The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  * * *

  “Look at that one,” Isabelle cried, indicating the breaching whale. “It’s magnificent.”

  This morning, she and a few women had set aside their mending to watch the antics of a pod of whales. Guy walked over, stood behind her, but didn’t say a word, yet she knew he was there even though he hadn’t touched her. Her body yearned to lean back against his, but she forced herself to remain upright and stiff.

  “Good morning, Guy,” Sophie said, acknowledging him when she didn’t. “Have you come to watch the entertainment? They aren’t dangerous to the ship, are they?”

  “No, we’re quite safe at this distance,” he answered. “If we come too close to their calves, they’ll dive down into the depths. As large as they are, they’re gentle creatures. These don’t even have teeth. Instead they filter small creatures through their baleen. The smaller black and white ones we saw yesterday are far more dangerous. Those are the wolves of the ocean, attacking as a pack, crippling their victim, and then moving in for the kill.”

  Isabelle shivered. Wolves and killer whales weren’t the only predators who attacked by cornering their victims.

  Once the whales were out of sight, the ladies returned to their mending. Instead of sitting, Isabelle followed Guy up to the stern deck. She needed to make peace with him, if only for the sake of Pierre. They would land in Saint Pierre tomorrow and time was running out.

  Guy turned to look at her, a smile blooming on his face.

  “Did you need something, Izzy?” he asked.

  You!

  Isabelle’s cheeks burned, and she chewed her lip, gazing fixedly at her feet.

  “Guy, about what happened the other night—”

  “Stop, Izzy, please.” He reached for her hands. “If you’re going to apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for. What happened was entirely my fault, and I truly regret my behavior. If I could, I would blame my boorish manners on night magic or the wine, but I’m responsible for my actions and I deeply regret them.” He smiled sadly. “I’ve missed you and our time together.”

  “I’ve missed that, too,” she admitted, warmth seeping into her cold heart again. “Can we forget it ever happened? Your friendship is important to me, and I’ll need it more than ever when we arrive in Ville-Marie.”

  Regret flashed across his face, but it was gone so quickly she assumed she’d imagined it.

  “Of course, we can,” he answered. “As you know, tomorrow we sail into Saint Pierre where Father Samuel, twenty soldiers, and the ‘Ettes’ leave us. We’ll most likely be in port three or four days taking on water and fresh provisions. It’ll be good to eat soft bread again instead of stale, wormy hardtack.”

  Isabelle laughed for the first time in days.

  “Henri says the worms are a treat, fresh meat, but I agree. I can barely swallow it, and then, only after I’ve assured myself the piece is relatively worm-free.”

  Guy frowned, his eyes sad, his mouth turned down.

  “Life has been so unkind to you. You’ve lost everything, and yet you laugh about it.”

  “I laugh because I’ve cried too many tears, and there’s nothing to be done to change what’s happened. But you’re wrong. I haven’t lost everything. In many ways, I’ve found more than I could ever hope for. Once I’ve cleared Pierre’s name, I’ll look to the future. We both know I can’t return to France. My life will be here, in New France, and I intend to succeed at it. Like Sophie and the others, I’ll marry and make the best life I can for myself with friends such as you and your mother, the other women, and Murielle if she can ever find her way here. I’ll be content.”

  Guy nodded. “Tonight, we have matters to discuss we can’t avoid any longer,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You aren’t alone in your search for the truth. I’ve got powerful friends in the colony who’ll be devastated by what happened. He was my friend, too. I loved him like a brother. It’s my duty to help you, to protect you, and to clear his name.”

  Isabelle nodded, the pain of his words twisting knife-like in her stomach. That’s all she was to him—a duty, a debt owed to a dead man—and her errant heart would do well to remember it.

  “I need to go below and help your mother,” she said. “There’s going to be a storm, and it’ll be a bad one. The air’s been heavy for days now. As long as it’s just wind and rain again, I’ll be fine. We can meet in your cabin later this evening.”

