The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

  “We’ll be danced off our feet,” she said, laughing to cover her nervousness.

  “You most certainly will. I need to see the carpenter. If you’ll excuse me, ladies?”

  Isabelle watched him go down the ladder that led deeper into the ship. How much longer could she remain a polite stranger to him? She missed their quiet evenings together, their games of chess. Truth be told, she longed to feel his arms around her again, his lips on hers, making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before. She lifted her tisane flavored with honey from the colony and sipped.

  An hour later, back in their cabin, Isabelle finished sweeping the floor.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” Aline brushed at the navy skirt and bodice she’d just removed from the armoire. “This’ll probably be the first time in more than twenty-five years that I attend a party and don’t have to do any of the work.”

  “It’ll be wonderful.” Sophie danced around the room.

  Isabelle was pleased to see her in such a good mood. For a while, the prospect of life and marriage in New France seemed to weigh on her, but now, she was her old vivacious self. A certain gunsmith might be responsible for the bloom in her cheeks, but like the relationship developing between Henri and Aline, Isabelle would keep her notions to herself.

  “I’m going to wear the purple dress with the amethysts that I wore when I boarded the ship,” Sophie said, her brow drawn in a slight frown. “All the women have their best dresses handy, but there’s nothing suitable for you to wear.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the pale green dress in that satchel,” she indicated the woman’s bag. “It’s simple but of good quality. I am a poor farmer’s daughter, remember? It’s doubtful I would have much in the way of finery.”

  “Maybe there’ll be something better in the trunk,” Sophie said

  All Isabelle could do was hope she was right. It would be nice to have a fancy gown to wear for the occasion.

  * * *

  Guy knocked on his mother’s cabin door and waited for someone to answer.

  “There you are, Guy.” His mother grinned, and he could see she was as excited about this as Izzy and Sophie were. “We’ve dragged the trunk into my room.” She waved at the various tools he carried. “Will those work?”

  “They should.” He turned to Isabelle.

  “I meant to give you this last night.” He handed her a sheet of paper folded in three, with the name “Isabelle” written in the center.

  “It was open, as the captain said, so I took the liberty of reading it this morning to see if perhaps our young lady had been named Isabelle. After reading it, I know it was meant for you.”

  Isabelle reached for the page and gasped.

  “It’s Pierre’s handwriting.”

  She unfolded the note and read aloud.

  My darling Isabelle,

  I’m afraid the charges against me are serious—treason among others. They have documents to support their allegations, but they are false ones since I carried the true ones with me from New France. Someone doesn’t want the king to know the truth.

  With the support of your father and others who spoke on my behalf, I’ve been spared the Bastille. King Louis has exiled me until I can prove the charges against me are false, something I know I can do as soon as we arrive in New France. To accompany me, you’ll have to repudiate your claim to the throne, but I believe the king is amenable to that.

  This has been a terrible shock to my father. He’s collapsed and has returned to the estate with my mother.

  We’ll leave in the spring as soon as the ships can sail. Discuss this with Sophie; maybe she would like to join us. She’ll be as miserable without you as you’ll be without her, and New France needs young women to bear her future.

  Cedric has sent for me. He claims he and members of the company may be able to help me. My brother has never been kindly disposed toward me, but family is family. I’m going to meet him tonight, then I’ll go and see my father. I should be back at Caen by the end of the week.

  Meet me there. We’ll skip stones in the moonlight.

  Your loving husband.

  Pierre

  Isabelle returned the note to Guy.

  “Why did she have this? If anything, it proves Pierre was murdered. He wasn’t distraught. He didn’t go out and get drunk.”

  Her eyes were bright and her lower lip trembled as she fought her tears.

  “I never thought he did. I have to ask. Can it be a forgery? I recognized the hand, but...” He ached to take her in his arms and comfort her.

  “It can’t be a forgery. No one but Pierre would know about skipping stones in the moonlight.” She swiped at the tears she couldn’t hold back. “I need to be alone for a while.”

