Chapter 9
Nine
Jacques woke up the next morning none the wiser.
He stretched and used the chamber pot, humming as he dressed, the day proceeding as planned.
I donned a cream dress embroidered with deep-red flowers and emerald leaves, but I wanted only to block out the memory of what had transpired and wait for Silas to come.
I gathered a thick fichu around my neck, fanning and pinning it to hide the bruises.
As we had breakfast, I stared outside to where William trimmed the hedgerow.
Jacques laid out the plans for Paris as my mind drifted, tugged in two directions.
I longed for Jacques to be gone so I could wait with William for Silas.
After I kissed Jacques goodbye, I slipped into the garden.
William still battled with the hedges, a bulky canvas bandage covering his right arm.
“You were hurt! Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s a scratch.” He shrugged as he clipped, the sound sharp.
“Such a large and reddened bandage cannot be for a simple scratch. Let me get you fresh bandages and salve.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble. It . . . it was my fault. Please,” I said, holding my ground.
“All right . . . it is paining me.”
I leaped up, glad that I could help him in some way. I grabbed the medical kit Jacques kept in his office.
When I returned, William unknotted the bandage, and the bloodied linen fell loose. An angry slash snaked up his arm. I used the lightest touch, though William hissed in pain when I got too near the wound.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, the shame overwhelming. I quickly applied the salve and wrapped the wound in the softer bandages.
“Better?” I asked.
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“It’s I who should thank you.”
“Please, let’s put it past us.” He nodded, his eyes meeting mine.
I froze, and the same feeling from last night rose.
I shivered, though the day wasn’t that cold.
I wanted to lay my head against his chest and listen to his heart, the way he always listened to me.
I wanted him to hold me with those hands of his, making me feel like I could never fall.
He took my hand and squeezed it. “He’s going to come as soon as he’s able. Don’t worry.”
I fought away tears and nodded. “I know he will. I do.”
“Mistress Boudreaux?” came Sarah’s voice.
William dropped my hand. “We shouldn’t . . .”
“Coming!” I called to Sarah before turning back to William. “I know . . . I . . .” At a loss for words for the first time, I couldn’t make sense of what to say about our kiss. “I’ll leave you to your work.” I retreated back into the house.
I spent the rest of the day locked up in Jacques’s study, unable to concentrate on my book, watching for Silas as I thought about William, the feel of his strong hand in mine as he guided me to safety, as the strikes of his hammer rang through the house.
The dusk came and the moon rose and still no sighting of Silas. William had waited around to sneak him into the stables. My heart sank as I pushed my dinner around on my plate, wishing for an alternate ending to my evening and instead listening to Jacques drone on about his plans for Paris.
“Is that your dream?” I interrupted.
“My what?” he replied mid-chew.
“Your dream for your life?”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose it is. Making and managing money. Traveling abroad. With you at my side, always.” He nodded self-assuredly and continued cutting his potatoes.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“Ask you what?” He stopped before taking another bite, brow furrowed.
“What is my dream?”
He rested his knife and fork on the edge of the plate. “To be a mother . . . yes?”
I swallowed. “What if I can’t have children? It’s been months, and it hasn’t happened.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Sometimes these things take time.” He popped another potato in his mouth.
“I told you I want to be a writer.”
“But, my dear, don’t you want to focus on our home and the possibility of a family? What kind of life do writers have? There aren’t any woman writers, and certainly none who . . .”
I pushed the plate away and folded my arms. “None who what?”
He shook his head. “A determined person can do anything their heart desires, but you must be rational. Besides, there is no need for you to work. It’s unseemly.”
“I was working when you met me,” I reminded him. “And your wife works.”
Jacques’s mouth flattened into a straight line, and I knew I was taking out all my upset about Silas on him.
He cleared his throat. “She reviews things for me. She is not employed. And you get to go to Paris while she stays here and makes sure my affairs are in order.” He took another bite. “We each have our roles, and we should play them.”
We spent the rest of dinner in silence, then Jacques returned to his study, and I returned to the gardens. I paced, my thoughts bubbling over with frustration about Jacques’s plans for me, my plans for myself and Silas, and my feelings for William.
And beneath all that was the ultimate worry—whether I would please Death, or fail.
Tangled in a knot, I was trapped, with no path forward.
“You’re going to walk yourself into a ditch,” William called out, a horse bridle in his hand.
I tucked myself beneath a trellis. The study was on the front side of the house, but voices could carry.
William followed. “I know you’re still waiting on Silas. I sent word for him. I know he’s trying to get away to see you before they leave again.”
“Everything is . . .”
He took my hand. “You have to be patient. Your time will come, and Silas is coming.” He gazed out into the garden, beyond the fence.
“But we’re leaving for Paris,” I whispered so maybe it would feel less true.
“I heard Miss Sarah talking about it.” His eyes flickered with sadness. “I’ve almost saved what I need so I can leave too.”
“Where will you go?” I asked.
“Anywhere I can live and be free.” I knew what he meant. The flimsy freeness of Nouvelle-Orléans was restrictive and fleeting.
“Why not come to Paris with us? I’m sure Jacques will need a good man on the ground.” I wished I could pull the words back into my lips. I wasn’t sure if I should go to Paris with Jacques, let alone with William in tow.
“Mr. Jacques is a good man, but . . .” William glanced at the house.
“But what?”