  “You could be right about the weather. The wind has picked up, and yet brings no relief. I promised Sergeant Leblanc. I would help the men with their cannon drill. These soldiers should be a great help to Governor Denys. Nicolas and I are old friends. I’ll see you tonight. Adieu.”

  Guy tuned toward the steps, and Isabelle’s gaze followed him off the deck. He might only see her as a responsibility now, but perhaps, in time, after Pierre’s name was cleared, that could change. For now, she would focus on the task at hand.

  By late afternoon, the skies had darkened to pitch. The winds were almost gale force and Isabelle shivered. As much as she hated to admit it, lightening and thunder storms paralyzed her. Tonight, amidst the distant rumbles, the ship bobbed on the water like a child’s toy boat. All she could do was pray it wouldn’t get worse.

  As they neared the coast, additional watches were set, the men strapping themselves to the masts or the ship’s wheel. None of the ladies were allowed on the open decks, and for those who hadn’t taken to their beds, the first mate had brought hardtack and cold chicken broth.

  Isabelle was convinced there was something else going on, as if the captain anticipated something other than the storm and icebergs since the men watched both behind the vessel and ahead of it. Father Samuel was in the grips of nausea and even Aline had succumbed this time, although she, Guy, and Sophie were fine. Sophie tended to the women in the forecastle and Henri had brought Aline a warm drink he promised would help her.

  Isabelle was positive the two were courting, but until Aline said something, she would mind her own business. Within minutes of drinking the draught Henri had given her, Aline had dropped off to sleep.

  Isabelle knocked on the connecting door and entered at guy’s request. She left the door ajar in case Aline called for her.

  Darkness had fallen early tonight, and Guy had lit the lamp above the table.

  “How’s Maman?” he asked, handing her a wine-filled pewter goblet.

  “She’s asleep. Whatever Henri gave her seems to have settled her nicely. He should offer some to everyone.”

  “I believe he has. The cabin boy went off with a kettle of steaming liquid a little while ago.”

  Thunder roared, and the ship creaked as it pitched, slamming Isabelle into the edge of the table.

  “Sit before you fall,” Guy said, reaching to steady her. “The chairs are anchored to the floor. I saw to it myself earlier. While it’s so noisy, let’s take advantage of the din to go over what we already know of Pierre’s death. I have a few ideas to share afterwards.”

  Isabelle reiterated everything she knew, including the contents of Papa’s letter she’d memorized before burning it.

  Guy sat across from her. He rubbed his chin.

  “I was able to confirm most of that when I was in Paris a few days before we sailed. Anyone directly involved in the altercation is missing, and the tavern where it’s supposed to have happened doesn’t exist. There are shopkeepers in the building who’ve been there for some time. It’s all very suspicious to me. I tried to speak with the president of the French West India Company, but apparently, the entire board was out of town. The man is a close associate of the Chevalier d’Angrignon and your brother-in-law. I agree Pierre had to have been murdered but still it makes no sense. Did he say anything unusual to you?”

  “No. We didn’t have much time alone, even though he was home six weeks. He described the land, some of the people in Ville-Marie and the strange animals, but nothing he told me was worth killing him for.” Isabelle sighed deeply. “He loved it there. Wheneve
r he talked about it, his eyes lit up just as yours do.” She looked down at her wine. “Do you realize although we were married three years, we spent less than two months living as man and wife? Most of my memories of him are those from our childhood.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I can’t recall his face any more, but I still owe him his name.”

  Guy reached across the table and took her hand in his.

  “Izzy, you mustn’t torture yourself like this. Pierre wouldn’t want you to. Maybe we need to look at this with fresh eyes. Did Pierre have any enemies in France itself? Who stood to gain from his death?”

  “No one that I can think of. He had friends, but everyone liked him, and as for benefitting from his death—my widowhood allowed the chevalier to ask the king for my hand in marriage, but that’s it, and as far as the treason goes, I can’t see how even he gains there.”

