She could hear the water running off the roof and the snow melting as she stepped out into the sunlight. Finding the ground beneath her feet brown and greasy, Lauren lifted her skirts and jumped over a puddle, almost losing her balance as she slid in the mud.
There was someone playing a fiddle in the distance, and her spirits began to soar. She could hardly contain her excitement at the thought of leaving with the convoy and traveling across the ocean to see new countries. She would never be content to read about these places in books like most girls, she must experience them, taste and feel them.
As she approached the cabin, she realized there was no smoke curling up from the chimney, and her heart sank. Rene was unable to get away. Nevertheless, Lauren built a fire and sat down in front of the flames to wait in case he was late. Lost in her thoughts time passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was time to return home. She put out the fire and tied her cloak over her shoulders.
As Lauren stepped out the door, she had the unnerving sensation that someone was watching her. She remembered Rene saying several weeks before that he heard somebody in the woods, and she felt uneasy as she started down the road. It crossed her mind that maybe some diseased animal lay in wait for her, so she quickened her pace.
The melting snow crushed under her feet, and she could hear the water running in a stream not far away. Suddenly, a horse snorted, and there was the sound of hooves behind her. She jumped to one side as Claude Aberjon rode up the path. He pulled up sharply on the reins as the horse danced around the road splattering her with mud. She knew that he had returned from the north that afternoon, but she thought he was with his father.
"So, if it isn't the princess," he sneered.
"What's wrong with you!" Lauren screamed, "You could have killed me!"
"You mealy-mouthed little hypocrite, playing the virgin with me. You’ve been coming here for weeks whoring with someone."
His eyes ran over her body. Lauren's firm breasts pushed up from her tightly laced bodice, and her auburn hair fell around her shoulders.
"It's my turn now," he said and started to dismount.
Lauren's anger turned to fear. Claude was in the habit of taking what he wanted, and she knew she had to act quickly. She darted around the back of the horse and broke into a run. In a flash, Claude jumped down and was upon her, grabbing her around the waist. He swung her down into the muddy snow pinning her to the ground.
His grip was like iron, and she struggled for air beneath the weight of his body. She could smell his foul breath and feel his hands begin to pull up her skirt. He pushed her legs apart with his knees, and Lauren knew she was about to be raped. With all her strength, she squirmed out from underneath him and began to crawl along the ground on her belly. His long nails tore at her skin, and she knew that if he seized her this time she would not have the strength to escape.
With a grunt, Claude stretched to his fullest and wrapped his hand around her ankle. Lauren grabbed frantically at the underbrush trying to stop him from pulling her back, but nothing proved stronger than Claude's fury.
Suddenly, something snapped in Lauren. She was no longer scared. She hated this vile creature, and she rolled over, drew up her knee and smashed the heel of her boot into his face.
"You filthy bitch!" he shrieked as he rose up onto his knees. Blood colored the snow. "You've broken my nose!"
Sobbing from terror Lauren pulled herself onto Claude's horse and threw her soaked skirts over the saddle. The last thing she saw as she rode off was Claude Aberjon holding his face in his hands, bright blood sullying his fine silk shirt.
* * *
Lauren was surprised when no one commented about Claude's broken nose. No one came to her for an explanation, there was no gossip. Everyone seemed to ignore the fact that Claude had been assaulted. After some initial sympathy even Madame dropped the issue, but Lauren knew Claude would not forget. She knew that he would make her pay someday, and as a result, she was more anxious than ever to leave the Illinois Country.
Eugenie was the only person to see her return on Claude's horse that afternoon and even though tears streamed down Lauren's face and her clothes were wet and muddy, the Indian girl asked no questions. She quietly took the reins and led the beast into the stable as Lauren dashed into the house. She longed to tell Eugenie everything. She needed desperately to unburden herself and share her fears with someone, but she could not. Her pride prevented her from approaching the girl, so she carried on alone and frightened.
