The Displaced

by Frieda Watt

  Marie hadn’t been keen on the idea of packing crates when there was a garrison of soldiers looking for things to do when not training or standing watch. So, unwilling to suffer alone, she’d dragged Elise along with her. When they arrived at the dusty warehouse it was vacant, except for long tables set in the middle and empty crates and barrels. The compact dirt floors and rough stone walls were lit by torches on the walls. It was a dreary place to spend an afternoon. The smell of the floor varnish (created from cow dung and blood) made Elise gag.

  Marie was surprised to see Sophie de la Rocque and Charlotte Duchambon standing by one of the tables. Sophie was the daughter of the King’s Engineer. She lived for gossip, held grudges, and thought she was better than the rest of them. Marie couldn’t stand her. As for Charlotte, Marie wasn’t well acquainted with her, but she did know she was the daughter of the Governor, Louis Du Pont Duchambon, and so had some status in the colony. Charlotte had difficulty connecting with people, though, as she suffered from a debilitating stutter. When Marie had interacted with her, Charlotte had barely spoken.

  Marie’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Annette, along with a long line of wagons of produce. As soon as each wagon drew up to the main door, it was quickly unloaded by soldiers looking for extra wages. There were a few members of the Swiss guard, but most were cadets from northern France. Then the task of sorting cabbages from onions, rotten from fresh, soon began.

  “I can’t wait until your aunt goes back to getting people to make quilts,” Elise muttered, tossing a grub-filled cabbage into the bad pile. All around them, the room bustled. The soldiers continued to unload empty crates for the women to fill with good produce and then took the full ones away. Annette had succeeded in convincing a large number of upper-class ladies to come and lend a hand, and their presence only added to the liveliness of the crowd. “This isn’t as bad as the time Annette decided to have us host the fundraiser for supplies for the school,” Marie pointed out, trying not to breathe through her nose. Charlotte glanced at Marie and rolled her brown eyes.

  A grimace crossed Elise’s beautiful features. The gambling night had raised a lot of funds for the school, though one engineer went without food for a month, having gambled away his month’s wages. However, Annette forgot to secure help for the cleanup afterwards, and Marie and Elise were among those forced to scrub chewing tobacco off the floor of the Engineer’s property.

  “With a track record like that, it’s a wonder she gets anyone to help,” Elise muttered. Help might have been a strong word. Most of the women were happily gossiping at their tables, hardly touching the produce. Realizing that the work wasn’t getting done, the soldiers started sorting through the cabbages.

  About then, Sophie came bouncing over, dark curls swinging. She never worked at these events, using them purely as social gatherings instead.

  “So tell me, Marie,” Sophie began, oblivious to her peers’ efforts to fill the crates. “What’s this about you and Pierre Thibault swimming together in the creek in the forest? What’s your excuse this time?”

  Marie threw Elise a look. Elise busied herself with the cabbage, suddenly finding the pile of heads quite fascinating.

  “What about him?” she responded coolly.

  “Well,” Sophie said, leaning on the table. “Someone told me about your jaunt in the woods.” Her green eyes twinkled.

  Elise’s cheeks were red. She forgot about the smell around her and inhaled deeply, doubling over at the stench of the warehouse.

  “He’s my brother’s best friend. Obviously, I see a lot of him.” Marie tried to keep her voice steady.

  Sophie pouted in disappointment. “But he’s more interested in you than he’s been before,” she wheedled. It was well known Sophie lusted after anyone with good bone structure, of which Pierre was included.

  Marie sighed, forcefully pushing the last of the onions into a crate. “He’s a friend, Sophie. Let it go.”

  “More than a friend?”

  Marie slammed the crate on the tabletop. “It’s none of your business who I spend my time with. You’re not my mother and you’re wrong.”

  “Does Annette know?”

  “Does your mother know you’ve been sneaking into dark corners with my brother?” Marie snapped.

  Sophie looked as if she’d been slapped. Both Elise and Charlotte did little to cover their laughter. Humiliated, Sophie turned on her heel and stomped off, pushing her way past a group of soldiers.

