“I don’t mind. Really. If it gave you pleasure and helped to introduce my Julien to society, I’m not one to stop you.”
“I’m surprised you feel that way. I know you aren’t enamored of some of our traditions.”
“Nor am I of all the traditions of my own people. I want to raise Julien to have a place in the world. I don’t think that there will be much of one with the Huron. It makes sense to see him welcome with yours.”
“Sensible. Sad, but sensible.”
“He won’t be ignorant of where his mother came from. I will do my best to teach him of my people. Our language. Our customs. It won’t be the same as growing up among them, but at least he will have an idea that there is more to the world than just what the French would have him believe.”
“Quite so.” The response of a Frenchwoman who knows not what to say. “Tell me, my darling. Do you regret having come to us?”
“No,” Manon said without hesitation. “I owe much to the education I received here. I have no idea what life would have held for me if I’d never left the Huron, but I can’t imagine it would be as rich as the life I have now.”
“I’m glad. There were days after you left that I wondered if I’d been cruel to ask you to stay with me at all.”
“No, but I confess I am glad that I went back, too. It erased any doubt in my mind that I had no place there. But if I had never stayed with you, my childhood would have been a much less cheerful one than what I had. I am grateful to you.”
“That warms my heart. But please don’t feel grateful. Caring for you was one of the great joys of my life.”
“I am sorry my leaving hurt you.” Manon looked down at her son and knew that he could devastate her in the same way she’d wounded Nicole when she returned to the Huron.
“It’s all over now. Just promise that you’ll not leave for so long again. Having the four of you back here this winter has been wonderful.”
“I’m glad to brighten the short days for you.” Manon gripped Nicole’s hand briefly and released it. “Did Alexandre tell you of the talk we had?”
“Only that the two of you had mended some fences, so to speak.”
“We did. I’ve been unfair to him for a long while. He’s a good man.” Manon took Nicole’s hands in her own.
“That he is,” Nicole agreed. “Though he could have been warmer to you.”
“He was honest with me. While I may not have understood that as a child, as a woman I know the value of it.”
“I’m glad the two of you were able to talk things through,” Nicole said, discreetly dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief.
“As am I.” Manon now as a wife and mother imagined how pained Nicole must have been at the tension between her husband and the girl she loved. “I just wish my being here hadn’t caused you difficulty. It doesn’t seem right that your kindness to me should have been rewarded with contempt from others.”
“Perhaps not, but don’t think it mattered to me in the least. No one would have been openly rude to our faces, not with Alexandre’s position. I can’t pretend I didn’t see the cold looks and callous stares, but they meant nothing to me compared to you. It only hurt to see how it made you feel unwelcome.”
“I underestimated you, Maman,” Manon said, wiping her cheek with her sleeve, not caring that the gesture was unladylike.
“It’s been too long since you called me that.” Nicole abandoned any pretense of decorum and wrapped her arms around Manon and the sleeping infant.
“Yes, it has.”
CHAPTER 33
Claudine
December 1679
“May I please help with the decorations at least?” Claudine pouted from the settee where she rested, her aching feet elevated and a cold compress against her throbbing forehead. She felt miserable, but hated to be left out of things, no matter how her back and everything else troubled her. Laurent and Nanny Simon, along with the Deschamps, Nicole, Gabrielle, and Manon, took to ensuring that every corner of the house was prepared for Christmas and the New Year, not to mention the arrival of Baby Robichaux at the end of the following month. Though the child wasn’t expected for another six weeks, Laurent insisted that every safeguard be in place. Dr. Guérin could not be persuaded to attend the birth for any sum of money, however, claiming he was no common midwife. Manon and Nicole promised to attend until babe and mother were fully recovered, with Gabrielle supporting their efforts, as her work would allow.
“Rest, my love,” Laurent said, following Nanny Simon’s orders on how to arrange the evergreens on the mantelpiece.
“Here, string the cranberries onto the thread to drape over the greens.” Manon handed her the bowl of red berries, a spool of thick beige thread, and a needle large enough for tapestry work.
“She really ought to rest,” Laurent objected.
“I think it best she have some sort of occupation, my dear Monsieur Robichaux. If I know her well, and I believe I do, she’ll run mad without one,” Manon reasoned.
“Very well, but you must stop immediately if you feel overtired.” Laurent eyed the bowl of berries with disdain.
“Of course, darling.” Claudine tossed aside the compress from her head and began the task. It was a little better than sitting idle, but not much.
Thomas offered his daughter a sympathetic grunt from his chair. His heart was stronger, but he’d never be able to work as he had before. Despite the protestations from the family, he considered himself a useless husk of a man now. He didn’t have to say it; it was etched in the deep lines on his face.
“How pleasant it is to have all my chicks under one roof,” Bernadette said, knitting needles flying as she spoke. Claudine saw a flash of pain in her mother’s eyes. Two of her chicks were still in France, both well and with growing families of their own as of the last letter they’d had six months before. And there was the little chick that would never join them for a Christmas meal again.
