“No,” Rose answered, idly tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips. “Though I will be sad to be so far from Nicole and Elisabeth. I’ll miss them terribly.”
Henri kissed his wife’s forehead. “The distance isn’t all that great.”
“With household duties and winter weather, our visits won’t be frequent,” Rose said. “But one cannot have sweetness in life without sacrifice. I’ll manage, darling. Don’t fret for me.”
“Fretting about you is one of my fondest pastimes,” Henri said with a teasing grin. “You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure.”
“No,” Rose said. “I’ve denied you all the pleasure I ever plan to.”
“That’s what a man likes to hear,” he said.
A few weeks later, Rose sat in her favorite chair by the window, embroidering frills on a small dress.
“And what has my lady so engrossed?” Henri asked, startling his wife, who shrieked at the unexpected sound of his voice.
“Heavens, you scared me,” Rose said. “Just my sewing.”
“Remind me to wear a bell ’round my neck like a cow for the next time you sit transfixed with your fancy work,” Henri said. “I was in the room for a full three minutes at least.”
“I get absorbed, that’s all,” Rose said.
“Well, wake yourself from your reverie for a few moments,” Henri said. “We’re going for a walk.”
“It’s rather chilly for a stroll.” She looked out to see the limbs of the evergreens swaying in the bitter September breeze that had settled in overnight.
“We won’t be out long,” Henri said. “Come, I’ve something to show you.”
Seeing the excitement, near giddiness, on her husband’s face, Rose could not bring herself to object, no matter how comfortable her seat nor how warm the fire.
They walked to the stables, not far from the house, where Henri lodged Abraxas. A sturdy-looking mare, not advanced in years but old enough to have mellowed, stood in the stall beside Henri’s beloved horse. She had Abraxas’s shining golden coat, but stood two or three hands shorter.
“This is Amethea,” Henri said. “Abraxas’s sister. I thought she would be perfect for you.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Rose said, nuzzling the horse’s soft nose with her own. “But can we afford her with all that is going on?”
“It’s a necessary expense,” Henri said. “You’ll need a sound horse of your own when we move out of town. Getting her now allows you time to learn to ride.”
“Thank you so much,” Rose said, sliding into her husband’s embrace. “She’s wonderful.”
“You have to promise to ride her faithfully,” Henri said. “Horses need exercise.”
“I’m not sure it’s the best idea in my current condition,” Rose said, moving his hand to her belly. “We wouldn’t want to risk the health of your future heir.”
It took a few moments for Henri to comprehend her meaning, but then he lifted her into his arms.
“No, we most certainly don’t. We”—He twirled Rose once gently and placed her back on firm ground. “We’ll find a stable boy. Borrow Pascal Giroux when he needs a break from the bakery.
“How far along?” He cleared his throat against the threatening tears and kissed her cheeks softly.
“Not more than two months. Early days yet.” Rose smiled up at her husband, biting her lip at the sight of his feeble attempts to keep his tears at bay.
“Promise me you’ll rest, my sweet one. Promise me you’ll have the servants attend to whatever it is you need. I’ll hire you a maid if we need to.” His embrace was gentler than usual, already protective of the new life they were responsible for. Rose knew Henri was eager for a family, but he’d refrained from discussing it since the early days of their marriage. At first, her reluctance to join him in his bed made the topic unnecessary and painful. Later, her revelations about her uncle must have made him nervous to press her about any aspect of intimate life. Rose tightened her arms around him, grateful that he’d tempered his enthusiasm and happy she could finally give that measure of happiness back to him.
“I think I’ll be able to manage as we are, darling.” The cost of a personal maid couldn’t be borne for years yet, as much as Henri wanted to give her that luxury. “But I promise I’ll take care of this little one as best I can.”
“Thank you, my love.” Henri finally gave in to the tears and let them spill down his cheeks as he held Rose against him.
“I’m just sorry it was such a long road to get here.” Rose reached up and kissed his cheek, oblivious to the passersby who might see the display.
