Chapter Sixteen
An hour later, Guy, Aline, and Sophie returned to the cabin. Isabelle still sat at the table where they’d left her, the note clenched in her hand.
“Either Pierre had this on him when he was killed or he gave it to someone he trusted to get it to me, but how did this woman get it? Clearly, it should have been destroyed since it implicates Cedric and the company,” Isabelle said, as soon as he closed the door. “I know what you all think of my brother-in-law, but I still find it hard to believe he could be involved in this.”
Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she seemed to be in control of her emotions—anger being the one closest to the surface from what he could see.
“You’re too sweet and kind,” Sophie said. “I have no trouble believing it.”
“And neither do I,” Guy admitted. “That letter could well be evidence of blackmail. Maybe she used it to get the money to travel or she was taking it to someone else to use. Cedric may have been the last one to see Pierre alive. Are you certain that you can’t remember anything else about her?”
“This is all so frustrating. It’s as if the memory is there and then, poof! It’s gone.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. When she spoke again, her voice was tinged with regret.
“She was with Cedric at the funeral. We were introduced, but everything from that day is a blur. There were so many people there, and Pierre’s mother was as distraught as I was. I’ve managed to recall a bit more from the party, but it isn’t much, and it doesn’t tell me who she was.”
“Whatever you recall is more than we know now,” he said.
“Cedric invited a lot of people even though the event was meant as a welcome home for Pierre. He and his friends spent most of the evening playing cards, much to his step-mother’s dismay. I vaguely remember seeing that woman standing with Cedric and two other men. Since they faced my way, I only saw the backs of the others. One was of medium height, dressed simply, without a periwig; he wore his hair in a queue. I remember thinking he was a servant or a messenger. The other, dressed in red satin of all colors, wore a white periwig and leaned on an elaborate walking stick.”
The color drained from her face.
“What is it? What else did you remember?”
“Guy, I’ve seen that stick recently and so have you—the chevalier carries one just like it—a carved wooden stick with a fancy ivory and gold knob on top, and he fits the rest of the description as well. Why does he keep cropping up in this? I loathe the man—am I trying to blame him for everything? If I’m right, he’s been complicit in Pierre’s death as well as Papa’s. How does the woman fit in? What could Cedric and Vincent possibly have in common with that girl?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put anything past that man. As far as having something in common, both men were members of the company as was your father. His shares now belong to Solange since she inherited his personal fortune.”
Isabelle nodded.
“You need to know what’s in that second letter,” Aline said, moving closer to Guy. “Regardless of her pregnancy or where she got the letter addressed to Isabelle, the fact she still had it makes it important. Was she bringing them both to the Sieur des Courts? Do you know him, Guy?”
“Maman, there are almost four thousand people in New France, and sadly, I don’t know each one of them. I don’t even know everyone in Ville-Marie despite the fact I’ve chosen to make my home there. I’ve heard of des Courts. The seigneur has his estates near Fort Saint Jean, south of Ville-Marie, convenient for a quick trip to Albany. Since I don’t know the man, I believe I’ll make his acquaintance in the near future. Given the circumstances, you’re right. We need to know what this letter says.” Guy split the seal on the second paper. The brief note, not addressed to anyone in particular and unsigned, chilled him. He read aloud as Izzy had done.
Gaudier was onto us, but we’ve eliminated him. De Courcelle has spies everywhere. Get to Albany. Our friends will keep you safe until it’s time to act.
“This is proof of treason and an admission of murder.” Guy ran his hand through his hair moving it behind his ear. “The note isn’t signed, but it’s damning. There are Dutch settlers in the area, although the English control Albany and have for the last four years. There’s no doubt des Courts will know who wrote this. Judging by the damage done to La Jeunesse, it’s possible the author changed his mind about sending it. Something must have happened, and he’s afraid he’ll be exposed. Whatever this note refers to, it doesn’t bode well for New France.”
Isabelle touched his arm, her brow furrowed. “How do you know that about the ship? The captain said it was pirates.”
“He and I discussed that, and he couldn’t be certain, but I don’t think it was. Pirates rarely strike at night like they did. Such a raid is as dangerous to them as it is to the vessel they seek to board, and that’s their ultimate goal—board the vessel, secure her cargo and passengers for ransom, and then, when the ship holds nothing of value, scuttle it. From the damage to the ship, they weren’t planning on doing that. Let me explain.”
