The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl (19 page)

“Ahh yes.” Marguerite took her seat followed by the rest of the officers and allowed a bot to place a napkin in her lap as she addressed the girl who now had a name. “You are the baker’s daughter in La Rochelle. I remember you now. I’ve seen you outside the shop occasionally.”

“And of course everyone knows you,
Lady Vadnay
.” She drew the name out again with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

Marguerite ignored her. “I came to speak with you about Vivienne.” She looked pointedly at Jacques before she chose food from the plates being passed around the table in a very unrefined way.

“Yes, how is she? Not ready to leave your bunk yet?” Jacques’s voice held real concern.

“She’s actually not doing well at all. It appears her … ” Marguerite paused, still unsure if it was even proper to relay the truth of the matter to anyone. “ … ailment is more serious than we initially assumed. Is there a doctor onboard the ship? Outil could only locate a midwife.”

“We heard you’ve got your own bot running around the ship for you. Is Outil what you call her? Figures.” Déja did not mask her disgust.

“Yes, Outil is my bot, but I do not know what you seem to be figuring.”

“All you nobles think of the world around you in terms of possession and nothing more. Most bots choose their own names these days, but only a master would give a servant a name that meant tool.” Déja stabbed at her meat and looked for Marguerite’s reaction.

“The name of my bot is neither here nor there, I require assistance for Vivienne.” She turned back to Jacques. “We need fresh sheets, broth, and a doctor as soon as possible.” To her dismay, he seemed to be enjoying the exchange playing out before him.

“I’m afraid there is no official ship’s doctor as of yet.” His face became serious again. “We had one hired before the Triumph left Paris, but he was unable to join us at the last minute. I was planning on picking one up once we arrived in Montreal. I’m impressed that your bot was able to locate a midwife. Hopefully we won’t require her services on this voyage!” He chuckled at his own joke.

“So there are doctors in New France! Magnificent.” Marguerite ignored the lewd remark.

“Well, I can’t imagine a lady such as yourself going anywhere that wouldn’t at least have trained health professionals! Who would prescribe your smelling salts?” Déja laughed through a mouthful of bread and several other diners joined in.

Marguerite felt her jaw clenching on its own. She couldn’t believe the lax atmosphere of this ship. If they had been back in La Rochelle someone would have already taken this girl into hand and at the very least slapped her for her arrogance. But looking from face to face at the table, present company seemed to be on Déja’s side. Marguerite was alone.

She turned fully to Jacques and put her fork down. “Jacques, is there any way you could please have someone send a pain tincture or broth to our suite?” She hated to beg, but she wanted this errand over with and did not want to return empty-handed to the pitiful creature who shared her room.

“Of course … ” Jacques was cut off.

“Oh! Darling Jacques! Please fill my
suite
with silk stockings and pills for my make-believe friend! I’m going to need them to drug a man into marriage!”

“I’ll have you know that I happen to have a man waiting for me in New France already. He’s amazing and smart and a real gentleman. He would never laugh at a lady.” She purposefully raised her voice for the whole table to hear.

“Oh really? Another make-believe friend?” Déja was not put off.

“His name is Claude Vadnay and he’s more real than you will ever be.”

“Hmm, Claude Vadnay the smithy?” She barked the words out and laughed with her mouth open like a horse allowing everyone to count her teeth. “You ran away to chase a smithy? What makes you think that now he’s out from under your daddy’s hand he’ll have anything to do with you? The ladies may get first choice over there in the new world, but the boys get the final say. Maybe I’ll look Mr. Vadnay up and claim him as my own, if he’s such a catch. I'm sure he’d be happy to have a girl who can actually bake her own bread as his wife!” She shouted the last line in triumph as the rest of the table roared with laughter.

“That is quite enough, Mademoiselle Boulanger.” Jacques cleared his throat and put down his wine glass.

“But dear
Jacques,
might I call you Jacques as well? We’re all equals now, aren’t we?” Several of the men raised their glasses and cheered at her request.

