Distant Fires

by D. A. Woodward

  Gathering her composure, she lifted her gaze to his questioning eyes.

  “It was my intent to inform you, of my plans,” she said, in a quavering voice. “As you can see, my health is much improved ... so much so ... that, following the memorial, I have decided to return to Quebec.” she saw his look of concern, “I know that you may take my action to be a trifle premature, but I can assure you, I am in full command of my faculties. There are many issues to which I must attend, on behalf of your father and our ... friend, the Comte …”

  She paused, to wipe her eyes, and as her son began to speak, put a finger to her lips.

  “This last week has been the most harrowing of my life, too terrible to contemplate,” she sniffed, biting back tears, “just as it has been for you, my poor son. Madame has extended her warmth and hospitality, in a way, which has left me forever grateful, but it must be understood, that it would be wrong to overstay. Choosing to remain will not alleviate the pain in my heart.”

  Nicholas knew that his mother was used to a pampered life, in which his father made all decisions. He had rarely seen her in command of any situation. Now, much as he, in some ways, hated to admit it, other than her obvious grief, she seemed capable of picking up the pieces and making a new life somewhere else.

  “If I might take it upon myself,” she hastened to add, “I would like to place Shanata into the hands of my dear friend Mother D’Agoust of the Ursuline nuns...I trust that she will give the child proper instruction, and a decent home. And then,” she continued, “After settling matters relating to ... your father, I intend to return to France. She paused, then began again, this time, in a small voice, “Nicholas, my son, shall I expect to have you at my side?”

  She noticed disquiet in his attitude. This was the question he hoped to avoid, and although she seemed lucid and insistent, he was uncertain of response in her present state.

  “Maman, I have given the matter a good deal of thought, and after careful consideration, I feel it would be in error, to leave.” His voice was shaking with emotion, as he knelt at her feet, clasping her small hands, “The life of a nobleman is not the life I choose.”

  He stared at this woman, with love and admiration, sensing, only now, that her outer beauty and refinement belied hidden steel, he felt a hint of the pent-up emotion, welling to the fore.

  “This is my life now, the military, this colony. I feel that, if given half a chance, I can be of service to these people ... just as father was, in his way.” He saw her face mirror his pain and apprehension. “I know that living here, was not the future you chose for yourself, and that, even I, was at a loss when first we arrived, but since that time I have come to know where I belong.”

  He paused, then added, “And, as to your future, please know that, whatever your decision, I bow to your judgement.

  He saw admonition in her eyes, but she wisely withheld comment. She knew that she would miss him, but he was grown now, and she found herself less disappointed than thankful, at the man he had become.

  “As you wish, my dearest,” she sighed, smiling through her tears.

  They held each other for a few long minutes. He drew back.

  “There is something else I wish to say,” he said, hesitantly. “I understand that I have...inherited certain deeds and titles. To which I am not at liberty to attend, and have given the matter contemplation. If it is your intention to return to the home of my Grandpere, I would like you to reconsider.” he paused in sad reflection, “When...father and I last spoke, he was given to know that the De Belaise estate had suffered from mismanagement, in his absence. Not only had it lost revenue, it was in danger of losing some of its holdings. If you intend to return to France, it should be in a comfort and style as befits you, and this estate will provide you with all that are necessary.”

  “In short,” he continued, “what is needed is a sure hand, and I would consider it an honour if you would continue on at the estate, and manage its affairs.”

  For the first time, she appeared to brighten. “I will give it my deepest consideration,” she said, quietly.

  Although she cared for the well being of her parents, any affection she may have had for them died the day she was forced to relinquish Armand. Therefore, to live with so great a burden of sorrow, and in the company of those who were at the helm of her original loss, was not a delightful prospect. She was pleased to be offered one.

  “Come now.” She said suddenly, rising from her gloom, with a daub at her eyes, “we will spend time on these and other matters, at a later date.” Looking to Shanata, she whispered, “Do not tell the child that she cannot return to her family, it is not what a child should hear. Instead, ask her if she would like to stay with the Cloud Lady.”

