Promised to the Crown (25 page)

“The Beaumonts are good people and raising us better than you ever thought of doing. Get your own damned coat, and see yourself out. We won't be home this Sunday, or any other.”

Pascal released his father's shirt and stared at him with fury.

“Fine, you ungrateful little shit,” Giroux spat. “May I never see either of you ever again.”

“Easily arranged,” Alexandre said, stepping between the boy and his father. “I trust you can find the door.”

Nicole ushered the weeping Gabrielle from the room while Elisabeth wrapped her arms around Pascal. The boy was shaking, with anger or regret, she knew not.

“Don't worry,” Elisabeth said. “He's gone; it's over.”

“That no-good piece of gutter sludge,” Pascal said, still shaking in Elisabeth's arms.

“Young man, you ought not speak of your father in such a way,” said Father Cloutier. Elisabeth had begged for any other priest to baptize her child, since he'd refused to baptize the first, but the Church had not given them a choice.

“The boy speaks the truth,” Elisabeth said.

More than one head turned at the woman who dared to contradict the priest.

“The Bible commands us to ‘honor thy mother and thy father,'” the priest began, in a tone brimming with authority.

“And so Pascal does,” Elisabeth said. “By staying to honor the baptism of his brother. Pascal and Gabrielle live in my house, and are as much my children as Pierre. If you'll excuse me, I need to see to my daughter's injuries.”

The priest stared at Elisabeth, his mouth agape.

Madame Beaumont had dismissed him as she might an ill-behaved child.

“How are you, sweetheart?” Elisabeth asked, stooping to Gabrielle's height to inspect her injuries.

Nicole had washed the blood from Gabrielle's face, but spots still marked the front of her best dress. She fought bravely to stem the flow of tears.

Elisabeth noticed, with satisfaction, that Rose had retreated to the kitchen with Pierre when the confrontation began.

“Her nose isn't broken,” Nicole said, answering for the child. “She may have a black eye tomorrow, but I think she'll be all right.”

“I'm s-so s-sorry for ruining the party,” Gabrielle stammered.

“Don't you think on that for a moment,” Elisabeth said, embracing Gabrielle as she had her brother. “All I care about is keeping you safe. And Pierre is far too little to care about what happens at his party.”

“He is lucky to have such a sweet
maman,
” Gabrielle said.

“And such a sweet big sister and brother,” Elisabeth said. “You'll stay with us as long as you wish to.”

At this, Gabrielle began her tears afresh and tightened her grip around Elisabeth's waist.

“Perhaps we ought to cut things short and get this lot home early,” Gilbert said, entering the room with Alexandre.

“Yes.” A devilish grin played at Alexandre's lips. “You'll want to be rested for tomorrow's sermon. Father Cloutier's lecture on filial duty will be most enlightening.”

Alexandre was wealthy. He could dare to mock the clergy if he chose. It could make him unpopular in the colony, so most times he kept his remarks to himself, but Elisabeth had heard him speak with disdain about the priests and even some of the Church directives. Nicole, Elisabeth was sure, held her tongue on the matter for the sake of matrimonial accord.

“Yes, I think I've had more than enough excitement for an afternoon,” Elisabeth said. “Please take us home.”

 

As promised, the Sunday sermon focused on obedience to parental, and clerical, authority. Elisabeth was not the only one to notice the priest's too-frequent glares at the Beaumonts' pew. Pascal sighed at one point, and Elisabeth saw Alexandre's shoulders shaking with stifled laughter three rows up.

So long as this doesn't damage business, I can endure it,
Elisabeth thought to herself. At least little Pierre slept through the Mass, not attracting any more attention to the family than was already directed their way.

Father Cloutier nodded stiffly to the Beaumonts as they left, and didn't offer his usual pious farewell.

The Beaumonts joined both sets of Lefebvres in the courtyard in front of the church as they did most Sundays. In the midst of their conversation, Gabrielle clutched Elisabeth's hand. Raymond and Brigitte Giroux appeared, haphazardly washed and in their best clothing, with a troupe of dirty children following them. The family looked hungry and overtired from the long walk into town.

Raymond and Brigitte stopped to talk with the priest, and cast indelicate glances at the Beaumonts.

