There was a stunned silence between mother and daughter. Were they dreams or memories? Could it be that neither time nor geography had eradicated this link? Louise could only listen, slack-jawed at what seemed to be, a myth surrounding her daughter’s people.
“Is it a story I heard? What could it all mean?”
Louise sat next to her daughter and braced her shoulders, giving no hint of the inner turmoil at what issued from her child’s lips. It could have been a dream, but for one glaring inconsistency. Shanata had never been informed of her Mohawk roots. She had been with her for so long, it was impossible to think that their lives were once separate. Should she choose the moment to reveal her carefully hidden origins?
“What is it Lisette?” She stammered, as her maid entered the chamber carrying a letter upon a salver.
“Excuse Madame. It just arrived. I thought it might be urgent”.
“Let me see.” She responded, rather offhandedly. She welcomed a diversion, a suspension of time to weigh her decision.
Breaking the seal, she stared at the words, at first, uncomprehending. It was from Nicholas’ company in New France, an official document relating to legal particulars as his next of kin, contained within a letter from her old friend, Madame Girald. Certain words leapt off the page...Captain de Belaise...Missing....Presumed dead....
The colour drained from her face, as the missive slipped to the floor.
“What is it, Maman?” shouted Shanata in dread, quickly scanning the contents, as her mother stared blankly, unable to speak. The letter from Madame Girald began thus:
My dear Louise,
I’m afraid that the shock of what I’m about to tell you may be too much, but so it is for myself, and we all bear the heartache of a difficult time. This letter was meant to be one of joy, in the union of our two families, and the imminent arrival of a child, but alas...
Do you recall, my friend, long ago, when we entertained the hope that Nicholas might choose one of my daughters? Well, it happened that he and Sophie became engaged shortly after our annual midsummer ball the year last, and due to the timeliness of her condition, the marriage was swiftly arranged and held—unfortunately, you could not be made aware before the final ship set sail, and of that, Nicholas was deeply sorry—we awaited the happy event and the time when it should be communicated to you. All appeared well, when in Sophie’s early term, Nicholas was sent on a mission. He and a soldier were ambushed. The other man’s body was found in the water and I dread to tell you my friend, thereto, considering the loss you suffered with your dear husband Felippe so many years ago, his remains were not to be found. Tears are flowing as I write this...
Just as we were trying to reconcile ourselves with the loss of your beloved son, our precious son-in-law, we were dealt another blow. There had been a small outbreak of smallpox over the previous summer, and as God’s grace would have it, we were spared, but due to her condition, and I believe, shock over the loss, Sophie was confined to bed and shortly thereafter displayed symptoms of the illness. Try as we might, she succumbed, and we are now plunged into grief beyond despair, as husband, wife and child face their eternity....
Shanata’s eyes trailed off the page, and turned their gaze on her mother, glistening with emotion. How was she to comfort, to salve the inner pain of a mothers’ loss. For months her mother had been awaiting word from her son, and now, this! Miles and many years had separated them, but she spoke often of Nicholas, and Shanata knew she missed him dearly. How long it would take her to recover was anyone’s guess, but she would try her best to help. One thing was certain; the long projected reunion was now postponed...indefinitely...
…………..
Having experienced the irrepressible need to leave New France on the death of Felippe and Armand, many years ago, so now was the need to reverse the action in the face of her son’s death. Once able to think clearly, she resolved to go; her only reticence was in placing the affairs of the estate in other less capable hands in order to see to the last behest of her only son. As next of kin on the death of his wife, Louise was conferred responsibility of this task, although it could have been delegated to channels in New France, she felt she owed her son the honour of handling it personally. Besides, the need for closure was an imperative; to see where he had lived and flourished as a man, to talk with friends, and those involved in the mission that led to his demise; issues that could not be dealt with from afar. And then there was the mystery of why the marriage took place at all, and before, the last ship sailed for France when Madame Girald had stated otherwise; a chance revelation made at the shipping office on another inquiry.
It was so unlike her son to keep his intentions to himself, knowing of her interest in his solitary status; the gentle ‘nudging’ in her letters, for a grandchild. Thereto was the question of his choice. Why Sophie? A lazy, spoilt, ill-humoured girl, no discernible attribute outside of her vaguely attractive appearance ... Had she blossomed so greatly in the intervening years?
Louise wearily went to her wardrobe to observe her closets and the clothes she would take. Seeing this was not an “official” visit by the wife of a former Governor-General, she wished to downplay her presence, travel incognito if possible. It was better for Shanata. The damask dresses would be left far behind; simple muslin or cotton and warmer outerwear would do for the journey. They would go alone, no maid to accompany her.
Her daughter had taken news of their return, quite calmly, though she detected a certain disappointment in her manner
“Must we go so soon, Maman?” Shanata asked, after joining Louise in her chamber, carrying some garments in hand, her pretty face clouded in indecision.
“A change of season is upon us, dear. Our arrival with the first ship is infinitely preferable to the difficulties involved in later travel.”