  Nicholas did so, and the child stared off, quiet, and seemingly bewildered. She turned her attention to Louise with a dull resignation.

  “Yes,” she answered simply, to Nicholas’ inestimable relief.

  “Shall we return to the chateau?” He said with a smile, extending a hand to each female. His mother took his arm, but Shanata surprised him, by instead reaching for Louise’s hand. This simple act touched a chord within Louise in a most intimate way. There was something reassuring in the small grip. The most difficult aspect of losing her son to maturity had been the knowledge that she would never again feel the warmth and confidence of a simple hand holding, and through it, the ability to guide another to its destiny. Perhaps, for a moment at least, she would have that chance.

  Chapter 10

  The next few days were difficult ones for Louise. The strain of the official ceremony marking the memorial plunged her into renewed despair, in which it was all she could do to sustain herself. Much as she felt remorse over the death of Felippe, it could not compare slightly with the overriding bereavement she experienced over the loss of Armand. He had been her beacon, her light in the darkness, beckoning her to live again.

  Now, as she stood, alongside her son, draped in mourning, masking her tears behind lace, she had nothing but the promise of the long, interminably lonely years stretching ahead.

  Soon, she would return to Quebec and begin the painstaking and depressing task of disposing of much of their possessions, by way of auction. She knew that Armand’s brother, Gilbert, would be officially notified, and given cash from the sale. She wished she could meet him. Armand had spoke of him with affection...

  The child, Shanata, had thus far kept to her rooms, which was just as well, considering the attitudes of Madame Girald’s children; particularly Sophie, the eldest, who had accosted Louise in the hallway the previous evening, rudely demanding to know why she had brought a “savage” to stay in their home….

  In view of the dreadful stories she had heard about natives, particularly Iroquois natives, she was surprised to find that she had felt no real reluctance to take the child in, however temporary. True, it was partly for the sake of Nicholas, but then too, there was something special about this child. She seemed like a wise old woman dressed as a little girl. Though unable to verbally communicate, Louise sensed a strong intelligence. Through gesture, she was able to convey much of her thoughts, with very little effort, and during the course of his visits, Nicholas began to teach his mother some of the language, and in turn, taught the child a few French phrases.

  Marie was suspicious and resentful of the child, particularly when asked to accompany her to the seamstress in lower town to fit her for some new dresses, but Louise gave her to know, what she would not tolerate.

  Following the memorial ceremony, Monsieur Girald, now the acting Governor of the colony until such time as a new Governor and Intendant could be installed, resolved to journey with Louise and family back to Quebec, aboard the new schooner, “Countess”, a vessel more spacious than the Galiote. It was understood that they were to inhabit Armand’s former residence, until Louise returned to France.

  The morning of departure, Nicholas stood upon the dock, feeling tightness in his chest, as he embraced his mother, for wh
at he felt would be, the last in a very long time.

  “You have become such a fine man, my son.” She whispered, smiling through tears. “May you be blessed in this path you have chosen I shall do everything in my power to restore your estate. Who knows...perhaps in years to come...?”

  He could not respond, so overcome was he with emotion. He realised now, that he had been in a state of denial over his father’s death, for the sake of his mother. His acceptance and understanding had been put on hold.

  Now, as he faced her embarkation, the full impact of losing both parents had risen to the fore. In his father’s passing, never again would Nicholas know his embrace, feel the pride in his achievement, share laughter and advice. And with his mother, went a passage of time never to be repeated. He felt his heart bursting like the staves of a barrel.

  Extending a shaky hand to her cheek, he kissed her forehead, and held her long. Then, before they turned to go, he squat to the child’s level. She wore a pretty dress of pale blue Grisette, which illuminated her smooth tawny skin.

  Her eyes were dark and wary. “You go now with the cloud lady,” he uttered, with great difficulty. “I will come to see you when you are settled. If you have need,” he added, his voice wavering with emotion. “Remember my name and where I live.” He took her little hand, “Thank you for being my friend, and please believe that I am sorry for all that has happened.”