“Home,” Gilbert said, when he noticed the Girouxes at the door of the church. His voice betrayed the seriousness of the situation.

They left the courtyard at a faster pace than they would usually take on a Sunday morning, with the Lefebvre families hard on their heels.

“Pascal and Gabrielle, will you please play in the parlor with Manon and Hélène? We'll call you in when it's time for luncheon,” Elisabeth said.

The children all complied, as the eldest three were great playmates and accepted the presence of toddling Hélène with cheer.

“This is not good,” Gilbert said, once the children were out of earshot.

Elisabeth had already begun setting the table and setting out pastries to occupy her hands.

“There is not a thing Giroux can do about Pascal,” Henri said. “He's a legal apprentice and all but your property for the length of his contract. Unless they can show you've mistreated him, the contract can't be broken without your consent.

“Gabrielle is another matter.”

“I know,” Gilbert said. “I wish we'd formalized her agreement, too.”

“It would have been wise to draw up a contract making her your servant,” Alexandre said. “She's young for it, but no one would have looked askance.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Nicole asked her husband. “Speak to the governor?”

“He wouldn't want to intervene,” Alexandre said. “It's precisely these sorts of domestic squabbles with which he wants nothing to do.”

“We can't let her go back,” Elisabeth said, setting down a plate of rolls with too much fervor. Half of them spilled onto the table. “I know they beat her.”

“It isn't a crime to discipline a child,” Alexandre said.

“We aren't talking about spanking an errant child,” Gilbert said. “You saw how he hit her.”

“Within his legal rights, even so,” Alexandre said. “I'm not agreeing with it, merely pointing out what a judge would say. The man is a beast, but he is her father. He has rights, whether he deserves them or not.”

“I don't understand why he wants her back,” Elisabeth said. “He was more than glad to send her to us, just as he was with Pascal. Why has he changed his mind? What have we done wrong?”

“That's just it,” Nicole said. “You've done everything right. If you whipped Pascal, or kept Gabrielle in rags, he wouldn't care. But as it stands, he's jealous.”

“It seems so unfair,” Elisabeth said, tracing the designs on the embroidered tablecloth with her finger.

“To a man like Giroux it's incredibly unfair . . . to
him,
” Henri said. “To see his children in comfort when he has none is a great injustice to his mind.”

“Again, his motives and character matter little,” Alexandre said.

“What are we to do, Lefebvre?” Gilbert asked.

“I wish I knew,” Alexandre said. “But I would prepare for the worst.”

 

The bailiff, accompanied by Father Cloutier, collected Gabrielle the following week.

“Please don't make me go,” Gabrielle implored. “This is my home.”

“No it isn't, child,” the priest replied. “Your home is with your rightful parents, whom you must honor and obey.”

Gabrielle had never gone to Mass before her stay with the Beaumonts, but respected the Church with a child's faith. Yet for all her natural obedience, the girl glared at the priest, her expression lined with fury.

“Your father never beat you, did he?” Gabrielle asked, as if daring him to answer.

“I accepted my punishments and learned from my mistakes.”

The priest's condescending tone made Elisabeth feel ill. This was not a toddler, or a simpleton, but a bright young girl being sent back into misery.

“And when I'm being beaten for no transgression, Father, what is my lesson there?”

Neither Gilbert nor Elisabeth checked the girl's defiance.

“Patience,” Father Cloutier said, grabbing her arm. “Go pack your bag, girl, and be quick.”

“Let me go,” Gabrielle said. She twisted from the priest's grip and ran to her room. She emerged a few minutes later in the tattered dress she'd arrived in.

“Where are your things?” A look of annoyance colored the priest's round face. “I'm anxious to have this settled.”

“This is all I came with, sir,” Gabrielle answered. “I won't take the things the Beaumonts gave me to see them sold for drink.”

“Do not insult your father, child,” the priest said.

“Are we going or not?” Gabrielle snapped.

The bailiff started to take Gabrielle by the elbow, but she resisted. Head held high, she walked to the carriage and entered on her own.

She looked back at the Beaumonts and gave a quick wave before sitting back in her seat. Elisabeth guessed that was as long as she could stand to look without breaking down in tears.