Marguerite cut through, “If you have a quarrel with me, there is no reason to make a public spectacle of it. I am more than happy to address your issues in private.”

“While I’d enjoy seeing the two of you go at it in a dark alley immensely, this is neither the time nor the place.” Jacques cleared his throat again, the wine too strong for him to overcome.

All of her tension and fears swirled together at his comment. Marguerite stood, placing her napkin over the plate she had hardly touched; her appetite was gone.

“This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake.” Her voice cracked as she turned to leave.

“Marguerite, wait!” Jacques stood to follow her.

“Go get her, Jacques darling!” Déja called as the whole table erupted in a chorus of laughs again, fueled by too much wine and excitement. Jacques stopped and turned to face his fellow officers.

“I am Captain Jacques Laviolette and you will address me as such. Do I make myself very clear?” His voice boomed over the diners.

Silence rolled across the dining room and every officer at the head table and several around the room stood at attention and saluted.

“Yes, sir,” stumbled a sheepish reply from a few lips.

“Excuse me?” He was ordering at the top of his lungs now.

“Yes, sir!” The room shouted back.

“Good! Be seated.”

Marguerite was already halfway down the hall by the time he caught up to her. She had heard the laughter and the call for order but did not understand, nor did she care to.

“Wait, Marguerite!” He was running to catch up.

“Please, leave me be.” She did not look back.

“Stop, please. Just a moment.” He gently took her by the arm and pulled.

Reluctantly she halted, covering her face as best she could. She could easily count on one hand the number of people she’d cried in front of and she did not want Jacques Laviolette to be one of them.

“I am so very sorry. Their behavior is not what was meant to come of a more equal society.”

“I should not be here. I belong in Paris on the arm of a rich bore like Delacourte. I was not made to be mocked and abused.”

“Marguerite, none of us were made for that. Your birth has nothing to do with what you deserve in life.”

“Vivienne clearly should not have come either, and now she’s probably dying and it’s all my fault!”

“Dying? What in the world is the matter? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Her father beat her, Jacques!” Marguerite felt like she was going to burst as the words came rushing out. “I found her wandering on the path to town alone in her nightshirt and weeping. What was I to do? I thought if I could get her to come with me she’d be safe, but now the midwife says she is probably bleeding internally, something about her kidney. To be honest, I am not even sure what a kidney is, but it’s been damaged and she won’t eat or respond. At least if we were home she’d have medical attention by now!”

Jacques held her shoulders as she delivered her tale, his face knit with concern; all traces of merriment and wine were gone. He didn’t respond immediately. Marguerite worried she had once again said too much to this man who had a magical way of getting her to talk. Would he call her a fool? Would he send them back now that he knew they were both here without their families’ blessings?

“Marguerite?” His voice was soft and low. “You’ve done the best you could for your friend. You had no way of knowing the extent of her injuries and you did what you thought was right.”

He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to her wet cheek. She reached for it eagerly and accidentally brushed his fingers.

“Listen, if what you say is true, I want you to know you did the right thing. She’s much better off with us than at her home. If they treat her as such, who knows if they would attend to her medical needs? There are real doctors in Montreal, I promise you. We will be there in two days’ time and I will make sure she has everything we can provide until that time. You won’t have to leave her side again if you don’t want to and Outil won’t have to steal food.”

“But what about your rules, and rats and—”

“I’m the captain, for heaven’s sake, I make the rules!” He pulled her instinctively to his chest.

The passageway was empty, but Marguerite stiffened at his gesture all the same. How is it possible to be held by two men in the same week and have it feel so different each time? His warm arm around her felt right, just as Claude’s had. And her heart was certainly broken, just as it had been with Claude in the garden, but back then she knew what she wanted and she had faith in the outcome, no matter the odds. Now she was staring the odds in the face and they seemed enormous.

She gave in and let her head rest on his uniform as she dabbed at her face and calmed her breathing. She let his words sink into her troubled soul. The tears had stopped when he spoke her name again, even softer now. “Marguerite.”

