“We can’t. Seaports like those in France and the one at Saint Pierre have deep water, made more so by high tides. While tides do affect the river here, it’s a slight change. Either way, this warship draws too much water to get any closer to shore without damaging its keel. The ship’s longboats will take us to shore. Pack what you need for a couple of days. The rest of your things will be transferred to L’Érable. She’s the first of Talon’s ships built in New France specifically to move between Ville-Marie and Quebec. The brides will go ashore first. My mother and Henri accompany them to make sure that all goes well. If for some reason some of the brides go unclaimed, we’ll accompany them to the convent where they’ll stay until they travel to Ville-Marie with us. You can watch the process from the deck, but neither you nor Sophie will go ashore without me.”
Isabelle was surprised at the intensity of his words.
“Are the natives dangerous? Is Quebec not safe?”
“It isn’t that. There are approximately six hundred people in the fortified city of which one fourth are in one of the religious orders. Of the remaining number, less than one hundred and fifty are married women. The bride ships arrive fairly steadily at this time of year. The loss of La Jeunesse’s brides will be a bitter pill to swallow. Men from other parts of the colony come here to await the ships and claim a bride. At any given time, they could number over a hundred. I won’t entrust your safety to anyone but myself. Now that you’re going to be my wife, I have every reason to worry about you.”
Isabelle blushed at the passion in his gaze. He hadn’t touched her, and yet the slow burn she experienced whenever their hands brushed or he put his arms around her shoulders, ignited within her. She looked away to compose herself, then turned back and smiled. She’d draw strength from his concern for her safety; after all, one didn’t worry about something unless one valued it. It might not be love, but it was a place to start.
“Then, I must thank you for considering my safety.” She reached up, kissed his cheek, and shyly pulled away.
Guy took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, his lips lingering over the suddenly burning flesh. He looked into her eyes.
“Always, Izzy, always.”
This marriage would work. It had to.
Chapter Eighteen
Standing alone on the stern deck, her head turning this way and that, Isabelle watched all the activity—not only on the ship but on the dock as well. Below her, sailors were lowering the longboat to the water. A smaller one with only four men aboard had left the ship an hour earlier.
The thought of having to climb down a rope ladder to get to the boat meant to take them to shore sent the acid in her stomach bubbling. It wasn’t that she was afraid of heights, but a rope ladder seemed to be a rather unsubstantial thing to climb. Watching the seamen go up and down the spider web network of ropes and rigging was one thing, but doing it herself?
Out of the way, the remaining brides, all dressed in their best gowns, crowded the gunwale awaiting their turn to leave the ship. From the frightened looks on some of the faces, she wasn’t the only one concerned about the descent.
Swallowing her discomfort, she gazed across the water to the docks, crowded with people waiting and watching. The first sailors who’d gone ashore had brought word that the ship had no available women on board, but the crowd hadn’t thinned.
Isabelle turned back to the deck where the launch was in its final steps. First over the rail were the sailors who would ply the oars. Men hung monkey-like from the ladder and passed down the satchels the women would need on their journeys to their new homes.
While Guy hadn’t wanted to frighten them, he’d been very clear about the dangers the women would face getting off the ship, especially dressed as they were, and knowing few of them could swim. Isabelle shuddered. Skirts could get caught in the rungs, and if one slipped, she would fall into the river where her garments most likely would weigh her down. Since the water here was brackish and cloudy, she would disappear and surely drown.
Once all the satchels were lowered, Henri went over the side. As soon as his head vanished from view, Aline moved to the ladder. Guy spoke to his mother, no doubt offering encouragement. Spurred on by words coming from her son above and her fiancé below, she went over the side. Isabelle held her breath once the woman’s head disappeared, and breathed a sigh of relief when those watching cheered, indicating she was safely aboard. Within seconds, the process started again, this time with Marie Elise.
Sophie joined her at the upper deck gunwale. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? I doubt that girl slept a wink last night. There all excited, some a little scared, but all of them are ready to embrace this adventure. Noelle redid her hair three times this morning. Do you think I’ll be this eager on my wedding day?”
“I’m sure you will. Don’t forget. You’ll have the advantage of knowing your groom. I’m not sure I would have the courage to do as they are—marry a stranger, sight unseen, and then to embark on a canoe trip into the wilderness with no one but my new husband to protect me…”
“You aren’t afraid of anything, silly. Look at what you’ve done to get this far. None of them could’ve done that,” Sophie insisted. “Did you hear about the garments? Each bride will have a full set of buckskins, the native clothes made of animal skin to wear until they reach home. I’m actually envious. No skirts and crinolines—not that I wore them on our way here, but once we land ... I wonder what it’s like to wear britches?”
Isabelle laughed. “Surprisingly liberating, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
The last woman climbed over the gunwale. Once she was aboard the longboat, Monsieur Giroux followed her. Guy waved at them before disappearing down the side of the ship. He would return for them shortly.
“You’ve spent a lot of time with Gerard these last few weeks,” Isabelle observed, watching as the sailors rowed the boat full of passengers to shore.
