“Rest now, madame,” said Sylvie, as she prepared to take her leave. “I’ll come back in the late morning to check on you.”
“Thank you, Sylvie,” Elisabeth said, grateful to have had her gentle influence in the room.
“My pleasure,” she said, as she left the couple to admire their son.
“Thank you so much,” Gilbert said, returning Pierre to his mother. “I can’t believe I have a son at last.”
“I know,” Elisabeth said. “I was worried it would never happen.”
“Me too,” Gilbert confessed. “Should I sleep in the other room?”
“You stay right here. I’m doing as well as can be expected,” Elisabeth said, inviting him to bed. “Much better than the last time.”
“Thank God for that,” Gilbert said. “Rest while you can. I’m sure he’ll be hungry soon.”
“Too true,” Elisabeth said. “Thank you for letting me name him after my father.”
“It seemed only right,” he said. “Though I’d like the naming of the next Baby Beaumont, if you don’t mind.”
“Provided I get to hear the choices in advance,” she said, so euphoric after giving birth that she would have promised him anything.
“I was thinking Fabien for a boy, in honor of my father,” he said. “And Elisabeth for a girl.... We could call her Lisette. I want our daughter named for the best woman I know.”
“The next after that will have to be little Gilbert, for his papa,” Elisabeth said, taking Pierre from his father’s arms and cradling him to her breast.
“He’s a little Canadian, isn’t he?” Gilbert asked, peering over Elisabeth’s shoulder at the baby. “He’ll probably never see the country where we were born, just as Pascal and Gabrielle will not.”
“That’s sad, in a way,” Elisabeth said. “I loved Paris so much.”
“But wonderful in another,” Gilbert said. “We have given him a country all his own. A nation to conquer, if he is strong enough.”
Three days later, on a bright Saturday morning, Elisabeth and Gilbert took Pierre to church for his baptism. It was the first time since the re-opening that the shop had been closed, except on Sundays.
Rose and Henri, the godparents, stood at the altar holding the sleeping babe as the priest offered the blessing. Pierre stirred in Rose’s arms when the holy water was sprinkled on his forehead, but didn’t display his capable lungs, much to his parents’ relief.
The child could not have two godmothers, but Nicole had wanted to contribute to the festive occasion, so she had organized a reception at her home after the ceremony. Hélène’s baptism had been a quiet proceeding, so soon after Luc’s death, so Nicole made Elisabeth allow her full rein to create a lavish affair. The dining table fairly sagged under the weight of the scrumptious dishes.
“Sit, Elisabeth,” Nicole said, ushering her to a plush chair placed toward the center of the parlor. “Enjoy the attention the wee man is getting. I’ll fetch you a plate.”
“Thank you,” Elisabeth said, keeping an eye on whoever held Pierre and watching for signs of illness in the guests. Sharing her newborn, even with their nearest friends, was not easy.
The Giroux family attended the fête, due to their children’s connection with the Beaumonts. The poor farmers looked ill at ease in Alexandre Lefebvre’s spacious residence.
“Please have a plate of something,” Elisabeth said to Pascal’s parents, indicating the dining area.
“Very kind of you, madame,” Raymond Giroux said, “but I think we’re going to take our leave.”
“What a shame,” Elisabeth said. “You traveled quite a distance. You ought to stay and enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”
“Thank you, madame,” Brigitte said. “We’ll collect Pascal and Gabrielle and be off.”
“I was going to bring them home in the carriage this evening,” Gilbert said as he entered from the dining room. “I’d be happy to take you all, to spare you the walk. The evening air is getting brisk.”
“We don’t need charity, Beaumont,” Raymond said, his tone disdainful. “We’ll take our children and go.”
“We want to stay, Papa,” Pascal said, approaching his father. “We’ll be home tonight.”
“You don’t tell me what’s what, boy,” Raymond said. “I’m still your father. I see now where you’re getting your big ideas. I won’t have you looking down on me. This job of yours is ending now.”
