Distant Fires

by D. A. Woodward

  “Pardon, Monsieur,” she said, breaking out of her reverie, to Gilbert’s astonishment. “I will return momentarily.”

  Stealing out the heavy doors and down the hallway, careful to keep her skirts from noisy bustling, she passed rooms; locked doors, unused chambers that must serve to increase his solitude, she thought. What if? Perhaps…no…her pulse quickened. Could it be he sought an escape to have her to himself…to ravish her?

  The thought sickened. Any regard she might have had for the hapless young Duc, vanished. Was he ignoble enough to stoop to such treachery? Her heart convulsed in her throat, at any situation she might encounter. But which room...?

  Turning along a different corridor, she noticed one door ajar. A night breeze emanated from an open window. Bracing herself for a confrontation, she took an intake of breath and eased it slowly, further open …

  The spectacle that met her was laughably less than anticipated. In the moonlight, two figures stood side by side; the female evidently engaged in staring into a large object bearing out the window, while the male stood quietly by, manoeuvring the instrument. The scene was so tranquil, the innocence of shared endeavour, so entrancing and far from the menacing possibilities. She somehow sensed its total veracity. The way each responded to the other, the look, and the connection. They seemed so utterly...complete. She felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that, she could never compete with this kind of relationship; Shanata’s interests had grown beyond the bounds of mother/daughter intimacy. In encouraging her to use her intellect she had been substituted for someone who could foster more of it and balance it with marital affection. A ‘mother’ was not enough and it was no longer an arbitrary decision of her making. If he volunteered his intent and it met with Shanata’s approval, Louise would accept. Should they plan to flaunt convention and quickly wed, so much the better. She might postpone departure, but whether or not Shanata chose to return with her to New France, she was leaving as scheduled. She owed it to her son. The rest was up to Shanata.

  …………..

  It had all happened so frighteningly fast; though much longer than the original plan; the Duc’s proposal, Shanata’s acceptance, a special dispensation granted by the Bishop—a personal friend of the Duc—for her baptism. She had been willing to accompany her mother and postpone their marriage until her return, but Louise had been just as stubborn in refusing the offer. Their marriage was swiftly arranged and held in his private chapel at the estate.

  Though their time before departure had been trying for Louise, she arrived at a fuller understanding of her daughter’s wants and needs.

  “Shanata, I have something to tell you.” She said one day, when the latter was preparing her personal items for transfer to her new abode. She wrestled with the necessity of reopening old wounds, wondering if her daughter would be angered by her late admission, but guilt superseded reservation. Once they were alone, she sat her on the bed, staring into her questioning eyes.

  “What do you remember of your life before you became my daughter?”

  To her disquiet, Shanata’s lip began to quiver, though she said nothing. She looked askance and rose to what she had placed on a nearby chest. In silence, she opened the small silk wrapping on her lap. It was the necklace, now reattached to the deerskin lace. “This,” she said finally, suspending it out to her, “This, and a voice which said, ‘walk in my spirit.’”

  Sitting next to her, Louise, put an arm across her shoulder to comfort her, wishing it were she who was to be comforted.

  She spoke at last, forcing the words out. “You once told me that you dreamt about a beautiful woman who created a people called Mohawk? I thought you had no memory of your early life, but I was wrong. It was not a dream. They are your people. There was a fire and the people of your village perished. You were taken to Nicholas who in turn, brought you to me. I told others that you were of the Huron tribe, as they are a friendly tribe, but…” She was loath to tell her, though the time had come. “You are an Iroquois—enemy of France.”

  She waited for the recrimination, the torrent of tears, the denial, but was met with unwarranted calm. Would she be forgiven?

  Shanata rose quietly from the bed and softly spoke, “I knew without knowing, there was too much pain in the reminder but my dreams would not allow me to forget.” She wiped her eyes “I have many questions. Perhaps someday, I will return to find them out—the Duc has professed interest in New World study. But for now, there is nothing in me, which cries out for communion with that past. And this,” she said, holding the necklace out to Louise, “has somehow brought me to where I belong,” she said, handing the necklace to Louise. “Now it is my gift to you, to bring you to where you belong, to walk in my spirit, Maman…my cloud lady.”

  Louise’s eyes shone with tears as she recalled the day long ago, when she had first heard that name, and later when she tried to take the necklace from Shanata and was met with such anger and intransigence.

  “No, you must keep it. This is yours.” She exhorted, but her daughter’s eyes were filled with such untold affection and resolve that she could do no more than double it around her wrist, bursting with tears of thankfulness and relief.

  …………….

  She felt certain they would meet again, but through it all, she had never regretted her decision to return to the colony.

  Alone, with no one, not even a servant to remind her of her station, and fraternization with none but the ship’s doctor and Captain, she was indeed a stranger, even to herself, and it pleased her.

  She had been onboard little more than a few hours; biding her time with a bit of air on the deck, thinking of the whirlwind changes to her life; marriage and subsequent separation from her daughter, return to a place where she had lost the three most important people in her life; all, under tragic circumstances. Much as she wished to give something back to the colony, was she doing the right thing, returning to the place that claimed them, or would the memories press her into further depression?

