The Displaced

by Frieda Watt

  ***

  The few weeks that Marie had spent working at the Hôpital du Roi during the siege of 1745 had been hectic, but in some ways, fulfilling. The worst part of the siege, for her, had been fear of the unknown. The days and nights of starvation, punctuated by roaring cannon fire had been enough to break even the strongest of spirits. She had signed up mostly just to get away from Annette, who spent every morning predicting their impending doom.

  Elise hadn’t been able to deal with the trauma and injuries that came with the job, so Marie went on alone. She had few skills to offer. Though she could clean and cook and wrap a bandage, that was where her abilities ended, and the regular staff were so busy that there had been no time for effective training.

  Near the end of August 1750, Madame Badeau suggested that Marie apply to the Frères de Saint-Jean-de-Dieu who ran the hospital, as they and the Ursuline nuns who worked there would have more time to devote to her training now. The housekeeper had learned that they needed another ramancheur, or bonesetter. Learning how to re-set broken bones would give Marie a practical skill that she could use for most of the rest of her life. When Madame Badeau told her about the opportunity, Marie was willing, but Annette baulked at the idea.

  “You can’t become a nun,” she hissed when Marie announced her intention.

  “I’m not going to be a nun.” Marie’s exasperation was barely in check. “I just want to help.”

  “You have to be a member of the cloth to do that.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “They’re going to try to make you take vows,” Annette continued on stubbornly.

  Marie sighed and just walked out of the room. Joining the Ursuline Order was an option, but not one that held any power over her. It didn’t seem fair to promise her life to the church when Pierre filled her thoughts completely.

  The hospital at Louisbourg was the largest building of its kind on the northeast coast of North America. Two storeys of large rooms were filled with over a hundred neatly organized beds. With its white-washed walls and high slate roof, the hospital was an impressive sight from the outside too. The spire that topped this second-largest building in the city was the tallest point in the whole fortress, easily visible above the stone walls for quite a distance.

  The Hôpital du Roi served mainly sailors who had fallen ill at sea and the soldiers in the garrison, where the poor diet and close living quarters often resulted in minor but recurrent illnesses. The hospital also served the entire civilian population, with a handful of doctors trained in France and a greater number of surgeons who had apprenticed in the colony. The welfare of Louisbourg’s population was in the good hands of the Frères de Saint-Jean-de-Dieu.

  The main building stood on one side of the property, with two smaller buildings jutting out from either end, the entire compound surrounding a courtyard on three of its four sides. A large garden took up most of the courtyard itself, a peaceful place to rest within the sanctuary of the property’s low stone walls.

  Marie was nervous about going back to the hospital, but on the September day when Marie was preparing to go, Madame Badeau practically kicked her out the door. The weather was already starting to cool, so Marie had put on her grey, woollen cloak and held it close around herself to keep warm.

  The clean, white interior walls of the hospital corridors were lit by large windows spanning almost the full length of the space between the rafters and the floor. That was a familiar sight from the time Marie had spent here earlier, but the place was strangely quiet. During the siege, bombs were falling and the rooms were spilling over with the sick and injured. It was so peaceful now, it hardly seemed like the same place.

  Sister Agatha was standing at the end of the hallway. She was ancient, and Marie guessed that she probably had a memory of when Louisbourg was first founded, in 1713. The old nun was short and bent over with age, and a thick chunk of shockingly white hair poked out from under her wimple. Despite her petite frame and age, however, she was a woman of great energy.

  Marie wasn’t sure if anyone would remember her. She’d been one of many volunteers who worked at the hospital during the siege. The facility had been filled to bursting point, and chaos reigned no matter how hard the staff tried to keep the place running smoothly.

  Sister Agatha leaned forward, her eyes squinting in the bright light flooding the corridor. “Monique!” She exclaimed and limped forward with remarkable speed.

  Marie tried not to laugh. “It’s Marie.”