  Aline nodded and pulled her into her arms.

  “Take a few minutes to grieve and pull yourself together, but then you must bury the pain deep inside once more. Come,” she released her and turned to Guy and Sophie. “We can use some air and see how the others are doing selecting their dresses for tonight.”

  Guy nodded. He didn’t want to leave Isabelle, but right now he had to do exactly that. She had to deal with this latest blow alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  An hour later, Guy, Aline, and Sophie returned to the cabin. Isabelle still sat at the table where they’d left her, the note clenched in her hand.

  “Either Pierre had this on him when he was killed or he gave it to someone he trusted to get it to me, but how did this woman get it? Clearly, it should have been destroyed since it implicates Cedric and the company,” Isabelle said, as soon as he closed the door. “I know what you all think of my brother-in-law, but I still find it hard to believe he could be involved in this.”

  Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she seemed to be in control of her emotions—anger being the one closest to the surface from what he could see.

  “You’re too sweet and kind,” Sophie said. “I have no trouble believing it.”

  “And neither do I,” Guy admitted. “That letter could well be evidence of blackmail. Maybe she used it to get the money to travel or she was taking it to someone else to use. Cedric may have been the last one to see Pierre alive. Are you certain that you can’t remember anything else about her?”

  “This is all so frustrating. It’s as if the memory is there and then, poof! It’s gone.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. When she spoke again, her voice was tinged with regret.

  “She was with Cedric at the funeral. We were introduced, but everything from that day is a blur. There were so many people there, and Pierre’s mother was as distraught as I was. I’ve managed to recall a bit more from the party, but it isn’t much, and it doesn’t tell me who she was.”

  “Whatever you recall is more than we know now,” he said.

  “Cedric invited a lot of people even though the event was meant as a welcome home for Pierre. He and his friends spent most of the evening playing cards, much to his step-mother’s dismay. I vaguely remember seeing that woman standing with Cedric and two other men. Since they faced my way, I only saw the backs of the others. One was of medium height, dressed simply, without a periwig; he wore his hair in a queue. I remember thinking he was a servant or a messenger. The other, dressed in red satin of all colors, wore a white periwig and leaned on an elaborate walking stick.”

  The color drained from her face.

  “What is it? What else did you remember?”

  “Guy, I’ve seen that stick recently and so have you—the chevalier carries one just like it—a carved wooden stick with a fancy ivory and gold knob on top, and he fits the rest of the description as well. Why does he keep cropping up in this? I loathe the man—am I trying to blame him for everything? If I’m right, he’s been complicit in Pierre’s death as well as Papa’s. How does the woman fit in? What could Cedric and Vincent possibly have in common with that girl?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put anything past that man. As far as having something in common, both men wer
e members of the company as was your father. His shares now belong to Solange since she inherited his personal fortune.”

  Isabelle nodded.

  “You need to know what’s in that second letter,” Aline said, moving closer to Guy. “Regardless of her pregnancy or where she got the letter addressed to Isabelle, the fact she still had it makes it important. Was she bringing them both to the Sieur des Courts? Do you know him, Guy?”

  “Maman, there are almost four thousand people in New France, and sadly, I don’t know each one of them. I don’t even know everyone in Ville-Marie despite the fact I’ve chosen to make my home there. I’ve heard of des Courts. The seigneur has his estates near Fort Saint Jean, south of Ville-Marie, convenient for a quick trip to Albany. Since I don’t know the man, I believe I’ll make his acquaintance in the near future. Given the circumstances, you’re right. We need to know what this letter says.” Guy split the seal on the second paper. The brief note, not addressed to anyone in particular and unsigned, chilled him. He read aloud as Izzy had done.

  Gaudier was onto us, but we’ve eliminated him. De Courcelle has spies everywhere. Get to Albany. Our friends will keep you safe until it’s time to act.