“I really like him, Izzy. He’s kind and considerate and makes me laugh. At first, he asked me a lot of questions about Pierre, and thanks to what you told me, I was able to answer them. After I identified Isabelle’s body last week, he’s been eager to know everything about her. He says talking about her will help me grieve. It was easy to recount our adventures, but at times, I had to be very careful not to slip up.” Her eyes shone, and she smiled. “I think he likes me, too.”
Isabelle frowned. Sophie might like Gerard, but she distrusted his curiosity. She’d noticed the way he watched them both at times, furtive as if he didn’t want to be caught while he examined them. He might just have been deciding whether or not to court Sophie, his questions meant to see if she was ready to supposedly set aside one husband for another, but the man made her uncomfortable.
“He hasn’t been inappropriate has he?” she asked, remembering the kiss Sophie interrupted. Her cheeks heated.
“Like Guy?” she responded, winking. “Sadly, no. He’s always been the perfect gentleman.” Sophie shook her head. “He doesn’t talk about himself much, but he does have some interesting and frightening stories about the Indiens, far more disturbing than anything Guy shared with us. Last night, he told me they sometimes rip out the heart of an enemy they’ve killed in battle and eat it raw!”
Isabelle gagged. It certainly wasn’t what she would consider romantic conversation—more like the stuff nightmares were made of.
“Look, they’re almost on shore,” she said, wanting to erase the ugly image from her mind. “The men standing at the edge of the pier must be the husbands.”
Isabelle and Sophie watched as one woman after another was assisted out of the longboat and claimed by one of the men waiting on the dock. The Jesuit priest, his black robes a contrast to the bright colors, checked the scroll Guy had given him and matched names and documents.
Soon, the only ones left standing there were Aline, Henri, and Gerard. The sailors, with Guy standing in the bow, rowed back to the ship to collect them.
“Come on,” Sophie said, grabbing h
er hand and tugging her toward the stairs. “They’ll be back shortly. It’s our turn to set foot onto the land of our destinies.”
Isabelle nodded, her stomach in knots, and followed her down to the weather deck. Guy scrambled aboard just as they arrived. He handed her satchel, Sophie’s, and his down to the men waiting below.
“What about the animals?” she asked, wanting to delay her trip down the ladder.
“Once you’re both ashore and settled, the sailors will unload the cargo, the animals, and the furniture. Everything will be floated on rafts over to L’Érable, the smaller vessel you see over there. It’s been designed specifically to sail between Quebec and Ville-Marie.”
“I’ll miss this ship,” she said. “Despite everything, our crossing was a good one.”
She thought of those aboard La Jeunesse, especially the unnamed woman who’d given her life and name so that she could have one.
He reached for her hands, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Are you ready?”
She licked her lips and huffed out a breath.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered, thinking not of the descent but of the future that awaited her as Guy’s wife.
The longboat bumped against the ship, the small jolt startling her. She turned to her cousin.
“This is the beginning of a grand adventure, Sophie. I’m so glad we’re taking it together.”
“So am I.” Sophie hugged her, but Isabelle’s gaze stayed fixed on Guy.
“Madame Gaudier, if you please,” Guy said, holding out his hand to Sophie.
She nodded, reached for his hand, and climbed over the gunwale, turning as she did to put her feet on the ladder. Her gaze fixed on Isabelle’s, Sophie moved slowly but surely down the side of the ship to the waiting boat where Monsieur Martin reached for her and settled her on the seat beside him.
It was Isabelle’s turn to disembark. There was nothing that could stop that now.
Guy moved her away from the gunwale and out of the view of those below. He pulled her into his arms.
“I know you’re scared. I remember how frightened you were when you climbed that tree as a child and were afraid to come back down. There’s no need to hurry. There will be three rungs as you go over the side. The third one is where you’ll place your feet, the first where your hands will go. Move down one rung after the other, but don’t move from one rung until you feel it’s safe to do so. Always move your feet first. Take all the time you need.” He moved his head quickly and kissed her softly. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The gentle touch of his lips calmed her as nothing else could. Heat burned her cheeks, and despite her nerves, she smiled.
“I’ll see you in the longboat, my lord.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Guy helped her over the gunwale, steadied her as she turned her back to the shore and felt for the third rung, first with one foot and then the other. The wooden rung attached to the sides by ropes was narrow, far narrower than she’d expected. Guy released one hand and she put it on the rung at chest level and when he released the other, she placed it on the same rung. The rungs were wet, either from the splash of the water or the nervous palms of those who’d gone down before her.
“You’ll be fine, Izzy,” Sophie called up. “Just take it slow and easy. We’ve all made it. So will you.
Eyes closed to avoid looking down and focus on what her body was doing, Isabelle lifted her foot to stretch and find the next rung under her and moved her hands to the rung at her waist. She repeated the process one rung at a time. How many were there? She should’ve counted.
Her heart pounded with excitement as she descended to the longboat. She was halfway there when the frayed shoe ribbon she’d been unable to replace broke. The slipper, no longer attached to her foot fell and her foot slipped off the rung, the motion unbalancing her. The ladder shifted and suddenly, she was hanging by her hands alone, her body and her feet swinging wildly beneath her. Eyes popping open, she looked down into the opaque green water and gasped.
