The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  Guy set his concerns aside, smiled down at his mother, and escorted her along the companionway, ready to take her to the galley, but she put out her hand to stop him.

  “Let’s walk outside for a few minutes,” Aline said. “I could use some air.”

  Leading his mother up to the stern deck, deserted at this time of day, Guy took a deep cleansing breath.

  “This was an excellent idea, Maman. Brisk, clean, sea air helps a person think.”

  Below them, on the weather deck, one man pulled buckets full of water from the ocean and threw them onto the flooring, while another squatted and scrubbed the deck with a large stone. Above them, others scampered monkey-like in the rigging adjusting sails to suit the first mate’s orders shouted up from below.

  “It’s an interesting way to clean a floor,” Aline noted, watching the sailors at work. “Perhaps I should try it on my kitchen table. It would do a much better job of cleaning than a rag and soap.” She turned to Guy. “You’re still in love with her. I can see it written on your face each time you look at her. What are you going to do about it?”

  There was no point prevaricating. Somehow his mother had known what he was thinking and feeling almost all of his life. He huffed out a breath.

  “Truthfully, I don’t know, but I hope my feelings aren’t as obvious to others as they are to you.” He leaned against the railing, his hands laced in front of him. “I never expected to see her again.”

  “Your secret is safe, but a mother knows. You could marry her,” she said, her head cocked to the left, her brow furrowed slightly. “At the moment, she sees you as a hero, a savior, but with a little encouragement, her gratitude could turn to love. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “More than you can imagine,” Guy admitted. “She’s always been my sun, my moon, and my stars, the light of my world. When we were children, I used to watch her play. Her laughter would fill my heart. I didn’t dare speak to her because I was too shy and too far beneath her. When Pierre and I went to Lyons for school, I told myself I’d be able to forget her, but she haunted my nights. When I heard she’d married Pierre, I got so drunk it took two of my strongest men to put me to bed, and still she walked through my mind.”

  His mother reached up and touched his shoulder.

  “And now, you feel loving her dishonors him?”

  He nodded, the truth eating a hole in his empty stomach.

  “When Pierre showed up in New France without her, I couldn’t understand how he could leave her behind, but he really hadn’t. Every time he spoke of her was like pouring vinegar on an open sore, but I thirsted for knowledge, encouraging him to tell me more. She was my secret obsession, my sin because I coveted her, but I never begrudged Pierre for marrying her. He was my friend, and I loved them both. Now, he’s dead, and I’m as deeply besotted with her as ever. Am I being disloyal to Pierre and deceitful to her? She needs my protection, not my lust.” He turned away and stared at the horizon.

  “You’re being much too hard on yourself, my son. Your emotions are far deeper than mere lust. Instead of looking at why this is wrong, see why it is right. Life is a series of challenges, opportunities, and disappointments. God has given you a second chance with Izzy. To use one of your military terms, He’s levelled the field. We both know she’ll have to marry soon for her own protection. Why not you?” She turned toward the short flight of steps. “Now, I’m ready to see the galley and meet the cook before he sends our midday meal to the cabin and disturbs Izzy. I hope the man will be amenable to sharing his kitchen and workspace.”

  Settling his mother with Monsieur Rigaud, the cook, Guy left the galley in search of something to do with himself. Aboard the ship, his sole responsibility involved training the soldiers, but he would wait until they all had their sea legs to begin.

  After checking on his men and the animals, glad to see that none of them were any worse for the wear, he went to look in on the other male passengers, hoping to find out what the gunsmith had been discussing with the chevalier.

  Instead, he found Father Samuel in his cabin. The elderly man lay on his small cot, as green as green could be. The ship’s physician had provided peppermint tea to ease the man’s discomfort. At the moment, Marc, the cabin boy, spoon-fed the liquid to him.

  Monsieur Giroux, the gunsmith, wasn’t in his cabin. Guy found him on the gun deck inspecting the cannons.

