Chapter Fifteen
Guy, certain Isabelle an Sophie would be fine alone for a few minutes, approached the captain of La Jeunesse and the governor.
“Gentlemen,” he addressed the men. “Since I’ll have to give Jean Talon a full accounting of what happened, I would like to get more details from Captain St. Jean about the attack.”
“Of course, Guy. I’ll see you both at dinner,” the governor said. “If you need me sooner, I’ll be in my office.”
Guy nodded, and together with La Jeunesse’s captain, he headed back to the pier, walking a good twenty feet behind Captain Étier.
“Our ships were scheduled to sail on the same day, and yet you were ahead of us by at least two or three days. You made good time,” Guy said, hoping the man would be informative.
“We did,” Captain St. Jean concurred, “but we left port a day earlier than we expected to. Our hold was full, all the passengers were aboard. I saw no reason to delay. There was talk of a storm, and I decided to try and outrun it, which I did. I’d been warned about Barbary pirates off the coast of Portugal, but that ship was the last thing we expected.” He stopped walking and turned to him. “My lord, I can’t say for sure that it was a pirate vessel. They attacked at dusk.”
“Tell me what happened,” Guy ordered.
Captain St. Jean removed his hat and wiped his brow before he began walking again.
“Whoever attacked us must be new at the game or untried as a sea captain. I’ve never heard of this type of assault. It was as if he was specifically targeting the passengers. It happened so quickly, I couldn’t evacuate them to a safer part of the vessel. They never stood a chance. He firebombed the bow and then the stern before unloading his cannons on the same areas. My lord, not one shot was fired to disable my guns, almost as if he didn’t expect us to fight back, and when we did, with great success, instead of finishing us off, he disappeared without a trace.”
“What kind of damage did you do?”
“We took out the main mast, and I’m pretty sure I put a couple of holes in the hull at or below the water level. Once they stopped firing at us, we reloaded ready to defend ourselves if they came back, but they didn’t. The rain started and thanks to God and buckets of sea water, we were able to douse the flames, but the ship is done. She’ll need to be scrapped.” He shook his head. “It’s a great loss.”
“What will you do?” Guy asked, knowing how hard the loss of the ship and so many of his crew had to be on the captain.
“Some of my men have decided they want to stay here, salvage what they can from the vessel, and try their hand at fishing. With Captain Étier’s permission, the rest of my men and I will join him and travel to Cayenne, where we hope to help defend the colony. I’m quite content to do whatever he asks of me. A captain without a ship is no captain at all. Most of us have nothing waiting for us in France. My cabin boy was my only son. His mother died last winter, which was why I took him with me. He died trying to save the lady.”
“My sympathies, sir. It may not be much consolation, but your son died a hero.”
“And he’s with his mother now.” He leaned towards Guy. “I would ask a favor my lord—not for me, but for my men. The governor will report those who’ve chosen to remain here as deceased; otherwise, they would be hung for desertion. Denys knows this and has agreed to support the charade. There are plenty of graves in the cemetery that’ll be renamed. Life here will be far more pleasant for many of them. Come aboard, and I’ll give you what remains of the lady’s possessions. You can have them taken to your ship.”
Guy followed the captain onto what was left of La Jeunesse. From the weather deck, he could see the extent of the damage and marvelled the men had been able to sail what was left of the ship into port. The only mast standing straight was the aft one. The front of the ship was burned past the beakhead, and most of the stern deck and quarterdeck were gone, including the ship’s wheel.
“How did you steer the ship?” he asked, genuinely perplexed it could even be done.
“From the work deck. My men rigged a handle to connect to the rudder, and using a compass and directions shouted from above, we managed. It might actually be something a ship designer could consider in the future. Thank God we had clear weather and calm seas. Otherwise, the sea would have swallowed us whole. No doubt that was what our attackers hoped for. This way.”
Guy went through the companionway into what remained of the quarterdeck. The outside walls were peppered with cannon shot, and the inner sections all but obliterated by fire. The attacker must have circled the ship to hit it on both sides like he did. He’d never heard of such a tactic at sea. A satchel sat beside what was left of the bedframe. Next to it stood a large trunk and a green wool fur-lined cape, smoky but undamaged.
