Promised to the Crown

by Aimie K. Runyan

  “Must we . . .” she began, but she closed her mouth before the thought escaped.

  “What?” Alexandre asked, looking up from the plans to his wife. “Go ahead.”

  “Separate bedrooms,” Nicole said, blushing. “Why are they necessary?”

  “Convention, I suppose,” Alexandre said. “It’s what I’m used to. Isn’t that your preference also?”

  “I see nothing conventional about it,” Nicole said. “I’ve never known a married couple who kept separate quarters.”

  “It’s very common among the families of my acquaintance,” he said. “If we sell the house, anyone who could afford it would expect the rooms arranged that way. I forgot . . .”

  “That I started my life as a poor farm girl?” Nicole asked, arching her brow.

  “With the operative words being ‘started life,’” said Alexandre. “Though I intended to say you ‘were not born in the same circles I was.’ No one could tell where you started, Nicole. You’ve blended into society marvelously well.”

  “Glad I’m not an embarrassment,” she said, not entirely teasing.

  “Enough of that,” he said. “Regardless of birth, your education fit you for better things. You ought to be proud.”

  “I am,” she said. “It’s simply a lot to take in. Our current house is twenty times grander than the one I grew up in, yet we’re building one finer yet. It baffles me that there’s a need.”

  “You think of home often, don’t you?” he asked.

  “All the time,” Nicole confessed. “It was the same when I was expecting Hélène. I pine for my mother, wanting advice. I wish you could meet her. My sisters and little Georges would not even know me now.”

  “I’m sure their memories are better than you give them credit for,” he said. “As for the house, is everything to your liking?”

  “It’s lovely,” she said. “Just see to it that there is plenty of light and ample space in the nursery, and it will be wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you approve,” he said. “I hope to finish construction within a year. Then we won’t have to bother moving until after the baby is born.”

  “All the better,” Nicole said.

  “You’ve been pale lately,” Alexandre said. “Do you feel well?”

  “As well as one might hope,” Nicole said. “Too many hours indoors, particularly in ballrooms.”

  “The weather has been remarkably fine for December,” Alexandre said. “Tomorrow we’ll bundle up the children and go see our property, if you like.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said, glad for any excursion that didn’t involve a ball gown or politics. “Speaking of the children, I should check on them before I retire.”

  “Good night, dearest,” he said, offering a polite peck on the cheek.

  “Good night,” she responded. Of course he would not be joining her.

  In the nursery Manon and Hélène slept the untroubled sleep of beloved children. Nicole watched their even breathing and serene faces. In the moonlight, Manon’s brown skin and black tresses contrasted so beautifully against the white pillowcase. Hélène’s golden-brown curls fell in a halo over her pale forehead.

  My sweet girls, Nicole thought. Sleep well. I envy your peace.

  Nicole made her way to her own room. Sleep would be fitful, just like it was this far along in her pregnancy with Hélène. She sank into the plush mattress and felt her aches and pains subsiding by inches.

  You finally drew up the courage to talk to him about bedrooms, Nicole thought, but it got you nowhere. He dismissed you, as he always does when you disagree. He’s a good man. You should be happy. You’re provided for and your children will want for nothing. Luc Jarvais would never have been able to do for them what Alexandre is doing. . . .

  It was rare that Nicole thought of Luc anymore. When she did think of him, she thought of his decision to go trapping, and could no longer dismiss it as the action of a man who wanted to provide for his family. He was selfish and reckless to leave her alone. He was selfish to have married her at all before he had a house that could withstand the winter. She felt an occasional pang of regret that Luc hadn’t lived to meet his daughter, but the loss of Luc Jarvais no longer stung.

  She was Nicole Lefebvre now.

  Remember that, Nicole scolded herself. Being lonely in marriage is better than being alone . . . especially here. But while Luc had left her alone in body, Alexandre left her feeling just as lonely when he was in the same house. For all the comfort, was she any better off than she had been? Seeing her daughters well cared for answered the question as soon as she formed it in her mind, but the knowledge did little to warm her bed at night.

