Chapter 15
Hushed voices rose and fell in waves around her. It was not bright enough for élisabeth to read the angle of the sun, but she would not have been surprised if it were before dawn. She closed her eyes and tried to let the voices fade like a will-o’-the-wisp into a marsh.
It did not work.
“I want you to be happy, Lou.”
“I will be. Though, if Jambon’s friend does not please you, you need not choose him.”
élisabeth grasped for her dream with her bare hands but it was too late. The moondust started to fade as the voices became clearer. She opened her eyes again.
“But we agreed to marry neighbours so we would never be parted,” Rose said. She was lying on the mattress next to élisabeth, propped up on her elbow, Lou lying flat on her back. When she saw that élisabeth had woken, her eyes lit up.
“Good morning. You were sleeping so soundly we did not dare wake you.”
élisabeth struggled to sit up, the straw mattress giving way under her elbows. The empty beds in the dormitory meant most of the other girls must already be up and at their chores.
“What time is it?”
“Midmorning. It’s been raining since dawn. Sister Gagnon said she didn’t want us churning up mud in the garden and bringing it in on our clogs, so we’ve been allowed to stay in bed.”
“Midmorning!” She glanced at Jeanne Roy’s empty pallet.
She had not been able to speak to the witch the night before.
Jeanne had been surrounded by nuns and giggling girls from the moment the men had left.
But today élisabeth would corner her. She pressed her hands on her stomach to steady the familiar pangs.
“What would you do, Lili? Marry right away, or wait to see if someone better comes along?” Lou fixed élisabeth with a stare.
“I-I cannot say.”
“Well then, what did you think of Jambon? And Lajeunesse? The farmers.”
élisabeth searched her memory. She remembered being introduced to a short man with a big laugh. She could not recall his friend.
“He seemed… merry.”
Lou turned to Rose and raised her eyebrows. “See?”
“But, Lili, consider Marthe. You wished for her to know the baker a little better before agreeing to his proposal, did you not?”
“True,” élisabeth said quietly.
“Marthe is happy!” Lou insisted. “She knew her own mind and made her choice. So did Jeanne, and now she’s on her way to the altar too. Why should I not do the same?”
“You know what is said,” Rose frowned. “Marry in haste, repent at leisure.”
“What do you mean, on her way to the altar?” élisabeth said, swivelling to look again at Jeanne Roy’s mattress in the corner.
“Oh, you know what she is like,” Rose said.
“She told Sister Gagnon she had no need for fuss nor festival and saw no reason to read the banns three times. Sister Gagnon was not certain at first, but as it is nearly the first of September and Jeanne is so persuasive I think she came round to the idea. Then Sister asked Agnès if she’d like to hurry up and go too, seeing as she has signed a contract with that habitant from Lachine.
Can you believe the man’s holdings are only four farms over from her childhood friend from Soissons? She signed as quick as she could—”
“No reason to read the banns?” A fistful of snakes suddenly writhed in her entrails. “What do you mean? Where is Jeanne?”
“She left for the village at first light.”
élisabeth threw her blanket off and leapt to her feet. “How long ago?”
“A few hours, maybe more. She hasn’t got a trunk, so they didn’t need to send for a carter, and with her soldier being so anxious to make a start for the land of the Odawa, she decided—”
“For where?” élisabeth could not keep the panic from her voice. The witch had left the nuns’ farmhouse? Without granting her wish?
“Odawa? Perhaps I did not say it right. The land to the west, somewhere. Her husband wants to be a coureur de bois, trading furs all across the land, which seems terribly daring—”
“Rose, stop talking!” élisabeth cried. She scrambled to find her skirt and bodice, trying to step into one and pull on the other at the same time. A thought suddenly struck her and she froze. “Is Jeanne Roy going to this… Odawa territory too?”
“I don’t know.”
élisabeth cursed herself as she tied her bodice laces and pelted down the dormitory stairs. How had she let the witch slip away? In the kitchen some of the younger girls were eating milk curds and maple syrup, their recompense for not being allowed to meet the suitors the day before.
“Where’s Sister Gagnon?” élisabeth blurted.
Claire pointed a finger without looking up from her curds.
élisabeth followed its direction, running into the corridor next to the kitchen.
The nun was not there. She opened the door and felt the rain on her cheeks but could not see anyone outside.
Then she put her head round the corner of the common room and saw Sister Gagnon standing by the fire next to a visitor.
It was the soldier Francoeur. A small puddle was forming on the floor under his boots.
“Ah, élisabeth, there you are,” the nun said. The soldier smiled at her and wiped a sodden sleeve across his face.
“This young man has come to ask you to marry him.”
Behind her, élisabeth heard a gasp. Rose and Lou had followed her down the stairs, bodices crookedly laced and hoods askew. The soldier’s face fell at the nun’s blunt delivery. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and rocked back on his heels.
“What are you waiting for?” Sister Gagnon said to her. “Come here.”
élisabeth stared at the soldier in the wet brown coat. He stepped forward to offer her his hand.
“Wait, Sister,” élisabeth turned away from him. The nun was heading for the door. “I don’t know this man. I don’t know his family or where he’s from—”
“Then you have much to discuss,” Sister Gagnon said, and closed the door behind her.
The soldier bowed his head. “Our roles are reversed today.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Today my clothes are wet. Yesterday it was your skirts. I’m sure the nuns are looking forward to the winter when all of the matches have been made and they don’t have to get out a mop every afternoon.”
“I-I had been wading into the river. It is so hot in this country…” élisabeth looked over her shoulder towards the closed door.