Guy described how the attack on the ship had been geared to inflict the most damage to the passengers ensuring almost certain death for anyone in those sections of the ship.
“I think that was a mercenary ship hired specifically to sink the vessel. If I’m right, their captain won’t be too keen to admit he botched his mission, but he won’t know he failed. La Jeunesse won’t make port in Quebec as expected. Denys letter to the French West India Company informing them the ship had been attacked and sunk by pirates, with all its passengers and most of its crew lost, should convince the sender his message has vanished.”
Isabelle bit her lower lip and looked at him. He read fear in her eyes.
“Guy, what if La Jeunesse wasn’t the target? What if we were? You said yourself the captain kept us out of the shipping lane.”
Guy froze as his thoughts returned to the morning they sailed. There’d been something in the chevalier’s eyes when he’d wished them a pleasant journey.
“You may be right. If someone wanted to discredit the king, sinking this ship would do it. The brides are an experiment of great value to Colbert and Louis if they wish to entice officers to remain in the colony. There’s something else you should know. The young captain in charge of the troops bound for Guyenne insisted on daily cannon drills. This hadn’t been a planned exercise, but the man is diligent in his duties. It’s a good thing, too. As a result, we found half of ours had defective firing mechanisms, something that could’ve been disastrous to the ship if it engaged the Spanish or Portuguese in Guyenne since they would’ve blown up without firing, killing the men and inevitably sinking the ship.”
“I thought Monsieur Giroux had checked all the cannons,” Sophie said, frowning.
“He did, but this defect was hard to spot, unless you actually primed the guns to fire. He was able to fix them all, but since he was a last-minute addition to the passenger list, if we were the original target, the ship attacking us wouldn’t have expected that. As it was, La Jeunesse’s cannons came as a surprise.”
“Regardless of who the target was, des Courts will be expecting his letter,” Isabelle said, wringing her hands.
“He will,” Guy agreed. “We need to get to the bottom of this, find out what’s really going on before anyone else dies. For the moment, we’re safe. Isabelle de Caen is buried, and while the Sieur des Courts won’t be getting this letter, he’s too valuable to let slip from our grasp.”
“Captain Étier and the governor know you have his letter. There’s always a chance someone will mention it,” Isabelle insisted.
Guy smiled. “Des Courts will get a letter, but it won’t be this one. I’ll write him another one asking for permission to call. We’ll see how he reacts. With luck, we may be able to use a rat to bait a trap for larger vermin. Now, let’s see what’s in this trunk.”
It took him only a few minutes to break the lock. When he opened the trunk, the women began to unpack it. As expected, it contained high quality garments, silk and linen skirts, bodices, hoops, stomachers, chemises, and undergarments, but not the right kind of clothes for someone who’d expected to stay in the colony. None of the clothing, other than the cape, was suitable for the colder months. What she did have surprised them all. In a small chest, there were over five hundred gold coins as well as numerous silver, brass, and copper ones, a veritable fortune. There weren’t any jewels, no miniatures of family or friends, no identification papers, nothing to say who she was, or why she’d sailed to the new world. Guy shook his head.
“I would wager she intended to go south, possibly to the province of Carolina, the English colony established about five years ago, after she delivered her messages. It isn’t very far from Spanish Florida or our own Louisiane, if the plan was eventually to return to France. There’s enough money here to buy a lot of loyalty from men who have theirs for sale. I’d hoped there’d be a clue to her identity. That’s it then. Let’s divide the coins between you and Sophie…”
“No.” Isabelle interrupted. “Four shares and twenty-six gold coins set aside to give two to each couple as a wedding present. Coming from you, it won’t raise any concern. You and your mother have been of great help to me. Before I repack the trunk, give me your knife. Sometimes, these trunks have a hidden compartment, a false bottom. Mine does. It’s where I’ve hidden Pierre’s papers, my money, and my jewels.”
She worked the blade along the inside edge of the bottom of the trunk and smiled when something clicked.
Glancing up, she grinned. “We ladies like to keep our secrets hidden.”
Using the tip of the blade to pry up a board, she revealed a small area and reached inside, removing a roll of parchment, a leather pouch, and a small vial. She handed the parchment to him.