William hesitated. “The more I get to know you, the more I think that . . . and forgive me for my forwardness, but maybe he’s not the right man for you.”
His words sank into me, burning with truth.
“William—I don’t know what to say,” I told him.
“Nothing to say.” He shook his head. “He treats you about the same as he does his favorite mare, same as the rest of us. Like we’re his.” William shook his head again. “He’s not a bad man, but that doesn’t make him all the way good either.”
“How should I be treated, then?”
He laughed. “A damned sight better than a horse.”
I thought of Milly, stuck in that elaborate cage. Was I any better off?
“You should be treated like you’re the ‘earthly lullaby singing the sun to sleep.’”
Tears pricked as my words fell from his mouth. “So, you see me.”
“I see you as clear as day.” He grabbed my hand—his scarred and rough from work, so different from Jacques’s soft, pale ones. Despite William’s calluses, his caress was gentle.
I reached up and pulled his head down. His lips crashed onto mine, the bridle clattering down by our feet as we wrapped around each other.
William put everything into that kiss—his passion, yearning, and pain.
A fire erupted in my soul. It filled my whole body with heat. Nothing with Jacques had ever felt like this. William’s arms were warm and inviting, and I fell into them as his kisses grazed my lips and cheeks like worship.
My body was aflame, and so was my heart. We fit together. I understood Eulalie’s secret smile when she spoke of Eugène. There was an aching beauty in this moment, this right now. It was as if I’d lived in the dark all my life and had finally come into the light.
He broke apart from me, chest heaving. Cold gripped me without him, guilt already curling inside my belly. My heart had started to betray Jacques long ago, and I’d been ready to let my body do the same.
“We shouldn’t.” He put more space between us. His chest still heaved as he held his hands to his sides, restraining himself. “I’m sorry, Miss Noelle. We shouldn’t have done that.” He rubbed his neck. “Maybe it’s best if I find another place. Avoid temptation.”
The thought of him leaving cut a hole in my very soul. “But you can’t. Your—your dreams! You’ve almost got enough to establish your shop. You shouldn’t have to change your plan.”
I stepped back, struggling with the impossibility of it all, when the French doors suddenly opened behind me.
“Ah! William!” Jacques called, striding out and placing his hand on my back. “Just the person I need. Beau threw a shoe.”
“Of course, Mr. Jacques,” William said, hefting the bridle, eyes downcast, sweat leaking from his brow.
I couldn’t tell if Jacques had seen anything.
“Splendid. What were you two discussing?”
“France,” I said. “William mentioned he’d like to travel.”
“Would you?” Jacques stood, eyes squinting as he did when he was deep in thought. “I could use a good man like you over there.”
“You could?” I asked breathlessly.
Jacques shrugged. “They have horses in France. They’ll need shoeing too.” He waited expectantly.
William stood there, torn. “It is a mighty fine offer.”
“Then what’s stopping you?” Jacques asked.
I gulped. This was bad. If William gave anything away, my life here would be over. But perhaps it already was. If he came with us to Paris, temptation would be so close.
William straightened. “Thank you. I shall take you up on your offer.”
“Good man. We’ll talk it all through in the morning. I believe I have an apology to make,” Jacques said, looking at me. “Come, Noelle.” He extended his hand.
“Night, Miss Noelle,” William said, looking over at me. I nodded goodbye, unable to speak. I wanted to follow him and relive that feeling, but Jacques’s hand in mine felt like a dousing of cold water.
What was I doing? I needed to be alone and think. I didn’t have the chance, as Jacques’s apology came in the form of sex.
He was more tender than usual, but I couldn’t help comparing his kisses to William’s. My face flooded with shame at the thought and the tingles between my thighs at the idea of William’s body on mine, lifting me, stretching me out. It was enough to give me vapors.
After Jacques finished, he lay back, pleased with himself. “It’s all right if you can’t have babies for a while. I have three already, and it’ll give me more time with you.” He laid his hand on my leg, thumb stroking the top of my knee. “All will be well between us.”
But that was far from the truth.
I agonized over my decision as the weeks passed. I kept away from William. I focused on writing and trying to get word to Silas, who still hadn’t shown. A few times, I would catch William working in the garden from the upstairs window, and every time, he would stop as if he could sense me looking.
He invaded my dreams with the things we would do together, once we were free. I woke up aching for our hopes to be made reality: walking together or reading my work, him at the forge fashioning more metal figures.
“Ma would have my hide if she knew, but as you’re leaving, I had to say something,” Jenny announced as she helped pack a trunk of my winter dresses.
“What?” I said, startled. We had been working in silence the whole time.
She folded another dress and packed it in the chest snugly. “I know it’s not my place to say, begging pardon. But we’ve got eyes, Miss Noelle. We don’t just cook and clean.”
Heat flushed up my neck as I glanced away.
“Ma is glad it’s finished,” she said. “Says it’s not the way of things—that Mr. Jacques is a good man.” Jenny finished the last skirt, carefully packed in the shoes, and stood up.
“What do you think I should do?”
Jenny paused for a long while. “It’s not my place and not my heart. William is as good a man, perhaps a better one, if that’s your heart’s desire. It’ll be up to you to choose the life you want.” She left the room, leaving me full of confusion.
I sat there, staring at the wall. Did I even know which path was the one for me?
I would have to make a choice, and my actions would hurt someone.
With a monumental decision to make, it was fitting that Death chose this time to make an appearance.