Chapter 23
The next Sabbath, Bleu looked at Brielle across Orchard Rest’s table as supper ended and the children excused themselves to do their evening chores. His namesake rested in a basket near Sylvie, fast asleep through the meal but now beginning to fuss.
Brielle set her fork aside and he saw she’d not finished her blackberry tart. She gave him a half-smile, his co-conspirator for the moment. Was she nervous about making their announcement?
Now, in the sudden silence, they’d learn his family’s reaction to their news.
Clearing her throat, Brielle said, “Though I’m perfectly happy here, I’ve decided to accept Bleu’s offer to go to France. Having Nadine Durand with us makes the decision easier.”
The sudden silence was blessedly brief.
“Our prayers go with you, then.” Sylvie reached for the baby, bringing him to her shoulder. If she had any qualms she didn’t show it. “In fact, I haven’t stopped praying about this since Bleu broached the subject.”
Will leaned back in his chair at the head of the table. “I support you fully though I’ll warn you the journey, even in the best of conditions, won’t be easy but arduous.”
“We know the passage will likely be rough.” A dozen different scenarios played through Bleu’s thoughts all over again.
“None of us have been to France and the language is not my French-Acadian patois. I’ve seen Quebec and Boston and other large cities but Nantes and Paris are another world entirely. ”
Their eyes met again, hers tender and trusting. Was that trust misplaced? Would she ever regard him with anything other than tenderness? If so, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing to hinder this bold and undeniably hazardous plan.
“Aside from the dangers of sea travel, my French family might not want to meet me.” Brielle looked from Sylvie to Will. “I have dusty memories of my mother telling me how the comte forbade her to marry my father so this may not be the happy reunion I wish for, if he still lives.”
A complicated journey, even a courageous one. His chest suddenly felt like a clenched fist. He didn’t want to disappoint her or have her hurt. He wanted this to be a homecoming, a door to a future she was denied when her parents died and she was sent into servitude.
“At least you’ll soon rest in the fact you tried to reunite with your family, no matter what awaits,” Sylvie said. “The Loire Valley isn’t called the garden of France for naught.”
“Do you have anything that might show you are one of the comte’s kin?” Will asked, as practical as Sylvie was positive.
She nodded. “A small jewelry box Maman gave me, with her portrait on the lid. Only two pieces of jewelry remain but I’ll take that with me, a sort of introduction, if you will.”
Bleu was convinced beauty alone would open doors for Brielle. “I imagine you look enough like her there will be no doubt.”
Will took another drink of cider. “I’ll secure passage on the best brig with the most competent ship’s master I can find. If you go as soon as possible, ahead of hurricane season, fair weather should be in your favor.”
“And we’ll be here waiting to welcome you home.” Sylvie kissed the baby’s forehead. “Only this one might be walking by then.”
“I regret that,” Bleu said. “But I’ve regretted being away since your firstborn.”
A telling titter went round the table. His roaming wouldn’t be curtailed till his own children came, Will had once said, if then.
“So, we are going.” Again, Brielle’s eyes sought Bleu’s before returning to her unfinished dessert. “The sooner our passage can be arranged the better.”
Lest I change my mind. Bleu guessed her unspoken thoughts.
There seemed a new melancholy about her that eclipsed the joy of living she’d had since she’d walked away from the tavern. Or was she already missing Titus?
“Tu es s?r, Bleu?” Sylvie asked, no doubt remembering what he’d said to her upon introducing her to Brielle.
This is my future bride though she may not realize it yet.
He met his sister’s eyes.
I spoke too hastily and let my heart rule my head.
Ever since that introduction he’d begun to rein himself in as his vision for Brielle’s future widened beyond being Gabrielle Galant to the wife of a duc or marquess or comte, a member of the French nobility from which she’d come.
He was willing to set aside his own desires for her best. God’s best. Perhaps one day, an ocean apart, full of years and memories, they would still think of each other with affection despite their distance and change in direction.
He held his sister’s searching gaze with a stoicism he was far from feeling. “C’est fait.”
It is done.
Suddenly everything in the settlement seemed cast in shades of grey.
Or was it only her change of mood? Brielle walked from the settlement’s nursery at the end of day, when all the children had left with their mothers, and craved the peace of the chapel.
The recent wedding that had been held there seared her memory.
Though she didn’t know the couple well she envied them their newfound happiness.
Entering the empty building, she took a seat on a back pew.
Deep gold light streamed through arched windows, reminding her of Philadelphia’s stained glass.
Sitting there sedately, she inwardly waged a war between delight and dread.
Delight to be taking a trip with Bleu. Dread at being tossed like a cork upon the ocean.
Fear of what awaited her once they made landfall—if they did.
With Bleu by her side she’d double the wonders of experiencing France.
And be better able to bear the brunt of her grandfather’s rejection if it came to that.
A scrap of Psalm came to mind unbidden.
Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them.
The sudden creak of a door turned her head. She looked over her shoulder to see Sabine Broussard enter—like a fox in a henhouse. An unkind comparison, perhaps. Still, Brielle felt an urge to flee.
Sabine came to a stop at the end of the pew where she sat. “I hear you’re leaving.”
Who had told her? Word traveled fast in the settlement, both good and bad. “Tomorrow we travel to York Town.”
“And Bleu will escort you, something he refused to do for me.” A resigned sort of bitterness threaded her tone. “Acadie is closer yet he chooses to go a far greater distance instead.”
“I cannot answer for Bleu,” Brielle told her quietly, wishing he were here to speak for himself.
“Bleu is neither easily swayed nor led. No doubt this journey to France is his idea.” She smoothed a ribbon on her skirt. “Nadine’s need makes it more convenient for all concerned.”