Returning to a familiar routine seemed to be the best antidote for the anxiety, so Lauren threw herself back into taking care of Madame Aberjon. They spent long afternoons together playing cribbage and savoring the delectable petite-fours Marianne made for them. On several occasions, Madame wound up her music box and watched Lauren dance around the room with an invisible partner. The charade amused them both and helped Lauren to forget her worries. She loved the delicate tune the porcelain box played, and she marveled at the graceful little dancer turning round and round on the cover.
"What does he look like?" asked Madame one day as Lauren danced.
"Who?" asked Lauren as she glided around the room.
"Your partner."
"Oh--well he's handsome of course, Madame.”
"Of course," was the woman's reply.
"You know, I was a handsome woman in my day," said Madame wistfully, leaning back onto her pink pillows.
Lauren stopped dancing and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what you were like, Madame."
"Well," she said reaching up to her hair, "my locks were a deep, brilliant red. Not streaked with gray like now, and my figure was fine and full in all the right places. I had dreams like you of parties and romance, and there were many men courting me. Girls who were jealous said that men only wanted my large dowry, but I knew better."
Lauren pulled a pillow into her arms and leaned forward, eager to hear more. "What were they like? Your suitors I mean?" she asked.
"Oh, there were many but none to compare with Jean-Baptist. He was strong and good-looking and took charge of my needs immediately. I knew instantly that I could depend on him the rest of my life."
"Was he," Lauren paused uncomfortably, "kind to you?"
"Oh indeed he was and very sympathetic. He said that he loved me and would marry me in spite of my illness." Suddenly the smile dropped from her face, and she said, "But father didn't like him. He called him a gold-digger and a moneygrubber. Father didn't like any of my beaux."
Lauren agreed with Madame's father about Jean-Baptist, but she said nothing. "Are you happy Madame, I mean, in spite of it all?"
Madame smiled, and for the first time Lauren saw how lovely she must have been as a girl.
Josephine Aberjon looked out at the bare trees against the icy blue afternoon sky. "Happy? Yes, I suppose I am happy. My mother used to say, ‘If we could examine everyone’s problems like clothes hanging on a line, we would always choose our own problems back again.’ ”
Madame sighed and slid down under the pink duvet. The afternoon's entertainment had exhausted her, and she faded off to sleep, but her words did not fade from Lauren's mind. The girl pondered them, and for the first time since the incident with Claude, she found some peace.
The next afternoon as Lauren was about to take Madame's chocolate upstairs there was a knock on the front door. She put the tray on the hall table, pulled the heavy door open and to her surprise; Gabriel Lupone was standing in front of her. She smiled instantly.
"Hello Lauren. I am here on a matter of business with Monsieur Aberjon."
"He is not here," Lauren said. "He has not been home since this morning."
"That matters not. I have purchased his pistol and come to pick it up."
"Oh," said Lauren stepping back. "Please come in. I'll get it for you."
Lauren had seen Monsieur Aberjon cleaning the piece in the study and after searching several drawers, she found the weapon. It was a lovely lightweight piece with a fleur-de-li
s carved onto the ivory handle. She handed the box with the pistol to Gabriel.
“Is that the one?” she asked.
He nodded and said with a sigh, "I can rest now, knowing Anne will be able to protect herself while we are on the convoy."
Lauren brightened instantly. "Any news about how soon we will be leaving?"
"Nothing yet," he said with a faint smile. "Be patient, girl." Gabriel's expression grew somber. "Is there any chance I could talk to you away from the house for a moment?"
Lauren looked up the stairs toward Madame's room and back down at the chocolate which was growing cold on the hall table. Madame was still sleeping, so she nodded and stepped out the door.
There was a funeral procession passing by the house, and the two stopped outside the gate to let it pass. Lauren couldn’t look at the sober faced mourners and grotesquely draped hearse. The driver pulled up on the reins to let the two pass, but Gabriel waved his arm to move the funeral on.
"You never want the procession to pause in front your house, Lauren. It's bad luck."
"Really?"
