Duty to the Crown

by Aimie K. Runyan

  “Lovely work, dear,” Rose said, peering over her pupil’s shoulder. “Your stitches are growing so small and even. My favorite governess said it was the sign of patience and maturity when a woman’s embroidery becomes so fine.” Almost as fine as Emmanuelle’s, but I’m not sure I’ll ever have her gift of patience.

  Claudine tried to keep her laugh from sounding too derisive. “Patience is our lot in life, is it not? It’s not a question of having it, but learning to embrace it.”

  “Therein lies the maturity,” Rose countered.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Claudine admitted. “Have you heard anything from the Beaumonts about Gabrielle, Manon? Nicole said you were visiting yesterday.”

  Claudine thought she might have seen the color rise in Manon’s cheek, but she dismissed it. “Elisabeth hasn’t heard anything in close to a month. I do think Pascal’s close to going out to visit the homestead, with or without an invitation.”

  “I expect she’s very busy keeping house,” Rose said, pulling out her own mending. “She hasn’t the benefit of any help.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell Pascal, but he insists she’d find the time to write unless there were something amiss. These pillowcases will be for her as I’m sure she hasn’t the time to do them herself.”

  “A lovely gesture, my dear,” Rose said, smiling at Manon.

  “Yes, you must see to it that Pascal asks her if she is in want of anything. I’m sure we can provide her with anything she’ll need before winter.” Claudine, almost as familiar with Nicole’s store cupboards as the mistress of the house and the housekeeper alike, knew that there were plenty of linens that would be put to better use in Gabrielle’s little cabin.

  “I’ll do that,” Manon said, nodding, in line with Claudine’s thoughts. “Surely Nicole won’t mind.”

  “I wish Sister Mathilde were alive to see you both,” Rose said, exhaling deeply and setting her mending down. Claudine had a few vague memories of the barbed-tongued but good-natured woman of the Church from her early years in the settlement. Life on her parents’ homestead kept her removed from the social circles in town, but she knew her sister and her companions had grieved bitterly when winter claimed their mentor and guide in the New World. “This was exactly the New France she had envisioned. ‘While the men are out to carve a living for themselves, the women must band together to weave a life.’ She would be so proud of you.”

  “It’s just a pair of pillowcases, Rose,” Manon said. This time there was no mistaking the color rising in her cheeks.

  “It’s more than that, Manon. You’re single women living in comfort. You could be doing anything with your spare time that you choose, but you’re spending your time improving the lot of others.”

  Claudine looked down at the tablecloth, knowing that Laurent Robichaux or baby Zacharie would never notice or care about the tablecloth she stitched. They had a dozen others, and heaven knew that a man would hardly pay attention to the table at which he ate so long as the food was savory and plentiful. But it wasn’t for them that she finished it. It was to make sure that, in some small way, Emmanuelle’s work on earth wasn’t left undone. There was so much of her life left unlived that Claudine couldn’t bear to see her sister’s little projects remain incomplete. Though it was silly, perhaps even wicked, to think it, Claudine imagined Emmanuelle’s spirit restless in heaven for all the work she didn’t finish.

  Claudine’s mind wandered to the sweet black-haired baby, presumably taking his afternoon nap under the watchful eyes of his devoted nanny. Some projects Emmanuelle left were bigger than others.

  “I wish I could do more,” Claudine said.

  “You’re doing more than you ever did before,” Manon chimed in. “Everyone has taken notice.”

  “That’s precisely what I don’t want. People must think I’m just doing things to get attention.” Claudine removed a wayward stitch made in anger, pleased she didn’t damage the cloth noticeably.

  “I don’t mean to sound harsh, dear, but I’m sure there are some who do,” Rose said, looking at Claudine with a somber expression. “You spent years portraying yourself as a girl who never made a gesture for her fellow man that was not in her own interest first. Your youth and vivacious nature helped many to overlook your flaws, but I’m sure some did not. But the people who love you know your motives and that’s all that truly matters.”

  Claudine looked down at the yellow, green, and pink stitches on the stark white fabric, willing the tears to stay where they belonged.