Guy untied the rolled documents and unfurled them. He stared in amazement and examined the top parchment carefully.
“This is impossible. These are the newest maps of the colonies, the ones I helped draw. I don’t know everything Pierre had with him but I know he was to give these to Colbert. How did she get her hands on them? This is a new map of the area south of Ville-Marie. Do you see these lines? They’re trapper lines and Mohawk trails leading to English and Dutch settlements.” He pointed on the map. “Here is Fort Chambly, Fort Sainte Thérèse, and Fort Saint-Jean, all of them along the Richelieu River, and this indicates Fort Sainte Anne on Lake Champlain. We used these forts as our bases during the ’66 campaigns against the Iroquois Confederacy. Over here you can see Fort Albany, and on the coast the major seaports of Salem, Boston, and New York which used to be called New Amsterdam.” He moved the sheet aside to reveal a second map beneath it. “This one shows the eastern part of the colony, specifically the area around Quebec, Port Royal, and Canso—see? Here’s Saint Pierre. To the south, you can see Falmouth and several of the English and Dutch fishing settlements along the coast.” He rerolled the maps and put them on the table. “These maps would be extremely valuable to an invader providing alternative routes that we don’t monitor regularly. I don’t think these are the originals, the parchment is a much better quality than what I had to work with. It would take a master forger to make such fine copies.”
“Like the forger who made my documents?” Sophie asked.
“Exactly,” Guy answered, fisting his hands. “I expect they’re meant for des Courts’s allies.” He turned to Isabelle. “What does the pouch contain?”
“Jewels,” she answered. She laid the contents of the bag on the table. “While they’re pretty, they aren’t particularly valuable. I’ve never seen any of these pieces.” There was a garnet and diamond broach and matching ring, a sapphire cross on a gold chain with matching gold earrings, and a pearl rosary. “What should we do with them?”
“Keep them. Since we don’t know who she is, we can’t send them back. All isn’t lost; we’re one step closer to the conspirators and whatever plan they have. We’ll keep these maps from falling into enemy hands. When we get to Quebec, I’ll take this information to de Courcelle and see how he wants me to proceed.” He paused and turned to Isabelle. “I’m sorry, Izzy. This isn’t just about clearing Pierre’s name anymore. These maps and letters point to a conspiracy endangering the colony. This is proof that there are traitors at work not only in New France, but in the king’s own court as we suspected. This is what cost Pierre his life. Put them back in the secret compartment. Choose whatever clothing you want. The rest can be divided up among the women. I’ll instruct Denys to say the ship never made port, only a few men made it to shore in a lifeboat—with the young lady who later died of her injuries. Those men are going to Guyenne with Captain Étier. Since many of their comrades are staying here, and they won’t see France for at least ten years, it won’t be hard to convince then to keep quiet. Maman, what’s in that vial? Is it perfume?”
Aline uncorked the small bottle and a strong scent of bitter almond permeated the room.”
“No. It’s poison, made from wild bitter almonds, a very strong concentration of it, too. Just a few drops could kill a man. I wonder who it was intended for? “
Guy reached for the vial. “I don’t know, but I have no intention of giving it to des Courts to find out. I’ll dispose of it. I need to talk to Nicolas. I’ll be back later.”
* * *
Just before three, Aline opened the connecting door at Guy’s knock. He was magnificent. Dressed in an ornate silver and black brocade frock coat, white silk shirt with lace cuffs and jabot, black tight-fitting knee-pants, white hose and black leather shoes with silver buckles, he stepped into the room. Isabelle stood near the bed, nervously awaiting his approval. She hoped he found her as appealing as she did him.
While she, like everyone aboard ship, had lost weight, the blue and green striped silk dress she’d chosen enhanced her height and figure. The sapphire cross, whose blue shade matched the stripe in the dress, hung around her neck and the gold earrings decorated her ears. Although her hair was still short by the standards of the day, it had been washed and shone a healthy dark chestnut with red highlights. Dressed in ringlets, it fell softly to one side and was held in place by the tortoiseshell comb Aline had given her. A lace cap covered the top of her head and more importantly the roots which were less obvious since the dye had begun to fade. With Isabelle de Caen safely buried, she planned to allow her hair to return to its natural color. She smiled shyly at Guy and twirled to show off her finery. The warm look on his face told her that he approved of her appearance.