  And what of Gilbert? He had been a wonderful support over the past while. She could feel the stirrings of attraction mingled with guilt. What would that do to the memory of Armand? Would it, could it, diminish her love for him? Theirs had been a grand passion and in all the years since he had been wrenched from her, she had ached to hear his voice, to speak, laugh, make love to him. She thought of all the “might-have-beens”, but in the end, she was left cold and lonely; in her bed, and in her heart.

  “Excuse me, Madame. I believe you are wanted below deck. The Captain would like to invite you to his table. “The midshipman was short, sturdy looking and very correct. “He begs me to inform you, there has been a bit of a problem with your cabin. That is, you are to exchange rooms with another as you were improperly placed …”

  Louise was piqued. She could feel her colour rise. “But I have all my belongings in place,” she stated with irritation, “Why did the Captain not inform me on embarkation? I must say this is an imposition …”

  The young man shrugged slightly, unable to affect an answer, and excused himself.

  Lowering herself unsteadily, and awkwardly due to her longer skirts, to the deck below, huffing to herself, she knocked on the door, and was immediately admitted to the small room. The Captain was seated alone at his table.

  “I’m very sorry at having disturbed you Madame,” he began, “but I thought you might like to know that one of our guests is in need of accommodation, and his chamber is far too small for his needs. Would you be so kind, as to forfeit your room to another passenger? I can assure you the other will be equivalent to your standards.”

  She was miffed and unable to mutter more than a grudging affirmative. “…though I must say, Captain Bruge, it is a disagreeable time to be shuffling chambers, particularly when, other than the crews and officers quarters, there are but three chambers: yours, the Doctors and mine…am I to sleep in the galley?”

  “Only if you promise to make the food, as well!” came the familiar voice fro
m around the bed-screen.

  Lifting his head from the swaying lounge on which he reclined, she nearly fainted at the image that presented itself; a playful grin, in the person of Gilbert. Her breath caught in her chest at the welcome sight of him, but she quickly composed as she joined in laughter with the Captain and Doctor, whom had just now entered, apprised of the chicanery.

  “Why you wily devil, fooling me like that!”

  “And I had a devil of a time hiding myself from you.” came the quick reply.

  “Thanks to my partners in subterfuge,” he said, coming into the open with a seat at the table, “I was able to pull it off, rather painlessly. I thought perhaps, I would be forced to revive you as I did on an earlier occasion …”

  They smiled at each other in an all too intimate way and she shook herself for making it appear too obvious. Turning to the Captain, she offered, cheerfully, “So he had drawn you in as well! At the very least, he deserves to walk the plank of your ship for tricking a lady so!”

  “If he is up to anything further upon this voyage, I suppose we shall have to!” He chuckled, adding; “I gather it would be in order for the good Doctor and myself to return to our duties above board. I trust we shall see the two of you when we dine?” With a bow, they quickly took leave.

  She swiftly dropped into the seat opposite him. “How dreadful of you to put me through this!” She said in mock anger. “And here I thought I was leaving my estate in the hands of a faithful advisor.”

  He became at once serious. “I thought you needed a compan...er, protector, far more than even you supposed. Besides, your affairs have been relegated to another, and I have need of seeing a bit of the world. You never know when my presence may be of value to you.”

  She looked askance in a way in which he took note.

  “Are you not pleased to see me,” he asked, with some injury. “Had I insulted you in the manner of my appearance. I thought it would be amusing. Certainly, if there is some discomfiture we can part ways on arrival …”

  He always seemed to treat their relationship with warm formality; controlled, gentlemanlike, whilst lacking true passion. She began to cry; great heaves of tension leaving her body in a cascade down her face, fumbling for her handkerchief, in a futile attempt at concealment.

  “Now, I’ve upset you…” he ventured in astonishment at the sudden change. “Please forgive me…”

  “No, no.” She sputtered, recovering, “it has nothing to do with you,” she lied. “Yes, I am pleased to see you and very touched by your concern for me. Your…friendship is of such value to me …but I assumed on parting from you upon Shanata’s recent marriage, that it would be the last glimpse in some time. I suppose, I have become accustomed to dislocation from those I…I care for.”

  There, she said it, but did he understand the implication?

  The vessel pitched, stronger than usual, and his strong arms reached for her before she fell to the floor and he to his knees, over her.

  “I believe I am in the right position for this. Here, let me just straighten you,” he said, placing her back on the seat, while he resumed kneeling.

  “Madame … Louise. I do not know for certain, how you feel at this moment, you may have a brotherly affection for me, but I can assure you my feelings for you have never been for that of a sister. From the instant I first saw you I have loved you. I can think of nothing but that you might consent to be my wife.”

  She closed her eyes, thinking she was dreaming. Could it really be that after all these years of loving one man, she could turn to another without being dishonest to he, a memory, or herself? Should she tell him about the love affair or build a relationship on the cornerstone of a hidden truth, one that might otherwise be ripped asunder? She had to take that chance.

  “Please, sit back”, she said, as darkness clouded his handsome features and he did as he was bid.