“We brought the trunk up a few days ago. Had the young lady survived, we would’ve carried it ashore to her.” He indicated the door, standing almost untouched in its frame. “She’d managed to get out of her cabin with the satchel before the wall collapsed on her. My men found her and my son in the companionway.” Captain St. Jean walked over to the satchel and removed the two letters it contained. One, unsealed, was addressed simply Isabelle, the other it’s red wax seal intact, was for the Seigneur Maurice des Courts.
Guy took the letters and put them in his inside coat pocket. He picked up the satchel, grabbed the cape, and motioned to the two sailors who’d followed them to carry it out. It was a small trunk for a woman of means moving to the colony. Perhaps she hadn’t expected to stay. While Captain St. Jean thought the attack had been made by someone unfamiliar with ship-to-ship warfare, Guy had no doubt the raid had done exactly what it had set out to do.
That captain hadn’t expected his own ship damaged in the foray, which meant he’d expected those cannons to be sabotaged. He thought of what Giroux had said. A man had paid him handsomely for his cabin, a cabin the young lady had taken in his stead, desperate to be aboard this particular ship. Why?
“Captain, did you see the ship’s colors?”
“I swear she wasn’t flying any, but it was dark and with the flames...”
Guy thanked Captain St. Jean and left the man to continue the decommissioning of his ship.
Moving to the next pier where L’Aigle Doré sat, he had the trunk, satchel, and cape taken to his cabin, and then returned to the chapel in time for Father Samuel’s first mass, a funeral for Isabelle de Caen.
Guy sat with Isabelle, Sophie, his mother, and Henri. He and Monsieur Martin carried the casket to the small cemetery and stood with the other mourners as Isabelle de Caen was laid to rest.
After the funeral, he escorted the women back to the ship.
“You’ve had a busy day,” he said. “The ship’s been provisioned with fresh food, so you’ll eat well tonight, but I won’t be joining you. I have matters to discuss with Nicolas. There will be extra guards posted tonight to ensure your safety. Isabelle’s trunk, satchel, and cape have been taken to my room. You can look at them later. Goodnight.”
Despite the fact he was governor of Canso, Nicolas and his wife, Marguerite, led simple lives, concentrating their efforts on fishing and farming. Together with the Sieur d’Aulnay, one of the islands first governors, the colonists had reclaimed a large portion of the tidal marshlands creating an incredibly fertile area. Using aboiteaux, a system of dikes and drains, d’Aulnay and Denys had found a way for the French settlers to live in peace with their Micmac neighbors since they used land for which the natives had no use. This peaceful coexistence had led to trade, friendship, and intermarriage with the fishermen and trappers who dwelt there. The three women who’d arrived today had married officers from the Carignan-Salières Regiment who’d been stationed on the island and had chosen to stay. The twenty soldiers who’d arrived on L’Aigle Doré would be all the protection the colony had, but since the peace treaty, that should be sufficient, but that missing ship still ate at Guy. He would feel better knowing it was far away from these shores.
“It appears all the brides and grooms are satisfied with their mates. They spoke with Father Samuel earlier. Tonight, we’ll let them get to know one another,” Nicolas said and laughed. “To happy marriages and many children,” he toasted. “And you, my friend, when will you take a bride?”
Guy smiled and sipped his wine. “As soon as I can, Nicolas, but first I’ve got a mystery to solve, and you might be able to help.”
“Whatever I can do, my friend, whatever you need,” he said. “It’s yours.”
Guy told him about the accusations of treason against Pierre, Guy’s refusal to believe them, and Pierre’s subsequent death revealing only the facts necessary. Isabelle de Caen was now dead and buried. He wouldn’t resurrect her with a slip of his tongue.