  Alexandre’s magnificent horses carried the sleigh past the outskirts of the settlement and on to the Lefebvre holdings. When they arrived, Manon descended to frolic in the sparse blanket of snow. Hélène longed to join her sister, but Alexandre kept the wiggling toddler in his arms to keep her dry.

  “It’s beautiful,” Nicole said as she took in the immensity of their holdings. Ice-covered trees glistened in the weak sun.

  “I can’t believe all this is yours.”

  “Ours,” he said. “Were it not for your charms, the governor might not have noticed me. You’ve every bit as much a right to this land as I.”

  Nicole squeezed his hand. The law thought otherwise, but his words were kind.

  “If you could do anything with this property, what would you do?” he asked.

  Hélène gave up her struggle and laid her head on his chest as they strolled across the land.

  “I would give it to my father,” Nicole said without hesitation. “He dreamed of a farm this grand. He longed to buy more land in France, but was never able.”

  “The plague of the Old World farmer.” Alexandre looked at the mountains in the distance. “The best of years, they eat like kings, but even then, they remain cash poor. In bad years, it’s disaster.”

  “I know,” Nicole said. “I lived it.”

  “It’s a little better here,” Alexandre said. “Fewer taxes, fewer laws. The peasant farmer has a fighting chance.”

  “So it seems.” The subject of her family bruised Nicole’s feelings, so she walked along in silence.

  “Nicole,” said Alexandre. “I know you aren’t happy.”

  “It’s of no matter,” Nicole said. “My condition makes me sensitive, that’s all.”

  “I should tell you,” Alexandre said. “I’ve sent for your parents and younger siblings to join us. I hope I haven’t overstepped my boundaries.”

  Did I hear him right? She stared dumbly at her husband.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered.

  “They should arrive by summer,” he said. “Not in time for your mother to help when this baby comes, but perhaps the next one. The sailing periods are so short—I couldn’t get them here sooner.”

  Nicole felt warm tears on her cheeks and hastened to wipe them away.

  “Please say something,” Alexandre said. “Have I upset you?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Nicole said. “I’ve missed them so much.”

  “I know.” Alexandre wrapped his arm around her. “I promised I would make it right, remember?”

  “I never dreamed you would send for them. I thought you meant to give them a bit of money for the brooch.”

  “Why would I do so little when I could truly help them, and make you happy in the process?” Alexandre asked. “I confess you’re so unlike the women of my acquaintance, dearest. The women I knew before were content with jewels and frocks. You’re made of sterner stuff, and thank God for it. I just wanted to do something to show you . . .”

  “I don’t deserve you,” she said as she dried her tears. He will not see them again.

  “So you’re pleased?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she said, taking his hand. “I only hope they will be happy here.”

  “As do I. A friend of mine in Rouen visited your parents and arranged the matter. He seemed to
think the farm wasn’t much more productive than when you left. Your father will do far better with healthy new lands here.” Alexandre gestured to the panorama in front of him. “Half of this will be his to farm and make a living. When he dies, it will pass to our children.”

  “Can you afford such a gift?” Nicole asked. Acres upon acres stretched before them.

  “In truth, the seigneurs make little money off the land compared to other enterprises,” Alexandre said. “It’s more important that we manage the property well and keep troubles to a minimum so that the governor and the Crown have less to worry about. With Henri overseeing things on-site, we hope to operate the best-run estate in New France.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Nicole said with pride.

  “We’ll have some sturdy young lads clear the land for him,” Alexandre said. “It’s awful work, I gather. I’ve told Henri to have a solid home built for them as well. They won’t be able to plant this year, but everything will be ready the following spring.”

  “Thank you,” Nicole said, embracing her husband while trying not to disturb the sleeping Hélène. “I don’t know what I could ever do to make this up to you.”

