The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  “I very much doubt the lady would need to steal, as you put it, from her own home,” he sneered. “The goods she sent yesterday are all in the galley. Feel free to check each box, but rest assured, had there been a woman in any of them, the men would’ve noticed.” He chuckled. “Now, can you hurry up this nonsense? The women are cold.”

  The lieutenant reddened. Before he could speak, two of his soldiers came on deck.

  “Lieutenant,” the sergeant said, stopping before him and saluting. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the forecastle and beakhead are clear. There’s no one there.”

  “Thank you,” the lieutenant answered. “Send some men below to search the lower decks. Don’t omit anything or heads will roll. Pay special attention to the galley and ask to see the goods sent from Caen. Send two men to search the quarterdeck as well.”

  “Lieutenant, my mother and her niece are still in bed,” Guy interrupted. “Since I don’t want my family upset, I’ll accompany the men below.”

  “As you wish,” the lieutenant answered. “Sergeant, have the men searching the quarterdeck wait for his lordship.” He turned to the women. “My sincerest apologies, mesdames. You may return to your cabins. I wish you all a safe voyage.” The lieutenant bowed.

  Guy huffed out a relieved breath. Now that Sophie was safe, he need only worry about Isabelle and whatever surprise awaited him below.

  Nodding their thanks, the women, wide-eyed and shivering, scrambled up the steps.

  “Wait,” the chevalier cried, just as Sophie took her first step.

  She halted, trembling so badly Guy could see her shake. Damn. They’d come so close.

  “I have additional questions for you, madame,” he said walking over to the frightened girl.

  Without warning, he grabbed the neckline of Sophie’s nightgown and pulled hard, ripping the linen down to her waist, allowing the fabric to gape open, exposing her breasts and the white birthmark beneath the right one.

  Sophie cried out, hurrying to cover herself from the prying eyes of those on deck.

  Guy, momentarily immobilized by the chevalier’s actions, rushed to cover her with the shawl that had fallen to the floor. Sophie buried her face in his chest and wept.

  “For God’s sake d’Angrignon,” he said, holding the girl tightly to him. “What’s wrong with you? Is that any way to treat a lady?”

  “My apologies, madame,” the chevalier answered, not sounding in the least apologetic. “I had to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?” Guy muttered between clenched teeth, angry enough to kill the man on the spot. If he would do this to an innocent, what might he do to Isabelle?

  The chevalier turned to Guy, his cold eyes boring into him.

  “This one closely resembles her sister. I had to be sure they weren’t playing tricks,” he said, the ice in his words freezing Guy’s blood.

  “And what would your fiancée have done with her sibling? Toss her overboard to take her place?”

  The chevalier glared at him.

  “You might answer that better than I can. I understand you’re acquainted with her, my lord, friends from many years ago.”

  “We were. Her late husband was my friend and brother-at-arms. I stopped in Caen on Sunday to pay my respects.”

  No doubt the man already knew that. Hiding it would be pointless.

  “So I heard,” he said, frowning.

  D’Angrignon had to realize he knew the truth about Sophie. The chevalier stepped closer to him, grabbed Sophie’s shoulder, and turned her to face him.

  Guy refused to release her and glared at the fuming knight.

  “Sophie,” d’Angrignon ordered, his face an angry mask. “Look at me.”

  The girl obeyed and raised her brown eyes to his, more proof that she was not Isabelle.

  “When did you last see her? And your answer had better be the truth.”

  The threat of violence in the aristocrat’s voice chilled Guy once more.

  “Yesterday when she brought me to the ship,” she whispered, clutching at her shawl and nightdress, nestling more tightly into him. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks. “Seigneur Poirier gave us a brief tour of the ship and then escorted her back to the carriage.” She stopped talking and paled. “Why are you looking for her? Didn’t she return to the castle?” Panic replaced the fear on her face.

  Guy pulled her more tightly to him.

  “Your grace, I handed your fiancée into that carriage myself.” He indicated the waiting coach. “Ask the driver. The first mate was on the pier and can verify it,” he said, pointing to the man at the captain’s side.

