Duty to the Crown

by Aimie K. Runyan

  I will never visit Paris to see for myself. She’d known it in her heart for years, but to own the knowledge so openly was new. She found it didn’t sting like she expected it to. While she wouldn’t refuse the chance to see the fine buildings and glimpse the Palace of the Louvre and its elegant courtiers, the lure of Zacharie’s chubby toddler smiles, Laurent’s midnight embraces, and the insistent kicks from her midsection called to her more than the busy streets of the capital.

  “How is your back, darling?” Bernadette clucked over her youngest living daughter with more anxiety now than she ever had when Claudine was a girl.

  “Aching. Still.” Perhaps it’s because of what happened to Emmanuelle. Perhaps she’s worried for the little one. Remember, you’ll be the maman someday and your little ones will be just as annoyed by your worrying.

  “I’m sure we can manage for a bit. Why don’t you lie down in your old room and rest awhile?” Claudine wanted to melt into a puddle as her mother rubbed her aching back, but the mountains of work in front of her kept her from seeking out the comfort of her old bed. She was certain she wouldn’t wake before morning once her head found the goose down pillow.

  “I’m fine, Maman. Really. There’s a lot to be done and we can work faster together than you can alone. I don’t want Papa to see any work unfinished. It will just upset him more.”

  “I doubt your father will notice the goings-on in my kitchen to that extent, my dear.” Bernadette made light of her daughter’s concern but the downturned corners of her mouth showed the astuteness of her daughter’s observation. Thomas had been reduced to overseeing the harvest and giving orders for the first time since he was old enough to lift a hoe. The effort to plow alongside the hired hands would be the undoing of his weakened heart, but the feeling of uselessness was killing him just as surely. Claudine could see the frustration lined in his face. He was not meant to sit idle.

  As if cued by her thoughts, Thomas chose then to enter the house and sit at the end of the table now covered in freshly harvested produce and a good helping of the earth from which they’d been plucked.

  “You’re back early, Papa. Would you like some cider? Some bread and jam?” Claudine kissed the top of his sunburned head as he stretched back in his chair.

  “Save the food for the working men,” Thomas spoke absently. For a moment, Claudine wondered if the statement were aimed at her or not.

  “Papa, you’ve been in the fields since dawn and only taken a short break for luncheon. Surely you’re hungry.”

  “Giving out orders. Overseeing things. It’s not hard labor.”

  “But necessary work. Who knows this land better than you?”

  “No one, and that’s why it ought to be me who cultivates it. Not just hiring it out.”

  “Papa, you know you’re not a young man. You’ve never been the sort to conceal your age or act younger than you truly are. Other men retire from their labors. It’s time you do, too.”

  “What will I do with myself?” Thomas folded his hands in his lap, the schoolboy waiting for an answer from the master. “I can’t spend the rest of my days on my duff. I have to have work.”

  “Papa, we can find you something to occupy your time. I swear it. But think of Maman and Georges before you take up the fool idea that you might be formulating about running a plow with the others. Think of Nicole and me, for that matter. You won’t earn anyone’s respect by making yourself a martyr.”

  “Very well. Though I’m not sure how I can stand this much longer.” He placed his hands on the table, his fingers still laced as if in prayer, his face just as solemn as when he addressed his confessor.

  “You weren’t built for leisure, Papa. I understand. But you must understand that if you continue to work as you have been you will die. You will leave Maman and Georges all alone. We would do what we can for them, you know this, but we cannot replace you. No more than I or Nicole have been able to replace Emmanuelle.”

  Thomas took Claudine’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Darling girl, no. You haven’t replaced your sister, but I wager you inherited some of her sweetness. From the time you were knee-high I worried about your ambition. I’m just a farmer and I wasn’t able to give you the life you wanted. I was convinced that you would never settle for less and you’d spend the rest of your life resentful. I’m glad I’ve lived to see you happy and well married, even if it wasn’t of my own doing.”