She had no time for this. She had to find Jeanne Roy or any hope of a cure would be lost. The witch could even now be on her way to Odawa territory.
She wondered if she could make it past the nun, who was surely standing on the other side of the door.
élisabeth turned back to her suitor. “Truly, I hope you are not here to propose to me.”
He hesitated, then leaned towards her. “In fact, I came because I was curious about something you said.”
“Yes?” élisabeth pressed him, wishing he would hurry his thoughts.
“I can understand one’s opposition to marriage in principle—my dearest friend has long argued against it. But why would a girl who came here on a bride ship be so set against it?”
“Look,” élisabeth said, growing more anxious. “Francoeur—?”
“My friends call me Francoeur. Though I was christened Joseph Deschamps—”
“I am not wholly set against marriage. But I cannot marry right now.”
He looked puzzled. “What are you waiting for, if I may ask?” The soldier would not be hurried.
“I cannot explain now, I’m very pressed for time.”
“You’re pressed for time, but waiting for marriage?” The corners of his mouth twitched again. “I’m perplexed.”
élisabeth stared at the man, willing him to get out of her way. He did not seem likely to budge. Indeed, his solid chest and thick arms made him seem as sturdy as an oak. He looked at her and she noticed his eyes were a hodgepodge of hazel, nothing like Rémy’s deep brown.
“May I make a suggestion?” he offered.
“If you must.” She hoped he did not notice her flushing.
“Do not think of this as a proposal, merely a suggestion.” She glanced at the door as he spoke.
“When the time comes and you are ready to pick a husband, may I suggest that you choose me?” He stared at her intently, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
“I have two hundred arpents of land that stretch down to the river. I’ve already built a good-size house, though it’s not so large that it would take more than twenty cords of wood to heat in the winter.
It’s large enough for a family of eight…
ten if we’re lucky.” He held her gaze until she squirmed and looked away, then he continued in a soft voice.
“I have less than some, though more than others, and I am grateful for what God has given me. What I should like more than anything in the world is you—”
“Stop.” élisabeth held up her hand. Her fingers were trembling.
Inside her belly it felt as though the demon danced, slamming its cloven hooves into her guts.
Francoeur’s words were sweeter than anything Rémy had ever said to her.
Yet she could not hear him out. His proposal was meant for some other girl—a passably pretty bride who could love a hodgepodge husband.
Her task was to find Jeanne Roy and lift the curse.
And then find a way to return home to her true love.
“I must go.”
“Of course,” he said, his smile fading. “It was merely a suggestion.”
élisabeth gave the soldier a brief curtsey and started to leave. She was halfway across the room when Francoeur called after her.
“Wait.” He crossed the room and pulled a small bag out of his coat pocket. “I have a gift for you. My favourite fruit. Would you like to try it?”
She took the sack and peered inside at a few handfuls of small dark berries. She looked up at Francoeur. The only gift Rémy had ever given her was a rose, plucked from the vine at the front of the big house. A flower he had snatched back when his mother had rounded the corner and discovered them.
She took one of the tiny berries, no bigger than a currant, and put it in her mouth. The burst of sweetness surprised her. She looked up at the soldier.
“I like it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“They’re called blueberries.” His smile returned. “Take care not to get them on your clothes. The juice will stain.”
“Thank you. I think…” She could not explain what she thought. Not even to herself. “I am sorry I must leave you. I must attend my friend’s wedding.”
“Do you mean Mademoiselle Roy’s marriage? I am on my way to the chapel myself.”
“You are?”
“I could accompany you.”
élisabeth clapped her hands together. “Yes, please!” She could have thrown her arms around this man, if she had not just refused him.
Sister Gagnon stepped through the doorway. “You appear to have come to an understanding?”
“Yes,” Francoeur bowed. “We have agreed that we should attend the wedding of Mademoiselle Roy and my friend Grandbois. May I have your permission to accompany this young woman to the chapel?”
“What about your marriage?” the nun persisted. “Are you ready to sign a contract?”
élisabeth recoiled. “No! I-I don’t want to marry him. I only want to go to Jeanne Roy’s wedding with him.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Sister Gagnon cried. “You cannot go into town alone with this man. Not unless you intend to accept his offer of marriage. Don’t be so wayward, girl!”
élisabeth staggered backwards.
Wayward.
She felt as though a beast had sunk its fangs into her stomach. The demon was rising inside her. It clawed at her with its talons, shredding her heart into ribbons. And why should it not? For surely the Devil never possessed someone he did not find to be in mortal sin.
The nun crossed her arms. “So, what do you say? Will you marry him?”
“I cannot.” She looked at the soldier’s hodgepodge hazel eyes, now downcast, and steadied herself against the rush of emotion sweeping over her. Sister Gagnon threw her hands in the air.
“Then you shall go to your bed and think about your situation. A bride who refuses to marry! Good Lord, what a thing. Francoeur, I am sorry for your wasted journey.”
The nun pointed at the door, ordering élisabeth back to the dormitory.
élisabeth stared at Francoeur, who gave her a sad smile.
Then she looked at the nun and saw the hard set of her mouth.
She could not believe what was happening.
Jeanne Roy was on the cusp of disappearing, and with her élisabeth’s last chance to be rid of the curse.
Without the witch’s remedy, who would want a barren bride? Barren, and possessed by a demon.
“Go!” the nun barked and élisabeth fled up the stairs. She ran into the brides’ room and flung herself onto her mattress, her breath coming in short gasps.
Only then did she remember the small bag of blueberries in her hand. She sat up. The bag had been crushed underneath her when she fell. There was now a mottled blue stain on her chemise, right above her heart.