The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  As Guy had arranged, the carriage Pierre had purchased awaited them at the road beside the dock. Since by now it was almost noon, Guy suggested they eat before going to the house. While he’d requested it be stocked with basic provisions, he thought it best they all get to work on a full stomach.

  He had an ulterior motive for going to this particular inn. The innkeeper, an old friend, was an excellent source of information about the comings and goings in the settlement. He wanted to ask her about the gunsmith and his wife’s comments among other things, and since Giroux’s in-laws were apparently staying there, she would have first-hand information. Guy led them to the small inn on Rue Saint Denis.

  Les Trois Moines catered to the town’s bourgeois, as well as her new aristocrats, merchants, and craftsmen. As usual, the inn was busy at this time of the day, but the innkeeper, a buxom woman in her early thirties, was able to find the five of them a table in a quiet corner.

  “It’s nice to see you again, lieutenant, I mean, my lord,” she said. “We’ve missed you.” She nodded towards the young girl serving beer to a table full of merchants. “Today, I can provide a nice venison stew with bread and butter for three écus. I can throw in a mug of beer for you gentlemen and a nice mint tea for the ladies; if you want wine, it will cost another écus.”

  “Merci, Marie,” Guy said and smiled. “Since this is a celebration, wine will do nicely.”

  When the claret had been served, Guy lifted his goblet for a toast.

  “Welcome home.” He raised his goblet to his mouth and drank deeply.

  “Home,” they replied in unison.

  As Guy knew it would be, the food was superb, easily as good if not better than what they’d eaten in Trois Rivières. While the others finished their meal, he approached Marie Lenneau. The woman’s first husband had died during the French and Indian War in’66. Her current one, a few years younger than her, was the town’s blacksmith.

  “We met Gerard Giroux’s wife at the docks. It seems her sister and her husband are your guests. What’s happening in the colony, Marie? I’m to see the administrators later today. You know how I hate surprises.”

  She laughed and wiped her hands on the large apron tied around her waist.

  “Especially those with tomahawks attached to them. I see you’ve recovered. Even your limp is barely noticeable. I wish I could tell you all’s well, but unfortunately, there’s been trouble on the north shore, near André Lafontaine’s lands. The man was afraid to stay on his farm, but he’s not the only one. There are few empty rooms available in the settlement.”

  “How many were killed?” he asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned to pour ale into tankards for the serving girl.

  “I’ve heard one, but more are missing. Farms burned, animals scattered. They say it was a band of renegades, but so far, no one can find them. They followed a well-marked trail down the Richelieu, but then it vanished.” She made a face indicating her disgust and displeasure. “Dupuis has promised to send the militia, but people are afraid. The inns are bursting with women and children whose husbands have sent them within the walls for protection. Speaking of women, I see you brought some of your own.”

  “Yes, my mother, my fiancée, and Pierre Gaudier’s widow. He died in France.”

  “Poor thing. I liked Pierre. He was a fine man. Ah well, my niece will be disappointed. She thought to marry you herself in a year or so.”

  Guy’s eyes opened wide.

  “I promised no such thing.”

  Marie laughed.

  “Of course you didn’t, but a girl can dream. Now maybe she’ll pay attention to the young sergeant who’s been asking for her hand.”

  “I have another question. Gerard Giroux, the gunsmith. Do you know him?”

  “That scoundrel? The man has no honor, although his brother-in-law isn’t that much better. He pays for his room upfront, or he doesn’t stay here. If he wants charity, he can go and see the nuns. If I hadn’t given Giroux’s wife and children food last winter while he was in France, they would’ve starved. He’s an excellent gunsmith, but a lousy human being. Even when he’s here, he treats his wife like dirt, and Lafontaine turns a blind eye to it. Lucille’s a kind-hearted soul. He doesn’t deserve her, or those fine sons she bore him.”

