The Displaced

by Frieda Watt

  He pulled her close and bent his head to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to close the space between them. His tongue was sweet and restless in her mouth, and her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand began to creep up her bodice when the sound of footsteps broke them apart.

  Breathless, she leaned her head against his jacket, feeling her heartbeat return to normal.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he sighed, resting his chin on top of her head.

  Marie giggled and wrapped her arms around his middle. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

  He scoffed. As the footsteps faded, he lifted her into the air, spinning her around as she shrieked. He let her down gently to her feet before bending to kiss her again.

  “Oy!” They broke apart. Nic stood a few feet away from them, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He appeared to be contemplating a murder.

  Pierre looked slightly ashamed. “Hey, Nic.”

  “Long time,” Nic replied, his dark features stony.

  Marie rolled her eyes. “Do you need something?” she asked pointedly.

  Nic ignored her. “I see you found my sister.” He gave his friend a significant look. “Want a drink?”

  Marie wanted to throw something at her brother, but Pierre put an arm around her waist and led her back into the party, motioning to Nic to come with them. Pierre hadn’t seen Nic in years either. Best to placate him before he did something regrettable like punch him.

  The three of them picked up some drinks and sat down at a table at the edge of the ballroom. Nic spent the next hour talking animatedly to Pierre. It was the most Marie had heard him speak since his return from Boston. He carefully stepped around his incarceration but continued to produce new subjects of discussion. Every time Pierre tried to bring up the hour, Nic suddenly lost his ability to hear and barrelled into the next topic.

  Marie was bored, and Nic was purposely excluding her. She was debating with herself about just going home when Pierre reached under the table and squeezed her hand. He hadn’t forgotten about her but was just humouring her brother. After all, they were best friends, and Nic hadn’t been permitted to send out letters from behind British lines.

  The party dragged on into the early hours of the morning as Nic and Pierre talked on and on. Marie caught Elise’s eye from across the room once or twice but was unwilling to abandon Pierre to fill her friend in on what was going on.

  Eventually, Pierre was able to extricate himself from Nic, who headed back to the King’s Bastion, cheered by the drinks and the talk. Pierre took Marie’s hand, lifted her out of her chair, and got ready to walk her home.

  The salty sea air mixed with the low-hanging mist brought comfort to them both. Pierre had to admit that even the smell of cod had a certain appeal after all this time.

  “May I call on you tomorrow?” he asked as the great manor appeared out of the gloom. Despite the late hour, noises were still floating up from the docks. The heart of the Louisbourg harbour never really stopped beating. “Nic won’t be around, he’s busy making sure the cadets rebuild this place.”

  “Why would you be interested?” Marie smiled.

  “Well, I have two weeks before I go back. I need something to occupy my time.”

  “I may be at home. You’ll have to drop by in the morning and see.”

  “Nine o’clock? or is that too early for m’lady from Versailles?”

  “M’lady lives in Louisbourg now. Nine o’clock is just right. Come in the kitchen way.”

  “Why, I’m not good enough for the front door?”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. Madame Badeau would like to see you and approve of you or not!”

  “Nine o’clock it is, Ma’am.”

  Pierre grinned, the moonlight flashing off his teeth. He gently brushed Marie’s lips with his and retreated back into the night.

  Marie knew it was silly, but all she could think of was the last time he’d left her and how he hadn’t come back. Not for years.

  ***

  The physician arrived at the manor house early the next morning but still came up with no cure for Annette’s ailments. Marie had risen at seven o’clock, after only a few hours of rest, unable to sleep because she was so excited to be seeing Pierre again. She met the doctor in the hallway and thought he might have a message of hope, but he just shook his head sadly. Marie went over to Annette’s bedroom to check on her but the sight she saw just reinforced the doctor’s pessimism. Her skin was grey and she seemed extremely weak. Marie had never seen headaches have this kind of an effect on her, nor did they last this long.

  Seeing that she could do nothing to help Annette, Marie went downstairs for breakfast, trying to keep her hands from shaking with excitement as she took a mug of hot milk from Madame Badeau. Then she headed into the front sitting room and started working her way through a pile of mending that had piled up. In France, she had been surprised to learn that women of high birth there felt such chores were below them. Some of them didn’t even know how to thread a needle. And that was only one of the reasons they would never have survived if they’d been forced to live in Louisbourg.

  She checked the progress of the sun every few minutes. The aroma of baking bread drifted from the kitchen and all through the house, but even that enticing smell couldn’t distract Marie from fixating on Pierre. She’d almost made her way through a bunch of stockings when a visitor was announced. Pierre! Marie threw the mending she was working on back into the pile and jumped up … and then sat down again. She didn’t want to look too eager.

  She walked slowly toward the kitchen, smoothing her apron as she went. That lasted for half a minute. As she picked up speed, she ended up skidding into the kitchen, slipping on the smooth floor, and having to save herself by grabbing onto the wooden table. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Madame Badeau trying hard to keep a straight face. Pierre hadn’t been exaggerating; he really did have to duck noticeably to get through the doorway. He looked taller than ever, standing in the small entranceway. Marie tried not to laugh with relief that he was once again standing in her home.