Pascal, wordless through the ordeal, retreated to his room. Though Gilbert had tried to talk to the boy, he would not speak of his sister's removal, other than to curse his parents.

“Poor boy,” Elisabeth said. “I feel almost as badly for him as for her.”

“He feels guilty that he can stay and she was taken away,” Gilbert said, embracing his wife.

“I should speak to him,” Elisabeth said.

“That would make it worse,” Gilbert said. “Let him have time.”

“I suppose you're right,” Elisabeth said, breaking away with a kiss as she heard Pierre's cries.

“Back to work, for all of us,” Gilbert said. “I'm going to rouse Pascal as well. He'll have time to brood as he kneads the bread. The work will do him good.”

“Make sure he doesn't take out his anger too extravagantly on the dough or the bread will be tougher than old chicken.” The couple exchanged a hollow laugh and returned to their duties.

Elisabeth scooped up her tiny son to give him his morning meal. She smiled into his face and felt the glow of love pass through her.

“My dear little man,” she cooed, as he took her breast with enthusiasm. “Maman loves you so.”

Despite her maternal contentment, Elisabeth's heart also traveled along the rocky dirt road with Gabrielle, who she loved as a daughter. She murmured a prayer that they would not be separated long. For the first time, Elisabeth did not have much faith in an answer.

C
HAPTER
25

 

N
icole's feet ached worse after each ball. Each time, she swore this ball would be her last until the baby came, but somehow Alexandre could always persuade her to go to just one more.

“Are you unwell?” Alexandre asked, as his wife collapsed into her favorite chair.

“No more than usual,” Nicole said. “Tired, but nothing unexpected.”

“Thank you for going,” he said. “I don't care for this dancing nonsense any more than you, but it's important to be seen at these functions.”

“I know,” Nicole answered, resting her feet on the little velvet tuffet. “I'll be glad when the season is over, though.”

“Too true,” Alexandre said. “Before we retire, I'd like to show you plans for the new house—to know if it suits you.”

“I'm sure it will,” she said. “Though I don't understand why we need to move at all.”

“The city is growing, dearest,” he said. “Building a fine house at the city center is a smart investment. We'll need the room for entertaining, not to mention the children.”

Nicole couldn't find any argument there. Their dining and sitting rooms were becoming inadequate for the large dinners they hosted as part of their social circle. The constant kicks to her midsection said that an ample nursery was wanted as well. For all the work that accompanied babies, Nicole preferred their company to that of Quebec's elite.

“Very well, show me,” Nicole agreed, following him to the study.

Alexandre spread a large scroll of paper over the top of the broad mahogany desk, and she looked on as he explained the plans.

“Must we . . .” she began, but she closed her mouth before the thought escaped.

“What?” Alexandre asked, looking up from the plans to his wife. “Go ahead.”

“Separate bedrooms,” Nicole said, blushing. “Why are they necessary?”

“Convention, I suppose,” Alexandre said. “It's what I'm used to. Isn't that your preference also?”

“I see nothing conventional about it,” Nicole said. “I've never known a married couple who kept separate quarters.”

“It's very common among the families of my acquaintance,” he said. “If we sell the house, anyone who could afford it would expect the rooms arranged that way. I forgot . . .”

“That I started my life as a poor farm girl?” Nicole asked, arching her brow.

“With the operative words being ‘started life,'” said Alexandre. “Though I intended to say you ‘were not born in the same circles I was.' No one could tell where you started, Nicole. You've blended into society marvelously well.”

“Glad I'm not an embarrassment,” she said, not entirely teasing.

“Enough of that,” he said. “Regardless of birth, your education fit you for better things. You ought to be proud.”

“I am,” she said. “It's simply a lot to take in. Our current house is twenty times grander than the one I grew up in, yet we're building one finer yet. It baffles me that there's a need.”

“You think of home often, don't you?” he asked.

“All the time,” Nicole confessed. “It was the same when I was expecting Hélène. I pine for my mother, wanting advice. I wish you could meet her. My sisters and little Georges would not even know me now.”

“I'm sure their memories are better than you give them credit for,” he said. “As for the house, is everything to your liking?”