"I don't suppose it's true, but that's what everyone says."
They walked down to the river side by side. The wind was strong that afternoon, and it whipped Lauren's skirts wildly about her legs and sent the trees waving back and forth furiously. Whenever Lauren was around Gabriel, she felt like a naughty child, and this time her intuition told her he was very concerned about something. She raised her voice against the wind and asked, "What is it Monsieur? Have I done something wrong?"
"No you have done nothing wrong--yet."
He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck saying, "Lauren please listen to me. It is wrong for you to marry Rene."
Lauren frowned, and she turned away. She refused to listen and began to walk away. Gabriel caught her arm and said firmly, "Listen to me, child."
She wheeled around, pushed the hair from her face and shouted over the wind, "Monsieur, I am not a child anymore."
“You are acting like one."
Lauren tossed her head.
Because of the wind, Gabriel raised his voice too. "You long for exotic lands and grand adventures. Don't you? You may have these things for a short while if you marry Rene but--" he paused and shook his head firmly. "He will always return to Kaskaskia."
Lauren would not look into Gabriel's eyes, but she heard what he said.
"He will bring you here and bury you in this back country--forever."
"That's not true!" she said stamping her foot. "He wants to leave here as much as I do. We will make our home together anywhere but here!"
Gabriel shook his head sadly and took her hand. "My darling Lauren, you are not meant for Rene. This is his home, not yours. Kaskaskia will never be your home. You must move on and find your place somewhere else. You must find your home. That restlessness you feel inside--" and he tapped his chest. "It will plague you relentlessly until you find where you belong."
Hot tears welled up in Lauren's eyes. Gabriel had no right to tell her how to run her life. She would marry Rene and prove him wrong. They would live their lives together as gypsies and be wildly happy.
"Is that all Monsieur?" she asked, pulling her chin up and snatching her hand away.
"Lauren, please believe me. Follow you heart elsewhere. Do not allow yourself to spend eternity in a Kaskaskia graveyard like me.”
Lauren's heart was pounding. She was the happiest she had been in months, and now it seemed as if Gabriel was trying to steal it away from her. She turned her back on him and walked up to the house. The wind fought her every step of the way, but she was determined to get away from him as soon as possible. Lauren said to herself that she was through with Gabriel and all of his advice. She was sick to death of his meddling, and she was not going to take it anymore. She would marry Rene and never set eyes on that man again.
That evening after the cows were milked and the barn was cleaned, Gabriel Lupone neatly rolled out a large canvas tarp in front of the cow stalls. After combing his hair and straightening his clothes, he stood in the middle of the tarp, took up Monsieur Aberjon's ivory inlaid pistol and put a bullet into his mouth.
Chapter 14
Every time Lauren closed her eyes she could see herself handing Gabriel the gun. She could only imagine the misery and despair he must have felt when he realized the ox had passed the rabies on to him. When his ox had been mysteriously choking weeks ago, Gabriel had reached deeply into the beast's mouth to determine the problem. He did not know the open wound on his hand could provide an avenue for the transmission of disease. Later when the erratic behavior started in the ox, he realized it was rabies.
He told the family nothing and waited, alone and anxious, to see if he had indeed contracted the disease. When his throat began to constrict, he knew that the disease was upon him, and a choice had to be made, live for two to three more days and face a violent agonizing death putting his family at risk, or deliberately plan his own demise.
On that last windy morning, Gabriel told Rene to take his mother and the children to Prairie Du Rocher to visit Anne's sister. He said that Anne needed a diversion and that he had far too many chores to take her there himself. After the family left, he went to the Aberjon residence to get the gun. Although Gabriel had a musket, the act was not possible with such a weapon, so he lied to Lauren to obtain Aberjon’s pistol. He returned home, put his affairs in order and took his own life. All of these facts were in a letter to Anne. The majority of the testament contained instructions about the estate, but one page was for Anne's eyes only, and this she locked away in her hope chest.