Below her, Sophie screamed.
No! Lord, don’t let me fall. Don’t let it end this way.
* * *
Guy gasped, his heart beating frantically as he stared down at the woman he loved swinging wildly from the ladder. His breath caught in his throat. No. He couldn’t lose her—not like this. Knowing he couldn’t go down the ladder to rescue her and aware that she was too far from the longboat to drop into it safely, he clenched his fists on the rope sides of the ladder, hoping to steady it.
“Izzy, hang on,” he called down to her, keeping his voice calm lest he frighten her more.
His hands gripped the ropes so tightly they hurt, but it didn’t matter. If this helped stabilize her, he would endure the pain as long as he needed to. He wanted to go down after her just as he knew Lucien Martin wanted to climb up to her, but either action could easily dislodge her completely. A quick glance showed the first mate held the bottom of the ladder just as he held the top.
“Slowly pull one foot up toward your stomach and search for the rung,” he instructed. “Don’t worry about the shoe. I’ll buy you a roomful of shoes when we get to Ville-Marie. When you find it and you’re comfortable on it, pull up the other foot.”
He kicked off his boots prepared to dive into the water after her if she fell. Through his tears, he could see Isabelle trying to do as he asked, but her damn skirts were in the way. When he was sure she couldn’t hold on a second more, and all was lost, he saw her lean her head against the rung, her body anchored firmly on the ladder once more.
She stayed still for what felt like an eternity, but at Lucien’s urging she slowly started down again. With his own heart in his throat he was unable to utter another word. He swiped at the tears on his cheeks. If he’d lost her ... Exhaling for the first time since her slip, he watched Monsieur Martin’s hands catch her around the waist and seat her across from Sophie who held the offending shoe in her hand.
“It hit me on the head,” she said, before collapsing in an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
Guy pulled on his boots, climbed over the side of the ship, and moved down the ladder faster than he’d ever made the trip before. As soon as he was in the longboat, he reached for Isabelle and pulled her into his arms. It no longer mattered who was watching. Holding her tightly to him, he felt her rapid heartbeat, knowing it matched his. When he could breathe again, he moved away from her, seated her on the bench once more, and sat beside her, holding her hand, unwilling to release her completely.
“Don’t ever frighten me like that again, Izzy,” he growled, unable to set his distress aside. “You could’ve been killed.”
“It’s not as if I did it on purpose,” Isabelle responded, her eyes full of tears. “My shoe ribbon broke. I meant to replace it in Saint Pierre, but we left so quickly I didn’t have the chance. I’m sorry I scared you all.” She started to cry.
Guy pulled her into his arms once more, realizing her own terror must’ve been far worse than his.
“Please don’t cry, Izzy. Of course it’s not your fault. You were incredibly brave to hang on as you did and get your feet back onto the ladder. I was ready to jump in after you. I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I was so afraid I’d lose you. I’ll get you shoe ribbons as soon as we land. Until you have two wearable shoes, it’ll be my pleasure to carry you.”
Isabelle’s tears subsided and a giggled escaped her.
“You can’t carry me all the way to the palace,” she whispered. “It’s uphill.”
Guy laughed. “Much as I would like to prove to you that I’m up to the task, despite my leg, I’ll only have to carry you to the carriage the governor-general has sent, mon amour. I sent word to him with the first boat. It should be here shortly.”
He turned her away from him to watch the activity in the harbor, but kept his arm protectively around her. Fervently he wished he hadn’t tossed the pants she’d worn the night he’d found her into the sea. He woul
d have to think of something to make the next descent down or up the ladder safer for her and all of the women. Those skirts could easily be the death of them.
* * *
Isabelle sat tucked in close to Guy. She’d never been so scared in her life—not even when he’d pulled her out from under his bed. Looking down into the murky water, she swallowed what remained of her terror and thanked God for answering her prayer.
Mon amour. Had Guy really meant that? Or had it simply been his reaction to the shock? He continued to hold her hand, and Sophie, still holding the offending shoe, ribbons dangling uselessly from one side, had definitely noticed.
As the boat arrived at the pier, the number of people standing around waiting for them and engaged in other activities increased, and her fascination grew. Such an unusual combination of faces and dress.
Where the trappers were heavily bearded, the Indiens were without facial hair. While most of the men were covered in buckskin, others were more undressed than dressed with quill and bead vests on their chest, a loincloth, leggings, and moccasins. Some had faces painted in unusual designs as well. Working side by side with them were French men, in simple fabric clothing, a cloth similar to the one on the garments Pierre had in his bag that she’d left behind. The men unloaded huge bundles of scraped and tanned furs from canoes. One of the heavily bearded trappers approached them as soon as their boat landed. Isabelle shivered as did Sophie.
“Sieur,” he addressed Guy still sitting with her in his lap. “Are these women available for marriage?”
Sophie blanched.
“I’m sorry, but they aren’t; one’s my fiancée,” he said indicating Isabelle. “The other is for Ville-Marie, but don’t worry, there should be more than three hundred girls arriving this summer.”
“Good. A man needs a woman. Thank you and congratulations. I wish you many children.” The man turned and walked away.
The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1) Page 23