“It's lovely,” she said. “Just see to it that there is plenty of light and ample space in the nursery, and it will be wonderful.”

“I'm glad you approve,” he said. “I hope to finish construction within a year. Then we won't have to bother moving until after the baby is born.”

“All the better,” Nicole said.

“You've been pale lately,” Alexandre said. “Do you feel well?”

“As well as one might hope,” Nicole said. “Too many hours indoors, particularly in ballrooms.”

“The weather has been remarkably fine for December,” Alexandre said. “Tomorrow we'll bundle up the children and go see our property, if you like.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, glad for any excursion that didn't involve a ball gown or politics. “Speaking of the children, I should check on them before I retire.”

“Good night, dearest,” he said, offering a polite peck on the cheek.

“Good night,” she responded. Of course he would not be joining her.

In the nursery Manon and Hélène slept the untroubled sleep of beloved children. Nicole watched their even breathing and serene faces. In the moonlight, Manon's brown skin and black tresses contrasted so beautifully against the white pillowcase. Hélène's golden-brown curls fell in a halo over her pale forehead.

My sweet girls,
Nicole thought.
Sleep well. I envy your peace.

Nicole made her way to her own room. Sleep would be fitful, just like it was this far along in her pregnancy with Hélène. She sank into the plush mattress and felt her aches and pains subsiding by inches.

You finally drew up the courage to talk to him about bedrooms,
Nicole thought,
but it got you nowhere. He dismissed you, as he always does when you disagree. He's a good man. You should be happy. You're provided for and your children will want for nothing. Luc Jarvais would never have been able to do for them what Alexandre is doing. . . .

It was rare that Nicole thought of Luc anymore. When she
did
think of him, she thought of his decision to go trapping, and could no longer dismiss it as the action of a man who wanted to provide for his family. He was selfish and reckless to leave her alone. He was selfish to have married her at all before he had a house that could withstand the winter. She felt an occasional pang of regret that Luc hadn't lived to meet his daughter, but the loss of Luc Jarvais no longer stung.

She was Nicole Lefebvre now.

Remember that,
Nicole scolded herself.
Being lonely in marriage is better than being alone . . . especially here.
But while Luc had left her alone in body, Alexandre left her feeling just as lonely when he was in the same house. For all the comfort, was she any better off than she had been? Seeing her daughters well cared for answered the question as soon as she formed it in her mind, but the knowledge did little to warm her bed at night.

 

Alexandre's magnificent horses carried the sleigh past the outskirts of the settlement and on to the Lefebvre holdings. When they arrived, Manon descended to frolic in the sparse blanket of snow. Hélène longed to join her sister, but Alexandre kept the wiggling toddler in his arms to keep her dry.

“It's beautiful,” Nicole said as she took in the immensity of their holdings. Ice-covered trees glistened in the weak sun.

“I can't believe all this is yours.”

“Ours,” he said. “Were it not for your charms, the governor might not have noticed me. You've every bit as much a right to this land as I.”

Nicole squeezed his hand. The law thought otherwise, but his words were kind.

“If you could do anything with this property, what would you do?” he asked.

Hélène gave up her struggle and laid her head on his chest as they strolled across the land.

“I would give it to my father,” Nicole said without hesitation. “He dreamed of a farm this grand. He longed to buy more land in France, but was never able.”

“The plague of the Old World farmer.” Alexandre looked at the mountains in the distance. “The best of years, they eat like kings, but even then, they remain cash poor. In bad years, it's disaster.”

“I know,” Nicole said. “I lived it.”

“It's a little better here,” Alexandre said. “Fewer taxes, fewer laws. The peasant farmer has a fighting chance.”

“So it seems.” The subject of her family bruised Nicole's feelings, so she walked along in silence.

“Nicole,” said Alexandre. “I know you aren't happy.”

“It's of no matter,” Nicole said. “My condition makes me sensitive, that's all.”

“I should tell you,” Alexandre said. “I've sent for your parents and younger siblings to join us. I hope I haven't overstepped my boundaries.”

Did I hear him right?
She stared dumbly at her husband.

“Wh-what?” she stammered.