  Guy continued to hold her hand, his thumb massaging the back of it.

  “I’ve had ample time to think on the voyage, and I’ve begun to put things together in ways I hadn’t considered before. There have been problems in the colony—none that have to do directly with Pierre—but things could all be related somehow. I didn’t want to speak of it earlier because I don’t want to frighten Sophie and the others.

  “Last spring, we’d heard rumors of renegades, braves who refused to follow their chiefs, who’d returned to the area and were raiding isolated farms as well as the villages belonging to our native allies. Pierre was supposed to lead the patrol, but Talon called him back and so he joined us a day or so later. I took the lead. We’d set out to resupply Fort Saint Anne on the Richelieu River when we were caught by surprise.” His face darkened at the memory. “I was badly injured and didn’t get a good look at our attackers.” His fingers traced the scar on his face. “Because of my injuries, I stayed at the fort, but Pierre went after them. When he returned, he came to see me, but I was in and out of fever, and don’t remember.”

  Isabelle nodded, but her heart skipped a beat. Pierre should’ve led that patrol. Instead, Guy had, and he could’ve died from his injury.

  “Pierre left me since I couldn’t be moved and went to Quebec to see de Courcelle and Jean Talon. By the time I returned to Ville-Marie, he’d left for France with instructions that I join him as soon as I could and bring the trunk I gave you with me. I went to see de Courcelle and Talon before I left, but neither man would discuss the matter with me. They simply asked me to wait until I saw Pierre to allow him to explain it himself. In the meantime, I was to keep my eyes and ears open. Now that Pierre’s dead, they’ll have to tell me the truth.”

  Isabelle sipped her wine. “That trunk you brought me ... There were documents at the bottom of it. They’re in a language I couldn’t decipher.”

  “What did you do with them?” he asked. His thumb stopped moving, and he released her hand.

  “I brought them with me. They’re in Sophie’s trunk in the hold. I smuggled some of my things aboard with hers before we left Caen. I’ll show them to you as soon as I unpack. Maybe you’ll recognize the language. If Pierre asked you to bring the trunk to him, they must be important.”

  Guy nodded. “They must be at that.”

  Isabelle stared into her wine glass. She’d lost Papa and Pierre. How would she ever survive losing Guy, too?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Guy lifted his goblet to his lips. If Isabelle couldn’t understand the language in the papers, it was possible they could be in Mohawk or in a code he and Pierre had developed years ago for battlefield communication. Either way, they couldn’t be relevant to the charges of treason because Pierre had known Guy’s ship would be months behind his. De Courcelle would’ve insisted he bring all pertinent information with him. This made no more sense than anything else did.

  “I wonder if we should go and find them now,” he mused. “It would be difficult since Sophie’s things were among the first ones loaded, but not impossible.” He shook his head. “If we put the charge of treason aside for a minute, other than d’Angrignon, is there anyone else who would’ve wanted Pierre dead? Any enemies? I know you think he was well-liked, but few men can say they have no enemies.”

  “I can’t think of anyone,” she answered, her brow furrowed. “Pierre spent less than two months in France these past three years, and when he did, he spent as much of that time as he could with his mother and me.”

  He finished his wine and rose to refill his cup, offering her some as well. The storm continued to pitch the ship making walking difficult. He settled in the chair once more.

  “There’s one person I believe would’ve been happy to see Pierre dead,” he continued. “His brother, the viscount.”

  Isabelle’s head jerked up, her eyes growing large, and her mouth gaping open.

  “You can’t be serious. Pierre wasn’t a threat to Cedric. He was his half-brother, the second son, without any claim to the property as long as Cedric lived, and even then, Cedric would have to die without issue for Pierre to get anything. My brother-in-law may be unmarried, but he’s healthy and only five years older than Pierre. He has lots of time to build a family of his own.”