  Claudine kissed his cheek, rough like tree bark. I hope what Papa says is true, Emmanuelle. Yet, you had sweetness enough to spare when you were alive. I should have been wise enough to accept it then.

  * * *

  Claudine glanced up the stairs with a longing to make the long climb and find the warmth between the covers, preferably with Laurent at her side to rub her aching back and whisper sweet things in her ear. Instead, she tossed a worn skirt atop the mending basket and walked to Gabrielle’s shop. There was a shorter route on the side streets, but Claudine always took the front roads where more people could see her and know where she was doing business. The subtle compliment of a lady’s custom was the best endorsement for a business like Gabrielle’s. Claudine had seen her sister be the making of a business, and on occasion, the end of one. Claudine didn’t see herself exercising her influence at every whim, but had no reservation about using it when it was warranted.

  Gabrielle sat in her usual chair by the window, a pair of tattered gray breeches over her lap. She affixed patches to the knees, worn so thin Claudine could see Gabrielle’s fingers through the fabric that wasn’t covered by the scrap. Lines of fatigue encircled Gabrielle’s green eyes, though her hands moved unwaveringly as she wove the needle through the layers of fabric.

  “Are you sleeping any better?” Claudine said, refusing Gabrielle’s offer for a beverage. She didn’t want the weary woman to go to the effort on her account, and her own ankles weren’t fond of any extra exertion.

  “Some nights aren’t too bad.”

  “Last night wasn’t one of those.”

  “No,” Gabrielle agreed, cutting the thread on the breeches with a vicious clip. “The judge sent that damned Duval around with more questions.” She scanned her surroundings as an afterthought; probably scanning to make sure Duval or one of his cronies wasn’t lurking in hopes of hearing just such an insult.

  “If there isn’t any proof, I don’t see how they can do anything.” Claudine sat back in her chair. She needs a footstool or two for her little work nook. I’ll have to find her one.

  “Don’t be naïve, Claudine. The courts will do exactly as they please. If they uphold justice, it’s merely a happy coincidence.”

  Claudine remembered the sham of a hearing where Gabrielle was sent back to live with Patenaude. The judge knew without question that Patenaude was a brutal man, his temper volatile, yet he sent Gabrielle back to live with him without the slightest concern for her welfare. Claudine doubted there was a person with less confidence in the servants of the law in their settlement than Gabrielle, and she’d been given good cause.

  I want to offer you some assurance, but we were certain we could protect you last time. Thinking of nothing intelligent to say, Claudine traced the pattern on the arm of her chair with her index finger. Gabrielle didn’t prod her into conversation or hint at her to leave. Claudine imagined it was a lonely life for her in the shop at times, and chitchat or not, another warm body in the house was welcome.

  “Deputy Savard can’t have known what she did,” Claudine mused aloud after a few minutes. “He wouldn’t have allowed it. If in fact it was she.”

  “You underestimate her hold over him. He may not have loved her, but he wouldn’t dare to cross her. Nor can I think of anyone else who would bother to sully my name. No one mourns Patenaude enough to see me hang for his death, responsible or not. But I do agree with you on one matter. I don’t think he knew. He would have tried to do something about it, somehow.” Claudine saw Gabrielle take the briefest of pauses from her mending to look out the murky glass wi
ndow.

  “I wish I knew what else to do. Of course Laurent and Alexandre will do what they can. . . .” But it didn’t do much good last time. The words were unspoken, but hung heavy in the air.

  “You’re doing exactly what I would ask right now.” Business and company—and being seen doing both.

  “I’m just sorry it’s all happening. You deserve better than this.” Claudine knew that Gabrielle’s dealings with the deputy weren’t blameless. Another time, she might have cast down Gabrielle as a harlot with the rest of the town, but she knew better. She knew how Gabrielle had suffered, first at her father’s hands, then at Patenaude’s. She’d known love from the Beaumonts and Pascal, but never the warmth of a lover. Claudine could imagine that René’s sweet temper and affectionate disposition would have been irresistible to Gabrielle. A brilliant stroke of color in Gabrielle’s gray world.