  She looked at him, staring with a mixture of hope, disheartenment, and submission, unable to bare her feelings; and all at once, the hand, away from the crowds and to the ship, escorted her.

  Stepping up to the gangplank, she surprised onlookers by breaking with Louise, and racing back through the hordes before Nicholas had a chance to stand, whereupon she threw her arms about his neck, with such force that he was nearly knocked over. So touched was he by the gesture of this beautiful, innocent child, that for the first time, long-dormant tears began to flow, leaving damp traces of emptiness and anguish on her clothes and hair. Then, like a dream, she was gone.

  Standing alongside Louise, with Madame and Monsieur Girald, while their daughters, Sophie, Celine, and Berthe, kept to a distance by the far railing, Shanata felt such sadness at leaving the kind man, and could not help but wonder if she would ever see him again; where the great canoe would take her. Her thoughts were cut short by Alexandre, who came up behind her, hoisted her high onto his shoulder, and allowed her a final glimpse of the handsome man in blue.

  ............

  The journey was long, made longer by the pall of sorrow and frustration, which seemed to intermittently engulf Louise.

  Helene and Francois were kind and spent much of their time trying to draw her in to conversation, but she found it too much of an effort. Their son was a nice young man, eager to entertain or amuse, as was the middle child, Berthe, but Celine and particularly Sophie, unpleasant from the start, were now horribly brash and self-centred creatures, whom often quarrelled with their own parents, and certainly showed a decided lack of respect for Louise and her title. Several times she heard one or the other girl arguing with their mother, over what they deemed their inadequate accommodation when compared with “Madame de Belaise”, to the point where Louise felt like giving them a good throttling.

  The child proved to be a delight. She was quiet though not overly, and when not sequestered in her world of sadness, Louise began to teach Shanata her manners.

  She seemed eager to learn French, and although she refused to speak conversationally in all but her native language, Louise was impressed by her facile grasp. Even the dour Marie appeared to enjoy her; doting on the child’s appearance, as she did her mistress.

  Over the days spent together, the child seemed to quietly blossom under Louise’s tutelage and attention. She lost the look of hunted animal, and began to smile.

  Louise even began to wonder if she had not, perhaps done too good a job. After all, proper manners and personal hygiene were not an essential in most homes, nor were the dresses and pretty bows and amusements preparing her for the monastic attire and peaceful ways of the convent.

  Still, try though she might to do otherwise, she could not help but indulge her.

  As the sun began to set on the final day of sailing, Louise stood alone on deck a few moments, taking in the cool, air of a late summer.

  Lowering her head, she stared down through silent tears, at what had become, the swirling watery grave of her beloved. As she gazed, the depth of her despondency grew.

  She found herself mesmerized by the roll of wave, and the simplicity of the act of submitting to it...why not fall...let herself be swept away? She had lost everything of importance. It was only life itself, which was to be mourned, when it granted one a taste of fulfilment, only to spirit it away in the next...

  Her body began to tilt with a will of its own, urging her forward, until she was suspended over the railings.

  It began as a slight pull, she heard a sound, and felt a frantic tugging on her skirts, wrenching her back from disillusionment. Her dizzy mind harkened her to reality, focusing on the worried little face that emerged through the pool of tears. Clutching her, in the knowledge of her near fatal act, she was stirred with a force of awakening. It was providence that they had each come into the other’s life. In the span of a few short weeks, she had lost a husband, a son, and a lover, and now, unable to thwart her feelings of redundancy, this child had emerged from the shadows to change her life, if not just for that moment.

  Shanata, who had lost a home, a way of life, and ultimately, her entire family, under circumstances which even time could not diminish, was now teaching Louise something about survival—doing whatever must be done, to ensure preservation. For one dangerous second, she had lost sight of her possibilities.

  Like Shanata, Louise had been treated as a child for most of her life, unable to make even the most mundane decision. Now, through her opportunity to control the De Belaise Estate, she had been given a chance to use her mind and skills, to some purpose.

