Chapter 13 #2
“You don’t intend to marry?” the soldier interrupted. He looked her up and down, his eyes landing on her wet skirts, and the muddy puddle forming at her feet. A flicker of confusion and amusement crossed his face.
“Why should she want to marry?” his friend interrupted.
He was shorter and scrawnier, with black hair braided into a tail in the native style.
“Marriage is a prison of shrewing wives and mewling children. The forests are pure freedom. I will be happier when I’ve gone upcountry with the Algonquin, and you would be too. ”
“Enough, Grandbois.” The one called Francoeur gave his friend another sharp look. Then he turned back to élisabeth. “Let us begin again. How was your journey? I understand your ship came in from Dieppe not three weeks ago.”
“It was frightful, actually.” élisabeth’s eyes darted around the common room, looking for an escape. A lively group had formed around Rose and Lou; the other brides and bachelors seemed not to be able to resist the pull of the more boisterous party.
“But if you do not intend to marry, why would you make the frightful journey?” the man persisted.
“I mean to return to France. At least, I did…” élisabeth replied, barely looking at him as she judged whether Sister Gagnon would notice if she fled from the room.
“And make another frightful journey back?”
A swish of blue caught élisabeth’s eye. Jeanne Roy swept into the room, like a wicked fairy late for the christening.
All eyes turned towards her, the men and women equally dumbstruck.
Her velvet dress, now impeccably clean, was the colour of twilight, the fabric swishing smoothly against her petticoats as she moved.
The other brides in their drab homespun could never muster such a rich sound.
Gold embroidery picked out the boning in the bodice and drew attention to the witch’s slender waist. The brides in the room were silent, and the men, who could not have known that Jeanne Roy was a witch, stood straighter, their eyes keener and their ears flattened like hunting dogs obeying a command.
“Please excuse me,” the soldier with the braid said, not bothering to look at élisabeth as he floated towards Jeanne Roy. élisabeth gaped as he offered the witch his arm. Within a moment they started to take a turn around the room.
“I thought he did not want a wife,” élisabeth said.
“I expect he cannot help himself,” Francoeur mused. “She is a great beauty.”
“So you say,” élisabeth sniffed, feeling oddly slighted. “Although few are so callous as to rank one woman to another’s face.”
“Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I should have said you are a great beauty as well. You are a true flower—”
“Stop.” élisabeth held up her hand. “I do not seek your flattery.” This farce had gone on long enough. She had to extricate herself and find a way to speak to Jeanne Roy alone.
The witch and Grandbois had stopped by the farthest window, away from the other brides. They were deep in conversation; Grandbois seemed to hang on Jeanne Roy’s every word. Foolish woodsman.
“I meant what I said, though,” Francoeur persisted. “You are very beautiful.”
“It does you no credit to continue like this,” she said firmly, taking a step away from him. “I am not moved by overblown compliments. I meant what I said. I am not seeking a husband.”
“Is it only the overblown compliments that vex you, or would you accept more middling praise?” The soldier’s face was solemn, but his lips quivered with a hint of mischief. “What if I said you were merely passably pretty?”
Unbidden, a smile started at the corners of her mouth.
She tried to fight it with a frown but failed, and had to hide her face with her hand.
Why did the sandy-haired soldier make her want to laugh?
She glanced over to the other side of the room.
She was stunned to see that the woodsman had taken the witch by the hand.
“Excuse me,” she said to the soldier. She turned to cross the room, desperate to reach Jeanne Roy. Lou instantly blocked her passage.
“Lili! Come meet Jambon,” she said. “Bring your beau and come meet mine.”
“He’s not my beau,” élisabeth said irritably.
She glanced at the sandy-haired soldier and then quickly away.
He shrugged as élisabeth untangled herself from Lou, edging towards Jeanne and the woodsman.
They were still by the window, though now Sister Gagnon had joined them.
élisabeth inched close enough to hear their argument.
“It seems superfluous to me. Why should it be necessary?” Jeanne Roy challenged the old nun.
“The intendant has his rules,” Sister Gagnon explained. “I’ve given up asking why.”
“Then you agree. We can dispense with the paperwork.”
The nun put her hands on her hips. “I did not say that. It may not make sense to my old bones, but I do need to see it before you sign the licence.”
“But you know that my trunk was misplaced. I have been wearing castoffs for goodness’ sake! My letter of good conduct was in my trousseau along with everything else.”
élisabeth inched forward again and noticed the soldier Francoeur had followed her across the room.
“That may be so,” Sister Gagnon countered.
“But the Sulpicians are quite insistent that all procedures are properly followed. I suppose I could appeal to them—although then I’ll need an entire afternoon to go into town and come back, and Lord knows that’s time that could be better spent on the harvest—but they might agree that a careful reading of the banns would suffice. ”
Banns? élisabeth felt a jolt inside her stomach.
Jeanne Roy sighed and turned to Grandbois. “What do you think? If we have to wait for the banns to be read, you’ll miss your chance to go on your journey. Why don’t you ask someone else to marry you?” She indicated the girls in the centre of the room. “All those others should have their letters.”
“Excuse me, Sister Gagnon?” élisabeth interrupted. “I could not help but overhear that Jeanne Roy does not have her letter of good conduct.”
The nun turned and frowned at her. “Yes, that is correct. Every girl must present her certificate before she signs her marriage contract.”
“I can vouch for her, Sister Gagnon. Indeed, I know that a Sulpician priest has already seen it.” She snuck a sidelong glance at Jeanne, who kept her eyes fixed on the nun.
“His name is Father de Sancy. Onésime Gaudin de Sancy, I believe. He was on board our ship but got off at Québec. I watched him examine it with my own eyes.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Sister, it is. It’s God’s honest truth. I will swear it, if you need me to.”
“That’s not necessary,” the nun said crossly.
“No one needs to swear anything. This isn’t a bailiff’s court.
” She thought for a moment more, then threw up her hands.
“If a priest has already seen the letter, that’s good enough for me.
I’ll send for a Sulpician, and you can sign the marriage contract later today. ”
The nun bustled off towards the doorway and Francoeur approached his friend. “Did I hear correctly, Grandbois? You’ve been crowing like a cockerel for months about the repugnance of marriage, yet you crumple at the first pair of fine eyes?”
“Mademoiselle Roy and I have come to an agreement,” he said defensively. “She needs a home, and it will do me no harm to have a hunting licence.”
Francoeur turned to Jeanne Roy, his eyes lingering on her velvet dress. “My lady, I am sorry to tell you that you will be disappointed with your part of the arrangement.”
The witch gave him a withering look. “Do not be fooled by my appearance. I am quite dogged when I need to be.” She turned stiffly to élisabeth. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“It was n-nothing.” élisabeth stammered, then blurted out the next words before she could think. “B-but might you grant me a wish in return?”
“Grant you a wish?”
“Yes, a wish,” élisabeth said, suddenly uncertain whether she should have risked her question. She clasped her hands together. “Only, I have helped with the letter twice now and lent you a skirt.”
“I suppose I may grant you a favour,” Jeanne Roy said. “What is it you desire?”
élisabeth took a deep breath. These were the words she had longed to hear. But she would not—could not—speak now. Not in front of the others. She dropped her voice. “I will seek you out when you are alone.”
Jeanne nodded curtly. “Very well,” she said.
élisabeth felt her heart lift. It was done. The witch had promised to grant her wish.
And as everyone knew, a witch’s pledge can never be broken.