How I miss you, Emmanuelle. Wish you could be here to help me welcome my baby to the world. How impossible this all is. If you were here, my baby wouldn’t exist. Laurent wouldn’t be mine. How can I wish to have you both when I never could? She looked at her husband and a sharp pang hit her chest. She could imagine a life without his quiet gentleness and sweetness. She could, but it pained her so much she couldn’t bear it for long.
“It is pleasant, isn’t it?” Nicole said as she readjusted all the greenery that Laurent had set out. “Just imagine how much more we could see of one another if you were in town?”
“Enough of that. Not today,” Thomas barked from his chair.
“But, Papa—” Nicole began.
“Papa is right, Nicole,” Claudine interrupted. “It’s the season of good cheer after all.”
The subject of moving the Deschamps into town to live with Nicole or Claudine had been broached several times, and each time Thomas refused to leave the land and make way for new tenants. Claudine would have welcomed them to her home with an open heart, but knew within herself that it would be the beginning of the end for her father.
“At least one of my children knows how to listen to her father. Though heaven knows I never thought I’d be saying it of Claudine.” Thomas spoke in nearly a growl, but his lips softened to a smile as his remark was met with a gale of laughter from the room.
“Thank you ever so much, Papa.” Claudine shot him a wry look as she balanced the bowl of cranberries on her crowded lap.
“Well, so far as I’ve stuck my foot in it, I’ll keep going. I thought Robichaux was in for a time of it when he married you, my girl. But you grew into a lady rather than a shrew. And I had more than a few doubts on that score.”
Laurent bent and kissed his wife on her forehead. “Thank heaven indeed, but I don’t think she cast aside all traces of her shrewishness. She kept just enough to make her beguiling.”
“And allowing for my newfound sweet and obedient nature, I’m going to ask Manon to reclaim the cranberries so I can lie down for
a while.”
As soon as the words had escaped her lips, Laurent took the bowl, passed them into the nearest hands that reached out for them, and helped Claudine to her feet.
She looked up at her husband but could not focus on his features. She gripped his arms as she felt the darkness crush down upon her.
* * *
Light shone through the polished glass of the windowpane as Claudine struggled to open her eyes. The lids felt glued to one another and left a sticky film over her eyes. She blinked a dozen times or more before the room came into focus.
“Thank God!” Laurent cried, bounding to her side from his chair by the fire. His usually swarthy complexion was white as bleached linens, excepting the black circles under his eyes. Things haven’t gone well.
“Th-the baby?” Claudine tried to sit, but Laurent eased her back on her pillow.
“Our daughter is well, my love. She’s cooing happily in Nanny’s arms and has bewitched the house with her charms already. She is most assuredly your daughter, my darling.”
“I want to see her—please.”
“Of course.” Laurent called out a flurry of orders to the staff that must have been camping in shifts waiting for orders from the master.
She looked down, distressed to find that her bulging stomach had not disappeared. Lessened, but still considerable.
“Dr. Guérin says that many women look as though they’re expecting still for a few weeks. He says it’s nothing to worry about.”
“He came? What in Christendom did you do to persuade him?”
“I went to his home myself and threatened to beat him with my own horsewhip if he refused to get his lazy arse out of bed. Worse, I promised to ensure he’d never see another paying patient again under penalty of the gallows if he didn’t attend you.”
“Good for you.” Claudine kissed his hand. “I would have liked to have seen that. You show your anger so rarely.”
“You’d prefer I rage at you, my beloved? I don’t think I have that in me.”
“Perhaps not. But I wouldn’t mind seeing you rage at others when they’re deserving. It might be amusing.” Claudine offered her husband a fatigued chuckle, but no mirth shone in his eyes.
“I’ll make sure you have a good view the next time, my love. In truth, I ought to rage at you for the fright you gave me.”
“I’m sorry for that, dearest one. How did I manage to bring forth a baby when I was blacked out?”
“You weren’t blacked out for the entire time. You had moments of lucidity. You wouldn’t let me leave you.” Laurent’s face blanched as he recalled his daughter’s entry to the world.
“I’m sorry I don’t remember her birth at all.” Claudine gripped his hand, though she hadn’t the strength to hold it for long.
“And I’m sorry to remember it so clearly. You seemed to be in agony and there was nothing I could do for you.”
“You did precisely the right thing by staying at my side. Many men wouldn’t have the stomach for it. I’m proud of you.” She smiled up at her husband. You really are remarkable. How could I have ever thought you a stolid old man?
“Anything for you, my angel.” Laurent bent down and kissed her mouth. She felt a tingle of desire—a mild one—despite her exhaustion and discomfort. Perhaps I will be myself again. Thank heaven for that.
“I believe you would like to meet your daughter.” Manon stood at the doorway, a bundle swaddled carefully in her arms.
“More than anything.” Claudine opened her arms and took the sleeping infant against her bosom.
“She’s a sweet thing,” Gabrielle said from behind Manon, a small pang of regret—perhaps even good-natured jealousy—sounding in her voice. “I ought to go tell Nicole and your mother you’re up and well. They retired for some sleep not two hours ago, but I promised faithfully that I would fetch them when you stirred.” When or if? As Gabrielle exited the room, Claudine had to wonder how close her brush with mortality was. Laurent still seemed to shake, but he was, understandably, sensitive to the dangers of childbirth.