Monsieur Aberjon did not berate Lauren for giving Gabriel the pistol. He did not have to chastise her; Lauren punished herself instead. She paced the floor of her room; turning over the events of that day, chiding herself for handing him the gun, feeling overwhelmed with guilt. She hated herself for saying she never wanted to see him again and believed that she had been too selfish that day to see that the man was suffering.
There was a full moon the night before they buried Gabriel Lupone. It illuminated the front lawn of the Aberjon residence. As if staring at an empty stage, Lauren sat at her bedroom window gazing at the lawn below. She needed solace; she needed Simone, she needed Eugenie. She ached with loneliness. It was a peaceful quiet night, and it lulled her briefly into serenity. As if answering her prayer for companionship, a little brown rabbit hopped across the yard into the moonlight. The little creature stopped to nibble on a blade of grass and looked up at Lauren, its nose twitching. For the first time in days, Lauren smiled. In spite of the ugliness, there was still beauty. Suddenly, a fox dashed out, grabbed the rabbit by the neck and dragged it into the underbrush as it screamed.
"Mon Dieu!" gasped Lauren slamming her hands onto the windowsill sending the window crashing down. “Is there no escape?”
She wished the sun would not come up at all. She hated Kaskaskia. She hated the thought of burying Gabriel in a solitary meadow outside of town because he had been banned from consecrated ground.
The next day Lauren walked at the back of the funeral procession carrying Celeste, Gabriel’s youngest daughter. The wind snapped the skirts of the women, and the slate gray sky promised rain. The funeral was brief, without benefit of clergy, and after Rene read a few words from the Bible the simple wooden casket was lowered into the ground. The small procession ended at the Lupone home where a few loyal friends and neighbors gathered to give their condolences. Since taking one's own life was a sin in the Church many stayed away, condemning Gabriel for his action.
Filled with shame, Lauren wished she were invisible. She believed everyone was thinking, "There is the foolish girl who handed Gabriel the gun."
Nevertheless, abandoning the Lupones at their time of need was unthinkable. Filled with anxiety, Lauren waited all afternoon for the guests to leave and then approached Anne. The older children were washing dishes while Anne readied the younger ones for bed. She was by the fire arranging Celeste's trund
le when Lauren approached.
She swallowed hard and said "Anne, I know you must hate the sight of me, but I must say before I go that am so sorry for giving Gabriel the gun."
Anne straightened up. The woman had dark circles under her eyes and her hair fell in tangles around her face. "What?” she gasped. “You think I hold you responsible? Never, never for a moment!"
Lauren stammered, "Then--then you don't blame me?"
"How could I? He told me everything in the letter. He said that you and Monsieur Aberjon were innocent." Anne clutched her forehead. "Oh Lauren, I have been too absorbed in my own grief to realize you knew nothing of the contents of that letter. He absolved you and Monsieur Aberjon of any responsibility. I should have told you immediately. I am the one who should be apologizing."
At this news, tears began to stream down Lauren’s face. Anne pulled her into her arms. The Lupone children came running, frightened and confused wrapping themselves around Anne’s legs.
"My poor child, you have been torturing yourself these past days," Anne murmured, stroking Lauren’s head.
One of the little boys reached up his pudgy hand and offered Lauren his dirty hankie. Lauren chuckled and dried her eyes. "I'm better now," she murmured.
"You go home and get some rest," urged Anne, guiding her to the door. "We are all exhausted. Rene is out doing chores. When he returns, he'll walk you home."
* * *
The trysts ended with Rene. He was far too busy doing work on the farm. Lauren broke away from the Aberjon household whenever she could to help Anne, but her opportunities were few. Late one afternoon when she stopped by the house to help feed the Lupone children, Rene came in from the fields and said, "Lauren, I must speak with you. Let’s talk outside."
He led her out to the porch and took her hands. She noticed that his eyes were red rimmed, and his face was drawn. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry, Lauren, but we must put off the wedding until this summer. No one is in any mood for a celebration."
The Pride of the King Page 8