  The nun’s face was as wrinkly as an old apple, lined with service both in Louisbourg and on the mainland. The sister patted Marie’s cheek with her leathery hand. “So it is, dear. So it is. You must forgive me. Memory isn’t what it used to be. What brings you here today?”

  Marie explained her desire to work as a ramancheur, giving as few details as were needed. She didn’t know any of the staff here well and didn’t feel like talking about Pierre with those who wouldn’t miss him.

  Sister Agatha seemed far too excited about having a new recruit to be concerned about Marie’s motivations for applying for the job. The nun practically bounced down the hall as she led Marie to the administrative offices. A solitary priest was sitting there behind a plain, worn desk, bald except for a dark fringe that circled the back of his head. He was tall, middle aged, and generally thin, but he had a pot belly that was obvious when he stood up, poorly concealed by his black robes.

  Sister Agatha explained the situation and introduced the priest as Father Maneau, emphasizing the fact that Marie had no desire to become a member of the cloth.

  “Well, we can always use another helping hand,” he smiled kindly at Marie. “What is your experience with healing?”

  Marie described her work during the siege, which seemed to be enough to qualify her for long-term service.

  “Sister Agatha, do you have time to train Mademoiselle Lévesque?”

  Sister Agatha laughed. “I’m afraid not, young Maneau. I’ve barely enough time to finish my own chores.”

  Father Maneau looked affronted. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m old enough to have changed your diapers, young man. Don’t give me that attitude. I do the best I can with the body the good Lord has blessed me with.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched out of the office.

  “Bit of a firecracker that one,” Marie commented, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

  Father Maneau nodded in a resigned sort of way. “Brilliant healer, but as she says, she’s been doing this for a very long time. Let’s go to see Sister Miriam. She’ll show you the ropes.”

  He walked out into the hall with Marie and led her to one of the wards and into a room where a middle-aged nun was bending over a gruff-looking sailor, clearly laying down the rules. The sailor began to look bashful when he saw the priest and Marie entering the room and meekly pulled the covers around his chin.

  Once introduced to Marie, Sister Miriam stood up, smiling sweetly. She had a round, red face that made her look as if she was in a perpetually good mood.

  Apparently, the sailor had been refusing to stay in bed. Sister Miriam had just caught him attempting to walk around for the third time that day. He’d dislocated his knee falling off a rope ladder, and, as Sister Miriam had just told him, it wasn’t going to heal if he continued gallivanting around the corridors.

  Marie hid a smile and followed Sister Miriam around the building. She was a bubbly woman who obviously took great pride in her work. The hospital had two floors, each one regularly scraped and then cleaned with vinegar. The lower floor usually housed patients with injuries, while the upper level was reserved for people with illnesses and well-off patrons who paid for a private room.

  Down on the first floor, Marie and her new mentor passed the largest kitchen Marie had ever seen, with seating for the staff as well as a laundry room almost the size of Claude’s main floor. Water pumps had been installed in both rooms, a convenience that most people in the fortress did not have.

  “So,�
� Sister Miriam said when the tour was over, folding her arms across her ample chest, “there’s not much to it. We use the apothecaries in town and herbs from our garden. Once you’ve learned the uses for the various plants, you can start gathering for us.”

  Marie nodded.

  “In the meantime, however, I’ll train you.”

  Marie was more than happy to begin. She was given a large, grey smock with deep pockets and then began to follow the nun around. Sister Miriam didn’t mind having a shadow and patiently explained things twice if Marie didn’t catch what she’d said the first time.

  There was a lot to take in. Most of the patients were sailors, ill or injured after so many days at sea. They were being constantly reprimanded for their language. Marie found the sight of burly sailors being disciplined like school children quite amusing. There were farmers and soldiers as well, injured while in their line of work. Many of them found the hospital a welcome break from their regular duties.