The girl looked down. The news of her stepbrother’s death, though shocking, was not as acute to her senses as was the effect on her mother and she wished with all her heart to assist her, while some still unfathomable resistance lent itself to stay. Wrestling with the problem, another thought burst forth: “Maman!” Shanata blurted loudly. “The dinner. The Duc de Lorraine has invited us to dine this evening,” Then, as if to temper her excitability and offer additional incentive, added shyly, “the Comte will be there. We must attend, mustn’t we?”
It was true! Amidst the commotion of arranging their departure, she had forgotten the Duc’s invitation. He had neither been apprised of their loss, nor their abrupt leave taking. Added to that, there would be another in attendance, of whom she was responsible. Despite her hand in its orchestration, the complicated feelings it aroused, caused her to relegate it to the back of her mind.
Since the night of the ball, Gilbert, Comte Leger, had returned, on her invitation, for a social call, engendering her interest in, among other things, affairs of the winery, in which, daunted by other advice, he used his expert legal knowledge to disentangle many of her legal woes.
Try as she might to deny it, much of Armand lay in that smoothly sensual voice, the dark penetrating eyes, and there was a certain stirring within that she was at a loss to subdue despite the hint of betrayal in its action. Gilbert had been every bit a gentleman in their dealings, showing no more deference to her than a family friend, and on this unexpected visit, despite her downhearted state, she enjoyed his company and conversation. In temperament, the brothers were quite different. As the initial melancholia and correctness drifted from the man, she was better able to see his personality; less impulsive than his brother, more a gentleness and humour at his core. Other than the exuberance granted by her daughter, she was unfamiliar with the extemporaneous amusement he offered, and the attentions of a man she liked after so many barren years. She learned his marriage had been childless, based on the necessity of satisfying a mother’s cherished wish for her closest friend in providing a mate for the latter’s spinster daughter. Once Armand left the family business to pursue law, Gilbert stayed on, eventually following his b
rother into the same field. He was an independent man; indeed, his wife had kept them to a very tight circle of friends, none of whom, mattered a whit, upon her death. Louise was shocked when he frankly stated the only satisfaction he knew in life, had come from work, and at present he was comfortably well-off as to retire permanently to a newly- acquired country estate.
“I will admit to a touch of envy when I heard of my brother’s post to New France. I know he was not there long enough to form a strong impression, but in his letter, seemed immensely satisfied with his manner of life ... the freedom ... and had he not been ... taken, I think he would have sought to remain beyond the duration of his tenure.”
They were standing in the winery, days after the sorrowful missive from New France where he had made it his mission to pay daily call to lift her spirits, along one of a protracted line of subterranean tunnels built into the hillside surrounding the estate in which the wines were aged and kept. She was having one of her “low” periods, readying herself for her upcoming departure of which he had not been apprised, when, on arrival, he noticed the woefulness of her state and suggested a tour.
It was cool within the damp walls of the labyrinthine cavern, and it was soon apparent that her shoes and clothing were dank. She shivered, and noticing this, he gallantly swept his cloak over her delicate shoulders, adjusting the tendrils of pale hair threaded with grey that caught beneath the material at her nape, with a smile; innocent of the sensation his touch aroused as it grazed against her skin. It lasted less than an instant, but she could feel its passage like the memory of an ardent breath trailing along her neck in a heave to climax.
“...It is quite certain now, that we are to leave on the seventh day following…”
She had been telling him about her need to return to New France. He fell silent, but did not succeed in masking his discomfiture.
She continued, “ ...And I wondered, if I may be permitted to so boldly request that you oversee any legal problems encountered by my estate manager while we are away. I have no desire to impose upon our acquaintance, but I trust your judgement and expertise in this area and would wish to retain you.”
He looked shocked and concerned, less by the request, than her decision to go.
“This is all so very sudden. Pardon me, but are you not somewhat premature in your intentions. You don’t strike me as having sufficiently recovered for such a journey. Would it not be prudent to forgo the trip for several months, rather than subject yourself to upheaval at such a time...”
She drew from his side, fingering the staves of a cask in abstraction and felt a need to speak candidly.
“I have enjoyed my life here, my work. It has given me great sense of purpose. Once I was merely the wife of a Governor, an ornament, living little more than a fishbowl existence I have since been given the chance to rebuild an estate and enable it to reach its maximum potential. I’ve also been granted the fulfilment of raising a second child, one, saved from the gutter of despair, and elevated to a place in polite society, while fostering a warm and loving relationship with the daughter I had much desired. In my heart of hearts, I never really wished to leave New France. Like Nicholas, the people, the beauty, the potential for freedom were like an anodyne for me, had I the chance to realize it on my own terms. The time is now, to find it for myself. I want to know what my son knew. There are so many...mysteries…”
She turned her head, wiped a single tear, and recomposed herself. “I also wish to bring something back to the people, those that represented a part of him and what he believed in. This was his estate and if I can in some way enable them to reap the benefits of it, I will endeavour to do so.”
“My cultivators are preparing to send some of the hardiest plants with me. I mean to start them there, to interest the Seigneurs in a venture that would extend wine growing into New France... It may not amount to much, the climate is very different, but then, the colder temperatures may yield a different type of wine, one that can be produced and sold domestically to enable the common folk to diversify their livelihood.
