There was much talking and laughter as they passed the plates and bowls of food back and forth. There were pork and beef roasts, bread, the sipaille, cheese, cabbage, and carrots. Potatoes were grown but were referred to `the root’ and fed to the animals. They were only eaten by people during a famine. There was beer and ale for the men to drink and hot chocolate for the women and children.
The lively discussion was of letters the families had received from relatives, a trip Marie and Etienne planned to the town of Quebec, and the weather. Everyone was looking forward to when the snow melted and the warmer weather returned.
“What does your rich father in England think of the slow return he will receive on his investment here in New France?” Pierre asked William.
“He is fine with it,” William said quietly.
This was the second year of business for William’s merchant house. The ship with the trade goods from William’s father in England did not get to Quebec until July. The goods were then sent to William’s merchant house in Montreal. However, the voyageurs headed inland at the beginning of May. So it was the goods received from England last year that were going to be sent west this spring. The voyageurs did not return until fall so the pelts traded for last year’s goods did not get shipped to England until the next spring. It would take almost two years for William’s father to realize a profit from the trade goods he sent.
“You came from England to set up a new fur trade company after you British defeated us French. You have lived in Montreal for three years now. Do you think it is right for you English to take over our fur trade like you did?”
“Uncle Pierre,” Antoinette scolded.
“I want to know how he and his father, who probably lives in a fancy house in London, feel about taking away our livelihood.”
“That is none of your business,” Louis said. “Leave it alone.”
“So, where is your hat?” Pierre turned to Andrew. “Did you finally figure out it was a stupid thing to wear here, especially in the winter?”
Andrew blushed and looked down at his lap.
“Pierre,” Bridget said sternly.
“What?” Pierre looked at her innocently. “I was just asking.”
“You are always making fun of his hat,” Jeanne said. “Why do you not leave him alone?”
“I am just trying to make him see that he should wear the clothing suitable for New France, not England.” He looked at Andrew again. “You need a tuque.”
“Stop it, Pierre,” Louis said.
“It is time for dessert,” Bridget said. She stood and began clearing off the remains of the meal.
Marie stood to help her.
“You sit,” Jeanne said to her mother as she and Antoinette joined Bridget in carrying the empty bowls and plates to the kitchen.
Phillippe went up to Marguerite’s room. This time she was awake. He knelt beside the bed.
“We are about to have dessert and toast your parents,” he said. “Do you want to come down?”
“Oh, please,” Marguerite said.
Phillippe gently lifted the covers off her and helped her sit up.
“Oh,” she said as she swayed slightly.
Phillippe grabbed her shoulders to stop her from falling back on the bed. “Do you think you should?”
Marguerite nodded. “I want to. Would you get my dressing gown from the armoire?”
Phillippe made sure she could sit by herself before rushing over to the armoire and taking out her blue dressing gown. He held it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He put slippers on her feet and pulled her up. He adjusted the dressing gown and tied the sash. She swayed again and he wrapped his arm around her to steady her.
When she was able, he guided her out the door and down the stairs.
“Oh, Marguerite.” Etienne jumped up and hurried over to his daughter’s side. He helped Phillippe guide her to Phillippe’s chair at the table.
She sighed as she sat down. Her pale face seemed paler from the effort.
Marie rushed to her side. “Are you sure you should be up? I saved some food for you to eat upstairs.”
“I want to be here with you and everyone for a little while,” Marguerite whispered. “I wish to help you celebrate today.”
Marie kissed her daughter’s forehead and looked at her nephew. “Thank you, Phillippe,” she said before returning to her chair.
Phillippe smiled at her. She did not need to thank him. He enjoyed doing things for Marguerite. He stayed behind her chair in case she needed him.
“I am glad you were able to come down,” Jeanne said to her sister. “It is not the same without you.”
“It is so nice to see you up even for a little while,” William said.
Marguerite smiled at her family. “I miss being able to get up and visit people. So I am happy that Phillippe brought me down.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Antoinette asked. “I can put some food on a plate.”
Marguerite shook her head. “I do not have the energy to eat right now.”
The table was cleared and Bridget, Jeanne, and Antoinette brought a cake and three pies from the kitchen. Jean-Luc and Jacques followed them out. Marie and Etienne were toasted and congratulated on their anniversary.
Etienne stood. “Thank you all for coming today. It is nice to see our family, and especially my daughter, Marguerite, here to help us celebrate our special day.”
Marie cut the cake and pies and put the pieces on plates. They were passed around the table. Marguerite managed three bites of hers. Phillippe ate his standing up. When he was finished, he helped Marguerite to her feet and assisted her back up the stairs to her bed. She sighed as she lay down.
Phillippe covered her and she reached for his hand. “Thank you,” she said softly. “That was so nice of you to do.”
Phillippe brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “I would do anything for you,” he said. “All you have to do is ask.”
She smiled and closed her eyes.