  But to find this truth, she was suddenly aware that the child had also caused her to uncover a complicated area of emotion. She began to have second thoughts about placing her with Mother D’Agoust, and realised she was developing maternal feelings for Shanata. And yet, it was nonsense to assume that she might raise this child as her own. She had an image to maintain, and such a move would bring social ruin. Then again, it would seem unthinkable to give her over entirely to the care of a household member, to be treated as a servant, when they had been on such intimate terms.

  Conversely, was it fair to leave her with the Ursulines or another family, which might, in doing so, deny her a more comfortable existence on the basis of race and the iniquities of circumstance? These were not questions she could readily answer, but out of sheer necessity, they were waylaid for the present.

  The morning of the fifth day, they arrived to a mixed reception at quayside. The Quebec inhabitants, having heard the solemn news regarding their Governor and Intendant, gathered with Bishop Langvois, the third member of their governing triumvirate, to pay their respects to the old, and, in the form of the Girald family, to catch a glimpse of the new.

  Following a brief speech by Monsieur Girald, members of the crowd expressed their sympathy to Louise. She and her small entourage, including Felippe’s valet, Robert, now employed by the Girald family, broke with the masses, and were ensconced in carriages, which carried them to the chateau.

  Here, Louise was met with a similar outpouring of grief and sympathy, by household members. Through it all, the child remained by Marie, quietly observing.

  Finally, all eyes fell upon the child, as Louise hesitantly drew her from the shadows. She was introduced as a child in her temporary care, and instructed staff, to treat her kindly.

  She decided it would take at least a fortnight to organize and supervise inventory of personal effects of both houses, and to arrange an auction, before she could fully address the question of the child…

  Shanata follow
ed the cloud lady up the staircase, to a room at the top, watching the people hastily bustle in and out, while they prepared the room.

  A few stared as though she were wearing a frightening mask, while others, pretended not to see her. Once, a younger woman, touched her head, and bade her sit. She wondered how long she would remain here, if she would move again.

  The cloud lady had been kind and had shown her so many things, that over the past days, she had not felt as lonely or sad. Everything was so different in this world to which she had been brought; in these long houses, there were separate areas to sleep and eat, people wore strange, uncomfortable clothes and put false hair over their own, and they had mysterious customs—ways of eating, walking, sleeping, speaking. Little by little, she found herself adjusting to it, wishing to please the cloud lady...

  The final ship of the season arrived, and although Madame Girald entreated Louise to remain until spring, it was Louise’ intention, to embark on its return.

  In the meantime, the days passed swiftly and busily. Louise had difficulty overseeing Armand’s effects.

  With the meddlesome daughters of Madame Girald watching her every move, try as she might, she often lacked vigilance when emotion got the better of her.

  On the evening prior to auction, Louise, dined in her room, then donned a dressing gown, and stretched out on her four-poster for an early rest. Meanwhile, at the far side of the room, Marie was engaged in attending to the child and putting her to bed.

  It seemed that the emotional and frenetic trials of the past days, were to begin again, following a visit to Mother D’Agoust.

  During the course of their brief exchange the previous day, Louise had broached the possibility of keeping Shanata, and was met by the most vehement opposition she had ever encountered in her friend.

  “Am I to understand that you feel it would not be in the child’s best interest to remain in my household?” The normally imperturbable Mother shook her head, quite vehemently. “My dear friend, my thoughts are also of you. You cannot know the difficulties involved in this undertaking.” Her quiet voice heightened in pitch. “They are savages... They do not think as you or I, they are like...brutal children, who lack conscience and understanding. You must trust me, Duchesse. Though the child may presently, seem gentle and virtuous, she will change...It is common knowledge, that unless a savage remains within the sisterhood, she must be with her own kind. Therefore, I strongly urge you to reconsider.” She smiled, piously, gazing heavenward. “Her only salvation lies within these walls, where she will receive proper discipline and training, and may, in time, become a holy Daughter of God.”