Chapter Seventeen
Isabelle placed her arm through Guy’s and enjoyed the sensation of his fingers covering her hand on his arm. They walked down the laneway leading from the governor’s home to the harbor. She stopped and stared in awe as the moon, a giant orange ball slowly filling the horizon, rose majestically out of the ocean. While she’d seen a full moon before, never had it looked so close. On the ship, the nights it would’ve been full had been cloudy. Tonight, the sky was awash with stars, diamonds piercing the deep blue velvet of the heavens, giving the night a magical quality. The sounds of crickets and small animals scurrying about filled the air. Isabelle sighed. It was so beautiful and peaceful here.
“You can see the face so clearly here. No wonder your natives believe it’s a living entity. What did you call the moon?”
“Sky Woman. To the Mohawk, she is Grandmother Moon. The mother of the Earth as we know it and her grandchildren are the twins day and night.”
“It’s a lovely story. So much more imaginative than the story in the Bible and yet similar. I wonder they didn’t call it Grandfather Moon.”
Guy laughed. “The Mohawk are matrilineal people, so their clan or family comes from their mother, the one who gives birth. In their culture, you’re born into a specific clan and that can never change. When a man marries, he has to move to his bride’s village. Everything he has, including their children, are hers. Clans are named after animals, but members of one clan can’t marry others of the same clan. For example, a wolf clan man can’t marry a wolf clan woman. In their eyes, they’re brother and sister. It’s complicated.”
“It certainly sounds that way. Regardless, there’s magic in the air tonight. The newlyweds are thrilled with one another, and I can’t imagine a more wonderful place to start a new life.”
“Wait until you see Ville-Marie. We don’t have an ocean, but we have the St. Lawrence River and a mountain. There are trees everywhere. It’s a glorious place in the fall when the leaves turn orange, gold, and the deepest red you can imagine. The settlement’s barely twenty-five years old, but it’s growing each day. I hope you’ll love your new home as much as I do.”
They strolled toward the ship at a leisurely pace. Isabelle’s legs had almost adjusted to walking on land again, but her strange rolling gait was unlike her usual step. They didn’t speak, each lost in their own thoughts, and walked arm in arm in comfortable silence.
Isabelle savored this time alone with Guy. Since the night he’d kissed her, despite their apologies, the air had been tense between them. She’d avoided being alone with him, and tonight’s closeness reminded her how much she’d missed his presence in her life.
Glancing up at his handsome face silvered by the moonlight, she saw the concern he tried to hide. Something was wrong. What had the governor said to preoccupy him this way? Why would they be leaving sooner than expected?
Before she could ask, Guy veered away from their destination and led her over to a bench someone had set out under a tree near the docks.
“Izzy, there’s something I need to discuss with you, and although I’d planned to do this later, I was reminded tonight our time aboard ship is coming to an end. Once we land, everything will change.” He paced in front of her, a look of deliberation marring his face. “The rules for land ownership in New France stipulate that, for a man to own land or purchase more, he must marry. That means when I return to Ville-Marie, I’ve got less than a year to find a wife if I want to keep my estate.”
Isabelle’s heart stopped beating, and her breath caught in her throat. Guy kept talking oblivious to the fact he’d shaken her world to its core. Had he chosen someone before leaving for France?
“I’d always considered my marriage would be an obligation, a duty to the king in exchange for his generosity. For the colony to prosper, there must be children, and I’d like to see mine enjoy the good life available here rather than live as servants and slaves to the wealthy nobles of France.” He cleared his throat.
Here it comes. Oh, God give me the strength to hear this without collapsing in my grief.
