Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

  “My friend gave me this gown. Your Tante Isabelle. But I never wore it.”

  Suzanne’s shoulders retracted. Even knowing the relationship between the two families, Maria’s words surprised her. “So you know my secret.”

  “You remind me so much of Isabelle.” Maria patted Suzanne’s cheeks. “She had courage, like you.”

  A trait she lacked. Suzanne frowned. Her actions screamed survival, not courage. She clamped her lips tight.

  “Sometimes it requires even more courage to stay put. Like Johan must.” Maria averted her gaze. “He recognizes the eldest son must care for his elders. We can trust him to provide for us and we’ll assist him and his future wife. Someone who shares his hopes and dreams—a young villager, like Johan, accustomed to our ways.”

  “I see.” Part of her longed to argue with Johan’s mother, to tell her that they were suited to one another. But it wasn’t true. He belonged here with his family and she needed to find her own. And to return to some form of her previous life, not trapped on a farm.

  Maria brushed her hand across the silk gown. “Your aunt, Isabelle, departed with my brother, who’d taken his vows. I believe her father intended for her to enter a convent in Montreal. Instead, she went missing from one of the forts and my brother has blamed himself ever since.” She stared out the window.

  “Maman said they assumed her dead.”

  “Vincent never gave up hope.” Maria shook her head.

  “We should continue to hope. But regardless, my parents had planned for us to go to the English colonies, because of their…our faith.”

  “My family has always been a friend of your family.” Maria laced her broad hand through Suzanne’s narrow one.

  “Merci, for you kindness to me.”

  “We want to help you get to the colonies. Nicholas can accompany you. We have many congregants who live near Philadelphia, and I’m sure any would take you both in.”

  Didn’t they know about Greta? What about her? Suzanne sighed. “Oui, madame.”

  Maybe wearing the fancy clothing would make her feel like her old self. She needed to come to her senses and stop this infatuation. A completely incongruous match disapproved by Johan’s mother.

  ~*~

  The afternoon chores completed, Johan went to see what was engrossing the women.

  He smelled burned bread as he entered the house and spied Suzanne in the keeping room. He pinched his nostrils and made a face.

  Suzanne’s cheeks reddened. “I got distracted and burned the loaves. Your mother is scraping them off, out back.”

  “You try so hard with the baking.” He drew close and patted her hand.

  Cuts marred the back of her hand on the calloused flesh. She pulled her hand free and rubbed at the crimson spots. When he first met her, she’d worn gloves that prevented her hands from chafing from the reins. The gloves hid white, tender hands unlike any he’d seen.

  “It’s no use.” When she closed her eyelashes like that, the black of them so stark against her pale skin, Suzanne appeared frail, childlike. But with her dark eyes open, flashing at him, he saw the woman.

  “What’s no use?”

  “For one thing, to fix this gown.” She pointed to several fancy articles of clothing—completely impractical for the farm. “Where would I wear these?”

  Was she asking him if she could stay there in the Palatinate? He took a deep breath and then exhaled. Why had Mama given her the garments? He stroked his chin as he examined her. His cheeks flushed as he spied the straining fabric over her bosom. “You need a new blouse for sure.”

  “Excusez-moi?”

  “Too tight.” When she blinked at him, he demonstrated, running his own hand across his chest. “Here.”

  Pink splotches started at the dip in the front of her blouse and spread up into her dark hair, pulled loosely atop her head. “You shouldn’t discuss such things with me.”

  “Why not?” He bit back the desire to tell her that if she grew anymore and did nothing she might burst through the fabric.

  “I’m a lady.” Her fiery black eyes bore into his.

  “I can see.” What else could he say? Heat started in his own chest, and he turned away. She was right; he’d been improper to notice such things. But how couldn’t he? He noticed everything about her. Enjoyed her wit and her concern for others. She never gave up. And he wouldn’t deny that her outside appealed to him, too. He faced her again, unsure what to do.

  Suzanne’s face softened. “Don’t you want to be a gentleman?”