  “I’m sorry, Marie. I didn’t tell her much. She just asked where you were last Thursday.” Elise’s green eyes were wide with concern. “I shouldn’t have told her.”

  Marie brushed the comment off. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not the only one.”

  “That b-b-b-busy b-body can spin y-y-y-yarns out of a g-g-g-grain of s-s-s-salt,” Charlotte blurted.

  Marie and Elise both stared, open mouthed, at Charlotte. It was the first time they’d heard her speak in months.

  ***

  The end of September brought shorter days, and the evening air bore the promise of colder days to come. Any fishermen who’d made the treacherous voyage from France had left for home, and most of the harvest was gathered in, the storehouses packed to the rafters in preparation for the long, frozen months of winter. The citizens of Louisbourg knew that, all too soon, they would be waking up to the sight of frost covering the ground. The winter would last for a long, long time, so it was no wonder that the residents of the fortress weren’t ready to say goodbye to the summer months yet.

  Dusk was falling, but the city was just beginning to stir as people got ready to go out to the Harvest Festival just outside the city walls. Marie was pinning up the last of her hair when a knock came at the front door. Marie headed down the stairs and opened the door to the sight of Elise, her pale cheeks red from the bite of the chilled air, and her younger cousin, Diane, who was standing beside her, practically bursting with excitement. Both had pulled their overcoats out of storage and were wearing them for the first time that season.

  Marie had no idea where Annette was, an occurrence that had been happening more and more in recent weeks. Her charitable activities kept her busy during the day, but where she was in the evening was anyone’s guess. Unconcerned, Marie put on her grey, woollen cloak, waved to Madame Badeau, and followed Elise and Diane into the evening.

  Like Elise’s family, Diane’s was in the military, but unlike her cousin, she was the oldest of seven girls. Her father was one of the officers responsible for trying to train the city’s militia. It was a thankless job with little pay. Diane was also as dark as Elise was fair. This was her first experience out on her own, and she practically glowed with anticipation as the trio walked along.

  The usually dark streets were lit by paper lanterns as citizens filled the city streets that led beyond the walls. There was a festive feeling in the air. Small children ran beyond the reach of their parents, darting in and out of the shadows created by the fading sun.

  Soldiers lined the streets, keeping a close eye on the proceedings. The white and blue of the French uniform contrasted with the red and white of the Swiss Kerr regiment—both solemn reminders of what would likely be coming next summer. Now that the fishermen had left, there were more military men than civilians in the fortress. The ever-present guards stood beside the gates. Unconcerned with security during such a festival, their muskets leaned, neglected, against the thick stone walls. The weather was becoming too cold for these soldiers’ thin uniforms, so wool blankets were draped over their shoulders to provide a little comfort from the biting air. They laughed and joked with those leaving, appearing to be completely unconcerned that a war was raging around them. Marie wondered if any of these men had been at the Grassy Islands or Annapolis Royal.

  Just beyond the walls, a massive bonfire raged, casting light and heat for hundreds of yards. A fiddler stood a stone’s throw from the blaze, scratching out a jig for all to hear. More musicians were coming to join him, unpacking their in
struments and livening up the festivities even more. It seemed that most of the residents of the city had left their homes for the night to be part of the country dance, and with the harvest over, there was much to celebrate.

  Claude, however, felt that attendance at such gatherings was beneath any member of his family. But with Claude in Quebec on orders from Governor Duchambon, there was little that he could do to stop Marie from being out there with the crowd. Marie didn’t care about class structures. In fact, New France as a whole was famous for lacking the proper divide between the classes, and nowhere was that more apparent than in Louisbourg. Only a handful of families with aristocratic blood lived within its walls. Most wealthy people were like Augustus, part of the burgeoning bourgeoisie, something Claude abhorred.