  Monsieur Martin stepped forward.

  “That’s right, your grace,” Monsieur Martin said and nodded. “I watched the carriage leave the dock. She never returned. If I’d seen her again, I would’ve remembered. While Madame Gaudier resembles her slightly, your fiancée’s beauty is hard to forget.”

  “Madame, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” Guy said, trying to comfort Sophie, angry at Isabelle for putting her through this. “Your grace, have you considered your fiancée might’ve gone to the abbey?” he asked, hoping to distract the man. “That was her plan when I spoke with her on Sunday. She was most distraught when she left yesterday. With your permission, can Sophie return to her cabin?”

  The chevalier nodded, his eyes narrow and filled with frustration. He turned to Sophie.

  “I regret the damage to your shift, madame,” he said, his tone not matching his words. “Have a pleasant journey. I hope you reach New France in good health.

  Guy released Sophie, pushing her gently away from him. Somehow the chevalier’s words didn’t ring true.

  “Go to your cabin,” he said softly, turning her toward the steps, careful she remained covered. “I’ll send my mother to check on you later. I’m sure she can mend your nightdress.”

  Sophie nodded, tears running freely down her cheeks. She clutched her shawl along with the remnants of her dignity and hurried up the stairs.

  Once she was gone, Guy turned to the chevalier, his jaw clenched, trying to control his anger.

  “Your fiancée isn’t here. You saw for yourself how upset the girl is. I knew Isabelle well enough to know she wouldn’t do this to Sophie. I saw the look on her face when she was forced to leave her here on the ship. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to wake up my mother and her niece to allow these soldiers to search our quarters to satisfy your curiosity.” He turned to the two men who waited for him. “Come, corporal. You can start with the captain’s cabin while I see to my mother.”

  He turned on his heel and limped after the soldiers. They weren’t out of danger yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Guy led the soldiers to his mother’s cabin door and knocked loudly, hoping the sound would cover the thumping of his heart he was certain everyone could hear.

  “Maman,” he called.

  “Yes, Guy,” she answered. “What is it? What do you want so early? The banging frightened Isidore. You know how timid she is.”

  “Pardon, Maman, I’m sorry to have to disturb you, but there are soldiers with me who must search the room.”

  He heard the bolt pulled back, and the door opened.

  “Search my cabin for what?”

  His mother stood barefoot in the doorway, bonnet on her head and shawl pulled tightly across her shoulders over her nightdress. Isabelle climbed out of the bed, similarly attired, her small, brown feet peeking out from under the long, loose nightgown she wore. Her hair was tucked up under her sleeping cap; she kept her eyes downcast.

  “For Isabelle de Caen who apparently made off with the family jewels,” Guy answered, his voice dripping sarcasm.

  Isabelle shuddered, but pulled the shawl around herself to hide the slight movement.

  Guy turned to the corporal.

  “You can search now. My cabin’s through the connecting door.” He stood to the side and let them enter. “I can guarantee you won’t find any stowaways under my bed.”

/>   The man opened armoires and checked under the bed as well as behind the privacy screen before approaching Isabelle.

  “Mademoiselle,” he said. “I’m sorry to have to disturb you and your aunt in this fashion, but could you remove your bonnet?”

  Isabelle kept her head lowered and her eyes hooded as she raised her hand and removed the cap that covered her hair. Two simple brown braids fell to just below her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” he said, waiting as the second soldier checked Guy’s room.

  Within five minutes, the man returned and shook his head.

  The corporal nodded.

  “My apologies for having disturbed you, madame, I wish you and your niece a pleasant voyage.” He turned to Guy. “My lord, thank you for your cooperation.”

  He followed the other soldier into the next cabin.

  Guy smiled at his mother and bent down to kiss her.

  “This has been most upsetting for Madame Gaudier,” he added, not looking at Isabelle, afraid his anger with her would betray him. “I’ll let the cook know you’re awake and ready to break your fast.”

  He closed the door and returned to the weather deck.