“But we got here, my dearest wife, and that’s all that matters to me.”
The following afternoon, Rose took her usual seat in Nicole’s parlor, armed with her sewing. Though only a few stitches from complete, she brought the small gown she’d been working on the previous day.
“I’ve never seen you take such pains for a baby gown,” Elisabeth said, taking her eyes from the star-patterned quilt she had fashioned from odd scraps.
“I thought I’d make a special effort this time around,” Rose said, not looking up from her work.
“I’ve heard the Laurier woman is expecting again,” Nicole said, her knitting needles not missing a beat. “I know you were there for her last time. Has she asked you to come again?”
“No,” Rose said. “My days of midwifery are over. Unless either of you need me, of course.”
“Rose—are you?” Elisabeth’s voice betrayed her reluctance to broach the subject. God knows they probably think Henri and I can’t have children by now.
“Yes,” Rose said, looking up at her friends with a soft smile. They’ll never know what our troubles were. Let them think it was just a problem of nature and not my reluctance to be a proper wife.
The trio stood and embraced, not without a few tears.
“Oh, I am so happy for you!” Nicole exclaimed. “Our babies will be such dear friends.”
“Let’s hope so,” Rose said. “I don’t know what I’d do without either of you. What I will do without you when I am out on the estate, for that matter.”
“It’s not that far,” Nicole said. “We’ll be together all the time.”
“You sound like your nephew-in-law,” Rose chided. “You’re a mother and a wife. You know that can’t be.”
“Well, niece-in-law, I promise we’ll make an effort,” Nicole said, taking Rose in her arms. “And you will stay here when the baby is born. If you need a doctor it will make things far less complicated.”
Rose exhaled. The realities of the birth hadn’t even registered with her. The baby would arrive in spring at least, so she wouldn’t have to contend with winter storms preventing her from getting to town. Henri would agree to stay with his uncle for a month or so. He would not prevent her from doing so, in any case.
“Thank you, dearest aunt-in-law,” Rose said, kissing Nicole on the cheek.
“Merciful heavens, that makes me sound old,” Nicole said with an uncharacteristic giggle.
“Baby clothes,” Elisabeth declared, reclaiming her seat. “You’ll have baby Lefebvre outfitted before the afternoon is out.”
For the next hour, Nicole spoke of her early days mothering Hélène in the convent. Elisabeth spoke of her baby’s impending arrival. Rose chimed in on occasion, smiled, kept up with her sewing. All the while it sank in that she was wholly unprepared for the enormous task that lay before her.
Childbirth still terrified her, but less so. On a daily basis, she saw women walking about the settlement, babes in arms, no worse for their toils. But in seven months, an innocent life would look to her for love, comfort, and protection. She was confident in her ability to provide the first two. The latter caused her worry. Her uncle had also sworn to protect her when she was twelve years old.
She found herself gripping her needle and gown too tightly, causing a cramp in her forefinger and wrinkles in the fabric. She set the handiwork down on her lap, and focused on the
prattle of her two dearest friends. Focused on their words of love. Nicole mothered two lovely girls. Elisabeth fostered the young Giroux boy and would soon welcome her own child. Despite Elisabeth’s losses, she seemed calm. Nicole didn’t seem wrought with worry as her needles clack-clack-clacked together, a soft wool blanket forming beneath them. Inch by inch, Rose willed her muscles to unwind, her breath to deepen.
She would be a mother. The choice was no longer hers. The best gift she could give her child was a mother with the courage to face the cruel world he or she would inherit. Would that I could have your courage, ladies, but I suppose I must find my own.
Rose designated the small bedroom next to their own as “baby’s room.” Rose knew it was ridiculous, as they would be long removed from the cozy town house before the baby’s arrival. Every bird needs her nest, she told herself. For weeks she tidied the space, filled it with the dozen baby gowns she and her companions had crafted in the space of an afternoon, and prepared it for the little bundle she found herself longing to hold.