“They should arrive by summer,” he said. “Not in time for your mother to help when this baby comes, but perhaps the next one. The sailing periods are so short—I couldn't get them here sooner.”

Nicole felt warm tears on her cheeks and hastened to wipe them away.

“Please say something,” Alexandre said. “Have I upset you?”

“Quite the opposite,” Nicole said. “I've missed them so much.”

“I know.” Alexandre wrapped his arm around her. “I promised I would make it right, remember?”

“I never dreamed you would send for them. I thought you meant to give them a bit of money for the brooch.”

“Why would I do so little when I could truly help them, and make you happy in the process?” Alexandre asked. “I confess you're so unlike the women of my acquaintance, dearest. The women I knew before were content with jewels and frocks. You're made of sterner stuff, and thank God for it. I just wanted to do something to show you . . .”

“I don't deserve you,” she said as she dried her tears.
He will not see them again.

“So you're pleased?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, taking his hand. “I only hope they will be happy here.”

“As do I. A friend of mine in Rouen visited your parents and arranged the matter. He seemed to think the farm wasn't much more productive than when you left. Your father will do far better with healthy new lands here.” Alexandre gestured to the panorama in front of him. “Half of this will be his to farm and make a living. When he dies, it will pass to our children.”

“Can you afford such a gift?” Nicole asked. Acres upon acres stretched before them.

“In truth, the
seigneurs
make little money off the land compared to other enterprises,” Alexandre said. “It's more important that we manage the property well and keep troubles to a minimum so that the governor and the Crown have less to worry about. With Henri overseeing things on-site, we hope to operate the best-run estate in New France.”

“I'm sure we will,” Nicole said with pride.

“We'll have some sturdy young lads clear the land for him,” Alexandre said. “It's awful work, I gather. I've told Henri to have a solid home built for them as well. They won't be able to plant this year, but everything will be ready the following spring.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said, embracing her husband while trying not to disturb the sleeping Hélène. “I don't know what I could ever do to make this up to you.”

Alexandre rubbed her swollen belly. “You do enough as it is.”

 

“Up you get,” Nicole murmured as she nudged Manon awake from her nap on the sofa. The girl offered a brief but mutinous look before standing up and smoothing her dress.

It was just before eleven at night on Christmas Eve. They would be late for midnight Mass unless they left at least forty-five minutes early. Traveling in the snow was always a challenge, but the added gloom of midnight made the trip a serious undertaking.

Bundled in their warmest clothes, the Lefebvres climbed aboard Alexandre's sleigh.

Any other night of the year, the town would be asleep, but few in the settlement—even those of middling faith—missed the celebration of the Nativity. The lavishly decorated church glowed with candlelight for not only the traditional Mass, but choral singing and Nativity pageants as well.

“They put on a good show,” Alexandre whispered after a performance of
Panis Angelicus
. “But I envy the little one.”

Hélène nestled against her mother's bosom, sound asleep. She was far too young to be interested in Latin, no matter how beautifully sung. Manon's attention never wavered from the altar.

Nicole noticed Elisabeth nudge Pascal awake more than once during the service. Though almost three years Manon's senior, the Beaumonts' apprentice took little interest in church.

Monsieur Rosseau, the butcher, cast a disapproving glare at Manon. His opinion that she didn't belong in the church was not a rare one. People always glanced at Manon in public, and not always with kindness in their eyes. Nicole shot a murderous look at the old man. He must have understood her meaning full well as his bewildered eyes reverted forward where they belonged.
Listen to the sermon, you clout. It will do you more good than thinking poorly of a small girl.

Nicole fought to restrain her tears. As much as she considered Manon to be her flesh and blood, the rest of the colony would never see it that way. No matter how high Nicole climbed on the social ladder, Manon would not be allowed to follow.

Sweet, serious girl,
Nicole thought.
I hope we've done right to take you from your people. I hope you are happy.

Just after one o'clock in the morning, the Lefebvres and their nearest friends returned home from Christmas Mass. They were welcomed by a warm fire and the smell of roast goose wafting from the kitchen.

“Nothing better than returning home from a drafty church to a good meal,” Alexandre said. “To the table, everyone.”