  Captain Étier stood with half a dozen soldiers, the lieutenant, the priest, and the chevalier. Where was the other man he’d seen earlier?

  The captain scowled, his face an angry red.

  “You’ve searched my ship from the bilge to the crow’s nest. There’s no one hiding anywhere. Are you satisfied? If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our chance to do so today.”

  The last of the soldiers searching the vessel stepped onto the deck. At the lieutenant’s silent question, he shook his head.

  “All clear, sir,” he reported. “There’s no one resembling the woman in question aboard this ship.”

  The lieutenant looked at the chevalier who nodded to the officer.

  “Have your men wait by the carriage,” he ordered before turning to Guy.

  The soldiers disembarked, and the priest left the deck, leaving only the lieutenant, the captain, and the sailors with them.

  “I was so certain she would be here,” he said. “Perhaps you’re right, my lord. I didn’t think to search the abbey. It would be like her to hide in the bosom of the church. We’ll go there at once. Walk with me.” He went down the gangplank and along the pier toward the carriage.

  Guy followed.

  “You’re an enigma, my lord,” the chevalier said. “I don’t like puzzles. You know Sophie isn’t Pierre Gaudier’s widow, and yet you’ve said nothing. Why?”

  “Why should I?” he asked. “I’ve seen the king’s seal on her trunk. If his majesty is ready to allow the charade, who am I to argue? Since Sophie’s being passed off as a widow rather than a maid, I assume she’s been light skirted and is no longer a virgin. For all I know, she may even be carrying some man’s bastard. Besides, this suits me. I may marry her myself. Pierre was granted land in the colony that abuts mine. If it reverted to the crown, it might be harder to acquire. As for Isabelle, since Pierre died a traitor, I’m certain the king wants to hide her connection to him. Either way, it’s none of my business.”

  The chevalier laughed. “Touché! I see that you’re not only an officer, but a gentleman, and a shrewd businessman. I’m really not a heartless man. The other night, the women were dressed so alike, the one could’ve passed for the other.” He shook his head. “Sadly, the girl’s just a pawn in this game. I wish you an interesting crossing.”

  With that cryptic remark, he entered his coach.

  Guy turned back to the ship, meeting the lieutenant at the base of the gangplank.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I hope to go to New France when this tour of duty is over. I understand a man can do well for himself there. I’m not surprised we didn’t find her here. Apparently, she returned to the castle yesterday afternoon just as expected. When the chevalier arrived at Caen, we were already searching for her. The housekeeper is beside herself. None of her things are missing, except a dress and a pair of riding boots. There are no horses or carriages unaccounted for, but the servants say she was most upset. Her father died only days ago and now her sister leaves for the colonies ... A woman’s mind is frail. For my money, they’ll find her in the witch’s pond if they find her at all. God have mercy on her soul.” He crossed himself. “Adieu, sir. May your voyage be a pleasant one. Perhaps, God willing, we’ll meet again one day.”

  He continued down the wharf. Guy boarded the ship.

  “A moment, captain,” he called approaching the man.

  “Yes, my lord, what can I do for you?”

  Guy took out his coin pouch and handed him ten gold Louis.

  “Please call me Guy since we’ll be together for the next two months. The title is too new for me to be comfortable with it.” He chuckled. “Women. Who knows what they’ll do to confound a man? At the last minute, my mother decided to bring her orphaned niece with us. I don’t really know the chit. She’s her sister’s niece by marriage, but the poor thing is alone in the world now. She’s a quiet little mouse who’ll share my mother’s cabin. That should cover her passage.”

  “Very well, sir,” the captain replied. “Late yesterday, we acquired another passenger bound for New France. With the additional stores my lady sent from Caen last night, one more mouth to feed won’t be a problem. I didn’t see the lady yesterday, but I hope they do find the poor girl at the convent. I heard she was a rare beauty. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we must set sail.”

  He began to shout orders to the men.