  “Merci, Marie. I’ll take up the matter of the renegades with Dupuis and the Sulpicians when I see them later today or tomorrow. It makes no sense—a well-marked trail? Even one that vanishes? I’ll look into this. For New France to prosper, the colonists need to feel safe outside, as well as inside, the settlement.”

  “It’s good to have you back, my lord.”

  “It’s good to be back.”

  Guy returned to the table and after many thanks and compliments for Marie, the group set off once more for Pierre’s house.

  “This can’t possibly be mine,” Sophie said when the carriage stopped at the end of Rue Saint Gabriel in front of a well-appointed two storey log house with four dormers set into the slanted roof. “It’s huge!”

  Guy looked at her pointedly, silently reminding her that they were on the street where anyone could overhear.

  “You’re Pierre’s widow, Sophie,” he said and looked to see if anyone around them seemed overly interested in their conversation. “This is the home he built for you.”

  He nodded at the neighbours he recognized and wondered about the strangers he noticed milling about on the street. Was he getting paranoid? Not everyone in the settlement could be a traitor.

  He helped the ladies out of the carriage and stood aside as the driver flicked the reins and the horse moved at a slow pace pulling the empty carriage to the stable at the back of the house where the men should be emptying the wagons. Guy walked up the two stone steps and opened the front door.

  “After you, Madame,” he bowed to Sophie who stepped inside so the others could follow.

  He reached for Isabelle’s hand.

  “It’s one of the finest houses in the settlement. The furniture inside was made by Monsieur Dubois, Ville-Marie’s master cabinet maker.”

  He moved aside to let her see, but Isabelle didn’t release her hold on his hand.

  The house, open and airy, was partially furnished. The front door opened into a vestibule where iron hooks had been attached to one wall to hold coats. A narrow shelf above them would hold mittens and muffs come winter.

  From the vestibule, on the right, there was a large room where the family would spend most of their time during the long, cold, winter days. An enormous table with benches on each side and high-backed chairs at each end dominated the room. An intricately carved buffet and hutch sat on one wall. A substantial fieldstone fireplace took up most of the east wall while two rectangular windows on the north and a larger one in the south wall provided ventilation and light. On the left side of the room, a stairway led to the second floor. Despite the heat of the day, the house was cool and comfortable.

  Two doorways stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Pierre intended to use this room to be his study.”

  The small room had built in shelves. In the center sat a desk and chair, the ones from his cabin aboard ship. On the west wall was a small fireplace that would keep the room warm and cozy in winter. Above it hung the enlarged miniature of Isabelle, but the portrait was not well done, and could easily be Sophie.

  “As I said, the portrait didn’t do you justice,” he commented when he saw her gaze at it. “If you’ll come this way, this room was meant for the women of the house, but not necessarily you.” He had his gaze fixed on Isabelle. “Everyone needs clothes and blankets, but he’d have hired help.” He led them into a woman’s workroom. The large room had two windows overlooking the garden at the side of the house almost filling its west wall. Instead of a fireplace, the room had two holes in the wall—one cut high and the other low—to allow the heat to flow through it from the room beside it. A spinning wheel, a quilting frame, and loom had been set up in the room while the other
items sat waiting to be assembled. A doorway in the room’s north wall went into the kitchen.

  The group passed through the doorway and entered the large kitchen dominated by its cooking area on the west wall. There was a stone fireplace with a metal door seton the left side of the hearth indicating an oven—the latest convenience for cooking. Off the kitchen, a large pantry had been built into the area beneath the stairs, and shelves stood ready to receive whatever treasures the cook saw fit to place on them. Beneath the pantry, a trap door led to a cold space underneath the house. On the other side of the pantry was a large bedroom and a smaller one, no doubt designed for an engagé who’d assist with the housework and outdoor maintenance of the property. The door led out of the kitchen onto a large covered veranda, ideal for use as a summer kitchen.

  “What a magnificent kitchen,” Aline exclaimed. “It’ll be a pleasure to work here. And a summer kitchen, too. See how the fireplace and the oven open from both sides? Merveilleux. This is greater luxury than I had working for the viscount. Unless Henri objects, I would like to use the larger room down here as our bedroom.”