  “There’s no sense in talking about what anyone deserves. What’s happened has happened whether I am deserving of it or not. People far more innocent than I have borne guilt before me, and I am certain I won’t be the last.”

  “The judge will find you innocent. Must.” Claudine would have stamped her foot to punctuate her fervor, were they not too swollen for the gesture.

  “Even if he does, do you think the people of this town will acquit me so easily?” Claudine scoffed, ripping out a careless stitch. “They still haven’t forgiven my attempt to separate from Patenaude while he was alive. If there is the least glimmer of doubt in their minds, no one will have anything to do with me no matter what the judge says.”

  Claudine opened her mouth to protest, but clasped it shut again. It was true. The judge enforced the law of man, but the town had different standards. The damage was done and Gabrielle would never be welcomed, embraced in town like she should.

  “Whatever happens, you might think to go to Ville-Marie. Start over there. Alexandre will release you from any obligation to him. I’ll see to it Laurent helps you get a start there. He travels there a few times every year. I’ll come with him and visit you when I’m able.”

  “You’re kind, Claudine.” Gabrielle leaned forward and embraced her from the side. “But I’m not sure I have it in me to leave my home and everyone behind. I was born here.”

  “How many of your acquaintance have traveled across an ocean to start anew? Myself included. People are capable of far more than they give themselves credit for.” Claudine rubbed her abdomen reflexively. “Once you start on the impossible journey, you’ll be amazed at how far you travel.”

  * * *

  “Madame, supper is waiting for you.”

  Claudine didn’t recognize which of the two maids had called her from the doorway, so deep was her slumber. She’d hoped for a short nap after her visit with Gabrielle, but based on the moonlight pouring in her window, she’d lost the rest of her afternoon. Do I stay and have her fetch a tray, or act like a lady and join Laurent for dinner? The first option beckoned like a temptress, but she didn’t want to give Laurent any cause for worry.

  She threw back her covers, examining her ankles before swinging them over the side of the bed. Still twice their normal size, though she’d been resting for two hours. Dr. Guérin had said it was perfectly normal. Manon was less convinced that her level of swelling was usual, but admitted most every woman suffered swelling to some extent. Shaking her head, she stretched and stood at the side of the bed, motioning for the maid to come straighten her hair and make her presentable for supper. She thought of the ease with which Manon seemed to bear her own pregnancy and felt a stab of envy. She’s stronger, fitter than I am. I should never have let myself grow so weak.

  Claudine clucked her tongue at the bags under her eyes and her ashen pallor. Her hair lacked its brilliancy and she looked like a shadow of her former self. You’re draining me, little one. I’ll be glad when you make your appearance.

  Claudine clutched the railing as she descended the steps, her growing belly making her awkward as she walked.

  “So sorry to keep you waiting, my love,” Claudine said by way of greeting.

  “If I’d known you were sleeping, I wouldn’t have sent for you. I’ve told the staff not to bother you when you’re napping under any circumstances from now on.” Laurent circled his arms around her and kissed her forehead and cheeks with his soft lips.

  “I have to eat, my love. It’s just as well. I wanted your company.”

  “Then sit and eat and we can retire early.” Laurent held her chair out for her and she grabbed his hand and kissed it before he took his place.

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve tired yourself out at Madame Patenaude’s today. You ought to have invited her here if you wanted company.”

  “She has work to do, and I needed to drop off the mending. It was just as well that I went to her.” And her shop is more visible than our home. It did her more good.

  Laurent’s fork clattered against his plate. “Do you mean to tell me that you carried a hamper of clothing all that way? Surely you asked one of the servants to do it. Tell me you weren’t so foolish.”

  “Laurent, it was a small basket with a few chemises and a pair of breeches. I wasn’t about to trouble the staff for such an errand. Besides, Manon says I need to get plenty of exercise and fresh air. The weather was remarkably fine today.”