  “But, Izzy, jealousy is a powerful motive,” Guy said, wishing he could take her hand again. “Cedric has always envied his brother and the affection lavished on him by his father, his step-mother, and you. Cedric resented his step-mother, and when Pierre was born, that resentment turned to anger and envy. As a child, Cedric always wanted whatever Pierre had been given, no matter what it was. Did you know he used to watch you secretly when you visited the château?”

  She shuddered, her lips narrowing in distaste.

  “He never said anything although I did see more of him after you and Pierre went away to school. He was like a brother to me.” She paused and rubbed her temples. “Cedric did seem to spend quite a lot of time at the country house where I stayed with his mother after Pierre was called before the king. He came to see me at the abbey to express his condolences. I just thought he was being kind. No matter what you say, I can’t see him murdering his own brother.”

  “Half-brother,” Guy reminded her. “But you’re right. Murder isn’t Cedric’s way, but having his brother sent to the colony where he might be killed by someone else is a plan devious enough for him. I wondered why Pierre was sent to New France so soon after your marriage. Cedric couldn’t influence the king to change his brother’s orders, but the chevalier could. Many men died fighting the Mohawk. Had Pierre led that last scouting detail, he could well have died. It was a miracle I didn’t. If the chevalier’s ultimate plan was to marry you, all he had to do was bide his time—maybe he was growing impatient. Both Cedric and the chevalier have a large stake in the French West India Company.”

  “Papa was a shareholder, too, now Solange is, as is the king, but what does the company have to do with this?”

  “The charges against Pierre may actually stem from there. Many members of the company are unhappy with Colbert and with Louis’s colonial policy. Part of the company’s charter requires them to assist in populating the colony but settling farmers and their families cuts into the lucrative profits they used to see when the trappers could move through the land freely, especially when their furs are confiscated for trapping illegally or taxed so heavily there’s no profit to be had. Many of the men who were shareholders in the Company of One Hundred Associates and are now members of the French West India Company are loud in their opposition to Louis’s restrictions on exploration. What if the chevalier’s goal wasn’t to marry you to advance any children to the throne, but to get Louis indebted to him enough to convince him to change his colonial policy? Rich enough, with that kind of sway over the king, d’Angrignon just might succeed, and if there was a possibility there could be war with the Mohawk again, a war that would decimate the colony now that the regiment has been recalled ... Let me get my map to show you.”

  He hurried over to his desk and began rummaging through the papers.

  “There’s a map in Pierre�
�s things, too. Is that what you were looking for the night before we set sail?” Isabelle asked. “I was under the bed when you came in, just before the cabin boy did.”

  Guy stopped and turned to look at her. He hadn’t been back to his cabin that night after he’d put his mother to bed.

  “Are you saying someone came in and searched my desk that evening?” he asked, his voice low and measured.

  “Not just your desk. You opened the armoire, the trunks...” Her eyes grew large once more, and her hand went to her mouth as the truth dawned on her. “It wasn’t you, was it?”

  Guy shook his head.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he confirmed, his gut on fire. “You’re sure it was a man?”

  “Yes, the footfalls were heavy.” She stood and hurried over to him. “I’m so sorry, Guy. With all the excitement ... I should’ve mentioned it sooner, but it wasn’t until I heard the sound of your papers that I remembered.”

  “Don’t fret, Izzy. It looks like we may have a spy aboard, but there was nothing here for him to find. However, I think we need to be extra careful and hope these walls, like your step-mother’s lodge, don’t have ears.”

  She nodded, but there was no way she could hide the fear in her eyes.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, he pulled her into his arms, settling his chin on the top of her head.

  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  And he wouldn’t, but he would sorely like to know who had searched his cabin.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, the soldiers and passengers positioned themselves at the gunwale to get their first glimpse of the New World. The sun was still low on the horizon, but the day promised to be a good one even if it was chilly this morning. Spring temperatures rose and fell quickly in New France. He, Izzy, Sophie, and Aline had opted to stand on the stern deck. After almost eight weeks at sea, the sight of land was welcome, and with spirits high, everyone looked forward to stepping ashore.