  “I see mal de mer hasn’t affected you, sir,” Guy asked as he approached the man. There was still something familiar about him that he couldn’t place. “How are the guns?”

  “I’ve just begun my inspection, your lordship. I was speaking with the chevalier earlier on the pier—I’d gone to stretch my legs while I could—and he mentioned something that unnerved me. Apparently, there are Barbary pirates in these waters and white women are highly prized by the Ottoman sultans. Considering we carry fifteen women, including your mother—”

  “Sixteen. Her niece by marriage travels with her.”

  “Another one to worry about then. I mentioned my concerns to the captain and offered to inspect the guns. I’ve only just begun, but from what I can see, they’re in excellent condition,” Giroux said, smiling. “These demi-cannons can fire thirty-two-pound solid shots from over three hundred feet away, a blast powerful enough to penetrate more than three feet of solid oak. They can de-mast an enemy ship at close range. Monsieur Martin assures me that the men are well-versed in their use. This ship should be able to give a good accounting of herself if she’s forced to fight.”

  “Let’s hope she won’t have to until she reaches the second stage of her mission. Since France continues to war with Spain and the bulk of our navy is involved there and in the Spanish Netherlands, the only ships that would dare attack us, other than the pirates you mention would be Spanish privateers. With the women aboard, I would prefer not to engage in a naval battle, regardless of the odds.”

  Monsieur Giroux nodded, continuing to examine the firing mechanism on the cannon next to him.

  “Of course. And I suppose we can’t ignore English privateers either. The captain was pleased not to have missed the tide. Do you think the chevalier will find his fiancée? Did you know her well?”

  Guy smiled, hiding his surprise. An interesting question. Why would the gunsmith even suppose that?

  “When we were children, yes. Isabelle was most distraught when I saw her yesterday when she brought her sister to the ship. No doubt she’s returned to the comfort of the abbey for a few days. Her sister was married to my best friend.”

  Giroux looked up. “The traitor Gaudier. The chevalier mentioned it earlier.”

  So that was d’Angrignon’s game. He would discredit Pierre through the colony’s newest citizens. Guy bit his tongue, knowing he couldn’t defend Pierre but needing to say something.

  “It’s a most unfortunate situation, one based on circumstantial evidence, I’m told. The man I knew was honorable. For the sake of his widow, let’s agree not to speak of that tragedy. If you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to another matter.”

  Guy still couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen the gunsmith before, but left him to his inspections, going up to the weather deck to find the captain. D’Angrignon’s words about pirates bothered him. Why would the chevalier have even mentioned that? But it fit with the nagging in his gut over the other things the man had said.

  “Captain, if I could have a moment?” Guy asked, stepping over to stand near the wheel.

  “Of course, my lord. What can I do for you?”

  “I understand there have been pirates in the area,” he began. “Since we were more than three hours late sailing, how will that affect us?”

  Captain Étier frowned and handed the wheel to the man at his side, motioning for Guy to follow him over to the gunwale on the right of the ship.

  “I didn’t want to worry the ladies or our other passengers but still being so close to shore at nightfall isn’t something I wanted. Monsieur Giroux mentioned that to me, and I’d
heard rumors yesterday ... To that end, I’ve adjusted our course. Since the sky has clouded over, I’m hoping no one will notice, but we’ve been traveling northwest rather than simply west, and it’s my intention to skirt English territorial waters as long as we can. Neither the Spanish privateers nor the pirates will attack that far north, and despite what the man believes, I know the English won’t bother us.”

  Guy nodded. “A wise decision, sir. I was hoping you would consider doing something like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the sergeant.” He indicated the twenty men on the deck below them performing musket drills.

  “Very well. I need to meet with my officers, too. I’ll double the watch for the next few days. This ship is too valuable to fall into enemy hands as is its cargo.”

  Guy descended the stairs to the deck, pleased the captain was as conscientious as he was.