“The opportunity might not come again.” Brielle struck a conciliatory tone. “I’ve prayed about it and trust all will be well.”
“You have family in France, so I’ve heard.
Important people, even aristocratic.” Sabine seemed to regard her with less hauteur than before.
“Given that, you don’t belong here. Perhaps Bleu has finally realized it, too.
Though you are willing to work and live amongst us you are and forever will be an outsider.
The Rivanna settlement seems beneath you. ”
Brielle looked to her unladylike hands. “Any hard, honest work well done is honorable no matter one’s station.”
“All that is behind you now.” Sabine eyed her shrewdly.
“Take care in future and hide your calluses with gloves. Never speak of your former life and what you were reduced to. The French won’t care for your colonial ways, especially since they’ve just lost a terrible war to England, their arch-enemy. ”
Brielle went still. In the tumult of the past few months she’d only considered France’s defeat in a hazy, secondhand way.
Perhaps this was not the time to be crossing an ocean in light of that though she knew Bleu had considered it, surely, as their plans moved forward, inch by foolhardy inch. Is that how Sabine saw it?
“Nor will they welcome a Métis who they will no doubt look upon as sauvage.”
Brielle nearly flinched. Their conversation was circling, continually coming back to Bleu. Did Sabine’s jealousy drive her to say such things? If so, she refused to hold it against her. She didn’t want to leave the settlement with a bad feeling or any sort of festering confrontation in her mind.
“I need to return to packing,” Brielle said, rising from the pew.
Sabine gave her another long look. “Then I wish you well on your journey and hope you find France to be where you belong.”
And so the long journey to coastal York Town began, Virginia’s foremost seaport.
Their sleek, two-masted ship with its ten cannon and thirty crew was called Courageux.
Fitting, even ironic. Feeling less than courageous, Brielle watched their baggage being brought aboard, her thoughts not on their looming departure but their farewells on the Rivanna River.
Emotional, heartfelt farewells that left her second guessing their decision to go.
Bleu had cradled his newborn nephew a final time, unwilling to even give him up when he began to howl.
Instead, he’d taken him out onto Orchard Rest’s porch and walked back and forth till he quieted.
Sylvie had even cried when they’d embraced a final time for who knew what a voyage would bring.
Or was she remembering her own removal from her homeland when she’d been forced onto a ship, never to return?
“Promise me you’ll write as soon as you arrive and tell us how you’re faring,” Sylvie said, drying her eyes and taking the baby back.
“In the meantime, I’ll finish what remains doing on your house,” Will told Bleu. “My boys can till the garden behind it come spring, the girls can sow seed, and then wall it in with brick.”
Titus squared his shoulders and tried to smile. “I don’t want to go with you but I’ll miss you—both of you.”
Brielle kissed his cheek and Bleu embraced him next. “Look after Pearl and Windigo and I’ll reward you well when I return.”
Now, far beyond the Rivanna River, Brielle stood on deck, trying to get her bearings, Nadine beside her in a cardinal-red shawl.
York Town was a thriving place, overflowing with taverns and warehouses yet surprising her with a few fine shops.
At the last they’d visited the chocolatier on Water Street, buying a brick of Shaw’s cocoa before their departure.
“I never thought to board a ship again nor wanted to.” Squinting in the sun’s glare off the water, Nadine pulled the brim of her straw hat lower. “This will be a far pleasanter journey. At least I’m sure of our destination.”
“I pray for calm seas.” Brielle looked to York Town and wondered if she’d ever see it again. “To think you’ll soon be reunited with your loved ones after so long.”
“Only seeing beloved family again could convince me,” Nadine replied. “And to think you are on your way to meet your French relations for the first time. Bravo, cher ami.”
Such a strange nautical world they’d entered.
Barefooted sailors moved around them in all directions, performing tasks and talking or shouting in abrupt, abbreviated tones, occasionally giving them a glance.
Were they the only women passengers? She’d heard some of the most superstitious mariners thought women aboard a bad omen, yet the ship’s mermaid figurehead seemed to make a mockery of that.
Bleu spoke with the captain near the wheel.
Broad of shoulder and tall, he stood in stark contrast to the squat, balding ship’s master.
Their cargo was indigo, grain, and lumber.
Brielle could smell the fresh wood in the hold.
With gulls careening and crying overhead, they soon weighed anchor, a cabin boy showing them their cramped quarters.
Bunks were built into the wall where they placed their bedrolls, pillows, and blankets.
She’d grown so used to the spaciousness of the cottage she’d nearly forgotten the Rose and Crown’s attic. This was even smaller.
Brielle felt a momentary panic at being shut in with nary a window. “Perhaps we can spend as much time on deck as down here.”
“If all is calm, oui.” Nadine untied her chin ribbons and set her hat aside. “Have you never sailed?”
“Never, though my parents spoke of their coming to America from England long ago. I remember my mother saying she was seasick.”
Nadine’s features softened in sympathy. “La mal de mer is truly miserable.”
“You may feel a bit unsteady at first.” Bleu stood in the doorway surveying their quarters in one appraising glance. “I’m across the passageway should you need me.”
Brielle smiled her thanks as she listened to the groan of the ship’s timbers under sail and the thump of sailors’ feet on the quarterdeck above. Her own footing was shaky as the floor tilted slightly. Even Bleu leaned into the doorframe.
“We’ll meet for supper in the captain’s great cabin,” he said, consulting the pocket watch Will had given him upon leaving. “I’ll escort you there if you’re hungry.”
Supper seemed another challenge given she’d already lost her appetite. Was it possible to be queasy so soon?
Nadine began arranging her bedding in a bid to lie down and Brielle did the same, setting the Bible Sylvie had given her on a table near the bunk. She opened it to another Psalm that seemed fitting for their watery endeavor.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.