Chapter Four
Pierre went outside onto the porch. He held the spill, a thin candle he had taken from the tin by the fireplace and lit from the fire, to the tobacco in his pipe. He inhaled the smoke into his lungs, then exhaled it into the cold air. He blew out the flame on the candle. There had been a choice of a straw, a rolled paper, or the candle to take with him to light his pipe. He preferred the candle because the flame lasted until he was outside. His brothers smoked inside but he felt he had pushed his luck too far at supper. He did not want to sit with the men and maybe say something that would get him kicked out of the house, as had happened a few times in the past.
He congratulated himself on his restraint. It had been tough, but he had been as civil as he could be with William and Andrew. Even though it had been almost three years since the British officially took over New France, he still could not bring himself to acknowledge the English right to be in Montreal.
Montreal was his town and sat at the confluence of the Ottawa, Richelieu, and St. Lawrence rivers, the roadways of the fur trade. Since the New France colony’s founding, it had relied on the fur trade and farming for its existence. Quebec was in charge of the import of trade goods and the export of furs while Montreal looked after sending out the canoe brigades.
Montreal was not quite as refined as Quebec, which had been the capital of the colony. Montreal was on the edge of the frontier and had a more relaxed, wild nature to it. Because of the trade, voyageurs and natives in various dress mixed with townspeople, soldiers, and farmers.
Quebec being further downstream on the St Lawrence had been the seat of government where most of the dignitaries from France stopped and where the pomp and ceremony was held. Montreal’s climate was milder and although the governor general of New France officially lived in Quebec, he had spent his winters in Montreal, only going to the town of Quebec in the summer to welcome the arrival of the king’s ships with correspondence. Parties and balls were held frequently among the aristocrats of M
ontreal.
Pierre knew that working for his brother was the only reason he was able to live in Montreal. He had been raised on a farm and never wanted to return to farming. If he could not be part of the fur trade, Montreal was where he wanted to live. He had no money and would inherit none.
Louis, had been in the fur trade for three years. He, however, had returned to work on the family farm and eventually take it over, not liking the voyageur life. Etienne had also gone into the fur trade when he was younger. He had been smart enough to save his money from the fur trade and start his own business as a blacksmith.
But he, Pierre, had drank his earnings away. He shook his head. If only he had thought ahead to his older years instead of only thinking about the immediate moment, he would not be basically living off his brother. Because he knew that Etienne did not really need his help in his smithy.
Pierre rubbed his lower back. In the past couple of years his back and legs had been hurting. He sometimes found it difficult going up and down stairs, and bending over at the blacksmith shop was painful. He had found last summer’s paddle to be the most distressing one so far, both physically and mentally. He had been the last to get up in the morning and the first to want to stop in the evening. And a couple of times he had had to rest while carrying the eighty pound bales of goods on the portage.
The fur trade had been part of his life for most of his adult years and he hated to admit that at thirty-nine years of age, he might be getting too old and worn out for it. The thought of not being able to rely on it for his livelihood frightened him. But he knew that he would not be able to stand the months of hard paddling and the miles of portaging. He did not want to make a fool of himself in front of the other paddlers by not being able to do his job. They would not let him off easy, just as he had teased and tormented older, crippled paddlers when he was younger.
That was why he had not signed on with a merchant yet this year. His desire to go west was strong but so was the knowledge that it would be a demanding trip and would not be easy on his body. But that raised the problem of how would he live.
The only solution he had come up with was that he would go west one last time but instead of drinking away his money at the end of the trip he would ask Etienne if he wanted a partner. Maybe they could expand his business. He was not sure if Etienne would be agreeable.
Pierre was brought out of his reverie by William joining him on the porch.
“I did not know you smoked,” Pierre said.
“That, I do not,” William said. “I want to talk to you.”
“You do?” Pierre could not hide the shock in his voice. What would William have to say to him? Surely, he did not think he was man enough to tell him to leave Andrew alone?
“We all know that Phillippe wants to go west as a voyageur this year,” William said.
Pierre smiled. “Yes, he certainly has not kept it a secret.”
“And we know that he is probably going to start applying at merchant houses as soon as he is sixteen next month.”
Pierre nodded, wondering where this conversation was leading.
“As a birthday present to him, I am going to hire him to go west as part of my canoe brigade.”
“Have you told his father?”
“Yes, we discussed it two weeks ago. He knows that he cannot stop Phillippe but he has asked that I do my best to keep him safe on the paddle. Once the canoes are on the river that is out of my hands. And since I have no wish for my brother-in-law to come to harm I am asking you a favor.”
“Me? A favor?” Pierre could not believe his ears.
“Yes. I want to hire you as a paddler, but you must agree to watch out for Phillippe on the trip.”
“You want me to look after him, to coddle him?”
“I want you to make sure that he knows the dangers before they happen. I want you to help him have a safe first trip.”