“Izzy, you’ll outshine all the women. Maman, you look charming as always. Henri will be truly smitten.”
Isabelle laughed as Aline blushed.
“Go away with you,” she said. “No one will notice this old hen with all the new chicks about.”
“But an old rooster might prefer a hen.” He laughed. “The rest of our group awaits on deck. We’ll walk over to the church together.” He offered Isabelle his arm.
Guy escorted her onto the deck where Monsieur Giroux, some of the officers, Sophie, and the women waited.
“Mademoiselle Leroux, you look magnificent. That gown becomes you. Are those sapphires? Family heirlooms, perhaps,” the gunsmith asked.
Isabelle smiled, trying to hide her discomfort. Sophie liked him, but at times, like now, he seemed too intense.
“Alas, my finery is all borrowed today. These belonged to Sophie’s poor sister, Isabelle. They were in her trunk. Despite the pain they cause, she insisted I wear them.”
The man’s eyes grew large for a second, but then he smiled and turned to Sophie.
“You are most generous, my dear. Shall we?” He offered her his arm. “What other treasures did your sister have with her? It’s no wonder they searched our ship that morning.”
“If you’re implying she stole these,” Sophie said, her chin raised in defiance. “I can assure you they were indeed hers.”
“You misunderstood, my dear. I’m certain the chevalier’s accusations were unfounded. Such a shame she had to go to such lengths to get away from him.”
Mollified, Sophie took his arm and led the party off the ship. The young officers helped the brides walk without stumbling since they’d yet to get their land legs. It astounded Isabelle how quickly the men did, and she mentioned it to Guy.
“They’ve made the crossing several times before. It isn’t that they get their footing sooner; it’s simply that they know how to walk both at sea and on land. It’s a rolling motion I can’t quite adapt with my limp.”
The nuptial mass was a touching affair. Each of the “Ettes, dressed in gowns taken from the woman’s trunk, colors that didn’t suit Isabelle, carried a small bouquet of wild flowers, and all the grooms were resplendent in their uniforms.
Tears pricked her eyes. She was happy for the couples and hoped their marriages would be more fruitful than hers had been. Glancing at Guy sitting next to her, she sent out a fervent prayer that God might allow her to share the contents of her heart with him one day. The documents from the trunk cleared Pierre, and it wouldn’t be long before his honor could be restored. Was it wrong to want a measure of happiness for herself now?
Following the wedding mass, the couples and all of the guests followed the governor and his lady to their home. Expecting a mansion, Isabelle was surprised by the simple, one story log house, located near the reclaimed shoreline. The yard had been decorated with wild flowers, tables, and chairs for an outdoor feast on the sunny June day. Since all of the colonists were guests, Micmac women served the meal, while Denys and the other man filled glasses. The only ones missing were the new members of the garrison. Guy had explained the need for vigilance until they solved the mystery of the attacking ship.
As soon as the guest were seated, the governor stood.
“I would like to propose a toast to all the new members of this colony and the newlyweds in particular. May your life in Saint Pierre be all that it can be and may the Lord reward you with many children.”
Isabelle watched the blush rise on the cheeks of the “Ettes” and wondered if any of them had already started working on those new families. Heat flooded her at the thought of creating a child with Guy. She hadn’t conceived with Pierre, but she wanted children.
The first course, a fish soup unlike any she’d ever tasted, was delicious. The bowls had just been taken away when huge platters of food, some too heavy for one person to carry were set on the tables before them. A whole piglet had been roasted on an outdoor spit and was served with fresh fish, haunches of venison and moose, and a delicious fowl larger than any goose she’d ever seen. Accompanying the meats were dishes of wild greens, fresh bread, churned butter, and traditional French cassoulet as well as Micmac dishes which included the last of the tubers harvested last fall. Dessert was cake served with warm honey. To drink, the guests were offered wheat beer and wine as well as sweetened water.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, men with lutes, fiddle, flutes, and tambours provided music. Isabelle danced Bourée and Gigue with each person who asked. Aline danced several dances with Henri, while Sophie partnered Monsieur Giroux who seemed friendlier than ever. When the last dance of the evening was announced, a Gavotte, Guy came to claim her, and the dance he’d been promised. Despite his limp, he was an excellent dancer, and Isabelle thrilled every time his hand found hers. Finally, the music ended. The three couples thanked Guy for his generous gift, promising to name their first born after him in his honor. Darkness fell, and the guests prepared to escort the newlyweds to their homes amid much teasing and laughter. At the governor’s request, Guy stayed behind, and Isabelle offered to help clean up while she waited for him to escort her back to the ship.