  Marie felt particularly squeamish when a labourer was brought in, his foot crushed by a falling barrel of cod liver oil. His bones were badly crushed, the muscles were torn, and ligaments were dangling from the flesh. There was no hope for it, so the foot would have to be amputated. Marie had to steady herself as she watched the procedure, the man’s screams mixed with the sound of the saw’s blade. She was told that it only took thirteen cuts for the foot to be separated from the ankle, but the whole operation seemed to take a very long time. Sister Miriam promised Marie that most days did not see such excitement, for which Marie was grateful.

  Marie left the hospital as evening was sweeping in over the fortress. She was exhausted and famished. Sister Miriam and some of the priests felt that given enough time, Marie would be able to amputate a limb, but Marie herself shuddered at the thought.

  As she lay in bed that night, thinking through the day, she realized that one of her goals had been accomplished. She hadn’t thought of Pierre at all while she was at the hospital. The realization was bittersweet.

  ***

  A week after she began at the hospital, Marie went to the Sarrazins’ home. She still felt overwhelming envy and resentment whenever she thought of Elise’s wedding but knew that wasn’t fair to either Elise or Nic. It wasn’t their fault that marriage had been stolen from her. The fact that Elise had postponed all planning or mention of her nuptials was a testament to how true a friend she really was.

  The Sarrazins’ modest wood-framed house, flanked on either side by larger stone buildings, looked merry with hanging baskets of white and red flowers below the windows and their green shutters. Marie knocked, hoping she could keep her emotions to herself.

  She had purposely avoided Elise as much as possible since Pierre’s disappearance, but today, Elise greeted her with such warmth and tenderness that Marie felt deeply guilty.

  Elise was the only one at home. Her mother was at the market selling her loaves of bread, and the rest of her family was helping to repair the defences of the town. It was a massive undertaking that would take a few years to complete.

  Marie was ushered into the sitting room where a pot of tea sat waiting.

  “Do you want to talk about things?” Elise prodded, offering Marie a cup.

  Marie shook her head. “What is there to say really? I’m sorry it disturbed your plans. You didn’t need to postpone your day.”

  Elise waved the comment away. “It didn’t seem right.” She sipped her tea. “I didn’t want my wedding to be painful, and I thought it would be easier if you had some time … but I realize it’s still all going to be incredibly difficult for you.”

  Elise’s family was not wealthy, but because of her father’s position within the garrison, appearances were important. The sitting room was filled with the good furniture, including a carpet imported from France. The rest of the house was more sparsely furnished with just the basics, most of which had been handmade by a carpenter in the city.

  Elise always wanted to entertain Marie in the sitting room. It usually wasn’t used except when the Sarrazins held formal teas or drinks.

  “Is your mother coming to terms with your marriage?” Marie asked, downing some of her warm, comforting tea.

  Elise shrugged. “Not really, but everyone else is pleased with it. My mother’s dreams of my marrying into a wealthy family have evaporated, so she can’t help but be disappointed. I don’t know why she was always so bent on my marrying up. She says she’s happy with my father, so military life can’t be that awful.”

  Marie chuckled. “When is the big day?”

  “Nic hasn’t told you, has he.” She shook her head in frustration. “Honestly. Saturday, October 6th. You know I want you to come. It might be one of the hardest things you ever do, but you are my best friend and I would be so sad if you weren’t there.”

  “You’re going to be my sister, Elise. I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

  ***

  Marie felt as if she was putting in time until the wedding. The one good thing about the hectic schedule of trying to get a wedding ready was that the preparations overshadowed Marie’s birthday. No one mentioned it, and she was grateful for that. She didn’t want to think about being twenty-one and alone. Madame Badeau quietly slipped her a cup of coffee during breakfast, with a small smile, but Marie was able to pretend it was just another day.

  No matter how much Marie reassured Elise and herself that the wedding would be a happy event, when the day finally came, she shed a lot of tears before going down for breakfast. She had helped sew the wedding dress, and she’d cut and arranged the flowers that Elise would be carrying, but thoughts of her own missed wedding kept coming into her mind. Try as she might, it was difficult to push them away.