“We grew up together, lost someone we both loved, and have become friends. I’d like to offer you a proposition, one I hope would suit us both. I don’t expect to take Pierre’s place in your heart, and I realize you can’t contemplate marriage until we’ve cleared his name, but when the time comes, will you consider becoming my wife? This way, we’ll unite our lands—even if Sophie holds the title, we’ll come to an arrangement that’s advantageous to all. Nicolas reminded me tonight friendship is an excellent basis for marriage. Pierre often told me you wanted children—a houseful of children. You know you have to marry within a year—it’s the law and returning to France isn’t an option. You said you’d prefer not to marry a stranger, so marry me. I don’t expect your answer now, but I’d like you to consider my offer. I think we could be happy together. Will you think about it?”
Isabelle stared at him in the darkness, grateful she was seated. The breath she’d been holding whooshed out and tears pooled in her eyes. Her heart had resumed its steady beat as her world crashed around her. This was everything she wanted and yet nothing like it. He offered her marriage, but a marriage akin to a business arrangement, not one of love. He’d give her his body because children were essential, but not his heart. Could she accept such a situation?
If the king had ordered her to marry anyone but the chevalier that was exactly what she’d have done, but now? If love had grown between herself and her husband, it would have been a bonus. The couples had married sight unseen and they seemed happy. Guy was a friend, a man she respected as well as loved. Based on her reaction to his kiss, there’d be passion in their bed. Would it be enough?
“I’ll consider your kind offer,” she choked out the words.
“That’s all I ask.”
Guy offered her his hand. She took it, stood, and they continued along the dock and boarded the ship. As soon as they stepped onto the deck, the plank was pulled up behind them.
Guy escorted her to her cabin, but stopped outside the door.
“I’ll leave you here. I have to speak to the captain. Goodnight, Izzy.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Without a word, he continued down the hallway to the captain’s quarters.
Isabelle watched him move away from her and then turned and entered the cabin trying to be as quiet as possible. She could hear the sound of Aline’s even breathing coming from the far side of the room. Guy’s proposal weighed heavily on her mind. On the one hand, she wanted to shout yes with all her heart, but on the other, she wanted to weep for what she might never have.
Could she live without love? She thought of the relationship her parents had had. Theirs had been a joyful union based on love not duty. She and Pierre had married for love, but she’d never know how it might have turned out. The feelings she had for Guy were proof the love she’d had for her husband might not have been what she’d expected. They’d had friendship though. Perhaps Guy was right. Friendship was better than nothing. She undressed, put on her nightgown, got into bed, and let the silent tears trace lines down her face. Eventually, the familiar, gentle rocking of the ship lulled her to sleep.
* * *
Isabelle awoke to bright sunshine filling the cabin. She could tell she’d slept past her usual time. Shortly after the ship had sailed, Guy’s mother had asked if a separate bunk could be brought in for her to ensure both she and Isabelle got a decent night’s sleep. Not having shared a bed with anyone for over twenty years, Aline claimed she found sharing a bed now disconcerting. A small bunk had been built into the wall and Isabelle appreciated the privacy it provided.
Aline was gone, her bed made, and bread, jam, and a mug of what was most likely sweet water sat on the table. She got up, made her bed quickly, and went to the table. She was famished. The fresh bread melted in her mouth, the sweet fruit jam tickling her taste buds. She reached for the cup of honeyed water and walked over to the window. The liquid wasn’t hot, but it was still warm and the taste bespoke fond memories of her youth.
From her vantage point, she could see the dock area and much of the town. Over to the left, men were carting objects away from La Jeunesse. Last night, Captain St. Jean had said everything would be salvaged for use by the colony. Fishing vessels could always use sails, ropes, and tackle. The shipboard furnishings from below deck, along with the personal items in the cargo hold would be divided amongst the people of the town and the ship’s crew remaining in Saint Pierre. There’d be enough salvageable lumber from the ship to build houses, and the ship’s remaining longboats could be used for inshore fishing. Charred lumber could be cut up and used as charcoal for any number of small fires and to smoke fish. Cannons would be added to those aboard L’Aigle Doré as well as mounted on land to defend the port. Nothing would be wasted.