Henri smiled at his wife’s antics, but said nothing. Rose suspected he thought her over-eager to welcome their child into the world—something he could not fault in his beloved wife.
But he didn’t see the scrubbing.
She took pains to keep her hands from cracking and bleeding. She made sure Agathe never noticed her labors. In fact, she forbade either servant from disturbing the space unless their duties demanded it. She spent more time in the nursery that would never house her child than in any other room in the house.
The more time passed, the more she dreaded leaving their home for the far-flung estate. She would miss her friends, miss the comfort and society of the town, and she would lose this haven she had created for their child. The small corner of the world where she felt certain she could keep her sweet child safe from all the perils that lay beyond its doors.
CHAPTER 24
Elisabeth
November 1670
The crowd inside the Beaumonts’ new bakery was the largest Elisabeth had ever seen. Pascal, who had turned thirteen and become a full apprentice, manned the ovens with Gilbert. The new bakery assistant, Pascal’s younger sister Gabrielle, served customers and took payments. At age nine, she was Pascal’s closest sister both in age and affection, both now thrilled to be reunited under the same roof. Pascal had spoken so often of her and seemed so downtrodden after his visits home that Elisabeth persuaded Gilbert to approach the Giroux man about letting her come on as her assistant. It wasn’t the formal apprenticeship they had for Pascal. As she was a girl, this sort of arrangement was rarely bound by contracts, but it was a good opportunity for Gabrielle to make a place for herself in society. And going to bed with a full stomach was a more immediate advantage that the reedy child seemed painfully grateful for.
The bakery kept up with local demand, but only just. Though exhausted, Gilbert was proud of the thriving business.
On Gilbert’s orders, Elisabeth spent the day upstairs, resting. In the past week, she had not even ventured out to see Nicole or Rose, but relied on them to visit her for company. She still insisted on making dinner, but was grateful that Gilbert always set aside two loaves of bread for their meal.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Gilbert asked as he came upstairs, Gabrielle trailing behind. “You look tired. Did you stay off your feet?”
“Except for making dinner, yes,” Elisabeth said. “I haven’t the stamina for anything else.”
“Gabrielle will see to dinner until the baby is born and you’ve recovered,” Gilbert said. Turning to Gabrielle, he added, “You can leave the shop an hour early to see to supper. Pascal will take over your duties, and I’ll manage the ovens during that time.”
“I would love to,” Gabrielle said. “I love to cook when there is good food to be made.”
“I won’t argue,” Elisabeth said, smiling at Gabrielle’s exuberance. “I’ve neither the energy nor the desire.”
“Sensible,” Gilbert said.
Elisabeth stuck her tongue out, teasing her husband for his bossy demeanor. His worry grew worse as her time grew nearer, so she rarely protested his commands. The more she helped him keep his calm, the calmer she felt herself, which in turn made the coming ordeal less strenuous.
Gilbert stroked his wife’s hair, causing young Gabrielle to smile. Elisabeth imagined seeing a couple that cared for each other was a novelty for the girl.
“I never want to leave,” Gabrielle said. “Your home is so clean and cheerful.”
“I’m glad you’re happy here.” Elisabeth had grown fond of the child in the past three weeks. “But the time will come when you want to start a family of your own.”
“Maybe when I’m much older, like you,” the child said, her expression serious, “but not before.”
Gilbert smiled at the unintended insult, but neither he nor Elisabeth took offense. Gabrielle was a hard worker, cut from the same cloth as her brother, and had even better natural skill in the kitchen than Pascal. Elisabeth hoped to train the girl in the pastry making soon, but for now Gabrielle was needed with the customers.
The entire Beaumont house went to bed shortly after dinner, because the work demanded early mornings. Elisabeth had not toiled as hard as the others, but found herself just as anxious to find her bed.
Almost the moment she lay down, however, she felt a strange pop in her abdomen and a surge of waters. A wave of pain followed, as her muscles contracted. A second contraction came hard upon its heels.
