Love's Vengeance

by Dana Roquet

  Some time later, Desiree’s eyes closed and her breathing became shallow and regular. Honore’ lay aside the book and gazed at her beautiful face, relaxed but not peaceful. He reached up to smooth a lock of hair from her brow and then placed his large hand over her middle, feeling the baby move with vitality. He watched his hand rise and fall as the child changed position within and he felt fearful of what the future held for Desiree and her little one.

  “Hold on angel.” he whispered to Desiree, with a light kiss to her temple, “Hold on.”

  ***

  Bridgett looked around from the counter where she peeled potatoes over a pewter bowl, as the swinging door closed behind Honore’.

  “Is she asleep?” she wiped her hands upon her apron while gesturing to him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Oui,” Honore’ confirmed, sitting heavily across from her and patting her folded hands upon the table top, “Are you as terrified as I Bridgett?” he smiled weakly.

  “Oui—if she would only eat—keep something down but it seems so hopeless. The doctor is talking of enlisting a barber but Jacques and Francois spoke up against the idea for now.”

  Honore’ nodded, “If only…” he paused, “I just don’t know.” He whispered.

  “Just pray for them.” Bridgett’s voice shook and a tear traced down her face, “And Honore’ she is so fortunate to have you and the others. You are truly the bright spots in her life now. Thank you for spending so much time with her.”

  “Bridgett, no thanks are necessary. We love her. It is as simple as that but Bridgett I would like to ask a small favor of you if I could.”

  “Anything.”

  “Philippe came to my home last night—in tears. He is totally devastated. If you could give him a kind word when you see him next?” Honore’ begged with concern.

  “I shall. I saw his fear last night. He is having a terrible time with this.”

  Honore’ nodded, “Well, I best be getting home. I shall be over tomorrow.”

  Bridgett was just coming from the kitchen after Honore’s departure when she heard a weak moan coming from upstairs. Then sobs fell upon her ears and she closed her eyes, with an anguished cry of her own and with a shake of her head, hurried up the flight.

  ***

  Bridgett rushed through the door and to the bed, as Desiree clutched at some phantom in the air, her eyes open but unseeing, “Stephen—please Stephen.”

  “Shhhh…” Bridgett crooned, taking Desiree’s hands in one of her own and stroking her brow, “Desiree? Ma Cherie? It’s only a dream. Wake up sweet.” She soothed, gently shaking her.

  Desiree’s eyes came from her dream state, wide and searching, as she stared at her nurse, “Bridgett—it’s you.”

  “I’m here dear, you were having a nightmare. Everything is just fine.” She assured, sitting beside her upon the bed and patting her hand.

  “No!” Desiree sobbed, “He was here—I—I saw him…” her voice broke and she covered her eyes, “I saw every detail of his face—I could feel him.”

  “You are fine sweet. He was not here.” Bridgett smiled gently.

  “Oh Bridgett!” Desiree cried, struggling to sit and then clutching her nurse tightly, “I love him so—and I will never be able to tell him. My mind tricks me, he haunts me in my every dream—I tell him but he never hears me—he never hears.”

  “There—there child. Don’t think of him, you’ll only get yourself into a state.” Bridgett pushed her back upon the pillows, stroking her brow, fearing she may throw herself into another seizure.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Desiree felt the first pains around two in the morning and by the time the sky lightened, heralding the new day; she knew, undeniably, that this was it. The baby was coming and three weeks early. She moaned softly as the pain crept like fingers around the sides of her abdomen, then peaked at her womb and slowly receded. She struggled to lean over the side of the bed and lift the crystal bell from the table. Bridgett had given her the bell when it had become obvious that she could no longer call out loud enough to be heard, were she to need assistance.

  Within moments, Bridgett burst into the room with a cheerful smile but when she looked into the glazed eyes of Desiree, panting and holding her stomach, she rushed to the bed.

  “The baby.” Desiree gasped, “Its coming—I’m sure of it.”