  “Please don’t change the subject, dearest. I don’t want you carrying anything heavier than your evening bag until the child is born and you’re well recovered.”

  “You’re being silly, Laurent. I promise I’m being careful.”

  “Claudine, I know I’m being silly. Worse, I’m being illogical and unreasonable. But you won’t sway me in this. I beg you, for the sake of my sanity, you must promise to rest. You must promise to ask for help. I can’t bear to see you so exhausted.”

  “I’m sure it’s all perfectly fine, darling. Manon thinks I might be further along than I thought I was, based on my size. Perhaps we’ll have a baby before Christmas after all. I admit it would be a relief.”

  “For both of us,” Laurent said, picking at his food.

  “Would you be . . . disappointed if we were to take a long pause before we do this again?” It was the first time she’d dared broach the subject. They were Robichauxes. They were supposed to set the example for the settlement. First and foremost, that meant large, healthy families. Any deliberate attempt to thwart childbirth risked questioning eyes in town—and possibly troublesome questions with the Church.

  “Not at all. While I’d love to have a noisy clan of children, I’m not sure how many more times I can bear this.”

  Claudine bit her tongue until she felt the twinge of blood trickle in her mouth. Fool. Don’t make him any more terrified of this than he already is.

  “There’s no need to be so anxious, my love. I know given the events of last time you’re entitled to be nervous, but with each child I’m sure you’ll grow less and less so. Forget I said anything. I’m sure the first child is the most exhausting. Not knowing what to expect and all.”

  “I hope you’re right, my angel.” Laurent brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “I know I’ll rest easier when this little one is here and tucked in safe and sound with his brother in the nursery.”

  “That will make two of us,” Claudine said, caressing the hand that lingered on her face. “I do promise to ask for help. Truly. But do promise to relax as best you can. Everything will be well.”

  “You can help me relax by curling up against me for a good night’s sleep and whispering all those loving thoughts you store up for me all day long.” Laurent stood and helped Claudine stand on her swollen feet. She was embarrassed to realize that while his gesture was borne of his gallant nature, her condition made his assistance necessary.

  “That sounds decadent, my love.” Claudine stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly before they ascended to their bedchamber.

  She leaned heavily on Laurent on the way up the stairs, the effort more taxing
than she cared to admit. There would be no trip to see Gabrielle the next day, nor any ventures as far as her parents’ farm for some time. A fantastic lot of good you are to everyone. Spending all day in bed. There were crops to preserve and a winter to prepare for. This was not the time to give in to her fatigue.

  Laurent served as her lady’s maid that night, helping her from her bodice and skirt into her nightgown, then brushing her long brown hair into soft waves that cascaded down to her buttocks. He gently rubbed her back, causing little groans of pleasure to emit involuntarily from her lips. He led her to the warm bed, where she watched him undress before he climbed in next to her.

  She pressed the length of her body against his, letting his warmth soothe her aching muscles. Her hands traced the familiar slopes and curves of his back and she felt her desire swell. He would never agree, given her condition, but she missed the intimacy of his midnight caresses.

  Children or no, I’ll never be able to resist you, Laurent.

  CHAPTER 31

  Gabrielle

  November 1679

  Gabrielle sat upright in her bed, drenched in frigid sweat despite the bite of the November night air. Since Patenaude’s death—even before—she’d been plagued by nightmares. As the date for her questioning drew near, they increased in frequency and vividness. Sometimes it was Patenaude attacking her for a burnt meal or a snide remark. Sometimes it was reliving the horror of when her baby died.

  Other nights, like tonight, it was imagining her life if the baby had lived. Little baby Gilbertine. She never told anyone that she knew it was a girl. Never told the Beaumonts that she wanted to call her after Gilbert, the first man to show her kindness. In her dream, Gilbertine was born healthy and beautiful. Gabrielle doted on her, cared for her every need with the love and gentleness that she’d never known as a child.