“Elisabeth,” Gilbert said. “What’s wrong?”
Unable to speak because of the pain, she pointed to her swollen belly.
Without another word, he threw on his coat and went to fetch the midwife. Elisabeth heard him shout for Gabrielle to attend to Madame, and that he would be back shortly.
The labor pains came closer and closer until Elisabeth felt no reprieve between them. The pains stole her breath and caused her to scream into her sheet, but it was not the wrenching agony when Adèle was born. It wasn’t the unbearable cramping when she lost the others so early on. This was different, as though her body were working with her instead of against her. She was able to keep her wits about her well enough to keep from scaring poor Gabrielle out of hers.
It’s going to be fine. This baby will live. He’s had long enough to grow. He’s strong. Stronger than the others. She forced herself to repeat the words, but there was still the gray specter of doubt as she recited them. An uncomplicated birth didn’t guarantee a healthy child.
Gilbert ushered in the midwife, Sylvie, a kindly woman of fifty-odd years, along with Rose and Nicole, who promised faithfully to let Sylvie perform her duty without their interference. Gilbert motioned for Gabrielle to follow him into the parlor where he would hold vigil until one of the ladies brought him news—whatever it was.
“I’ll leave you ladies to your work.” Gilbert’s face was the color of Elisabeth’s bedsheet and as torn as she’d ever seen him. He didn’t want to leave his wife in her hour of need, but he didn’t want to see her in pain or impede the midwife as she worked.
“Kiss me,” Elisabeth rasped before he escaped the bedroom. “Please.”
She had her eyes closed against another surge from her midsection, but felt the brush of his lips against her wet brow. I’ll do my best not to fail you again, my love, for there is no chance that I’ll allow our hearts to be broken again.
The implication of that made her heart ache. She would have to force Gilbert to sleep in another bed, night after night, until her courses stopped. After a time, any man would be forced to find comfort elsewhere. Gilbert would be more discreet than most. He would always love her, but there was nothing stopping him from falling in love with another. She wiped away a tear and focused on Sylvie’s instructions. There are other things to worry about at the present moment.
Nicole stood to Elisabeth’s right and Rose to her left, anticipating her need for a cold compress to her forehead or a hand to grasp to help her thro
ugh one of her surges.
“You can push when you feel ready, my dear.” Sylvie spoke in tones just above a whisper to Elisabeth and all the expectant mothers in her care. For this reason among others, she was one of the most sought-after midwives in the settlement.
With every push, Elisabeth hoped she was bringing a child to his first breath and not his last. The pain kept her thoughts in a maelstrom that flung them from hope to despair when they were coherent at all. Above all the image of Gilbert’s face, manfully hiding his tears, alternated with his face resplendent with joy. One of the two would be before her soon enough.
“Such a fine young lad I’ve never seen,” proclaimed Sylvie as she handed the swaddled babe to his father. “Your wife did well, Monsieur Beaumont.”
“As I knew she would,” Gilbert said, beaming at his son. “Little Pierre, you are a handsome thing, aren’t you?”
“I think you’re a might biased, my darling,” Elisabeth chided with a smile.
“As well he should be,” Sylvie said. “I declare I’ve never seen a child so alert this soon after birth. He’s going to be extraordinary, mark my words.”
“May we see him?” Gabrielle asked from the doorway.
“Of course,” Elisabeth said. “Little Pierre will be happy to meet you both.”
“Should he be so purple and wrinkled?” Pascal asked.
Gabrielle jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “That isn’t nice, Pascal! He’s lovely,” she added, peeking into the blanket-cocoon.
Sylvie chuckled. “He’ll look better in a few days, don’t you worry.”
“I hope so,” Pascal said. “Else, I don’t think he’d get on well with the other boys.”
Gilbert jostled the boy’s shoulder, freer from worry than he had been in months.
“To bed with both of you,” he ordered, pointing to the door. “We have a bakery to run in just four hours.”
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