Remaining stores and other cargo would be added to the supplies aboard L’Aigle Doré. Of the twenty crewmen who’d survived, only five were sailing to Cayenne, the main city of Guyenne. The rest were staying in Saint Pierre. Some would marry native women. Isabelle had seen one particularly lovely young woman serving the meal last night. Others would choose brides from the bride ships stopping here later in the year or marry widows and women from nearby villages.
In a strange reversal of the way things were usually done, when a widow remarried, she did not have to cede her goods and property to her new husband. As such, many of the businesses in Saint Pierre were run by women, including the fur trading post and three of the fishing boats, allowing the men to continue to defend the colony or farm as the case might be.
Isabelle finished her morning treat and opened the trunk to get dressed. She’d put the gowns she’d been wearing the last few weeks at the bottom of the trunk. While she’d chosen the plainer of the day dresses, the thought of wearing something new appealed to her. She’d made a decision last night. Today was the first day of her new life. Papa would approve her choice and she felt certain Pierre would, too. After she donned the linen dress, she reached for her favorite shoes.
Damn. The ribbons that kept the shoes on her feet were badly worn and would need replacing. There’d been none in the trunk, and the two pairs she’d kept for her use, both a touch large, needed ribbons too. Perhaps she could go ashore and buy some. She left the cabin and climbed onto the weather deck. Aline stood near the gunwale watching the activity on the pier. Sophie was at the bow talking with a couple of the ladies.
“Good morning, Izzy. You look lovely, my dear. Guy said to let you sleep in. Did you have a good time last night? Captain Étier says we’re sailing shortly. I thought Guy had said we’d be here longer, but I must have misheard. This is good news. After the wedding feast yesterday, the rest of the ladies are anxious to meet their husbands in Quebec where we’ll all disembark.” She moved closer to whisper in Isabelle’s ear. “The sooner we leave Isabelle de Caen behind, the safer I’ll feel. I’d rather not encounter another ship from France for a while.”
Isabelle nodded her agreement. Such a ship could easily carry the chevalier’s men looking for her. The sooner she was hidden away on Guy’s estates, the better.
“I had a wonderful time, but I’m confused. Did you say we all disembark in Quebec? I thought we were going to Ville-Marie.”
“We are,” Guy answered. “Good morning, Izzy. Your gown becomes you. The St. Lawrence River, unlike the ocean, is shallow beyond the Quebec escarpment. L’Aigle Doré is a warship and can’t navigate the river as far as the Isle of Mont-real where Fort Ville-Marie and the settlement are located. We must change ships. We’ll remain a few days in Quebec before the five of us—Monsieur Giroux has asked to travel on the merchant ship with us—all sail to our new homes. Ville-Marie can use another gunsmith. There’s one, but he’s itinerant, travelling from place to place. Pierre had a small musket made by him last year. The man does good work, but without the military, every man will have to be armed and prepared to defend his home. While we’re in Quebec, I’ll need to spend some time with the governor.”
“Now that you’re both here, I have an announcement.” Aline looked both excited and pleased. “We’ll be six. Henri is leaving the ship and will stay in New France. Since La Jeunesse’s cook was eager to take his place, Captain Étier agreed to let him go. Henri and I will be married as soon as we reach Ville-Marie. May we stay with you until we can get our own house?” She looked expectantly at her son.
He grinned broadly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the dimple Isabelle loved but rarely saw evident in his genuine pleasure. He kissed his mother on both cheeks.
“Congratulations, Maman. This is wonderful news. You’re more than welcome to stay with me as long as you want. Besides, you can’t expect Sophie and Isabelle to live alone with me when we reach the settlement. It wouldn’t be proper. Sophie’s house in Ville-Marie is large enough to hold us all. As soon as my house is finished, you can both move to the seigneurie with me.”
“Then it’s decided; we’ll be one big family.” She rose. “Imagine; me a bride at my age; however, I doubt very much I’ll be a mother again.”
Guy laughed. “Don’t be too sure of that. The good sisters have a number of orphan children, both French and Indiens in their care. You’re an excellent mother. A child would be lucky to have you.”