  Henri smiled at his wife.

  “I’ve spent most of my life near the galley. This will suit me just fine.”

  Aline smiled shyly and led the party through the door on the north wall into the summer kitchen.

  “Is there similar luxury at your manor house, Guy?”

  “Oui, Maman. The house being built is using the same plans as this one, with a few additional touches I’ve added.” He would explain later about the room next to the root cellar in case of enemy attack.

  From the summer kitchen, a partially enclosed area of a much larger veranda, the rest of the yard and outbuildings were visible. There was a carriage house, a stable, a chicken coop, and the privy.

  “There are a couple of rooms above the stables, too. Pierre and I stayed there while the house was being built. Some of it can be used as storage for now. I’ll be leaving two men here—Marcel and Bernard whom you know from the ship. They’ll help with the heavy work, and we’ll see about getting a maid or two as well. The men can sleep above the stable. The building is designed to be heated in winter, too.”

  Among the animals he would leave were the carriage horses, which could be used for riding if necessary, although he’d had Lightening, his own mount, brought to the settlement. Bernard and Marcel would tend to the two cows, lambs, piglets, a rooster he’d procured on his arrival earlier today, and several chickens for eggs and meat. The men could take the animals outside the walls to graze and bring them in at night, tend the crops in the commons, and hunt or fish as needed. In addition, he’d feel better knowing there were two additional guns available to defend the ladies if anything happened.

  A small vegetable and herb garden had been planted on the left side of the house—no doubt Pierre had left those instructions before he’d left. At the far back of the yard, behind the stable, stood the wall of tall spiked wooden pickets that surrounded the town. He looked at Isabelle’s face. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she hadn’t said a word. Sophie’s eyes were the size of saucers, but Aline and Henri were taking in all the details as if they’d be expected to give an accounting when the tour was over.

  “Come back inside, and we’ll go upstairs. There are six bedrooms,” Guy said, realizing another unpleasant reminder of her husband awaited Isabelle up there. “My men will have placed the beds from the ship in the empty rooms. I’m not sure where they’ll have put the trunks, but Marcel and Bernard can move them if needed.” He turned to his mother.

  “I’ve asked Marie if she’d prepare a pot of the soup or stew she’d planned for dinner since I don’t know what supplies have been provided. Her kitchen boy will bring it over as soon as it’s done. I paid for the pot, so it can be added to the ones in the kitchen. Maman, you saw the items in the pantry. Perhaps you and Henri can check to see what’s there. I can take you to the market tomorrow for anything else you might need. There are vegetables, and fish as well as dressed rabbits and poultry available. I know there are plates and cups and other utensils since Pierre ordered them last year, but I’m sure there will be other things the house needs. Marie’s offered you some of her starter as well. She says it helps the bread rise. You can pick it up tomorrow.” He turned to Isabelle. “Could I have a word alone?”

  She nodded, and they re-entered the small office.

  Guy walked over to the desk and opened the drawer, removed the package it contained, and placed it on top of the desk. Inside the package were three objects made of buckskin. While they were similar in design, each one was different in its style and color. Guy set the darkest case aside.

  “I asked the Mohawk chief Akhilesh to get these for me when I spoke with him in Quebec. Since the majority of the natives in and around Ville-Marie are Mohawk I thought it best to get something they would recognize and understand. He sent them ahead and Luc, my Huron scout, brought them to the house. Not all tribes get along well, the Huron and Iroquois having been at war plenty of times, but those two are as close to friends as I’ve ever seen.”

  He held out a pale buckskin case that held a bone-handled knife. The case had long ties and a fringe. There was beadwork on the case as well. It looked a lot like the letters GP.

  “This one is for you, the tan one is for Sophie and the dark one is for my mother. I’ll have Henri give it to her later and show her how to wear it. You have to give this one to Sophie.” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Izzy, I need you to raise your skirts up to your thighs. Please, I don’t mean to be improper, but I have to show you how to strap on the knife. Someday, it could save your life.”