“Thank you for taking care of her for me, my dear girls. Truly. I wouldn’t entrust her to anyone else.”
“Our pleasure,” Manon said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had to nurse her myself. The wet nurse couldn’t make it for the snow. It seems your little one brought a squall with her.”
“She had to make an entrance, didn’t she?” Claudine said with a wink. She peered down at the face, Laurent’s proud nose, her grandmother’s wise brow, and her own stubborn chin. She felt a cascade of warmth pour over her. You are the reason I was born, my precious girl. She kissed the downy skin of her forehead and traced her soft cheek with her finger.
“She’s perfect,” Claudine declared to her husband. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Indeed she is, my darling. What should we call her?”
“I was thinking Marie-Emmanuelle . . . for my sister. Unless you think it would be too hard for you. Marielle for short.”
“No, my beloved. She would have wanted to be remembered. I think it’s a lovely tribute.”
“As do I,” Manon agreed.
“I don’t want to cut your first embraces short, but it might be best if you give our little Marielle back to Manon so you can get more rest.” Laurent kissed her brow softly.
“I think you might be right.” Claudine placed a few more kisses on her daughter’s cheeks and passed her back to Manon’s capable arms.
“Are you unwell, my dear?” Laurent’s brow crinkled again as he pushed a tendril of hair from her forehead.
“Something doesn’t feel right at all,” Claudine admitted. Just then, she felt her midsection contract, shooting pain through her already exhausted body.
Manon shouted for a maid and passed the baby off with orders to return her to Nanny Simon. She crossed over to Claudine and felt her hardening abdomen.
“Another child.” Manon didn’t look up. “That fool Guérin thought this much swelling was normal? I should have ignored his orders and stayed in the room.”
“I’ll have his head,” Laurent growled. He returned to the door and barked for someone to fetch the doctor back, by the scruff of his neck like an unruly dog if needed.
“He won’t be here in time,” Manon predicted. “This little one will be here much quicker than his sister.”
“Thank God,” Claudine gasped. She followed Manon’s orders, gripping a bedsheet and pushing with what little strength she had left. At least I may remember bringing this little one into the world.
“Another girl,” Manon declared after a few more pushes. Claudine heard soft cries a moment later and felt her body sag in relief.
“She’s so tiny,” Claudine spoke, but her words slurred.
“Her sister took her fair share of the nourishment and gave this little one the scraps. But don’t fret. She’ll be just fine.”
“Is there something wrong with her foot?” Laurent asked.
“Nothing that will have any lasting impact on her health,” Manon snapped, her eyes glaring at the new father. She passed the baby off to Nanny Simon, who had appeared when the news reached her of a second impending birth.
“What’s wrong?” Claudine asked. No one answered. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s mumbling something. I can’t understand her.” Laurent was looking in Manon’s direction, not her own.
“She’s bleeding. Badly.”
“God, not again.” Not what again?
“What’s wrong?” Claudine asked more insistently.
Why can’t they hear me?
CHAPTER 34
Gabrielle
January 1680
Gabrielle looked over the cradles where Claudine’s twin daughters, little Marielle and the even smaller Benjamine, lie swaddled. Marielle slept peacefully, while Benjamine examined the room with her inquisitive blue eyes that already showed signs of darkening to her mother’s rich shade of brown. It will be something of her to live on, even if she could not. She relished he
r visits to the girls, sparing extra affection for little Benjamine. She was curious and lively already. Her small stature and bent foot would be a challenge for her in life, but Gabrielle hoped extra caresses in her infancy might help prepare her for the hardships ahead.
Gabrielle wiped an errant tear from her cheek and bid Nanny Simon farewell. The old woman, the most devout caretaker in all of New France, still looked gaunt and sober-faced since her mistress’s passing. The hours that Claudine had spent mothering Zacharie when he was motherless had endeared Claudine to the kindly woman, who felt there was no calling greater than the care of children after her own were grown and established in the world.
She walked slowly back to her shop, despite the January frost. The solitude, once welcome, had become oppressive. For the first time in her memory, she felt a pang of longing in her breast at the sight of babies and small children. She had loved Gilbertine because she was hers, but never before had she wanted a family for its own sake. She’d eaten more frequently at the Beaumonts’ of late, and while Elisabeth delighted in her presence, Gabrielle had no wish to cast her sadness over the family that night. It was one of the days where the loss of Claudine—the injustice of it—stung too much for her to endure company.
Back in her shop, she cast aside her cloak and gloves to dry on the rack next to the fire. She stood before the hearth, adding a log and stirring it with the metal poker before lingering to warm her chilled fingers. She heard the muffled sound of crunching snow beneath winter boots in front of her window. She turned back and saw two women, seemingly well dressed from the look of their cloaks. Gabrielle offered them a smile and a friendly wave, though neither came from her heart.
They appeared to whisper to each other, and neither returned Gabrielle’s overtures of kindness. They walked past the store, one glancing back and casting a look of disdain in Gabrielle’s direction. So you were friends with Annette Savard, then. Have a nice day.
Duty to the Crown Page 34