  “It’s all right, my dear. You should feel proud.”

  Claudine nodded, not wanting to contradict the woman she had grown to respect so much. I don’t feel one ounce of pride. If I had come to realize how poor my behavior was and corrected it on my own, I might. It took my ruin and my sister’s death to bring it about, however, so I can’t see much cause for pride in it. Only shame. Embarrassment. Humiliation. All I had to do was look at either of my sisters for a model of good behavior, but I continued on my broken path, stubborn as a damned mule.

  * * *

  “I think Pascal is worried for his sister. More than he lets on,” Manon said as they walked back to the Lefebvre house. “It’s not like her to be so silent.”

  “I confess I wasn’t the friend to Gabrielle I should have been, and don’t know her as well as you, but that does seem out of character for her. She’s always seemed very devoted to her brother.”

  “Very much so. And he to her. I’m certain he plans to check on her tomorrow. He has some deliveries to make near enough to their homestead to justify an uninvited visit.” Manon’s eyes glanced to the northeast in the direction of the Beaumonts’ shop. Claudine wondered why Manon had spent so much more of her time of late at their shop, but held the question back. Perhaps Manon had spent more time there in the past than she realized, but Claudine had never paid attention.

  “Do you think we ought to go with him? Gabrielle might appreciate the company.” Claudine knew that Gabrielle would sooner expect the Pope himself to show up at her doorstep, but she hoped that her past behavior wouldn’t make her unwelcome. “We can raid Nicole’s larder for all sorts of good things to help set them up for winter.”

  “A sound idea. As highly as I think of Pascal, we might have better luck discerning if anything is wrong.”

  “I think you might be right,” Claudine agreed. “We’ll send over a message to Pascal, but I can’t imagine he’d object to our company.”

  Manon nodded her agreement and opened the door to the Lefebvre house for Claudine. They cast off their cloaks and disposed of their books before descending upon the kitchen. Claudine fetched one of the largest marketing baskets and placed it on Madame Yollande’s expansive worktable. The two peered into the pantry with an assessing eye.

  “Certainly the jams would do,” Manon said. “The salted beef and pork?”

  “Nothing better,” Claudine agreed.

  “And what are you two doing?” Nicole’s voice sounded behind them.

  “Putting together a hamper for Gabrielle. We were sure you wouldn’t mind,” Claudine said, turning her head back to the pantry shelves.

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” Nicole said, looking over the jars they’d placed on the table. “I know Gabrielle is partial to the gooseberry jam. Be sure to take all but the largest jar. I’m glad you girls have decided to go. Elisabeth has been wanting to for weeks, but you can understand how hard it is to get away from the shop and the little ones.”

  Claudine gripped her sister’s shoulder. Their own maman didn’t make the trip into town as often as Nicole would like. Their mother wasn’t fond of cities, even one as rudimentary as Quebec, and it took a good deal of convincing to get her to agree to the trip into town. Nicole’s duties made frequent trips to the farm impossible, so though they were half a world closer than they once had been, they were still very much separated.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Claudine offered. “It would be good for you to get away.”<
br />
  “Kind of you to include me, darling, but you two go visit with your friend and repay me for depleting my stores with all of her news. Does that sound like a fair exchange?”

  Claudine embraced her sister, not worrying about crumpling Nicole’s lovely evening dress. “More than fair. Especially if you have any of that soft yarn you used for Zacharie’s blankets. She may be in need of it soon.”

  “Oh, I think I can dig up a few skeins for her, but you’re a worse cheat than any British tradesman I’ve ever encountered,” Nicole said, placing a kiss on Claudine’s temple.

  “So long as we don’t encounter any of those on the road tomorrow, I’ll be happy,” Manon interjected.

  “Amen,” Claudine said with a scoff. “Let’s go upstairs, Manon. We can go through our things to see if we have anything that might be of use to Gabrielle.”

  “Wonderful idea,” Manon agreed, following Claudine up the stairs. The sweep of Manon’s wardrobe didn’t take long. Most of her things were new and she hadn’t been with the Lefebvres long enough to build up an extensive wardrobe. She removed from the corner of her armoire a pair of sturdy leather shoes that looked like a cross between boots and bedroom slippers and blew off the layer of dust.