  Bridgett patted Desiree’s hand, “Now lie still, I will be only a moment, I am going to call for Mary.” Bridgett spoke calmly and hurried from the room.

  Mary flew into the room, taking control of the situation with authority, as Bridgett followed close behind.

  “Bridgett, send for the doctor and tell those girls downstairs we need plenty of fresh linen. Now don’t worry Desiree, it is going to be fine.” Mary assured, sitting beside her in a chair, “And Bridgett, some cool water and clothes.” Mary called after her, “Now sweet, I want you to do something for me” Mary spoke gently, “When you feel the pain come on, just breath shallow—pant and you’ll see the discomfort will seem less.”

  Desiree nodded with wide eyes, as she felt the tightness beginning once more and she breathed as Mary instructed, while Mary lightly touched her belly, “Good and strong.” she nodded, “I would say we shall have a little one soon.” Then she held Desiree’s hand until the contraction ended.

  With the doctor sent for, Bridgett returned, carrying a pitcher of water and linens draped over her arm. Between the two, they were able to pull the covers back from the bed and Desiree lifted her hips while they spread a clean sheet beneath her and draped another over her, leaving her gown pulled up out of the way.

  With the next pain, Desiree gasped as warmth spread beneath her and Mary smiled reassuringly, “It looks as though we timed that just so.” The water soaked sheet was removed and a fresh one spread beneath her, “Now don’t get all worked up sweet, it shall be hours yet.” Mary assured, seeing the panic in Desiree’s eyes.

  Bridgett looked at the pale face, the sunken and deeply circled eyes and she prayed silently that Desiree would have the strength to endure what was ahead. She mopped Desiree’s brow with a cool cloth, smiling warmly, “Just think of it sweet, soon you shall hold your little one within your arms.”

  “But it is so early.” Desiree fretted, “What will become of my baby?”

  “Your baby will be fine sweet,” Mary assured, “You may be further along than we thought. This little one is probably right on schedule.”

  ***

  Desiree labored throughout the day as the physician and Mary cared for her. Bridgett alternated between giving reports of her condition to the four young men milling about below as anxious as though expectant father’s themselves and tending to Desiree. Sitting beside her in a chair, she mopped her brow and gave small sips of water.

  By evening Bridgett was unable to leave her side, as the pains had become unbearable and Desiree panted and gasped as the agony swept over her again and again.

  “I can’t…” she would gasp at the end of each pain, struggling to speak before the paralyzing agony engulfed her again.

  “Yes you can.” Bridgett urged her after each pain, “You are doing wonderfully. I am so proud of you sweet.”

  Then, all at once it seemed, the pains changed. Desiree had an overwhelming urge to push and she was urged to do so, “You are doing fine.” The silver haired doctor assured, “It will be soon now. A few more—now relax for a moment.” He smiled kindly.

  Bridgett watched the concern upon his face, as he turned to wash his hands in a basin at a stand, near the door. He wasn’t certain she was going to be able to endure either. Bridgett wondered if perhaps a midwife might have been a better choice than this old country doctor but dismissed her doubts. He was equally as qualified and had delivered most of the children in the rural part of Rouen, including Desiree herself. Desiree gasped for air and then looked into Bridgett’s eyes for assurance as another pain approached. Her eyes were so fearful, Bridgett thought. The effort was taking all
the strength her frail body had left in it.

  With this pain, Desiree made a determined effort to be done with it and pushed with all her might. A ragged scream tore from her throat, as the doctor was about to announce the child’s head had emerged and her body went limp.

  “Desiree!” Bridgett screamed.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  It was not until the next morning that Desiree slowly awoke from a nightmare of death to the reality that she was alive and in her own room. Bridgett sat slumped over the bed with her head upon her folded arms. It all came flooding back to Desiree and she felt her stomach to find it, not quite flat, but much smaller than yesterday. She glanced about the room and saw no cradle, no baby anywhere.

  “It’s dead—oh it’s dead.” She cried.

  Bridgett came from her dozing immediately, with Desiree’s frantic cry, “No child.” She soothed.