“I must go and see Henri and tell him the news. I wonder how he’d feel about being a father as well as a husband.”
Aline hurried away. Guy walked up to the rear deck while Isabelle stayed by the gunwale, watching the activity ashore and swallowed her envy. There were obviously deep feelings between Aline and her future spouse, the kind of feeling she’d hoped to have herself.
* * *
Guy walked up to the stern deck where he watched the sailors prepare to set sail. Hearing his mother and Henri had decided to marry had come as a pleasant surprise. While he’d miss having her to himself as he’d planned, she’d been alone a long time and deserved to be happy. She and Henri had a lot in common and would keep each other company for years to come. Taking in a couple of the colony’s orphans would be good for them, too.
He’d seen the spark in his mother’s eye. He’d been raised an only child. His mother had grieved the loss of his older sister and regretted not having others to keep him company. He couldn’t see Aline or Henri farming the land, but there were many other jobs to do in the colony. His mills would need managers and overseers. They could make a good life for themselves.
But now that he was a wealthy man, there was no reason why they couldn’t simply stay with him and raised their adopted family. Even if Isabelle agreed to marry him, his mother and her husband would be more than welcome to stay in their home.
Lost in thought, he didn’t see Isabelle beside him until the unmistakable scent of roses announced her presence. He turned to look at her and his heart jumped. Last night had been one of the few times he’d seen her in any color but black, gray, or brown—the colors of death. Today, she’d worn one of the new dresses she’d taken from the false Isabelle. The dark green gown brought out the emerald in her eyes.
“How long before we sail?” she asked.
“Less than an hour. The captain’s agreed to leave as soon as the tide starts to go out. You look lovely today—a breath of spring after a long, hard winter. I know you’re in mourning, but green looks much better on you than the other colors you’ve worn. I’ve always found green becomes you. It must be your eyes.”
Isabelle blushed. “Thank you.” She moved to stand in front of him. “Guy,” she worried her lower lip a nervous action he’d seen once or twice during their chess games. “I spent some time thinking about your offer. I know you told me to take my time, but I’ve made a decision.”
His heart started to pound. If she refused him, how could he bear it? He should’ve waited longer… he looked at her expectantly, hoping his longing didn’t show in his eyes.
“Pierre and I were friends before we married, and I think I’d prefer to marry a friend than a stranger, so I accept your proposal. Once Pierre’s name has been cleared, I’ll become your wife.”
Guy’s heart resumed its normal beating, and the joy he felt was hard to suppress, but he didn’t want to frighten her. She’d made him the happiest of men. He smiled at her and took her hand in his. He kissed it. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never regret your decision.”
* * *
Isabelle sat on the bench on the stern deck and stared at the shoreline as the ship rounded the end of the island. Barren rocks and acres of forests gave way to a magnificent waterfall.
“Those are the Montmorency Falls, named after the Bishop of Quebec, who’s served in that office since 1659,” Guy said standing beside her. “They’re the highest falls in New France. The island we passed is the Île d’Orléans. You can’t see them from this side, but there are native villages and French settlements on its north shore. Quebec is nearby.” He reached for her hand. “Come and stand with me at the bow, and you’ll be among the first to see it.”
Isabelle stood and walked with him. The last few days had been magical. Guy had been her constant companion, sitting beside her as the ship moved through the gulf, pointing out animals and birds she might have missed. Since she’d agreed to marry him, he laughed easily and was always ready to answer the questions she had or explain something to her. He’d spent as much time with her as he could, leaving her side only for sleep.
Now that they were within sight of land on either side of the vessel, the ship’s activities had changed. Men with muskets were posted in the crow’s nest, day and night. Armed soldiers walked the deck at nightfall and the ship was moored early in the evening, well before sunset. Guy explained not all natives were allied with France, and it was much better to be alert than to be caught by surprise by a war party. She knew he minimized the danger, but she realized her new homeland was fraught with peril.