She continued, turning her head, lest her teary eyes betray her feelings in the torch - light.
“Aside from that, I have missed the colony. The greatest highs and lows of my life were to be experienced there. The lack of artifice in her peoples, remain my strongest impression. On behalf of my son and his father, I would like to give something back to them, something sustaining, at least, that is my hope.
“My further interest concerns Shanata. I trust you. You are aware of her origins as a savage, but I must tell you, there is more to her story. I...” she hesitated, and pressed on. “She is not a Huron as many have been led to believe, but an Iroquois, a ruthless and hated people.”
She stopped, expecting that which would register shock or abhorrence. Neither was forthcoming, prompting her to continue. “I believed that if a child were exposed to an entirely new set of conditions and culture, nothing of the old would remain. I was wrong. Since she reached young womanhood, stirrings of her former life have come to the fore...dreams, strange musings…” she paused, and began again in a quivering voice. “I love her enough to sense her need to connect with something of that, and allow her to make her own path. I owe her that.”
Her tone rose bitterly, eyes welling with tears.
“I witnessed the sneers of my own society by those who attended her ‘coming out’, the wagging tongues, puzzling over her origins. She noticed it. I fed her false assurances, while knowing that it would be but the beginning of a lifetime of derisive stares in this world to which she has been brought. I knew, yet withheld; feeling more keenly than a knife that the trial is over. I cannot cage her forever. She must know for herself where she belongs; whether their acceptance is necessary to her happiness...whether remembrances of her past echo for acknowledgement. The attentions of the Duc de Lorraine, though he is a learned man, his curious lifestyle and beliefs tax my concerns. He has not yet approached me for a marriage proposal on her behalf, but I sense it coming and yearn to have her gone before she can be impressed upon. She likes him, but I’m afraid she will be pressured to accept and in turn, prompt me to sanction her decision, before she has had the opportunity to steer her course.”
Adding with a touch of bitterness, “A gift, which is rarely granted the weaker sex, to which I can attest.”
A few workers buzzed about, checking casks then left them alone again. She looked to him now, in the half-light of the torch, searching his eyes for understanding. “I don’t know why I am telling you this... You have been so very kind, but it is more than that. I ...I feel that I have known you for a very long time and... It’s not merely your connection with your brother...I...”She quickly caught herself.
“Shall we return outdoors?” He ventured rhetorically, feeling her awkwardness. They stepped away from the casks and out into the fresh air. “I understand your part in something. I received a surprising invitation by the Duc de Lorraines, to dine at his estate. As I’d met him but the evening of your ball, I—”
She interjected, “You wondered if I may have had some part.” She chuckled slightly for the first time. “I confess, Monsieur. Forgive me my intrusion, but when I suggested the great help you have been to me, he asked if I thought you might find it impertinent that he request you dine with our party. I supposed, I hope rightly, that you would have no objection and gave him the particulars on your whereabouts.”
He feigned disagreement. “On the contrary, Madame, I am astonished with you. And I would not dream of accepting, unless of course... You and your daughter would do me the pleasure of escorting you in my coach.”
She smiled shyly, conscious of his gaze and the colour that was coming to her face. “Besides,” he continued, “how can I resist when I have but made your acquaintance and you are to depart from my sight.” He said this with amusement but she sensed a flutter of undisclosed feeling in the words.
Reaching the estate in silence, he turned, staring into her still, tear-stained eyes
for lingering seconds in wordless irresolution, and abruptly stated, “I must go.”
The change in his countenance upset her, but she extended her hand, upon which he grazed a kiss and departed, leaving her strangely unsatisfied at having both struck the arrangement and been forced to bid farewell yet again.
Chapter 16
The evening had been tense, not only for herself in the presence of this charming man who regaled the small party with stories of his cases at the bar, while attending to his female companions in such a manner as to render an appreciation Louise was not disposed to deal with, but the objective of the pale Duc was made obvious in the kitten-eyed affection with which he beheld Shanata, and she had a nagging fear that he would, at some point, deflate the proceedings with an attempt to ask her hand.
The latter appeared oblivious to any romantic intent; her clearest passion was indicated by her fascination with the Duc’s collections.
“Pardon, Madame, may I have the honour of revealing a surprise to the Mademoiselle in my other rooms?”
Louise looked askance, unable to fabricate an excuse with so benign a request from a gracious host. “I suppose, if it be my daughter’s desire …”
“Oh yes Maman, please!” She blurted, eagerly.
The Duc was delighted and celebrated with a flush of colour to his otherwise pale cheeks.
“Please, enjoy yourselves. I can assure you we will be back directly.”
Much as she wished to converse with Gilbert, her mind was racing with anxiety over what was happening elsewhere. She pictured him at this moment, kneeling, asking for Shanata’s pledge. And how would her daughter respond? Defy her Maman and remain in France? And what of her dowry, if Louise chose to withhold it? Somehow, she felt the Duc would be little concerned with his bride’s fortune and he could more than provide for her. The question was, did she have the right to forbid it, when Louise herself, felt much the same for another long ago? Many lives had been altered when it had been denied her…
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