“The local Onamag chief, affiliated with the Micmac, has complained someone’s trading alcohol and muskets for furs. The forests on the island have long been depleted of moose as has the smaller island just west of us, so there’s not much left to hunt here. His braves venture south to the mainland to search for food and furs, but they’re returning empty handed. He’s afraid his people won’t have enough food for winter. He blames me and wants me to stop it, but I’ve told him the French aren’t the ones at fault. I think it may be the Dutch or the English, but I’ve got no proof. Désolé, mon ami, but I can’t help you.” He poured more brandy into the goblets in front of them. “If the Dutch and the English are in cahoots, it’s news to me. Those two were still at war just last year. I know Louis invaded the Spanish Netherlands, and I’m sure the Dutch aren’t happy about that either. I can see the English wanting to stop France from expanding the colonies here, and if they do, they’ll focus on New France, not my chunk of rock. Look for your answers with de Courcelle, but, before you leave, Guy, tell me to whom I should send word about the death of Isabelle de Caen.”
“Contact the Governor of Normandy, the Chevalier d’Angrignon. He was her fiancé. Any of the ships returning to France can carry it for you. Mine, as you know, sails for Guyenne.”
They exchanged goodnights, and Guy returned to the ship, eager to solve the mystery of the dead woman’s identity.
* * *
Isabelle stared at the items they’d taken from the satchel. There were a couple of lightweight dresses, three chemises, a comb and brush, and a black rosary similar to the ones worn by the nuns at the convent. The cape had no pockets, and they hadn’t found a prayer book or papers, but those could have burned in the fire. As well, they hadn’t found the letters the captain had mentioned, but she assumed Guy had them. They weren’t able to open the trunk since it was sealed with a large iron lock.
“She seems to have had very little,” commented Sophie, “but it’s all of the best quality.”
“Whoever she was, she was running from someone or something and ill-prepared for it,” Isabelle said. “Tomorrow, we’ll ask Guy to open the trunk. I hope there’ll be more information in there.”
“Izzy, what if you can’t clear Pierre’s name?” Sophie whispered, voicing the nagging thought eating at Isabelle’s mind this past week.
“If Guy and I can’t find a way to do it, I don’t know what I’ll do. I made a vow, Sophie. Surely God will help me keep it. Guy told me some things about Cedric a few nights ago, things I hadn’t known.”
“Cedric? That cad? He’s no better than the chevalier—maybe even worse. Did you know he forced himself on one of his servants, and when she found herself with child, he had her thrown out of the château?”
“How do you know this?” Isabelle asked, her skin growing cold and clammy.
“Beatrice knew her. We got to know one another before I went to live with you. The viscount and his mother were appalled, but by then the poor girl had taken her life. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least to know that he’s mixed up in this. I know your father didn’t like him at all. Did you know he asked him to deny Pierre’s suit, and allow you to marry him instead?”
Guy entered the room just as Sophie finished speaking.
“Good evening, ladies. You look as lovely as ever. Who else wanted to marry Isabelle?”
Isabelle jerked her head up at the use of her name.
“Cedric, Pierre’s brother,” Sophie answered.
“You appear to have enjoyed your evening, my lord. It may have loosened your tongue,” she admonished. “Did you learn anything?”
Guy reddened slightly and nodded.
“My mistake. I need to watch myself especially after our discussion last night. If the walls have ears, as I fear, let’s hope no one was listening. Unfortunately, I didn’t learn as much as I’d hoped. According to Nicolas, someone’s been providing the Micmac with alcohol and muskets.”
“I thought the conspiracy charges involved arming the Mohawk,” Isabelle said, frowning.
“They did, which means someone is definitely arming the natives—any tribe—and plying them with liquor doesn’t help. It seems to affect them more than others. The chief blames Nicolas and the French in the area for his problems, but Nicolas thinks it may be the English or even the Dutch. I wish I knew what message Pierre had carried to France. Nicolas suggested I look to de Courcelle for answers, which is exactly what I intend to do.” Guy removed his jacket and laid it on the bed.
Isabelle picked it up without thought and hung it on the peg on the wall.
“Sadly, some good has come of our time here,” Guy continued. “Denys will send a letter to France informing the chevalier Isabelle de Caen died from injuries sustained at sea on June 19, 1668, and has been buried in the cemetery at Saint Pierre.” He turned to the items folded on the table. “She didn’t have much, did she? I know you recognized her, Izzy. Who was she?”