  Back at the bonfire, fruit and vegetables that hadn’t been claimed by the government were gathered and spread out on flannel sheets on the ground. It appeared that a steer had even been slaughtered for the occasion. Marie was surprised. She thought that all spare cattle were the property of the garrison, used to supplement rations, but here, in front of her eyes, most of the soldiers were already into the bouillon, the cheapest alcohol, trying to forget that they were trapped on the island for the winter. If the soldiers were eating, some official must have given permission for the feast to happen.

  Elise scoured the crowd for people that she and her companions might know. Sophie de la Rocque wouldn’t be there and neither would Charlotte, this type of gathering being considered inappropriate to their station in life. There were a few young women that Marie knew by sight from school, but she wasn’t in the mood to try to make new friends. Elise led Diane over to the blankets, with Marie following behind, when a voice whispered in her ear, “Hello, beautiful.”

  Startled, Marie turned to find herself face to face with Pierre, who was looking warm in a new thick, black wool jacket. His face was alive with the excitement of the festival. She laughed to cover her surprise. “You scared me!” she accused, flustered. She had to shout to be heard over the crowd.

  Pierre chuckled. “Sorry. Just trying to get your attention.”

  Marie looked around and spotted Nic a few steps away, looking unenthusiastic in a grey, woollen cap. He’d spent the better part of his time recently trying to convince Marie that Pierre wasn’t worth her time.

  “You know he’s had his hands on a few girls,” Nic had pointed out angrily one afternoon when he’d been forced once again to share his free time with his sister. (The garden had needed weeding and Madame Badeau had made him help.)

  “So have you. What’s your point?”

  Nic’s pale face went through several colour transformations before settling on beet red. “I have not!”

  Marie laughed at him. “Sophie de la Rocque, Anne de la Forêt … and, oh, how about Pasqueline Bellamy? I’m sure Claude would like to hear you’ve been running around with a fishmonger’s daughter.”

  Nic hadn’t said any more on the subject after that, but he wasn’t happy that Pierre seemed to be showing interest in Marie and was spending less time with him. When Marie was in his presence, he often resorted to angry looks, stony silences, and muttered annoyance. Right now, Nic was so angry that he stepped away from Marie and Pierre and stared furiously at the bonfire. Elise and Diane had sat down on one of the blankets and were accepting pieces of beef from one of the soldiers tending the fire.

  As Pierre and Marie were standing there in the middle of the crowd, it occurred to Marie that Nic should start looking for a serious relationship, and she said as much to Pierre.

  Pierre looked around. Being several inches taller than most people, he had a better view of the gathering than Marie did. “Any ideas?” He stood on his toes, scanning the people milling around. “You know he’s had plenty of interactions with girls.”

  “I mean more than flighty flirtations and dark, sordid affairs.”

  Pierre nodded and continued looking around.

  As Marie looked in the opposite direction, she realized that she knew most of the people here only by sight. Technically, it was Nic’s job to protect her from any unsavoury exchanges that could ruin her reputation, but just now, she felt more protected by the hulking figure of Pierre than the slouching, sullen character Nic was becoming.

  “Well, there’s always Elise’s cousin, Diane,” Marie said. “She’s only fourteen, but that’s just one year younger than Nic.”

  Pierre walked over to where Nic was standing, apparently trying to make sense of the flames in front of him. The aroma of cooking beef filled the air as hunks of animal were mounted on stakes near the flames. “Come on, Nic,” Pierre said. “We’re here to have fun, so why don’t you join the rest of us?” After a great deal of coercion, Nic finally followed Pierre to where Marie was, and Marie led them over to Elise and Diane. She made the introductions.

  Elise didn’t seem very interested in conversing with Nic. She’d spent enough time dealing with him in school. Besides, there was a large group of soldiers standing a few yards away that had caught her eye. But Diane was eager for any attention. She might have been younger than the rest, but her raven hair, full red lips, and hazel eyes were starting to turn men’s heads. Pierre wrapped his hand around Marie’s elbow and motioned for her to follow him.

  “Do you think it’s safe leaving Nic with the two of them?” Marie asked.

  He gave her a quizzical look.