  “Sergeant, are these the men who’ll be remaining in New France?” he asked once he was close enough to be heard.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “While it’s my intention to work with all the men, with your permission, I thought I might spend additional time talking to these men about fighting with the natives, maybe giving them pointers on hand-to-hand combat. It’s not at all like the art of war they’ve been trained for. Knowing what to expect may keep them alive.” His hand went up to his scar.

  The sergeant frowned and scratched his head.

  “I’ll be remaining in the colony at the fishing port of Saint Pierre. What’s so different? Will the Dutch to the south attack?”

  Guy nodded. “It’s possible, but the Dutch won’t be the ones to worry about. Regardless of nationality, all the colonials have natives fighting with them. While Micmac are more common on the coast, they, like the Mohawk, prefer close quarter combat. Although some of them have been armed with muskets, most still prefer war tomahawks—a type of hatchet—and knives. The braves are so attuned with nature, they can travel the forest and leave no sign of their passing. Ambush is their specialty. I could teach your men to defend themselves against such attacks. Learning some basic words in their language might help, too.”

  “I would appreciate that, sir. I hope to leave the army and settle in the colony one day.”

  “Very well. We can start this afternoon. Tell the men to come up to the deck wearing only their britches and boots. Most of the braves fight wearing even less than that. I’ll leave you to your drill.”

  Guy smiled. This was exactly what he needed to stay busy.

  Returning to the galley, he found his mother still discussing matters with the ship’s cook. Doctor Sirois, the ship’s physician, sat at the table making notes and drinking a cup of spiced wine. Guy joined him.

  “Good day, doctor. I looked in on Father Samuel earlier. The man seems to be having a rough go of it. Is this his first crossing?”

  “My lord. It is. The priest is elderly and by far the worse one, but we have three women and half a dozen soldiers sick, too.” The doctor shook his head. “If they’re sick now, with seas as calm as these, they’ll suffer badly in the rougher waters we’ll see before we make port. If they don’t get their sea legs, some may not survive the voyage. It isn’t uncommon. On crowded ships, the captain often loses more than 10 percent of his passengers.”

  Guy frowned. His mother, Isabelle, and Sophie seemed fine, and he hoped everyone would survive. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news when they landed.

  Excusing himself once more, he noted the slightly rougher seas and went back to check on the animals. The stallion was restless, but one of his engagés was brushing the animal, trying to calm his fears. Guy left him to it.

  With nothing else to do, Guy returned to his cabin. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to check on her. The connecting door, a structural alteration he’d requested for this trip, stood ajar. He walked to the doorway and looked into the room.

  Isabelle lay on the bed facing him. He could tell from her even breathing she was asleep. How lovely and innocent she looked. He was growing accustomed to her altered façade, and found it pleased him as much as her usual appearance did. He closed the door to give her privacy and walked over to the porthole.

  As he crossed the room, he noted the bed had been made, his clothes put away, and the chamber pot emptied. Guy had offered the cabin boy twenty-five écus to do that job for both himself and his mother, and the boy had jumped at it. It wasn’t much, but if he could spare his mother the trip to the beakhead, it was worth it.

  The thought of Isabelle having to do such work disturbed him. He didn’t doubt for a second she could do it, he simply didn’t feel she should have to, but poor farmer’s daughter was part of her disguise, and there was nothing he could do about that, unless he married her.

  Was his mother right? Was this his second chance at winning Isabelle’s love? Was it fair to take advantage of her gratitude? He hated himself for the thought, but he selfishly wanted her to give him freely the love she had given Pierre. He knew, from the kiss they’d shared, there was passion between them, and while his lust wasn’t something he prided himself on, he could build on it. Physical attraction and gratitude would do. His mother was right; whether he liked the idea or not, the truth was Isabelle would have to marry within a year.