  “This is proof of treason and an admission of murder.” Guy ran his hand through his hair moving it behind his ear. “The note isn’t signed, but it’s damning. There are Dutch settlers in the area, although the English control Albany and have for the last four years. There’s no doubt des Courts will know who wrote this. Judging by the damage done to La Jeunesse, it’s possible the author changed his mind about sending it. Something must have happened, and he’s afraid he’ll be exposed. Whatever this note refers to, it doesn’t bode well for New France.”

  Isabelle touched his arm, her brow furrowed. “How do you know that about the ship? The captain said it was pirates.”

  “He and I discussed that, and he couldn’t be certain, but I don’t think it was. Pirates rarely strike at night like they did. Such a raid is as dangerous to them as it is to the vessel they seek to board, and that’s their ultimate goal—board the vessel, secure her cargo and passengers for ransom, and then, when the ship holds nothing of value, scuttle it. From the damage to the ship, they weren’t planning on doing that. Let me explain.”

  Guy described how the attack on the ship had been geared to inflict the most damage to the passengers ensuring almost certain death for anyone in those sections of the ship.

  “I think that was a mercenary ship hired specifically to sink the vessel. If I’m right, their captain won’t be too keen to admit he botched his mission, but he won’t know he failed. La Jeunesse won’t make port in Quebec as expected. Denys letter to the French West India Company informing them the ship had been attacked and sunk by pirates, with all its passengers and most of its crew lost, should convince the sender his message has vanished.”

  Isabelle bit her lower lip and looked at him. He read fear in her eyes.

  “Guy, what if La Jeunesse wasn’t the target? What if we were? You said yourself the captain kept us out of the shipping lane.”

  Guy froze as his thoughts returned to the morning they sailed. There’d been something in the chevalier’s eyes when he’d wished them a pleasant journey.

  “You may be right. If someone wanted to discredit the king, sinking this ship would do it. The brides are an experiment of great value to Colbert and Louis if they wish to entice officers to remain in the colony. There’s something else you should know. The young captain in charge of the troops bound for Guyenne insisted on daily cannon drills. This hadn’t been a planned exercise, but the man is diligent in his duties. It’s a good thing, too. As a result, we found half of ours had defective firing mechanisms, something that could’ve been disastrous to the ship if it engaged the Spanish or Portuguese in Guyenne since they would’ve blown up without firing, killing the men and inevitably sinking the ship.”

  “I thought Monsieur Giroux had checked all the cannons,” Sophie said, frowning.

  “He did, but this defect was hard to spot, unless you actually primed the guns to fire. He was able to fix them all, but since he was a last-minute addition to the passenger list, if we were the original target, the ship attacking us wouldn’t have expected that. As it was, La Jeunesse’s cannons came as a surprise.”

  “Regardless of who the target was, des Courts will be expecting his letter,” Isabelle said, wringing her hands.

  “He will,” Guy agreed. “We need to get to the bottom of this, find out what’s really going on before anyone else dies. For the moment, we’re safe. Isabelle de Caen is buried, and while the Sieur des Courts won’t be getting this letter, he’s too valuable to let slip from our grasp.”

  “Captain Étier and the governor know you have his letter. There’s always a chance someone will mention it,” Isabelle insisted.

  Guy smiled. “Des Courts will get a letter, but it won’t be this one. I’ll write him another one asking for permission to call. We’ll see how he reacts. With luck, we may be able to use a rat to bait a trap for larger vermin. Now, let’s see what’s in this trunk.”

  It took him only a few minutes to break the lock. When he opened the trunk, the women began to unpack it. As expected, it contained high quality garments, silk and linen skirts, bodices, hoops, stomachers, chemises, and undergarments, but not the right kind of clothes for someone who’d expected to stay in the colony. None of the clothing, other than the cape, was suitable for the colder months. What she did have surprised them all. In a small chest, there were over five hundred gold coins as well as numerous silver, brass, and copper ones, a veritable fortune. There weren’t any jewels, no miniatures of family or friends, no identification papers, nothing to say who she was, or why she’d sailed to the new world. Guy shook his head.