“Monsieur, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion,” Alexandre interjected. “Monsieur Beaumont will see your children home this evening. If you are not inclined to eat and celebrate the birth of this child, you are free to leave.”
“Think we own the world, do we, Seigneur?” said Raymond, though his tone was much less menacing. “These are my children. I won’t have anyone tell me what I can or can’t do with them.”
“Papa, please, can’t we stay a bit longer?” Gabrielle asked.
Raymond slapped her smartly across her face.
“Did you hear me, girl?” he asked. “We’re going home.”
Pascal, noticing that Gabrielle’s nose was bleeding, grabbed his father’s collar. Giroux’s eyes widened with sudden fear.
“Damn you to the deepest fires of hell, old man!” Pascal hissed. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll see you hanged. I’m a full apprentice. I have a contract you can’t do a thing about. And Gabrielle isn’t going anywhere, either.
“The Beaumonts are good people and raising us better than you ever thought of doing. Get your own damned coat, and see yourself out. We won’t be home this Sunday, or any other.”
Pascal released his father’s shirt and stared at him with fury.
“Fine, you ungrateful little shit,” Giroux spat. “May I never see either of you ever again.”
“Easily arranged,” Alexandre said, stepping between the boy and his father. “I trust you can find the door.”
Nicole ushered the weeping Gabrielle from the room while Elisabeth wrapped her arms around Pascal. The boy was shaking, with anger or regret, she knew not.
“Don’t worry,” Elisabeth said. “He’s gone; it’s over.”
“That no-good piece of gutter sludge,” Pascal said, still shaking in Elisabeth’s arms.
“Young man, you ought not speak of your father in such a way,” said Father Cloutier. Elisabeth had begged for any other priest to baptize her child, since he’d refused to baptize the first, but the Church had not given them a choice.
“The boy speaks the truth,” Elisabeth said.
More than one head turned at the woman who dared to contradict the priest.
“The Bible commands us to ‘honor thy mother and thy father,’” the priest began, in a tone brimming with authority.
“And so Pascal does,” Elisabeth said. “By staying to honor the baptism of his brother. Pascal and Gabrielle live in my house, and are as much my children as Pierre. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to my daughter’s injuries.”
The priest stared at Elisabeth, his mouth agape.
Madame Beaumont had dismissed him as she might an ill-behaved child.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Elisabeth asked, stooping to Gabrielle’s height to inspect her injuries.
Nicole had washed the blood from Gabrielle’s face, but spots still marked the front of her best dress. She fought bravely to stem the flow of tears.
Elisabeth noticed, with satisfaction, that Rose had retreated to the kitchen with Pierre when the confrontation began.
“Her nose isn’t broken,” Nicole said, answering for the child. “She may have a black eye tomorrow, but I think she’ll be all right.”
“I’m s-so s-sorry for ruining the party,” Gabrielle stammered.
“Don’t you think on that for a moment,” Elisabeth said, embracing Gabrielle as she had her brother. “All I care about is keeping you safe. And Pierre is far too little to care about what happens at his party.”
“He is lucky to have such a sweet maman,” Gab
rielle said.
“And such a sweet big sister and brother,” Elisabeth said. “You’ll stay with us as long as you wish to.”
At this, Gabrielle began her tears afresh and tightened her grip around Elisabeth’s waist.
“Perhaps we ought to cut things short and get this lot home early,” Gilbert said, entering the room with Alexandre.
“Yes.” A devilish grin played at Alexandre’s lips. “You’ll want to be rested for tomorrow’s sermon. Father Cloutier’s lecture on filial duty will be most enlightening.”
Alexandre was wealthy. He could dare to mock the clergy if he chose. It could make him unpopular in the colony, so most times he kept his remarks to himself, but Elisabeth had heard him speak with disdain about the priests and even some of the Church directives. Nicole, Elisabeth was sure, held her tongue on the matter for the sake of matrimonial accord.
“Yes, I think I’ve had more than enough excitement for an afternoon,” Elisabeth said. “Please take us home.”