  Alexandre rubbed her swollen belly. “You do enough as it is.”

  “Up you get,” Nicole murmured as she nudged Manon awake from her nap on the sofa. The girl offered a brief but mutinous look before standing up and smoothing her dress.

  It was just before eleven at night on Christmas Eve. They would be late for midnight Mass unless they left at least forty-five minutes early. Traveling in the snow was always a challenge, but the added gloom of midnight made the trip a serious undertaking.

  Bundled in their warmest clothes, the Lefebvres climbed aboard Alexandre’s sleigh.

  Any other night of the year, the town would be asleep, but few in the settlement—even those of middling faith—missed the celebration of the Nativity. The lavishly decorated church glowed with candlelight for not only the traditional Mass, but choral singing and Nativity pageants as well.

  “They put on a good show,” Alexandre whispered after a performance of Panis Angelicus. “But I envy the little one.”

  Hélène nestled against her mother’s bosom, sound asleep. She was far too young to be interested in Latin, no matter how beautifully sung. Manon’s attention never wavered from the altar.

  Nicole noticed Elisabeth nudge Pascal awake more than once during the service. Though almost three years Manon’s senior, the Beaumonts’ apprentice took little interest in church.

  Monsieur Rosseau, the butcher, cast a disapproving glare at Manon. His opinion that she didn’t belong in the church was not a rare one. People always glanced at Manon in public, and not always with kindness in their eyes. Nicole shot a murderous look at the old man. He must have understood her meaning full well as his bewildered eyes reverted forward where they belonged. Listen to the sermon, you clout. It will do you more good than thinking poorly of a small girl.

  Nicole fought to restrain her tears. As much as she considered Manon to be her flesh and blood, the rest of the colony would never see it that way. No matter how high Nicole climbed on the social ladder, Manon would not be allowed to follow.

  Sweet, serious girl, Nicole thought. I hope we’ve done right to take you from your people. I hope you are happy.

  Just after one o’clock in the morning, the Lefebvres and their nearest friends returned home from Christmas Mass. They were welcomed by a warm fire and the smell of roast goose wafting from the kitchen.

  “Nothing better than returning home from a drafty church to a good meal,” Alexandre said. “To the table, everyone.”

  “Manon, why don’t you put the baby Jesus in the crèche before supper?” prompted Nicole. “It’s Christmas now.”

  Manon reveled in the chance to have a role in the festivities. With the crèche complete, family and friends sat down for the meal. The staff had prepared a feast fit for the holiday: roast goose, creamed potatoes, carrots, chestnuts, cider, and a few bottles of the better wines from Alexandre’s collection.

  “Everything looks perfect, Sophie,” Nicole said as the cook placed the last dish on the polished wooden table. “I’m only sad I can eat so little these days.”

  The maid smiled at the compliment. “Never mind, madame. Most of this can be reheated, as good as new, for you later. Enjoy what you can.”

  “Thank you, Sophie,” Alexandre said, by way of dismissal. “We’ll let you know if you’re needed.”

  The squat woman bowed to the master of the house and took her exit.

  Too familiar with the servants. In front of company, too. How absurd, but I suppose it’s what he’s used to.

  “I’ve never tasted goose like this before,” Pascal said, proud to be eating with the adults. “When I had it before it was greasy and stringy.”

  “A risk with goose, to be sure,” Alexandre said. “But Sophie is among the best cooks in the settlement. Tell me, young man, have you heard from your sister?”

  “No, monsieur,” Pascal said, a dark cloud passing over his face. “It’s been almost a month, but I expect Papa won’t allow her into town.”

  Elisabeth patted the boy’s shoulder.

  Nicole suspected Pascal felt his sister’s absence keenly, especially at Christmas.

  “You three must be glad for the holiday,” Nicole said to change the subject. “I doubt you’ve slept much the last few nights.”