  As Guy moved toward the quarterdeck he pondered what to do with Isabelle. Obviously, she hadn’t shared this escape of hers with Sophie, a cruel thing to do considering how upset the girl was. Why had she really run away from Caen? Life and death? A cloud crossed the sun and he shivered in the sudden chill. Something about the chevalier’s last words didn’t sit right with him.

  Stepping into the companionway, he almost careened into another man. Where had the man come from?”

  “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone. I’m Seigneur Guy Poirier.”

  “Gerard Giroux, my lord,” the man said. “I was lucky to get passage aboard this vessel. I thought I would have to wait for the next ship. I’m a gunsmith by trade.”

  Guy nodded. “The colony can always use skilled craftsmen. Where are you bound?”

  “Canada, specifically Ville-Marie, your grace.”

  “As am I. Enjoy the rest of your day. If you’ll excuse me, my mother awaits.”

  * * *

  Isabelle, washed and dressed in her black wool dress and the white cap Aline had provided, her hands cleaned and debrided to ensure there wouldn’t be any infection, sat at the worktable, nibbling at the bread and jam the cook’s boy had brought, her stomach still in knots after the close call. If she’d gone ahead with her original plan, all would’ve been lost. She couldn’t thank God enough for this turn of events, convinced He was now on her side.

  The boy’s clothing she’d worn was hidden in the back of the armoire, ready to be pitched overboard after dark. Aline had hidden the remaining stain among her herbs and medicines and rubbed her sore shoulder with liniment, the aroma of mint strong in the small cabin.

  Why had the chevalier returned to Caen? He wasn’t supposed to. Murielle must be sick with worry. His presence would definitely endanger the woman who’d helped her.

  “I hope you didn’t mind me calling you Isidore earlier,” Aline said, bringing her out of her musings. “I had to think of something quickly and it was the only name I could think of.”

  “Why that name, Madame Poirier?” she asked the woman seated across from her.

  “You must call me Tante Aline as a real niece would do. The year before Guy was born, I lost my only other child. Our daughter’s name was Isidore. She was always a frail thing, but so kind and good-hearted. We nicknamed her Izzy. Sadly, she got terribly sick that winter and died just before her fifth birthday. Would you like to use
that name? You don’t have to. Only those soldiers and Guy heard it. It’s similar to yours, but we can’t call you Isabelle.”

  Isabelle smiled at Guy’s mother. It had come to this. She’d lost everything now: her husband, her parents, her home, her name, and her honor. She’d disobeyed the king, committing treason by doing so, and had set out on a course of action whose outcome she couldn’t imagine.

  “It would be an honor to share your daughter’s name, and since Sophie sometimes calls me Izzy; it’s providential.”

  “Then Izzy it is.” Aline stood and walked over to the window. “Come here and look. This will be the last time you’ll see the coast of France. There’s no going back for any of us.”

  Isabelle went to stand beside her and watched as the port of Le Havre grew smaller and smaller. Her course of action had not only damned herself but Guy and his mother. When there was almost nothing left to see, she turned to Aline.

  “I’m so sorry for involving you in this, Tante Aline,” she said. “You and your son have saved my life and possibly the lives of others. I was terrified when the soldier asked me to remove the cap. I won’t feel safe until the ship is far out to sea, too far to be caught by anyone following us.” She dissolved into tears.

  Aline took her into her arms and let her cry.

  “Go ahead, little one. You’ve lost more these last few months than most do in a lifetime.”

  Eventually Isabelle stopped sobbing, and when there was nothing left but hiccups, stepped out of Tante Aline’s arms, and wiped away the last of her tears with her hands.

  “Things are far more complicated than you know ... it wasn’t only the marriage to d’Angrignon.”

  Aline nodded and moved toward the bed.

  “Wait until my son returns. In the meantime, Guy has arranged to have breakfast brought to me and the chamber pot emptied, but there aren’t any servants aboard this ship. We’ll have to cope for ourselves. I’m used to hard work, but you’ve been raised a lady. Alas, that’s no longer the case. You aren’t aristocracy now. The blood in your veins may be blue, but it’s something no one can ever know. From now on, you’re a farmer’s orphan. How long will your skin stay that color?”