She looked up at him and hiccupped just a bit. “Yes?” She clenched his handkerchief tightly in her hand and used it to cover her mouth in embarrassment.

He reached up and gently pushed it down before bending to kiss her.

Warmth. Slow, all-consuming warmth spread from the touch of his lips throughout her whole body. She closed her eyes. His free hand wrapped around her shoulders, completing the circle she was held in as he gently pressed down more insistently.

Something hard inside her stomach melted. She reached up and touched his face, returning his kiss with equal vigor. The only feeling she’d known close to this was falling from the highest point of the swing on her cherry tree, and even that couldn’t compare. As soon as he drew back she wanted more, but as soon as she opened her eyes she knew she must step away.

“Captain Laviolette, I … ”

“Jacques, remember?”

“No, I … ”

“Forgive me, Marguerite, I am weak.” He let her go and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor. “Ever since I met you on the street that day in La Rochelle, I just … I can’t explain. I knew it was ridiculous, I kept trying to walk away from you, but when I saw you were on my ship’s manifest I thought it must be fate that brought you here.”

“Jacques, no. It’s Claude. I love him; he’s expecting me. I’m here so that I can be with him.”

“I know. I apologize. I am a fool, but I am here to serve you. I will not press my feelings upon you again.”

Marguerite didn’t know what else to say.

Claude
. If she couldn’t say it again she could at least think it. She kept repeating his name over and over again in her mind, trying to fix his memory in place. But her lips were still wet and warm with Jacques’s touch. She felt herself craving his arms around her shoulders again and had to shake it off. She reached for her pocket to cradle the cricket in her hand, but felt foolish when she realized she’d left it in her cabin as the King’s dresses were not fitted with pockets.

“Come, let us go to your rooms and I will have dinner sent there along with supplies for Vivienne. We have plenty of emergency medications and ointments. We can even find the midwife again and ask her advice for what’s best to use until we arrive in port. I will telegraph ahead and make sure a doctor is there to meet us.”

“Thank you.” Marguerite looked him in the eye, sincerely grateful. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Captain Laviolette, please report to the bridge. Captain Laviolette. Code black.” The announcement cracked over the speakers overhead and made the couple start. “Captain Laviolette, please report to the bridge immediately. Code black.”

A resounding
BOOM!
shook the entire ship. Marguerite and Jacques both lost their footing and crashed into a wall.

“What is a code black?” Terror seized her mind.

Jacques swore. “It’s nothing. Go to Vivienne, shut off all your lights. I will be back for you.”

“But Jacques?”

“Go! Quickly! I have to get to the bridge.” He squeezed her hand and ran down the passage calling, “I’ll come check on you!”

Marguerite followed as fast as she could. Before she reached her cabin door another
BOOM!
rocked the ship, this time sending her sprawling across the floor. She scrambled up and rushed the rest of the way into her cabin.

“Outil! Outil! Where are you?”

“Here, m’lady.” She came from the bedroom. “Are you quite all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine; how is Vivienne?”

“She’s still not conscious.”

“Do you know what is happening to the ship? Jacques just said to turn out all of our lights … ” Before she could finish her sentence the lights went out on their own.

“No, m’lady, I have no idea. I am most sorry.”

“It’s all right, it doesn’t matter. Help me find the cricket.”

“Yes, just a moment.”

Marguerite guessed it would not have stayed on the dresser amidst all the chaos, and she was right. Outil activated the lights and it sprang to life in the corner of the bedroom.

BOOM!

Marguerite was reaching for her bug just as the ship lurched for a third time. She landed hard on her side and stayed there for a moment until the floor was level again. Her stomach felt like it would have emptied itself if she’d had anything more than a few bites to eat that night.

“What could it be, Outil? Don’t you have some sort of aership database you can call up?”

“No, miss, only what I have managed to gather while aboard the past two days.”

“Jacques said it was a code black, do you know what that means?”

Outil was standing protectively over Marguerite and staring out the porthole. “No, miss, but I think I might have a guess. Come and see for yourself.”

She offered a hand to her mistress and pulled her to her feet before pointing out the small round window.