  “You speak the truth,” Gilbert said, the bags under his eyes affirming his lack of rest. “We couldn’t run the ovens long enough.”

  “To a prosperous New Year,” Alexandre said, raising his glass. “I think you’ve re-established yourself beyond expectations, Beaumont.”

  “Thanks to your help.” Gilbert raised his glass in return.

  “It seems my uncle has been quite the benefactor to us all,” Henri said. “We’ll be installed on your estate this spring if all goes well.”

  “The sooner the better,” Alexandre said. “Although we’ll miss having you and Rose in town.”

  “We’ll miss it, too,” Rose said, her tone low, “but we’ll visit as often as we can manage. You must promise to come see us as well.”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to keep my wife away,” said Alexandre. “She’ll have her own horse and carriage to do as she pleases.”

  “Really?” Nicole asked, her expression shocked.

  “Yes, really,” Alexandre said with a laugh. “I was going to tell you on New Year’s Day. Merry Christmas, dear.”

  “Thank you,” Nicole said. With the exception of bringing her family to the settlement, the gift was the most extravagant she had ever received.

  “You’ll be the envy of all the fashionable ladies in town,” Alexandre said. “Just promise to make good use of it and take Didier or Guillaume to drive you.”

  “Of course,” Nicole said. She had never driven a carriage and had no desire to learn.

  The jacket she’d bought Alexandre for the new year now seemed trifling by comparison, but with the baby’s delivery approaching, she had no wish to venture out to the shops before the holiday.

  The rest of the meal continued with the same good cheer with which it had begun, but Nicole retreated into herself.

  Fashionable—that word again. Always so important how we show ourselves to others.

  By the time the meal ended, at half-past three in the morning, Nicole was more than happy to see the others leave so she could find her bed.

  “You’ve been quiet,” Alexandre said as they shut the door. “Do you dislike your gift?”

  “How could I not love it?” Nicole asked. “It’s just so generous. I could never return the gesture.”

  “Nor would I expect you to,” he said. “Come to my study. I have another gift for you.”

  “There’s more?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Yes, and you’re to accept it without complaint,” he said, with mock severity.

  “If you insist, good sir,” she replied.

&n
bsp; When they reached the study, Alexandre unrolled the house plans on his desk.

  “Have you changed the plans?” Nicole asked. She saw no difference in the design.

  “Only the purpose of the rooms,” he said. “If we ever need to sell, the next owners of the house will expect separate bedrooms.”

  “Of course,” Nicole said.

  “However, this room does not need to be a bedroom while we live there.” He pointed to the area designated as her bedroom. “You may use it as a private sitting room, or an office—as you choose.”

  “Then you want me to . . .” Nicole fell silent, too embarrassed to speak the words.

  “Share my bed,” Alexandre said, voice low. “I realized that your previous comments were intended to express how important that was to you. I dismissed your opinion at first. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, but yes, I would prefer it,” she admitted.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in an uncharacteristic display of affection. “You’re a very patient woman, putting up with a man who does not always listen.”

  Nicole sank into the embrace. “You’ve been so generous of late. I know it’s your nature, but has something happened?”

  “Other than giving me a child?” Alexandre asked. “I love Hélène as my own, but this is different.”

  “I understand,” she said. “But what about Manon? She is my daughter every bit as much as Hélène.”

  “The Huron girl means a great deal to you, I know,” Alexandre said. “But, I confess I can’t think of her as our own.”

  “Because she’s a native?” Nicole asked.

  “No, though I suppose it doesn’t help,” he said. “Don’t mistake my meaning. I’m fond of her, and glad to have her here. She’s as smart and dutiful a child as I’ve ever seen. It’s just that my affection doesn’t run as deep as a father’s ought to.”

  “I didn’t know you felt that way.” Nicole pulled away from his embrace.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “If I could change my feelings, please know that I would. Manon will always be welcome in our home. I will give her everything she wants or needs, as I would my own daughter. Please don’t doubt that.”