  He wanted many things, but he’d always considered himself a gentleman. “Of course.”

  She smiled tremulously and rose up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, her floral scent quickening his senses. “I’m sorry I’m such a trial for you.”

  Despite his mother’s insistence that Nick would be going to the colonies, Johan hadn’t given up on his dream—of going there and having land of his own, a big family, a place where he wouldn’t have to worry about invasions. He couldn’t imagine Suzanne surviving in the Virginia wilderness. Any attraction growing between them needed to stop. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad to help you.” While I can.

  Once he convinced his parents of the rightness of his plans, he’d be leaving, not Nick. In the colonies he’d find a good woman with excellent homemaking skills, who shared his vision.

  Until then, he would help this girl any way he could. While he’d miss his mother and father, one brother must go. His parents loved Nick and him equally. Nick was just as much son, although a grandson.

  His mother appeared in the doorway and eyed him coldly before addressing Suzanne. “Have you tried on your gown?” The sternness in his mother’s voice took him aback, as did the flash of anger she shot in his direction.

  “No, madame. I desire a bath before I don the clothing. So I won’t soil it.”

  His mother motioned to him to leave. “Johan, get more water from the well. Then heat it for a bath. And get the tub. Use the new soap, Suzanne.”

  ~*~

  Suzanne slid down into the water, determined to wash the dirt and her worries away. This room of the Rouschs’ grandmother had become her oasis, but now her anxiety increased.

  What was Maria up to? The woman continued to pour water into the tub. Perhaps Johan’s mother believed this might literally throw water on the growing attraction between the two of them.

  The warm water and scent of lily of the valley enveloped her. Her rose perfume bottle finally had emptied. She closed her eyes as Maria poured warm water over her hair.

  “Let me help you.” Maria’s nimble fingers worked the soap lather into her thick waves, massaging her scalp and working out the tension there.

  “My son may not be able to read and write well, but he possesses skills that will help him survive on this farm.”

  Did Johan know how to kiss? Her hand flew up to her mouth, as if she had uttered the thought aloud. She reached for the soap and washed her face, breathing in and holding Grand-mère’s favorite perfume scent in her lungs.

  Maria sighed. “Johan is a kind young man.” A decent man.

  “Oui, he is.”

  “Suzanne, you and Nicholas will sail in about a month. I hope you can overlook his…”

  Tormenting, aggravating, arrogance? She bit back those words.

  “I’ll leave you to your bath. Call out when you are finished.” Maria slipped sideways through the door and reclosed it.

  After a good soaking and scrubbing, Suzanne rose and dried off with a coarsely woven towel. Soon she stood before Maria in her chemise.

  The older woman offered a tight smile. “Let’s see if those pieces all fit.”

  Suzanne had forgotten how laborious dressing in the complete attire of a proper gentlewoman was, even with assistance. Maria laced her stays so tight, Suzanne struggled to breathe. Her benefactor seemed to be planning mischief. “Please loosen them.”

  “Certainly.” She eased them out a bit. “Oh, no, I’ve forgotten the shoes.”


  The bedchamber door rattled as the front door was slammed shut. “Mama, I have come to see Suzanne in her dress.” Johan’s cheerful voice was followed by yet another banging of the door.

  “Mama, please, we have chores to do.” Nicholas’s groan was followed by a thwack.

  Their mother opened the door. “Voilà!” She gestured for Suzanne to move forward but her bare feet remained rooted on the wood floor.

  The two young men gaped.

  Johan’s face paled. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Nicholas stood twisting his hat in his hand, without a glib comment for once.

  “I present Mademoiselle Suzanne Richelieu, granddaughter of the marquise. And friend to our family.”

  ~*~

  Johan strode out to muck out the stables. Dressed in his shabby work clothes and his boots, he shook his head. Suzanne in the house dressed in her fancy gown and he about to clean out manure. He chuckled, but it sounded wrong in his ears.

  “You look as if you’ve lost your closest friend,” Papa called out from the wide door of the barn.

  Ja. I have.