  “Want to go to the market?” he asked. He’d assumed rightly that whatever conversation they had wouldn’t be private if they stayed at the house.

  Marie pretended to mull this proposition over. “If it’s the only thing available.”

  Pierre ignored that comment, let Marie take off her apron, and took her arm to steer her out of the house.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Marie teased.

  Pierre chuckled. “I hope I never become predictable or boring. Madame Badeau looked rather interested to see me.”

  Marie shook her head. “That woman is the worst eavesdropper in the world. She’s an expert housekeeper, but I’ll be glad to be rid of her following everything I do and say.”

  “What makes you think you’ll be rid of her soon?” Pierre asked in an innocent tone. Marie didn’t answer, but her stomach flipped unpleasantly. Maybe he’d changed his mind after all.

  The spring weather was as warm as it had been during that last meeting, in May 1745, when cannonballs were raining down from the sky. But the mood of the fortress couldn’t have been more different. The streets were alive with sellers pushing their wares along the busy streets and toward the marketplace. Children ran through the crowd, chasing each other as their mothers ran their daily errands. The market was bustling and full of the sounds of cattle gently lowing in their enclosures and chickens cackling in their cages. The sounds of the reconstruction of the walls mixed with the breeze coming off the ocean.

  “Did you miss this?” Marie asked.

  Pierre surveyed the once-familiar scenes, which were now foreign to him after so many years away. “It’s much the same in Quebec … just bigger and no fish. I sure didn’t miss the smell of cod or the barrels of cod liver oil that always line up along the docks. And Quebec was more exciting, since it’s full of people from all over the world.”

  “There are pe
ople from all over the world here too,” Marie pointed out as they passed by a group of Spaniards just landed from the West Indies.

  “Not just from around the world, from everywhere else in the colony: Montreal, the bayous of Louisiana, Ohio, even Lake Ontario. And there aren’t as many pirates or smugglers,” he said, noticing the gold glinting in one man’s ear. “Or maybe they just hide it better.”

  Marie stopped to admire a bundle of fine merino wool, running her fingers along the delicate fibres.

  “I’ve booked passage back to Quebec a week Tuesday,” Pierre said slowly. Marie’s breath caught in her throat, but she kept looking at the table of wool so Pierre wouldn’t see the disappointment in her face. “The Cassard is one of my father’s ships,” Pierre continued, “so it shouldn’t be too terrible on board.” Pierre looked over at the wool. “There are two spots,” he added slowly, “if you would still like to go.”

  Marie tried to stay composed but couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. Pierre looked as nervous as she felt. “I already told you.”

  “You might have changed your mind.” Pierre was serious. “Once we’re married, you can’t get out of it.”

  Marie took a step closer to him. “I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t want to get out of it! The answer is still yes.”

  With a roar of delight, Pierre picked her up and crushed her in his arms. People were starting to stare as he finally set her down. Marie was breathless but led him away from the crowds to find a less populated spot. The man might not care about decorum, but Annette certainly would if she learned that Marie was being embraced by the merchant’s son in public.

  “When?” Marie asked, her blood bubbling with the happiness of the decision made between them. She paid no mind to the world around them and almost toppled over a small boy carrying a bundle of wood.

  Pierre shrugged. “Whenever you like. I really don’t care as long as it’s before the boat leaves.”

  “Tonight?” Marie asked seriously.

  He laughed. “Why are you in such a rush?” he asked, curious. Renault had warned him that women made plans for weddings far ahead of time that men knew nothing about.

  Marie linked her arm through his. “Why wait?”

  “I could think of a few reasons—mainly Annette and Elise. You wouldn’t want to deny them the opportunity to make a big deal out of this. It is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” he teased, his blue eyes dancing.

  Marie made a face, thinking of what Annette and Elise might plan if they were given the chance. Elise always wanted Marie to be fancier than she was. “They’ll just have to be disappointed. If we ask nicely, Father Allard might marry us on short notice. Otherwise, we’ll do it in Quebec when we arrive.”

  Pierre laughed again, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m not willing to wait until then. I booked only one cabin. Maybe it’s a good thing Annette is sick in bed.”

  As they continued to stroll around the city, Pierre was amazed by the extent of the damage the last few days of the siege had inflicted.

  “Do you have a place in Quebec?” Marie was curious. She assumed he had found somewhere for them to live, but she wouldn’t put it past him to forget.

  “Are you worried about staying with the Renaults?” Pierre teased.

  She’d heard enough about his employer to trust that he’d taken great care of Pierre, but she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of living in a drafty spare room.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, seeing the concern on her face. “Daniel and I found a place near Renault’s office. It’s not what you’re used to here, though. It’s pretty modest.”

  “Why are you so worried about that?” Marie asked. “I don’t care. Really, I don’t. As long as we’re not in the spare room. Claude and Annette want for nothing. They have all the money in the world, but they’re miserable, absolutely miserable. But I’ll be with you for the rest of my life, and that is all I want, even if we have to count our pennies.”

  “France didn’t solve Claude and Annette’s problems?”

  Marie snorted. “He spent all his time at Versailles, and she spent all her time in the countryside.”