Isabelle relished each of Guy’s small touches as together they laughed at the antics and majesty of the different types of whales who made their home in the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the brackish waters of the St. Lawrence River. She was amused by the frolicking sea birds, especially the multicolored Puffins whose awkward take-offs and landings made her laugh. Occasionally, she caught sight of canoes, some of which were made from the bark of birch trees, while others, Guy explained, were constructed by digging out the flesh of the tree trunk with hatchets and embers. Some of these boats were large enough to carry as many as eighteen men and all of their supplies. These crafts were propelled through the water by wooden paddles.
She listened intently as Guy explained the political changes that had taken place in New France, and they speculated whether or not these changes might have spawned the conspiracy. French settlement in North America wasn’t going as well as France had hoped. Talon’s census in 1666 showed there were fewer than thirty-five hundred colonists in New France compared to the more than twenty thousand English and half as many Dutch settlers to the south. To allow the colony to grow, the crown had severely limited exploration, something that displeased the fur trappers.
“That’s why Jean Talon and Colbert conceived the idea of giving land to those who chose to marry and settle here. When men marry, they receive fifty livres from Jean Talon himself, more if they’re officers. When children are born, the family is given a financial gift—did you know that a family with ten children gets an annual bonus of three hundred livres?” He laughed. “At that rate, New France will be populated in no time. All we have to do is keep the colonists safe.”
“So, how much will you get to marry me?” she teased.
He looked at her soberly, his face intent. “When we marry, I’ll get a priceless treasure. Talon can keep his hundred livres.”
His words warmed Isabelle’s heart. It was the most romantic thing he’d ever said to her, indicating there might be more between them than friendship.
He put his arm around her and turned her to face the north shore.
“Look, Izzy, Quebec. Welcome to New France.”
While Isabelle had not known what to expect, the view of the magnificent mountain of rock encircled by imposing trees filled her with awe. The small town rose majestically from the river’s edge and climbed up the escarpment.
“That’s Cap Diamant,” Guy pointed to the rock face. “At the top of the hill, you can see the roof of the Château Saint Louis, Governor-General Rémy de Courcelle’s palace. The settlement is only sixty years old. About forty years ago, an English privateer named Kirkes captured it and held it for three years until it reverted to France once more. Since then, its fortifications have been improved. Many of the houses and the wall suffered damage in the great earthquake of 1663, well before Pierre and I arrived in the colony, but things have been stable since then. You, Sophie, my mother, and I will stay at the palace while we’re in the capital. The brides will stay with their husbands who’ve taken rooms in the town’s inns, while Monsieur Giroux and Henri will stay at an inn owned by a friend of mine.”
“It’s beautiful.” Isabelle admired the walled town crawling up the river bank. “How will the others get to Ville-Marie if they aren’t travelling with us?”
She enjoyed the feel of his arm across her shoulders. Since he seemed to enjoy the physical contact as much as she did, Isabelle took comfort from the thought maybe everything would work out between them.
“They aren’t all going as far as Ville-Marie. Most of them will leave either tomorrow or the next day and travel to their homes or the settlement by canoe. We’ll bring their furniture and baggage with us, leaving it at the closest town so they can move it by ox wagon or barge to their homes. Marie Elise’s vines come with us and Henri will care for them, in his words, as if they were the orphan children he’ll soon raise.” He smiled at her and the heat she felt in her stomach filled her. He settled her body closer to his. “The trek by canoe takes three days. It’ll give the couples time to get acquainted. It won’t be an easy journey, but it can be a romantic one. By the time we reach home, they’ll be settled and awaiting the supplies we carry, especially Michel and Marie Elise. The vines must be planted soon to grow roots and survive their first winter. When we travel to visit Des Courts, we’ll travel by canoe. Of course, we’ll have to be married by then since the journey’s an intimate one. We have to share a bedroll and furs.”