  This new woman. This granddaughter of the marquise who held the vast property near Aunt Louisa’s home. Suzanne was completely verboten for him. Yet in his heart, he sensed God telling him that his path entwined with hers despite her deficiencies.

  “Papa, how did you know Mama was the right woman for you?”

  His father’s face lit up and he laughed as he handed Johan the pitchfork. “I’m pretty sure it was when she dumped a pan of strudel over my head because I wasn’t paying enough attention to her.”

  Recalling Nicholas and the bucket of milk, he wondered if his mother and Nicholas were more alike than he realized.

  “You can’t ignore a woman as beautiful as your mother and not pay the price.”

  Had he paid enough attention to Suzanne? He rarely complimented her. Ja, he was aware of those fine golden eyes that followed him everywhere and of how her fingers twisted into her pretty brown hair when he looked at her too long.

  “How did you make up to Mama?”

  His father dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together and raised. “Oh, my darling Maria, I am unworthy. Take pity upon your humble servant and favor me with your affections!”

  From behind, Johan heard a stifled giggle, joined by another louder laugh.

  Mama and Suzanne leaned against each other, hands over their mouths.

  He banged the pitchfork against the ground and offered his father a hand up.

  Papa brushed off his knees and gave him a broad smile. “That’s how it’s done, son.”

  It was no use. The two women scurried to the house.

  Stepping into the dark barn, he imagined remaining here rather than Nicholas doing so. A young woman of Suzanne’s background would never adjust to such a life as this. He’d have to accept reality. And let her go.

  13

  She could fly. Inhaling fragrant lily of the valley, Suzanne flew to the middle of the palace at Versailles. A wind whipped through the courtyard, wrapping her burgundy satin dress tightly around her legs, and kept blowing until her loose wrap was pulled into the air. The red ribbon of fabric disappeared into the air, pulled by intangible hands. It floated toward the mountains illuminated over the spikes of St. Marie’s. She, too, ascended after the scarf. Her mother and father embraced and waved good-bye.

  Beyond the gardens, an army encamped in a field. Guy ran from a tent and called to her, but she couldn’t hear him. The battlefield rolled up, as though it were a rug, and was tossed aside by a peasant tilling his fields. Lowering now to the ground, her feet touched on stone. Turning, she spotted Guy in a town square, a statue of Charlemagne behind him.

  A warm hand took hers and guided her out of the courtyard. She couldn’t see the person who led her, but the hand was familiar, comforting. A ship waited outside the square, a vast ocean surrounding it. The hand was larger now, pressed the lower part of her back, urging her forward. Beyond the ship blue mountains rose from the ocean. Her heartbeat hammered as a voice whispered to her heart that she was going home.

  Surely, she would die.

  She sat up with a start. Pressing her hand to her heart, she tried to keep it from beating its way out of her chest. Someone was sitting in the rocking chair. It creaked as the person rose.

  “Suzanne.” It took her a moment to recognize the owner of the pleasant man’s voice, dazed was she by the nightmare.

  Johan’s tender lips brushed the top of her head. “You’re crying again.”

  “Oui, I had a bad dream.” She exhaled and pulled the sheet up to dry her eyes. “Seemed so real.”

  Was it God who’d whispered directly to her heart, summoning her closer so she would hear Him?

  “So many of these nightmares. I hear you in my room. Tonight, I had to come down and watch over you.”

  “How do you hear me if you sleep?” Her breath caught in her throat. She fought the urge to reach up and wrap her arms around his neck.

  “I’m afraid to sleep some nights. Worried I’ll sleepwalk.” He was so matter of fact. So sincere.

  “I’m sorry, Johan.”

  “Your crying—it’s so herz brechen.” He tapped his broad chest.

  Heartbroken. That was what was wrong with her. She swallowed. “I’m sorry to trouble you.” But she wasn’t really. She wanted him to carry her in his arms even while she was awake. To whisper soothing words to her. She closed her eyes as hot tears tried to wash away that need.

