicious beginning?

Many years later I learned that a saint by the name of Fiacre died on August 30, which meant that there was a feast day on the day I was born. As a bonus, St. Fiacre and I are linked through my French-Irish heritage, St. Fiacre was born in Ireland and emigrated to France.

There our connection nearly ends. Saint Fiacre is the patron saint of those who suffer from hemorrhoids and veneral diseases. His patronage of hemorrhoid sufferers garnered a new name for hemorrhoids: Fiacre’s Figs. Not exactly a patronage to be proud of, especially when coupled with venereal disease.

St. Fiacre was also a misogynist. He created a monastery enclosure in France which barred entry to women.

Fiacre is also the Patron Saint of Gardeners, whereas I am renowned for being unsuccessful at growing any plant.

How did I end up with this misogynistic Saint, sponsor of those of ill-repute and embarrassing afflictions, as part of my birthday celebrtions ?

There must be an explanation.

And there is!

While doing some genealogy research, I discovered that I am a direct descendant of another Fiacre: Fiacre Fievre, Deux Sevres, France (1620-1656). He lived a scant thirty-six years, but fathered four children, including my many times great grandmother, Catherine Fievre, who was a Fille de Roi who traveled to Quebec.

Imagine my delight in reading this. I had not yet become a duchess, so I was thrilled with the idea that I was descended from royalty, a daughter of the King of France. What a lineage! Royal blood straight from King Louis XIV.

Further research revealed an ego-deflating fact. Fille de Roi was simply an honorary title bestowed on those young women brave enough to travel to New France and take up a new life in Quebec. King Louis was anxious to grow the population of the French territory. Catherine Allaire (née Fievre) obliged the King with 13 children before dying in Quebec City in 1709, aged 63, probably from exhaustion.

Such an unfortunate start in life for me. No saints name, a most unwelcome connection too hemorrhoids and STDs, an unsubstantiated claim to royalty and the ultimate ignominy for a parochial school educated, Irish Catholic girl : Fiacre Fievre was a PROTESTANT!

This horrifying heritage of heretical ancestors propelled me to plan my future around a rapid ascension up the ladder of society. To become as close to royal in the only way open to me: marriage. Once having successfully snared the Duke of Wedgewood, I vowed to never relinquish my title.

Not even to my children.