  He saw her cheeks redden but she did as she was asked, lifted her skirt and exposed the top of her legs and her stockings. Guy swallowed the sudden desire that filled him and prayed the bulge in his loins didn’t show. He took the knife out of the leather case. Taking her leg into his left hand, he placed the case against the outside of her thigh. He grimaced as he fought to keep himself under control. Her flesh was soft and warm under his touch. Steeling himself, knowing her life and honor could easily depend on this weapon, he continued.

  “The sheath is worn on the outside of the leg—knife pointed down—and tied around the thigh tightly with the leather laces.” He tied the laces as he spoke. “Make sure you don’t tie it too tightly or it’ll cut off the blood circulation to your leg.” He made sure that the leathers were not too tight. It’ll feel strange at first,” he said, adding the knife to the sheath, “but you’ll get used to it. Izzy, promise me from this moment on, you’ll never leave the house without it. You must even wear it to bed if I’m not with you. I’ll show you how to throw it and use it later, but for now, just get used to wearing it.” He dropped her skirts. “I need your promise,” he said sternly.

  “I’ll do as you ask,” she replied.

  He could see her concern and fear shining brightly in her eyes, but he had no time now to allay her fears.

  “Marcel will have my horse saddled and waiting. I have to leave you for a little while,” he said, although after almost losing her twice, he was reluctant to do so. “I’ll stop by Giroux’s shop on my way. Marie tells me the man’s not a good husband, but he’s an excellent gunsmith. Even Pierre swore by him as I recall. We need that musket as soon as possible.” He smiled down at her, wanting to pull her back into his arms and hold her forever, but duty trumped a man’s personal urges.

  “I understand. There’s far more at stake here than either of us expected.”

  “Maybe even more than we know,” he added, his lips pursed. Marie confirmed there’s been trouble with the Mohawks just south of the settlement—a woman and her children are missing among others.”

  She gasped, and he pulled her into his arms.

  “Give Sophie her knife and show her how to strap it on the way I showed you. She must wear it all the time. Henri will explain all this to Maman later, but for now, I have to report what we know to Zacharie Dupuis, the acting gov
ernor in Maisonneuve’s absence, and the Sulpicians who help run the town. De Courcelle entrusted me with documents for them which must be delivered immediately. While I’m gone, choose a room, unpack your trunks, and perhaps you can even have a bath.” He winked. “Bernard can carry up the hot water, but I’ll arrange for a maid as soon as I can. You can take the knife off while you’re in the water, but lock your door and replace the knife as soon as you can. I’ll see you later.” He released her, kissed her quickly, and left. He would get back as soon as he could.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cheeks still burning from Guy’s words and his kiss, Isabelle stood in the doorway watching his horse hurry down the street. Once she couldn’t see him anymore in the sea of people and animals, she closed the door, picked up the other knife and its holder intended for Sophie, and climbed the stairs where the others waited, acutely aware of the knife strapped to her leg.

  She found the women in the upstairs hallway.

  “Where’s Henri?” she asked.

  “He’s helping with the animals and sorting out the last of the furniture, moving our bed and trunks into our room,” Aline said, her cheeks pinking on the last words.

  “Izzy, you must have this one,” Sophie cried, standing in the doorway of the room at the end of the hall.

  Isabelle stepped over to her, poked her head inside, and gasped. This was a room fit for a queen.

  Fully furnished with an oversized bed, two chests of drawers, a matching armoire, and a chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, it was even larger than her bedchamber had been in Caen. Between the two dormer windows sat a beautiful dressing table and stool. On the table stood a miniature cheval glass.

  “This must have come all the way from Saint-Gobain,” Sophie said, her fingers caressing the unusual piece. “Pierre furnished this room for you. You must take it.”

  “I can’t,” she said, her throat clogged with emotions. “This room is meant for the master and mistress of the house—that’s you.”