  “Before I answer, there is something I must tell you, something that grieves me to relate …many years ago…”

  And she went on to tell him, sometimes stumbling with nervousness, the story of Armand and herself, from innocent beginning, to illicit affair, praying for his understanding and lack of condemnation.

  He listened intently, and when she had finished, he lifted his pain filled eyes to her wary face, “Is this your answer …that you will not marry me?”

  She was surprised, “No, I thought that would be your answer after hearing what I had done, that I have sins too great to carry.”

  He caught her hands and bore into her eyes. “But do you love me?” He pleaded, earnestly.

  She answered firmly. “Yes I do!”

  “Then, we will marry. I have known it all along. Not the details, but my brother long ago, informed me of your existence, and what you meant to him. You have filled in the remaining pieces of the puzzle and I now know why you chose another and who was to blame. I am not here to recriminate … perhaps even I myself, was remiss in attempting to contact you with knowledge of my brother’s history with you, but when both he and my wife passed on, I was intensely curious to know this special woman in his life. I did not expect to stay past my initial visit, but something drew me to you from the outset, and though I hid my feelings, they were deep and abiding. I simply waited and hoped that you would grant what I craved. When it wasn’t forthcoming, I wondered if it was guilt over Armand or the simple fact that you did not love me.

  And now …” he stroked, encouragingly, “I have only to repeat one question …will you marry me?”

  …….

  The ceremony was performed with a modicum of fuss, by the Captain and welcomed by the men onboard, as a brief though pleasant diversion from their onerous workload.

  Louise was radiantly happy as her handsome groom slipped the ring on her finger, but rather than find themselves locked in romantic union, the couple spent their first night in the embrace of a powerful North Atlantic storm; forcing Louise to the sickroom for much of the day and night that followed. Even the abatement of the storm could not subdue the queasy forces that assailed her stomach.

  Eager to be of some comfort, Gilbert rallied to his bride, who answered his solicitude with the desire for sleep and the insistence that he seek out the Captain for some well-earned company.

  Captain Bruge was on the quarterdeck, calmly exiting orders to a few of his men in the aftermath of the storm, when Gilbert first saw him. The latter’s face lit into a grin of uncharacteristic candour on his approach.

  “And how might the groomsman be today. Braving some sunshine may not be such a good sign!”

  Gilbert reddened slightly at the intimation, but laughed. “I’m afraid I have been cast aside for the duration of the day with nowhere to go but up …”

  The Captain left his company and joined Gilbert for a turn. “How does it appear we shall make at present”, asked Gilbert, once they were alone to talk.

  Staring out to sea and sky, whose changing movement seemed alive to further possibilities, Captain Bruge replied, “I had hoped to avoid Louisburg but our course has altered southward and with indications of gale force winds along our northward path, it may be in our best interests to weather there a few days …”

  Gilbert received the news with interest. Stirred with fascination by encounters anywhere within the colony, he welcomed an introduction to this fortress vital to colonial interests, both French and English, to which his friend had earlier described. Taken by British forces from Maine years earlier due to its position on Cape Breton Island (as an impediment to communications between Britain and America) and the continued attempt by the French to bar trade and movement by the English further inland, it had since been rescinded to France under the terms of the Treaty of Aix la Chapelle, and enjoyed a prosperous and invigorating society, albeit under the hostile eye of English-American interests.

  True to his word, and on the tip of another stormbound assault, they made land; Louisbourg flickered in and out of view like a vaporous apparition, its citadel rising from the low penins
ula, as they entered the sprawling harbour. After making mid harbour anchorage, the Captain, several of his crew, Louise—who was not yet fully recovered though overjoyed to be free of sea travel for the time being—and Gilbert disembarked to a small shallop which took them to the wharf.

  No sooner than they set foot on land, then the winds picked up, stirring into swells in sky and sea.

  “I think you would do well to stay in an Inn on Rue Toulouse,” Bruge stated quite knowledgably as both he and Gilbert helped the ailing Louise, past sheds and piles of cod under cloth in preparation for the impending rains. As they strode past homes and royal storehouses that lined their path, Bruge added, with a gesture, “the citadel. This town is very well protected. It’s actually a fort within a fortress …the colonial Governors residence …barracks quarters and others …Notre Dame des Anges the chapel …”

  Louise wasn’t listening. She had but one objective; to remove her heavy clothing and find a comfortable place to rest her head. The rest would come later...

  She was not aware of the rain and although the wind shook the windows, she was not aware of its danger. It was enough to say, she was content to find the peace of a real bed and a loving man with which to share it. He had been very patient with their situation. It had not been a romantic start to a new marriage and it was still no further along as she struggled to right her health. She reasoned it might yet be sometime before she could bring herself to sail again, but from what little she saw of the town, it would not be unpleasant to stay.

  Already, the separation from Shanata was keenly felt, though she must convince herself the action taken was correct; each had reached an awareness of their paths and neither could converge.

  The challenge now, was to eventually find their way to Montreal and a meeting with Madame Girald. The truth might be hard to bear but nothing was comparable, despite her newfound love, to the incessant questions and aching in her heart for her beloved son. “If only I had a body to bury,” she thought sadly, a tangible testimonial to his loss…