  “Oh Bridgett my baby! Where is it? It’s dead—tell me the truth!” she sobbed, clutching Bridgett’s hand.

  “The baby lives Desiree. She is downstairs with Mary—you have a daughter Desiree. A beautiful little daughter.”

  “I don’t believe it—let me see! I want to see!” Desiree tried to rise and fell back upon the pillows weakly.

  “Don’t move, I shall bring her.” Bridgett raced from the room, calling for Mary.

  Minutes later, the two hurried back into the room and Mary held out the tiny bundle to Desiree. Desiree cried tears of relief and joy as she cradled the tiny babe against her. She drank in the little face, taking in every detail and touching a small hand. Then fingered the light hair lying in wavy tufts over the little head and smiled up at the two women, “She is so beautiful! She needs to be fed, doesn’t she?” she asked, with uncertainty and with a glow upon her ashen face.

  “The doctor sent a wet nurse Desiree. He felt it would be best. You are still too weak—she’s been fed this morn and her appetite is not good but the doctor assures us it will improve. Isn’t she tiny?” Mary marveled.

  “Oui but so perfect.” Desiree agreed while again taking in every detail of the new little face she had waited so long to see.

  “You should have seen Antoine’s face—the whole bunch for that matter.” Bridgett laughed, “I feared I would need to bring out the smelling salts.”

  “What did they say? Did they approve?” Desiree queried.

  “You know men my dear—they didn’t quite know what to think of her or what to say.” Bridgett chuckled.

  A breakfast tray arrived and Desiree was urged to eat while Mary held the baby, staying close to her side. Desiree took one small bite of the omelet and then lay her fork down, unable to manage more. She sipped at her tea and watched her little daughter, sleeping peacefully.

  Bridgett turned away as tears came to her eyes and spilled over. She made a lame excuse over her shoulder and left the room, her fleeting hopes that Desiree’s appetite would return, dashed. It was hopeless, Desiree was going to die and nothing could be done to prevent it. Bridgett went to her room, taking quill and parchment and sat at her vanity, beginning to compose a letter.

  ***

  Captain Colter,

  I have been wrestling with myself all night on whether to write this correspondence but I fear time and hope are running out. I can no longer delay. Your daughter was born yesterday, prematurely. And though small and weak, she is expected to survive.

  I realize you had no knowledge of Desiree’s state and I am sure this comes as a great shock to you but I am in hopes, that this knowledge will bring you to Rouen at some time, to behold your child.

  I know you to be a good and decent man Stephen and I feel confident that had you known of the child, you would have done right by Desiree. You would have ended the rift and voiced what was obvious to me, so often in the past. I know in my heart, that you loved Desiree—just as she loved you Stephen and still does.

  It is too late for talk of that now and it gives me such pain to write this. This news should be spoken gently, not written coldly upon parchment but there is no other way. Desiree is likely dying Stephen, she has been ill for weeks and the doctor fears the early arrival of the child is a sign Desiree will not live much longer. In truth, by the time this letter makes its way to you, it shall be much too late. She may well be gone. But I felt you must know that you have a child. It is your right. I only pray you will make an effort to come and see your daughter. You will be most welcome and I know Desiree would want you to have that opportunity.

  Desiree has cried many tears over the pain she brought into your life Stephen and the pain she brought upon herself. Much of the responsibility, I take, for I misguided Desiree, filled her head with notions—without realizing what you and she, in fact, shared. I shall never forgive myself for destroying her happiness but know this; Stephen, she loves you with all her heart.

  If she had the strength, I am sure she would be composing a letter herself. There is much more that could be said, much I could tell you but—it is pointless now, so I shall leave it at this and say only I pray you come and be prepared for the fact, that Desiree could well be gone, if and when you arrive.

  Bridgett carefully folded the parchment, dripping a wax seal across the fold and then wiping her tears, hurried from her room.

  ***

  Jacques Monet smiled but the gesture did not reach his sad eyes as he looked up from his breakfast when Bridgett entered the dining room, “How is she Bridgett”? Has there been any change?”