As promised, the Sunday sermon focused on obedience to parental, and clerical, authority. Elisabeth was not the only one to notice the priest’s too-frequent glares at the Beaumonts’ pew. Pascal sighed at one point, and Elisabeth saw Alexandre’s shoulders shaking with stifled laughter three rows up.
So long as this doesn’t damage business, I can endure it, Elisabeth thought to herself. At least little Pierre slept through the Mass, not attracting any more attention to the family than was already directed their way.
Father Cloutier nodded stiffly to the Beaumonts as they left, and didn’t offer his usual pious farewell.
The Beaumonts joined both sets of Lefebvres in the courtyard in front of the church as they did most Sundays. In the midst of their conversation, Gabrielle clutched Elisabeth’s hand. Raymond and Brigitte Giroux appeared, haphazardly washed and in their best clothing, with a troupe of dirty children following them. The family looked hungry and overtired from the long walk into town.
Raymond and Brigitte stopped to talk with the priest, and cast indelicate glances at the Beaumonts.
“Home,” Gilbert said, when he noticed the Girouxes at the door of the church. His voice betrayed the seriousness of the situation.
They left the courtyard at a faster pace than they would usually take on a Sunday morning, with the Lefebvre families hard on their heels.
“Pascal and Gabrielle, will you please play in the parlor with Manon and Hélène? We’ll call you in when it’s time for luncheon,” Elisabeth said.
The children all complied, as the eldest three were great playmates and accepted the presence of toddling Hélène with cheer.
“This is not good,” Gilbert said, once the children were out of earshot.
Elisabeth had already begun setting the table and setting out pastries to occupy her hands.
“There is not a thing Giroux can do about Pascal,” Henri said. “He’s a legal apprentice and all but your property for the length of his contract. Unless they can show you’ve mistreated him, the contract can’t be broken without your consent.
“Gabrielle is another matter.”
“I know,” Gilbert said. “I wish we’d formalized her agreement, too.”
“It would have been wise to draw up a contract making her your servant,” Alexandre said. “She’s young for it, but no one would have looked askance.”
“Is there nothing we can do?” Nicole asked her husband. “Speak to the governor?”
“He wouldn’t want to intervene,” Alexandre said. “It’s precisely these sorts of domestic squabbles with which he wants nothing to do.”
“We can’t let her go back,” Elisabeth said, setting down a plate of rolls with too much fervor. Half of them spilled onto the table. “I know they beat her.”
“It isn’t a crime to discipline a child,” Alexandre said.
“We aren’t talking about spanking an errant child,” Gilbert said. “You saw how he hit her.”
“Within his legal rights, even so,” Alexandre said. “I’m not agreeing with it, merely pointing out what a judge would say. The man is a beast, but he is her father. He has rights, whether he deserves them or not.”
“I don’t understand why he wants her back,” Elisabeth said. “He was more than glad to send her to us, just as he was with Pascal. Why has he changed his mind? What have we done wrong?”
“That’s just it,” Nicole said. “You’ve done everything right. If you whipped Pascal, or kept Gabrielle in rags, he wouldn’t care. But as it stands, he’s jealous.”
“It seems so unfair,” Elisabeth said, tracing the designs on the embroidered tablecloth with her finger.
“To a man like Giroux it’s incredibly unfair . . . to him,” Henri said. “To see his children in comfort when he has none is a great injustice to his mind.”
“Again, his motives and character matter little,” Alexandre said.
“What are we to do, Lefebvre?” Gilbert asked.
“I wish I knew,” Alexandre said. “But I would prepare for the worst.”
The bailiff, accompanied by Father Cloutier, collected Gabrielle the following week.
“Please don’t make me go,” Gabrielle implored. “This is my home.”
“No it isn’t, child,” the priest replied. “Your home is with your rightful parents, whom you must honor and obey.”
Gabrielle had never gone to Mass before her stay with the Beaumonts, but respected the Church with a child’s faith. Yet for all her natural obedience, the girl glared at the priest, her expression lined with fury.