  “I would wager she intended to go south, possibly to the province of Carolina, the English colony established about five years ago, after she delivered her messages. It isn’t very far from Spanish Florida or our own Louisiane, if the plan was eventually to return to France. There’s enough money here to buy a lot of loyalty from men who have theirs for sale. I’d hoped there’d be a clue to her identity. That’s it then. Let’s divide the coins between you and Sophie…”

  “No.” Isabelle interrupted. “Four shares and twenty-six gold coins set aside to give two to each couple as a wedding present. Coming from you, it won’t raise any concern. You and your mother have been of great help to me. Before I repack the trunk, give me your knife. Sometimes, these trunks have a hidden compartment, a false bottom. Mine does. It’s where I’ve hidden Pierre’s papers, my money, and my jewels.”

  She worked the blade along the inside edge of the bottom of the trunk and smiled when something clicked.

  Glancing up, she grinned. “We ladies like to keep our secrets hidden.”

  Using the tip of the blade to pry up a board, she revealed a small area and reached inside, removing a roll of parchment, a leather pouch, and a small vial. She handed the parchment to him.

  Guy untied the rolled documents and unfurled them. He stared in amazement and examined the top parchment carefully.

  “This is impossible. These are the newest maps of the colonies, the ones I helped draw. I don’t know everything Pierre had with him but I know he was to give these to Colbert. How did she get her hands on them? This is a new map of the area south of Ville-Marie. Do you see these lines? They’re trapper lines and Mohawk trails leading to English and Dutch settlements.” He pointed on the map. “Here is Fort Chambly, Fort Sainte Thérèse, and Fort Saint-Jean, all of them along the Richelieu River, and this indicates Fort Sainte Anne on Lake Champlain. We used these forts as our bases during the ’66 campaigns against the Iroquois Confederacy. Over here you can see Fort Albany, and on the coast the major seaports of Salem, Boston, and New York which used to be called New Amsterdam.” He moved the sheet aside to reveal a second map beneath it. “This one shows the eastern part of the colony, specifically the area around Quebec, Port Royal, and Cans
o—see? Here’s Saint Pierre. To the south, you can see Falmouth and several of the English and Dutch fishing settlements along the coast.” He rerolled the maps and put them on the table. “These maps would be extremely valuable to an invader providing alternative routes that we don’t monitor regularly. I don’t think these are the originals, the parchment is a much better quality than what I had to work with. It would take a master forger to make such fine copies.”

  “Like the forger who made my documents?” Sophie asked.

  “Exactly,” Guy answered, fisting his hands. “I expect they’re meant for des Courts’s allies.” He turned to Isabelle. “What does the pouch contain?”

  “Jewels,” she answered. She laid the contents of the bag on the table. “While they’re pretty, they aren’t particularly valuable. I’ve never seen any of these pieces.” There was a garnet and diamond broach and matching ring, a sapphire cross on a gold chain with matching gold earrings, and a pearl rosary. “What should we do with them?”

  “Keep them. Since we don’t know who she is, we can’t send them back. All isn’t lost; we’re one step closer to the conspirators and whatever plan they have. We’ll keep these maps from falling into enemy hands. When we get to Quebec, I’ll take this information to de Courcelle and see how he wants me to proceed.” He paused and turned to Isabelle. “I’m sorry, Izzy. This isn’t just about clearing Pierre’s name anymore. These maps and letters point to a conspiracy endangering the colony. This is proof that there are traitors at work not only in New France, but in the king’s own court as we suspected. This is what cost Pierre his life. Put them back in the secret compartment. Choose whatever clothing you want. The rest can be divided up among the women. I’ll instruct Denys to say the ship never made port, only a few men made it to shore in a lifeboat—with the young lady who later died of her injuries. Those men are going to Guyenne with Captain Étier. Since many of their comrades are staying here, and they won’t see France for at least ten years, it won’t be hard to convince then to keep quiet. Maman, what’s in that vial? Is it perfume?”