  “I’m afraid not Jacques. We can only pray for a miracle.” She said touching his shoulder comfortingly, “Please excuse me, I must have a word with Georges’.”

  Bridgett continued across the dining room, through the kitchen and out the back door, around the cook house, crossing the lawn, to the stables.

  “Georges’?” Bridgett called, through the dim barn. Sparrows chirped and lit upon the floor, sending up small puffs of dust as they feasted upon a scattering of oats. The birds flitted out of her path, then took flight as Georges’ hurried toward her, just emerging from a stall.

  “What is it Bridgett? Not a turn for the worse?” he rasped, fear plainly etched upon his face.

  “No Georges’ but I need your assistance. Would you drive me to the Roche’s? I must enlist Philippe’s help on an urgent matter.”

  “Bridgett, Philippe would be in Rouen. He shall be there until nightfall.”

  “Do you know where to find him? Where he might be?”

  “Of course, at the docks unless he is down river somewhere.”

  “Then you must take me to Rouen. Philippe shall help me from that point. Please, we must hurry. I need to be back by nightfall.” she exclaimed anxiously.

  “Of course but if we are unable to locate him…”

  “Then I shall find someone else, I must go in any case.”

  “Of course, I shall hitch up and meet you at the front door.” Georges’ nodded, calling for assistance from a lad above them in the loft, who Bridgett had failed to notice.

  Bridgett fairly flew across the back lawn to the house and was packing a basket containing dry rolls, honey and cheese for her journey which would take all of the day and early evening, when Mary entered through the swinging door, carrying Desiree’s tray. She stopped short, watching her frantically toss her basket together.

  “What’s this?” Mary frowned, placing the tray upon the counter, “Where are you going?”

  “Mary I shall return by nightfall. I must go to Rouen and then, if necessary, on to Le Havre. I must deliver a letter and cannot entrust it to anyone else. It may be for naught but I must try. I shall be back this evening, Georges’ shall be gone also. Do not tell Desiree, say simply I have gone to town.”

  “I won’t say a word but Le Havre—it is so far! You will never make that trip in one day!”

  “I know but it may be necessary. Perhaps by some miracle I may even find the one it is intended for. I must go. I shall see you this evening.”

  Bridgett rushed past the old housekeeper and hu
rried through the house and out the front door where Georges’ helped her into the carriage for the short drive to Rouen.

  ***

  The docks of Rouen were jammed with men, boats, cargo and in the chaos, Bridgett and Georges’ searched out Philippe. They found him standing near the water’s edge, speaking with several men and when he caught sight of the two, he paled noticeably and met them halfway up the dock, “What is it Bridgett? Don’t tell me she is—or the baby!” he whispered.

  “No Philippe, both are home and nothing has changed. I need your help—I must go to Le Havre.”

  Relief flooded Philippe’s face and he smiled weakly, “I jumped to the wrong conclusion, thank goodness. Of course, I will take you—come along.”

  They started toward the sloop and Bridgett spoke briefly, “I must try to find someone, anyone from Somerset or a vessel going in that direction. I have a letter I must have delivered to Captain Colter as soon as possible.”

  “From Desiree?” Philippe asked hesitantly, unsure if he was overstepping his bounds.

  “No but concerning her and I must do my best to ensure it makes its way to him. Going to Le Havre may be my only chance.”

  “Let’s be off then. Georges’ are you coming?”

  “No I shall remain here and wait for your return.” Georges’ stated and helped Bridgett into the sloop and tossed the lines to Philippe.

  “Look for us by dusk?” Bridgett questioned looking to Philippe for confirmation and he nodded.

  “Take care Lad.” Georges’ said, assisting them away from the dock with a shove and with his oars, Philippe worked the sloop into the current and the small sail was set.

  ***

  The journey toward Le Havre was as it had been almost a year to the day, when Bridgett and Desiree had arrived in the same sloop, with the same boy, to start an adventure that, she mused, had turned and twisted in so many painful directions.