* * *
Guy took a mouthful of the brandy Nicolas had poured and sat across from him.
“What is it, Nicolas?” he asked. “I saw your face when that trapper arrived earlier. It’s obvious he gave you bad news.”
Nicolas picked up a woven belt sitting on the table in front of him.
“Bad news may be an understatement, my friend. Have you ever seen one of these?” He handed it to Guy.
“Yes. It’s a wampum belt similar in design to that of the flag of the Iroquois Confederacy—the five united tribes including the Mohawk. Where does it come from? Who gave it to you?”
“Régimbald, one of the local trappers brought it back from a Micmac village on la Baie Française near Acadie. The tides are incredible there, well worth going to see, but I digress. As I told you yesterday, relations with the local tribes have been strained over the muskets and whiskey. This could pose a threat to Port Royal and the rest of this area, Canso included. If this is real, it points to an alliance between the Iroquois Confederacy and the other tribes south of here such as the Abenaki. We’ve lived at peace with the Micmac for several years; I don’t want to see that end. Such an alliance could have disastrous consequences for New France as well. You must take this information to de Courcelle as soon as possible. He can consult with his Mohawk allies and verify the authenticity of the belt. If it’s real, without soldiers to protect us, we can’t hope to hold the colonies in a full-scale war. It will be a slaughter. If it isn’t real, then someone is trying to start a war and the results would be the same.”
Guy huffed out a breath. He hadn’t brought his mother and Isabelle here to see them perish in a savage war with the indigenous people. While the Mohawk usually didn’t kill women and children, their allies might be a different story. He knew very little about the tribes farther south. The sooner de Courcelle discovered the truth, the better. He set down his empty glass.
“Agreed. I’ll speak to Captain Étier. We’ll cut our visit here short and try to leave as soon as we can. Most of the new provisions are aboard. High tide is around noon.” He folded the belt, slipped it into his coat pocket, and rose.
Together he and Nicolas returned to the sitting room where Isabelle and Marguerite were having a lively discussion. Guy watched her animated face.
“She’s the one, isn’t she?” He chuckled. “I have eyes, mon vieux. Don’t wait too long to stake your claim. Once you land in Quebec, she’ll have more admirers than you can fight off. She’s a rare jewel.” Nicolas raised his brandy to his lips.
Guy smiled. “Marrying her is my heart’s desire, but she sees me only as a friend. I’ve known her family for years.” The ruse Isabelle was his mother’s godchild had to be continued. “Since she was alone in the world, Maman offered to take her with us. At the moment, she has my friendship and protection. I wish it could be more.”
“Friendship isn’t a bad basis on which to build a marriage, old friend, but I think you mean more to the lady than you know. She lights up when she looks at you.”
Guy cocked his head to the side. Perhaps his friend had had too much brandy tonight. He had to be seeing things.
“I hate to interrupt your conversation, Izzy, but we have to leave now,” Guy said, going to stand beside her. “It’s late, and Captain Étier likes to pull up the gangplank at nightfall for the passengers’ safety. I need to speak with him as soon as we board. I’m afraid we have to cut short our stay here.” He turned to his hosts and bowed. “Nicolas, Marguerite, thank you for everything. If you come to Ville-Marie next summer, you must visit my estate. The house will be ready before the snow falls, but even I know how difficult winter visits are. Once the river freezes...” He shrugged. “You’ll see to it that the necessary letters are sent to France?”
“I will. Have a safe voyage, Guy. I look forward to hearing from the governor-general in the near future.”
“I’ll see to it he makes contacting you a priority. Once we know what’s going on, we’ll be better prepared for the right course of action. Goodnight.”
He held out his arm to Isabelle.
“Shall we?”
Isabelle smiled.
“Goodnight and thank you.”
She took his arm and together they stepped out into the warm summer night
Nicolas’s words came back to him. Maybe he’d run out of time. Once they reached Quebec, it might be too late to claim his ladylove.