  Could he let another man have her? The very thought made him ill. He had nine weeks—nine weeks to make her realize Pierre was gone forever and make her fall in love with him. He couldn’t lose her again. The chevalier’s shadow rose in his mind. If she were married, she’d be safe, right? But if the chevalier married another and passed her off as Isabelle and then discovered the truth, how long would either of them live? Forewarned was forearmed.

  For the sake of his heart and his soul, he had to woo her and win, but most of all he had to rid her of any association with Isabelle de Caen. He checked the clock-watch he wore around his neck, a gift from Jean Talon, the intendant. It was almost noon. He’d promised to join his mother in the galley. He eased open the connecting door, cringing when it creaked. Isabelle’s eyes flew open, startled by the sound, but she smiled when she saw him. Sitting up, she stretched, and rose from the bed.

  “Have I been asleep long?” she asked. “I’m famished.”

  He smiled at her. Fair or unfair, he had no choice. He would convince Isabelle they had a future together or die trying.

  “A little more than an hour. It just so happens, sleepyhead, I’m on my way to join my mother for the mid-day meal. I stopped by to see how you were doing. If you like, I’d be pleased to escort you to the table.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  Isabelle laughed, the sound filling him with joy.

  “How can I possibly refuse such a gallant request?”

  Guy chuckled in reply, confident he’d made the right decision. He would find a way to bury the truth. He would protect her, help her clear Pierre’s name, and after he’d done so, he would ask her to be his wife. Maman was right. Courtship was a lot like war—you needed good strategy and a sound battle plan.

  Chapter Twelve

  After six weeks at sea, most of the days aboard ship had settled into a routine. In the early morning, rain or shine, the soldiers, often bare-chested and sweat-soaked, drilled out in the open air. While they did, the ladies cleaned their rooms, gathered in the galley for cooking lessons, or in his mother’s room to quilt or sew.

  In the afternoons, while the soldiers studied the maps he’d given them, when the weather was good, like it was today, the brides would do the laundry or sit on the weather deck, engrossed in their own projects. Today, Guy watched some of them knitting, others crocheting, while Isabelle and one of the Ettes—he couldn’t tell Collette, Yvette, or Mariette apart—were embroidering, but none of the women seemed happy.

  More than halfway through the voyage, many of the women were depressed, often giving in to tears or arguing amongst themselves over trivialities. His mother did her best to keep matters under control, but essentially, morale was low and tempers short. While everyo
ne was healthy enough, depression could cause problems on its own.

  Conditions aboard ship had begun to deteriorate as they always did, and the food which had been satisfactory when the voyage began was now less than appealing. The recent bad weather had forced them to consume nothing but worm-laden hardtack and salted beef. All of the fresh fruits and vegetables had been eaten as well as most of the preserves Isabelle had sent to the ship.

  Sophie climbed the stairs and came to stand next to him. The young girl had matured over the last month and took her duty as chaperone seriously.

  “May I speak with you, Guy?”

  “Of course. What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “I’m worried about the women. They need something to distract them. It occurred to me that Izzy, with her new identity, has lost everything, including her birthday. She would’ve turned twenty-five in August, but she can’t claim that date now. I’d like to throw a surprise birthday party for her. She’s become a favorite of all the ladies, and it’s been mentioned to me that, because she came as part of your family, she’s got nothing with which to set up her new home. They would like to share some of their bounty with her. This would give them an excuse and not make it seem like charity. While I know differently, we have to keep up appearances, n’est-ce-pas? What do you think? Could we celebrate Izzy’s twenty-fourth birthday next Saturday? It’ll be June, another cause for celebration since some of them will be within a fortnight of their new homes.”

  “You’ve become very wise, Madame Gaudier,” Guy said, grinning broadly. “It’s a wonderful idea. I’ll speak with the captain. You can tell the ladies, but let’s keep Izzy in the dark. Planning a surprise fête will keep them all occupied and should lift spirits nicely.”

  “Thank you, Guy. I’d better get back before Izzy wonders what I’m doing. She watches you like a hawk.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her words, and she laughed and shook her head before turning and going down the stairs.