“Your father never beat you, did he?” Gabrielle asked, as if daring him to answer.
“I accepted my punishments and learned from my mistakes.”
The priest’s condescending tone made Elisabeth feel ill. This was not a toddler, or a simpleton, but a bright young girl being sent back into misery.
“And when I’m being beaten for no transgression, Father, what is my lesson there?”
Neither Gilbert nor Elisabeth checked the girl’s defiance.
“Patience,” Father Cloutier said, grabbing her arm. “Go pack your bag, girl, and be quick.”
“Let me go,” Gabrielle said. She twisted from the priest’s grip and ran to her room. She emerged a few minutes later in the tattered dress she’d arrived in.
“Where are your things?” A look of annoyance colored the priest’s round face. “I’m anxious to have this settled.”
“This is all I came with, sir,” Gabrielle answered. “I won’t take the things the Beaumonts gave me to see them sold for drink.”
“Do not insult your father, child,” the priest said.
“Are we going or not?” Gabrielle snapped.
The bailiff started to take Gabrielle by the elbow, but she resisted. Head held high, she walked to the carriage and entered on her own.
She looked back at the Beaumonts and gave a quick wave before sitting back in her seat. Elisabeth guessed that was as long as she could stand to look without breaking down in tears.
Pascal, wordless through the ordeal, retreated to his room. Though Gilbert had tried to talk to the boy, he would not speak of his sister’s removal, other than to curse his parents.
“Poor boy,” Elisabeth said. “I feel almost as badly for him as for her.”
“He feels guilty that he can stay and she was taken away,” Gilbert said, embracing his wife.
“I should speak to him,” Elisabeth said.
“That would make it worse,” Gilbert said. “Let him have time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Elisabeth said, breaking away with a kiss as she heard Pierre’s cries.
“Back to work, for all of us,” Gilbert said. “I’m going to rouse Pascal as well. He’ll have time to brood as he kneads the bread. The work will do him good.”
“Make sure he doesn’t take out his anger too extravagantly on the dough or the bread will be tougher than old chicken.” The couple exchanged a hollow laugh and returned to their duties.
&nb
sp; Elisabeth scooped up her tiny son to give him his morning meal. She smiled into his face and felt the glow of love pass through her.
“My dear little man,” she cooed, as he took her breast with enthusiasm. “Maman loves you so.”
Despite her maternal contentment, Elisabeth’s heart also traveled along the rocky dirt road with Gabrielle, who she loved as a daughter. She murmured a prayer that they would not be separated long. For the first time, Elisabeth did not have much faith in an answer.
CHAPTER 25
Nicole
December 1670
Nicole’s feet ached worse after each ball. Each time, she swore this ball would be her last until the baby came, but somehow Alexandre could always persuade her to go to just one more.
“Are you unwell?” Alexandre asked, as his wife collapsed into her favorite chair.
“No more than usual,” Nicole said. “Tired, but nothing unexpected.”
“Thank you for going,” he said. “I don’t care for this dancing nonsense any more than you, but it’s important to be seen at these functions.”
“I know,” Nicole answered, resting her feet on the little velvet tuffet. “I’ll be glad when the season is over, though.”
“Too true,” Alexandre said. “Before we retire, I’d like to show you plans for the new house—to know if it suits you.”
“I’m sure it will,” she said. “Though I don’t understand why we need to move at all.”
“The city is growing, dearest,” he said. “Building a fine house at the city center is a smart investment. We’ll need the room for entertaining, not to mention the children.”
Nicole couldn’t find any argument there. Their dining and sitting rooms were becoming inadequate for the large dinners they hosted as part of their social circle. The constant kicks to her midsection said that an ample nursery was wanted as well. For all the work that accompanied babies, Nicole preferred their company to that of Quebec’s elite.
“Very well, show me,” Nicole agreed, following him to the study.
Alexandre spread a large scroll of paper over the top of the broad mahogany desk, and she looked on as he explained the plans.
Promised to the Crown Page 25