  “Moccasins,” Manon explained. “Heaven knows I can’t be seen in them here, but they’ll be serviceable for Gabrielle.”

  “Sweet of you to give up such a remembrance of your people,” Claudine said, adding them to the basket.

  “I’ve given up so much, what’s a pair of shoes?” Manon followed Claudine into her room, sat on Emmanuelle’s long-vacant bed, and issued her opinion on Claudine’s pieces. A few of her everyday dresses had grown a bit worn for city wear, but with Gabrielle’s skill with a needle she’d be able to make them better than usable for country life.

  “I don’t suppose you’d agree to sleep in here, would you?” Claudine aimed her words into her armoire. Don’t be such a coward. All she can say is no.

  “Pardon?” Manon looked up from one of Claudine’s poetry books she’d left on the bedside table.

  “It’s just . . . it’s so quiet in here. I’m not used to being alone.” Claudine folded a gray wool dress neatly and placed it atop the others in the basket.

  “I don’t see why not,” Manon said, her eyes wide.

  “Thank you,” Claudine said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You could keep your old room as a little study. A room to yourself, just like Alexandre has.”

  “As grand as the seigneur himself,” Manon said with a chuckle.

  “I’m glad. I’ve not always been the kindest person to you. I suppose I was jealous.” Claudine stared at the wooden floor and the tips of her boots with great interest rather than look at Manon directly.

  “Jealous of me? Why on earth would that be?” The disbelief in Manon’s words echoed against the stone walls.

  “Aside from the fact that you’re one of the smartest people in all of New France? When we arrived here, my sister loved you so much; I thought you’d taken my place. More than her sister, you were her daughter. I worshipped Nicole when I was little. Worshipped the memory of her when she left France. So when I showed up ready to be her cherished little sister again, and saw you by her side, beautiful and dressed in finer clothes than I had ever owned, I hated you. I thought she’d never look at me again. I’m ashamed of it now, but it’s how I felt.”

  She felt Manon’s arms slip around her, and Claudine nearly jerked away when Manon’s warm tears spilled against her own cheek.

  “I left because you had come to claim that place back in her heart,” Manon said simply.

  “She never got over you leaving, you know.” Claudine clung to Manon a few more moments before taking a step back and taking her hands. “And I was foolish to treat you as I did. Please forgive me?”

  “Friends,” Manon agreed.

  “What I need is a sister,” Claudine said, squeezing Manon’s hands.

  “I always wanted one,” Manon said, her tears spilling over once more.

  “Look at the pair of us,” Claudine said, laughing as she dried her cheeks. “Acting so foolish.”

  “It’s been a hard few months. I think we’re entitled to a little sentiment.”

  Claudine nodded, steadying her breath. “I hope Gabrielle will be happy to see us.” Claudine fumbled to change the subject.

  “Well, with a hamper like this, I can’t imagine she wouldn’t be.” Manon turned back to the task at hand, arranging a few of Claudine’s cast-off chemises more carefully.

  “I think she’d be happy to see us both, with or without the hamper, but I’m sure she’ll be all the more pleased for it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Gabrielle

  September 1678

  The following morning, Gabrielle stood to see the sounds of Pascal’s horse and wagon, laden with Claudine, Manon, and their hamper, traversing the ill-kept path to the cabin. Oh, why couldn’t you have waited three weeks? He’d have been gone by then. She peered down into her washbasin filled with murky water. She didn’t see any visible bruises or scrapes on her face, but she wasn’t surprised. Patenaude was careful to avoid hitting her face, claiming he couldn’t abide ugly women and didn’t want to risk breaking teeth or ruining the shape of her nose. It was the closest he’d come to paying her a compliment in the span of their married life. A good meal was met with what might be construed as an appreciative grunt. A clean home was merely expected. Well-mended clothes were ignored and the new shirt she made for him was scorned as frivolous.