  “He won’t corrupt them, I mean.”

  Pierre glanced back. “How much damage can he do? Unlike me, Elise is smart enough not to fall for his crazy schemes. And, yes, I do know what I’m implying about my own intelligence.”

  Marie coughed to cover her laughter. “But what about Diane?” she said.

  “Too naïve. He’d see her as a little sister more than anything else.”

  They walked around the fire to the other side, where the fiddler and his companions had attracted a large crowd of spectators. A few of the fishermen’s wives could be seen in the light of the fire, dancing a jig.

  “Want to join them?” Pierre asked, one eyebrow cocked.

  Marie snorted in disbelief. “You think I can do that? I can barely make my way through a simple set at a ball. I’d end up on my back with a twisted ankle.”

  Pierre grinned. “You sure?” He bent his legs and began a very poor impression of the dancing women. Marie doubled over, laughing.

  She was happy to watch as the gathering grew into a dance. There was an unrestrained air among the inhabitants as they celebrated the end of the summer season. Farmers and fishermen gathered in groups to catch up after so many weeks of continuous labour. They’d shed their usual grubby work clothes for their Sunday best, so most were almost unrecognizable. Soldiers relaxed with jugs of bouillon, celebrating the summer that had passed without a British invasion. Even young children were present, trying their best to stay awake in their mothers’ arms.

  “Come here,” Pierre said, looking back at Marie over his shoulder. “I want to show you something.”

  Marie glanced over at Nic, who wasn’t paying them any attention. If anyone caught her and Pierre sneaking off into the darkness, there would be hell to pay, especially if Nic was the one making the discovery. He held her to a higher standard than he held himself.

  “Nothing will happen. I promise.” For once, there was no mischievous glint in his eye. She decided to trust him.

  ***

  Pierre led Marie away from the bonfire and the celebration, but they stayed within view of the walls. Away from the warmth of the fire, the air was cold, and Marie pulled her grey cloak closer around her. She’d left her hat at home and now regretted choosing vanity over practicality. Pierre saw her discomfort and passed her his toque.

  “It’ll ruin your hair, but I’ll pretend to not notice.” Marie’s bare ears were too cold for her to complain.

  There was no moon, and the world seemed dark after the light of the festival. It was also difficult to navigate the uneven terrain. Stumbling over a rabbit hole, Marie
grabbed Pierre’s hand and let him lead. He seemed to have a particular spot in mind, but she was surprised when he sat down on a seemingly random patch of grass, resting his elbows on his long, folded legs.

  “Why here?”

  He motioned for her to sit. She kept a few feet between them, settling on the dying grass. Pierre didn’t seem to mind. “What are we looking at?” she whispered. The thirty-foot-high walls and embankments might be an astounding feat of engineering, but she saw them every day.

  Pierre pointed to the sky. Marie looked up, not sure what she was supposed to be seeing, but Pierre seemed intent on spotting something in particular. Suddenly, a pin prick of light went shooting across the inky blackness. A moment later, two more fell behind the hospital’s spire.

  Marie gasped. She heard Pierre chuckle in the darkness. “Shooting stars. There’s been a shower of them the last few nights. I’ve been coming out to watch.”

  Marie never suspected him of being a stargazer. The faint light showed the dim profile of his face, his chiselled features recognizable even in the dark. He looked a little nervous. “Never saw this coming, did you?”

  “No,” Marie admitted, impressed. “I always thought you were more concerned with things a little closer to home.”

  Pierre smiled, the faint light flashing against his teeth. “I own a telescope.”

  “What?”

  “Not a very big one, but it helps.”

  Marie leaned back, her elbows carrying her weight in the dry grass. She wondered how many more secrets Pierre held from the world. “Who would have thought you’d be spending time watching the stars? What other secrets are you hiding?”

  He scratched his chin, thinking. “None really … Well, remember that time you found frogs in your bed?”

  “It’s kind of hard to forget a dozen frogs hopping around under your covers,” Marie pointed out. “I knew that was you.”