  Marie and Pierre decided that he would speak with Claude that evening when the man finally returned home for the night. They didn’t actually need his permission, but both felt it would be polite to ask. Claude wouldn’t like it, but eloping in the middle of the night would have caused more of a spectacle. Neither of them cared much about the ceremony as long as it happened, and Augustus had space for them until their departure date.

  Before then, Pierre had business to attend to. Renault had asked for a report on the current state of the governance in Louisbourg to present to the rest of the Superior Council. The information wasn’t vital, since Louisbourg was a political entity of its own, but since his assistant was going there anyway, he thought it might be useful to gain some insights into what was going on at the fortress.

  Marie floated home, unaware of her surroundings. Everything looked beautiful, and it felt as if nothing in the world would ever go wrong again. Even the crumbling stone walls held a certain charm. When Madame Badeau met her at the door, her suspicions were quickly confirmed just by the astonishing radiance emanating from Marie’s face.

  “But why else would Pierre come back after all this time?” the housekeeper asked.

  “Well, maybe because he was working so hard and couldn’t afford the fare?”

  “Oh, now really,” Madame Badeau snorted. “You never did stop waiting for him, so that must be love. Go and tell Annette; she could use the lift.”

  Annette was awake but still in bed, the window curtains closed tightly against the light of day. Taking a closer look at her aunt, Marie could see that she’d lost a great deal of weight and her skin had the unhealthy, paper texture of an invalid who’d been in bed for too long.

  “How are you?” Marie asked.

  Her aunt groaned in response, her eyes closed against the dim light. Marie settled herself on the chair facing the bed, which was usually filled by one of the servants. That groan seemed as good a response as Marie was going to get. “Pierre asked me to marry him.” There didn’t seem any point in launching into a preamble. Besides, Marie thought she might burst from excitement if she didn’t get the words out.

  Annette’s eyes snapped open. They were bloodshot and swollen. “What?”

  Marie couldn’t disguise her disappointment at this reaction. She assumed that if anything could get Annette out of bed, it would be the opportunity to plan a party. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Annette grimaced, and worry lines appeared between her eyes.

  “But he works in Quebec. You don’t want to go there.”

  Marie looked uncertain. “Of course, I would live in Quebec. What would be wrong with that? I would be near Uncle Joseph.”

  Annette seemed very uncomfortable with the whole idea. For the first time in days, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, though the effort left her breathless. “But, my dear, you would be away from me.”

  Marie stood up. She knew Annette always struggled with understanding another person’s opinions, but this was ridiculous. “I told you I’ve been writing to him since he left, so this can’t come as a complete surprise.”

  Annette leaned her head against the rough wooden headboard. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Your uncle wouldn’t like it.”

  Marie couldn’t care less what Claude thought and she said so. But Annette refused to budge, and Marie stomped out of the room. Madame Badeau had been listening in the hall, tutting quietly to herself. Annoyed at them both, Marie packed a bag and went to visit Elise.

  Elise was as thrilled as Marie knew she would be. She’d known her friend was in love with Pierre long before Marie had realized it herself. The two stayed up late into the night, tucked into Elise’s large feather bed in the attic, talking about Marie’s future. The slanted roof with its wide crossbeams made it impossible to walk upr
ight except in the centre of the room, and it was always either too hot or too cold. Elise also shared the space with crates of root vegetables and cured meats. So at first glance, it was a strange place to sleep and talk. But Marie found the room cozy. And no one could eavesdrop in this house.

  “I wish you would find someone,” Marie said to her friend as the moon rose above the rooftops. “Then our children could play together.”

  To her surprise, Elise’s pale, freckled face turned beet red.

  “What is it?” Marie asked.

  Elise bit her lip. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “What?” Marie rolled over to face her friend, stunned.

  “Please don’t be angry. I just didn’t know how to tell you.” Elise took a deep, steadying breath. “Your brother asked me to marry him.”

  Marie sat up. “He what? When did this happen? What did he expect you to say? What did you say?” She exploded her way through her questions. Elise couldn’t possibly marry Nic. He was too rough for her.

  Elise continued to lie on her back, her hands clasped calmly across her chest, staring at the rafters. “I said … yes.”

  It took Marie a minute to find her voice. “Why?” It was a rude question, but Marie had never seen any interest between the two of them. She wracked her brain, trying to think of something that would have given her some indication that this was coming.

  Elise blushed and pushed her pillow up so she could rest her head on it more comfortably.

  “I’m sorry,” Marie said. “That wasn’t kind.”

  Elise gazed at Marie, her wide eyes looking even wider. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

  Marie felt slightly betrayed. She thought of Elise as a sister, and she wasn’t aware that they were capable of keeping secrets from each other, especially not something like this.

  “When did he ask you?” Marie asked, trying to keep her tone light.

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “And you want to marry him?” She didn’t ask whether Elise was pregnant. She wisely calculated that such a question would not be well received.

  Elise sat up and fiddled with the end of her long, copper braid. “It took me by surprise. I didn’t see it coming. But he was always nice to me when he wasn’t busy wreaking havoc on the world.” She paused to make sure Marie was listening. Marie understood but still had her reservations.