Isabelle felt the heat in her belly increase at the thought of being intimate with Guy, and she craved his touch. Pierre’s lovemaking had been pleasant, but she was sure it would pale in Guy’s arms. As the ship approached the harbor, the water came alive with canoes of all sizes from the small one-man crafts Guy said carried messages to the huge voyageur canoes loaded with goods.
“See those? They’re filled with furs.” Guy indicated the larger crafts. “These natives are Huron, and Montagnais. They’re our allies and bring their pelts to trade for goods such as iron pots, knives, or muskets. At the moment, the fur trade is the backbone of the colony, but Talon is trying to change that by increasing the importance of agriculture. Since the number of settlers has increased, the colony has more than fifteen thousand acres seeded with wheat, hemp, and flax as well as the crops the Montagnais have taught us to grow together: corn, beans, and squash—the Three Sisters, their guardian spirits. The corn plant supports the bean stalk and the squash plants with their thick leaves protect the roots of both. We also grow the tubers you enjoyed at the wedding feast. I believe they were growing them in Caen, too.”
She nodded. “We call them pommes de terre—earth apples.”
“The land here is rich and properly farmed, it can produce enough food to send to France as well as support the colony. No one goes hungry in New France.”
Isabelle gawked at the natives, fascinated by their varied appearance. Many wore headdresses made from animal quills sticking straight up on the top of their heads. Some had their heads partially shaved while others had feathers attached to long hair, either worn loose or in braids. Most were dressed in what appeared to be supple leather often trimmed in fur.
Guy, no doubt aware of her interest, explained the leather came from the treated hides of deer or moose. “It’s called peau de daim. If you could see their feet, you’d see their moccasins, shoes made out of the same buckskin, far more comfortable to wear than our own stiff shoes and boots. The women make them and decorate them with quills and beads. Some are quite beautiful. I’ll have a pair made for you as a wedding gift.”
“There was a pair in Pierre’s trunk which I brought with me. They were probably meant as a gift for his mother—my feet are a bit larger than hers. I can give them to your mother or Sophie.” The sound of the ship dropping anchor surprised Isabelle. “Why are we stopping here? Aren’t we going to sail into the pier?”
“We can’t. Seaports like those in France and the one at Saint Pierre have deep water, made more so by high tides. While tides do affect the river here, it’s a slight change. Either way, this warship draws too much water to get any closer to shore without damaging its keel. The ship’s longboats will take us to shore. Pack what you need for a couple of days. The rest of your things will be transferred to L’Érable. She’s the first of Talon’s ships built in New France specifically to move between Ville-Marie and Quebec. The brides will go ashore first. My mother and Henri accompany them to make sure that all goes well. If for some reason some of the brides go unclaimed, we’ll accompany them to the convent where they’ll stay until they travel to Ville-Marie with us. You can watch the process from the deck, but neither you nor Sophie will go ashore without me.”
Isabelle was surprised at the intensity of his words.
“Are the natives dangerous? Is Quebec not safe?”
“It isn’t that. There are approximately six hundred people in the fortified city of which one fourth are in one of the religious orders. Of the remaining number, less than one hundred and fifty are married women. The bride ships arrive fairly steadily at this time of year. The loss of La Jeunesse’s brides will be a bitter pill to swallow. Men from other parts of the colony come here to await the ships and claim a bride. At any given time, they could number over a hundred. I won’t entrust your safety to anyone but myself. Now that you’re going to be my wife, I have every reason to worry about you.”
Isabelle blushed at the passion in his gaze. He hadn’t touched her, and yet the slow burn she experienced whenever their hands brushed or he put his arms around her shoulders, ignited within her. She looked away to compose herself, then turned back and smiled. She’d draw strength from his concern for her safety; after all, one didn’t worry about something unless one valued it. It might not be love, but it was a place to start.
“Then, I must thank you for considering my safety.” She reached up, kissed his cheek, and shyly pulled away.
Guy took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, his lips lingering over the suddenly burning flesh. He looked into her eyes.
“Always, Izzy, always.”
This marriage would work. It had to.