  “My brother and friends are coming; you might want to get dressed.” Gabrielle spoke just above a whisper. He preferred women who spoke softly if they had to break their silence at all.

  “You invited them here, you little slut. I told you I’d take the strap to you if you pulled such a trick. How did you get a letter out?”

  “I did no such thing. They’re likely here because I didn’t write and haven’t written for weeks. If you’d allowed it, I could have assured them I’m well.”

  “Likely story, liar. Your brother, let alone the seigneur’s sister-in-law and heathen whore he took in wouldn’t be bothered to check on the likes of you if you hadn’t written to complain.”

  So you say, bastard, but they stand not ten paces from your door. “You can believe what you like. I know nothing I say will sway your opinion in my favor. However, if you don’t want our company to see your lazy arse without breeches, I suggest you get out of bed and dress.” The sass would cost her later, but it was well worth it to release a small morsel of her temper.

  Patenaude did not speak, but the anger that flashed from his muddy brown eyes needed no voice to be heard. He pulled on his filthy buckskin breeches and tucked in his shirt. The Olivier Patenaude approach to making himself presentable for company. Charming.

  The knock sounded at the door and Gabrielle shook her head. I’d rather be dead than have you see me in this miserable place.

  Gabrielle took in a breath and opened the door to the ramshackle cabin for her guests.

  “What a lovely surprise,” Gabrielle said, embracing her brother and the girls. She was surprised that Claudine greeted her so warmly, but did not question it. Kind people who love me. I thought you were a race gone from this world.

  “You had us worried sick,” Pascal said. “Not a word in over two months? What were you playing at, girl?”

  Gabrielle longed to leer a “told you so” toward Olivier, but it was not worth the subsequent rage. Enough trouble awaited her as soon as the guests departed.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gabrielle said. “It’s been so hard to find a moment.”

  “Of course it has,” Claudine said, taking the liberty of emptying the contents of the basket in the cupboard Gabrielle used as a pantry. “But we’re pleased to see you’re well.”

  “And surprised to see you here, Patenaude. We figured you’d be in the fields this late into harvest season.” Pascal’s tone was even, but Gabrielle recognized a challenge in
her brother’s voice when she heard one. Tread lightly, brother. You have no idea what I will pay for this.

  “I’m spending my time hunting, if it’s all the same to you. Fur season starts soon and I’ll be off trapping.” Patenaude stood to his full height, a show meant to intimidate the younger man. Though Patenaude was a broad, tall man, he stood an inch or so shorter than Pascal, which Gabrielle was sure irked her husband greatly. He could not stand to be second in anything, and nature had not graced him with all that many advantages. Life must be a disappointing venture, you slow-witted beast.

  “And what of my sister? Are you just going to leave her alone out here when winter sets in?” Pascal’s anger raged in his brown eyes as Gabrielle had only seen him direct toward one other man—their father.

  “She fared fine last winter,” Patenaude countered. Indeed I did. It was the most peace I had all year. Please God that you’re gone three months this time instead of three weeks.

  “I’ve been tending to the fields, Pascal,” Gabrielle supplied. Though it was hardly worth the trouble. Only a bushel of potatoes and a pound or two of wheat as reward for hour upon hours frying in the sun like fatty bacon on a hot griddle.

  “You mean to say you—” Pascal moved so close to Patenaude their noses nearly touched.

  “It’s fine, Pascal. Leave him be. Please.” Gabrielle shoved her arm in between the two men. She couldn’t bear to see Pascal hurt and she didn’t want the bother of nursing Patenaude’s wounds.

  “Listen to your sister. She’s speaking sense for once. I’m going out for the day. Have supper ready by dusk, woman.” Patenaude left the cabin without a backward glance at his wife and without acknowledging Claudine’s or Manon’s presence.

  “You’ll have to forgive him. He’s not used to company.” Gabrielle turned to look at her newly stocked cupboard. Enough food to last for weeks. She gave a dry, barking cough into her hand to chase the emotion from her voice. She’d barely made it through the previous winter from the contents of her wedding hamper. In preparation for the next, she’d gathered berries and made an attempt to farm on her own, but her little crops would only last a month at most.