“I don’t remember her name, but I do recall where I saw her. I’m positive it was at a soiree for extended family and friends the viscount hosted after Pierre returned to France. The more I think about it, the more certain I am she attended the viscount’s funeral, too. She was with Cedric. The first time I saw her, Pierre commented on her hair—I remember him saying his brother was attracted to redheads, too. She seemed nice enough.”
Sophie rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“To you, everybody seems nice. Why you didn’t even know what a monster your brother-in-law was.”
“Why do you call him a monster, Sophie?” Guy asked.
She repeated what she’d told Isabelle.
Guy shook his head, his jaw clenched.
“I knew the man was a scoundrel. There’s something you should know, but it’s best it remains a secret. Apparently our Isabelle was with child when she died,” he whispered. “Marguerite helps with the sick and injured. She bathed and dressed the woman, trying to make her as comfortable as she could.”
Sophie gasped and covered her mouth.
“Henri and I were talking with some of the surviving crew. I heard she had a rough crossing. This would explain a lot. The early days of a pregnancy can bring on nausea, and if the sea didn’t agree with her ... poor thing. Did she say how far along?”
“No, but I doubt the infant could’ve survived given the trauma to the body. It does explain why the woman might flee to the colony. An unmarried woman, especially one of the nobility who found herself with an unexpected child, wouldn’t have had many options, but a wealthy, pregnant widow would be a boon to New France.”
“True,” Isabelle said, wondering if the child could’ve been Cedric’s. “Such a tragedy.”
Guy examined the lock on the girl’s trunk and shook his head. “Whatever she has in here will have to wait until morning. I don’t have anything with me to open this, but the ship’s carpenter will have the tools I’ll need. It’s late. Maman is falling asleep in her chair. Come, Sophie, I’ll see you back to your cabin.”
“Goodnight, Sophie. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Isabelle helped Aline prepare for bed and then settled on her cot. Her mind was restless. She tried to recollect as much as she could about the woman, but her mind remained blank. Eventually, she drifted off into a fitful sleep.
* * *
After a restless night filled with dreams of pirates, burning ships, disfigured women, and Cedric, Isabelle insisted on staying with the other women, preferring their noisy excited chatter to more time alone to think.
“You’re up early,” Guy said, coming into the galley where the women sat. “Did you not sleep well?”
This morning, he wore narrow dark brown breeches and a loose ivory linen shirt, one of the ones she’d help make on the voyage. His knee-high, wide mouthed leather boots were polished, and he looked every bit the nobleman he was. His hair, slightly longer and more sun kissed than it had been, was tied back in a queue, adding to his appeal.
“Not really,” she admitted. “I had a lot on my mind. I have decisions to make soon—sooner than I expected.”
Guy frowned but didn’t press her. She was grateful he didn’t. There wasn’t anything she could say here.
“Good morning, Maman.” He smiled at them and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.
Isabelle wished it were hers.
“Well, I hope the news I bring will cheer you. It looks like Colbert and the king’s plan is a success. The young couples are all content with the arrangements and have consented to remain married. Father Samuel will celebrate mass where they’ll renew their vows later this afternoon, and the governor and his wife are throwing them a wedding feast afterwards.”
“That’s wonderful news. Let’s hope things are as satisfying when the rest of my ladies reach Quebec.” Sophie clapped her hands. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a wedding and a party. I hope there’ll be dancing. I haven’t danced in ages. Have you seen Monsieur Giroux?”
“Gerard isn’t here? Then I assume he’s gone to look at the guns aboard La Jeunesse and see what can be salvaged. I’ll tell him about this when I see him later. If there’s dancing, I hope you’ll all save a dance for me. The limp may slow me down, but it won’t stop me. All of you will be in demand. There are three hundred souls in Saint Pierre, but only sixty are women, and all of them are married.”
Isabelle felt her face redden since he’d looked directly at her when he’d made his request.
“We’ll be danced off our feet,” she said, laughing to cover her nervousness.
“You most certainly will. I need to see the carpenter. If you’ll excuse me, ladies?”