  ~*~

  Johan located the flint and struck it until he procured a spark, then lit the candle and set it on the nearby stand. “When you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

  Instead of his words resulting in a reassuring smile from her, tears streamed down Suzanne’s face.

  He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. He pulled her close and let her weep, her soft frame trembling against him. Oh, Lord, don’t let her suffer like this.

  She sniffed as the tears ceased falling. Her hands trembled as she placed them on his cheeks.

  He froze in place. He’d come to help her. Yes, he’d wanted to kiss her, but he wouldn’t.

  Suzanne pulled his face toward hers, his lips toward her mouth.

  He couldn’t do this. It wouldn’t be right. She was distressed, fragile, and nothing good could come of this for her. He must leave her room immediately. Johan pulled away, turning his face from hers, but not before he’d seen hurt flicker in her eyes.

  It required everything within in him to resist the overpowering desire to cover her sweet mouth with his, to pull her into his arms, to make her forget about the pain in her heart. He took a deep steadying breath and stood over the bed. “I’ll pray about these bad dreams of yours,” he whispered.

  She took his hand in his. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to…”

  “Shush, it’s all right. Don’t worry about anything.” He hung his head, not wanting to see the hurt etched on her pretty features. “I’ll always think of you and your good first, Suzanne. Know that.” He extinguished the briefly lit candle and then departed, closing the door behind him.

  He stood outside her room, leaning against the door, his head bowed. Dear God, make me strong so I can resist her. Help me be the man I told her I am.

  ~*~

  Another day, another load of laundry to hang. Suzanne laid the clean, wet clothes across the fence rails.

  Nicholas joined her, picking up his and Johan’s work shirts and handing them to her. He gazed at the blue sky overhead and sighed. “You don’t understand my brother. He doesn’t live in our realm.”

  Suzanne raised her eyebrows, surprised he could use a word like realm.

  The corners of Nicholas’s lips curled downward as if in distaste. “Johan dreams of marrying a capable young woman. He believes together they’ll produce a dozen perfect children and live a happy life.”

  Suzanne un-wadded one of Maria’s blouses and shook some of the w
rinkles out. “What’s so terrible about that idea?”

  But she couldn’t imagine any woman going through that ordeal a dozen times. Her cheeks heated as she contemplated how one conceived those children in the first place. The tender intimacy between a woman and her husband. Yet Johan had refused her offer of a kiss. Every waking minute since then, she’d imagined how Johan’s kiss would have felt if he hadn’t broken free.

  Nicholas smirked. “There’ll be no French army to invade Johan’s world.”

  Did he know about Guy, too? Had he intercepted a letter from her brother?

  “I cannot stomach him being crushed when his desires are denied.”

  “What do you mean?” She watched his face closely.

  “Suzanne, you must see how he wishes you were his?”

  “I don’t know that.” Suzanne took a shaky breath. Nicholas’s words felt like an assault. She wasn’t about to tell him that Johan had refused her kiss. She covered her mouth, embarrassed.

  Nicholas tipped his chin down, examining her. “Did you know he wants to go to the American colonies?”

  She exhaled. “He says God guides him.”

  “We should all listen to God’s guidance, but Johan—he…” Nicholas shook his head. “Johan’s dream is to settle in Virginia.”

  She thought the group was going to Pennsylvania. Virginia? She had a cousin there, near the coast, but she complained bitterly of the prejudice against anyone who wasn’t English. “Why there?”

  “He’s heard there are vast land tracts available for purchase.”

  “I don’t see how. Virginia has been settled by the English for over a hundred years.”

  “In the backcountry.”

  She’d heard there was wilderness in Virginia, which the Indians also occupied. She shook her head. He couldn’t mean there.

  “We have to settle what will be done about this farm.”

  “Such as?”

  “Two families cannot live here. My cousin can barely feed his family on his section.”

  His parents were sending a lot of food to Noel’s family.

  Maria and Adam took smaller portion for themselves and moved food from their own plates to their sons’. What Nicholas said seemed true. And troubling.