  The morning was bright and clear, with the autumn’s first hint of chill in the air. The leaves were beginning to turn into a rich tapestry of scarlet and gold and gently graced the ground with their beauty. Some birds had not yet left for the south, and they serenaded the guests as they entered the Chapel.

  Elise looked radiant in her pale-green silk dress. Her bodice was covered in tiny embroidered gold flowers that seemed to flutter as the bride breathed. Lace cuffs fell dramatically from her elbows, and her auburn hair was set about with tiny white wildflowers from Rochefort Point.

  Marie sat uncomfortably watching her brother and friend in front of the altar. She would never have put the two of them together, but Elise’s pale face shone with happiness as she exchanged her vows with Nic, and Nic looked happier than Marie had seen him since his return from Boston. Gazing at Elise in her radiance, Marie could think of no one who deserved such joy more than her kind and gorgeous friend. But as for Marie, she wondered if she would ever find someone else, someone who could fill the ever-present void in her chest. She doubted it. She couldn’t see herself ever getting married now, promising herself fully to someone other than Pierre.

  Annette’s thin hand wrapped around Marie’s and squeezed it gently. For a moment, Marie felt overwhelming gratitude toward her aunt for realizing her conflicting emotions, but when she glanced over at her mother’s sister, she saw Annette’s grey eyes filled with her own tears of grief. Annette was miserable in her marriage, but Marie didn’t understand why she didn’t do something about it. After sixteen years, could she not have made her peace with it?

  ***

  After an early wedding luncheon, the newlyweds retired to their small wood cottage near the edge of town. Nic’s career was just beginning and money was tight, but the young officer was already making a name for himself, so appearances had to be maintained. The appearance factor meant that they had to buy their own home, but the money factor meant that it had to be modest.

  Marie felt desolate after the wedding. Nic and Elise lived within walking distance, but with her own home to run, Elise now had a different standing in society than Marie. Most of Marie’s friends were married or were planning to marry soon. Marie was one of the few who was still living at home.

  Jean eventu
ally returned, sunburned, from the West Indies. He’d seen no sign of Pierre. Jean had even spent time searching the sugar plantations and any other places where an indentured servant could be, but there was no sign of his cousin. He stopped in Louisbourg to meet with his Uncle Augustus, but then he was off. With him went Marie’s last hope that Pierre was alive.

  She returned to the hospital, throwing herself into the work. When she was busy, Pierre didn’t overcome her mind as much, but he was always there, haunting the peripherals of her consciousness. She continued to shadow Sister Miriam, and fortunately, the nun had an apparently endless amount of patience even if the sick and injured that Marie was trying to help did not.

  As winter set in and the French ships retreated to their permanent ports, sailors no longer filled the halls with their assortments of puzzling ailments. Broken bones and other injuries related to agricultural endeavours were down as well as the farmers in the environs hunkered down to endure the frozen months. When the snow and ice came, there would be different kinds of sicknesses and injuries to deal with, but for now, the rooms and corridors of the hospital were relatively quiet.

  People with illnesses filled most of the beds. Common colds and fevers were usually treated at home, but a few hypochondriacs insisted on convalescing under the watchful care of the clergy. It was Marie’s job to deal with them.

  She kept the rooms warm and dry and administered a strict diet of light liquids to the patients. If a person’s fever was caused by inflammation, Marie would do a bloodletting, making a small incision in the crook of the elbow and letting out six to eight ounces of blood. It didn’t always work, but the medical staff thought it was still worth trying.

  Marie was amazed by how calm the nursing staff were. Often people would come in panicking or in pain, afraid that they were entering the last few moments of their lives or that they would be unable to heal. Initially, Marie found their cries upsetting. It wasn’t until Sister Miriam sat her down and talked to her about her emotions that she understood why the healers were so aloof.