Isabelle watched him go down the ladder that led deeper into the ship. How much longer could she remain a polite stranger to him? She missed their quiet evenings together, their games of chess. Truth be told, she longed to feel his arms around her again, his lips on hers, making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before. She lifted her tisane flavored with honey from the colony and sipped.
An hour later, back in their cabin, Isabelle finished sweeping the floor.
“Isn’t it exciting?” Aline brushed at the navy skirt and bodice she’d just removed from the armoire. “This’ll probably be the first time in more than twenty-five years that I attend a party and don’t have to do any of the work.”
“It’ll be wonderful.” Sophie danced around the room.
Isabelle was pleased to see her in such a good mood. For a while, the prospect of life and marriage in New France seemed to weigh on her, but now, she was her old vivacious self. A certain gunsmith might be responsible for the bloom in her cheeks, but like the relationship developing between Henri and Aline, Isabelle would keep her notions to herself.
“I’m going to wear the purple dress with the amethysts that I wore when I boarded the ship,” Sophie said, her brow drawn in a slight frown. “All the women have their best dresses handy, but there’s nothing suitable for you to wear.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the pale green dress in that satchel,” she indicated the woman’s bag. “It’s simple but of good quality. I am a poor farmer’s daughter, remember? It’s doubtful I would have much in the way of finery.”
“Maybe there’ll be something better in the trunk,” Sophie said
All Isabelle could do was hope she was right. It would be nice to have a fancy gown to wear for the occasion.
* * *
Guy knocked on his mother’s cabin door and waited for someone to answer.
“There you are, Guy.” His mother grinned, and he could see she was as excited about this as Izzy and Sophie were. “We’ve dragged the trunk into my room.” She waved at the various tools he carried. “Will those work?”
“They should.” He turned to Isabelle.
“I meant to give you this last night.” He handed her a sheet of paper folded in three, with the name “Isabelle” written in the center.
“It was open, as the captain said, so I took the liberty of reading it this morning to see if perhaps our young lady had been named Isabelle. After reading it, I know it was meant for you.”
Isabelle reached for the page and gasped.
“It’s Pierre’s handwriting.”
She unfolded the note and read aloud.
My darling Isabelle,
I’m afraid the charges against me are serious—treason among others. They have documents to support their allegations, but they are false ones since I carried the true ones with me from New France. Someone doesn’t want the king to know the truth.
With the support of your father and others who spoke on my behalf, I’ve been spared the Bastille. King Louis has exiled me until I can prove the charges against me are false, something I know I can do as soon as we arrive in New France. To accompany me, you’ll have to repudiate your claim to the throne, but I believe the king is amenable to that.
This has been a terrible shock to my father. He’s collapsed and has returned to the estate with my mother.
We’ll leave in the spring as soon as the ships can sail. Discuss this with Sophie; maybe she would like to join us. She’ll be as miserable without you as you’ll be without her, and New France needs young women to bear her future.
Cedric has sent for me. He claims he and members of the company may be able to help me. My brother has never been kindly disposed toward me, but family is family. I’m going to meet him tonight, then I’ll go and see my father. I should be back at Caen by the end of the week.
Meet me there. We’ll skip stones in the moonlight.
Your loving husband.
Pierre
Isabelle returned the note to Guy.
“Why did she have this? If anything, it proves Pierre was murdered. He wasn’t distraught. He didn’t go out and get drunk.”
Her eyes were bright and her lower lip trembled as she fought her tears.
“I never thought he did. I have to ask. Can it be a forgery? I recognized the hand, but...” He ached to take her in his arms and comfort her.
“It can’t be a forgery. No one but Pierre would know about skipping stones in the moonlight.” She swiped at the tears she couldn’t hold back. “I need to be alone for a while.”
Aline nodded and pulled her into her arms.
“Take a few minutes to grieve and pull yourself together, but then you must bury the pain deep inside once more. Come,” she released her and turned to Guy and Sophie. “We can use some air and see how the others are doing selecting their dresses for tonight.”
Guy nodded. He didn’t want to leave Isabelle, but right now he had to do exactly that. She had to deal with this latest blow alone.