“Well, I have not decided if I want to go west this year,” Pierre said, scratching his beard.
“Are you blackmailing me?” William asked.
“No, I am just stating that I have not made any definite plans yet.”
“And I do not think you will be making any. I have talked with other merchants and they all mentioned your reputation of being a trouble maker. None of them spoke of hiring you.”
Pierre shrugged. “Someone will. I have more experience than most men.”
“What if I paid you?”
Pierre looked at William shrewdly. “How much do you have in mind?”
“I will give you one hundred pounds.”
Pierre snorted. Since the British had taken over they had introduced their monetary system. He still had trouble converting to the French currency. He tapped the ash out of his pipe and put it in his pocket to give himself time.
“Okay, I will give you two hundred pounds.”
“That is over and above my wages?”
“Yes.”
In the early days merchant houses had been set up in France and a son was sent out with the cargo to the colony. Eventually houses were established in Montreal as part of the family business. Some grew large and made the owners rich. Pierre knew he could use that money and his salary to set himself up as a merchant. Sure, he would be small compared to others like William, who had backing from his family in England, but he could grow his business over the years. He could wrest some of the fur trade from the English and Scots and put it back in at least one Frenchman’s hands.
“You have a deal, just as long as you understand that I will do my best to protect him but if he is destined to die on the paddle there is nothing I can do about it.”
“Agreed. Just do not tell anyone about me hiring him until after his birthday. I do not want to spoil the surprise. And definitely do not tell him of our agreement.”
The two men stood awkwardly. Usually an agreement like this was shook on to finalize it. William hesitantly offered his hand. Pierre looked at it then grudgingly took it in his. The deal was sealed.
* * *
Jeanne put on her coat and went outside to say goodbye to Antoinette, William, and Andrew. It was dark and snow was beginning to fall.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “Mother and father really enjoyed having everyone here.”
“We would not have missed it,” Antoinette said.
“I am sorry about Uncle Pierre,” Jeanne said to Andrew. “I do not know why he picks on you like he does.”
Andrew shrugged. “I am almost getting used to it.”
“I am glad you said that,” William said. “Because I hired him tonight to go on the paddle in the spring.”
“You did what?” Andrew gasped.
“I hired him as a voyageur.”
“Why would you do that? You know he will make the trip miserable for me.”
“I know and I am sorry but I felt I had to. We all know Phillippe will be going to the merchant houses as soon as he turns sixteen so I thought his birthday present from Antoinette and me, would be to hire him. I discussed it with Louis and he agreed but he asked me to make sure that his son survived the trip. The only way I could think of to make that happen was to hire Pierre to go along and look after him.”
“Uncle Pierre is not that trustworthy,” Jeanne said.
“Yes, I have heard the stories, but I thought with Phillippe being his nephew and the way Phillippe adores him, he might change his behavior.”
“I hope so,” Andrew said in a resigned voice. “At least, that will make me feel better about him coming.”
Jeanne watched the three walk down the street. She had had little chance to speak with Andrew that evening. There were too many people and too much happening. Not that she knew what she would say to him. She wondered if Andrew had actually been courting her these past few months. Had she been reading something into his actions that were not there? Had his visits and drives been just a way for him to idle away his time at the colony?
She turned and walked back into the house. She sighed. Her
thoughts of possible marriage and children with Andrew that she had just that morning were gone. He had made his intentions clear and she had to adjust to it.
* * *
Pierre trudged through the snow on his way to the tavern. He was to meet his friends, Bernard and Francois, for a drink after the party. He was in a foul mood. His back was sore and he had a shooting pain down one of his legs, and yet he was going west this spring. He hated William and yet he had signed on to paddle in his brigade. Even with the extra money he did not like that he had signed on with his niece’s husband. The only thing that make it better was that Phillippe was going along. He knew his nephew idolized him and he fervently hoped he did not embarrass himself on the trip.
Pierre walked into the tavern and over to the table his friends shared. “Give me a tankard of beer,” he yelled at the barmaid.
“Hello, Francois, Bernard,” he growled as he sat down.
“What is your problem tonight?” Francois asked.
The barmaid brought over a tankard and set it in front of Pierre. He took a long swig of the brew before answering.
“I was hired by William MacLeod tonight,” he said. “I will be paddling to Grande Portage in the spring.”
The two men stared at him. “Tonight?” Bernard said. “You did not say you were trying to find a merchant to paddle with.”
“I was not.”
“You must have been or he would not have hired you,” Francois insisted.
“He came up to me at my brother’s anniversary party and asked me to go west on his brigade.”
“And you agreed just like that?” Bernard shook his head. “There is something more. You do not even like him.”
Pierre shrugged. “He made me a good offer.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he knows he needs someone who has the many years of experience that I have.”
“And the many years of fighting and stealing that you have, too,” Francois scoffed.
“What is the real reason?” Bernard asked.
West to Grande Portage Page 3