“Why would you want to be parted from your keepsake, dearest?” Alexandre’s brow furrowed as his wife’s expression grew more absent.
“The money would help my family,” Nicole said. “I would never have kept it if I knew it would fetch a price.”
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Alexandre said, handing Nicole her shawl. “I will make it right.”
Of course he would, Nicole thought to herself. So many problems are so easily solved when you have money.
“Just do me one small favor,” Alexandre said.
“Of course.”
“At least pretend to have fun this evening,” he said, his smile teasing.
“If I must,” Nicole said, returning his smile with less vivacity. “But only for you. May I have just one moment?”
Alexandre nodded and left Nicole before the mirror. She hardly recognized the woman who stood before her in the reflection. She was not born into a life of silk and pearls, but here she stood. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly coiffed. Though she did not feel the part of a society maven, she knew she looked it. I don’t want to be a part of this world, but I will try for you, Alexandre.
The governor’s mansion sparkled as though made of diamonds. Gemstones shone on the ladies’ necks, and the chandeliers glittered with crystals.... The beauty dazzled Nicole into silence. She had never seen such opulence, which rivaled her grandest visions of the finest salons in Paris. The majority of the colony’s functions occurred during the social season, just after Christmastide, but the arrival of the King’s advisor and a top civil authority from France required an exception. Thankfully, the late August evening was cool. The satin gown would have been stifling a month before.
“Breathe,” Alexandre reminded her, seeing his wife’s discomfort.
“What am I doing here?” Nicole asked in a whisper. “I’m a farmer’s daughter. I don’t belong here. I feel as if, any second, someone is going to shout ‘Imposter!’ and throw me into the street.”
“Half the people here aren’t nearly as highborn as they would have you think. The other half have plenty to hide, I assure you. The trick is to think you fit in with this despicable crew, and you will.”
“If you dislike them so much, then why are we here?” Nicole asked.
“The governor has the ear of the Intendant and the Intendant has the ear of the King,” Alexandre answered, his expression matter-of-fact. “It’s all about influence.”
Nicole nodded. Alexandre’s business was complex, and she had little interest in it, aside from assisting him as best she could, but it didn’t take business sense to know that nothing but good could come from knowing the right people.
Nicole plastered a smile on her face and followed Alexandre’s lead.
“. . . and do you think the King’s ministers understand what that law will mean for the colonists?” Alexandre was deep in conversation with one of the governor’s underlings, a small, sniveling man whose name had escaped Nicole.
“You look positively radiant,” said the deputy’s wife, Ursule.
She scrutinized Nicole’s figure, with a lingering glance at her midsection. There was a trace of either disappointment or jealousy in her face. “I’ve always been partial to pink. . . .”
Nicole listened as Ursule prattled on. She responded politely as needed and kept one ear on Alexandre’s conversation. Any information Nicole could glean might be of use to Alexandre later.
Nicole felt a wave of relief as the butler announced dinner and the party dispersed to the massive dining hall.
Outside in, Nicole thought, remembering the rules for flatware.
Shortly after they were married, Alexandre had started coaching her in the etiquette of the aristocracy.
“Remember,” he had said. “The upper class knows itself through mannerisms. Eating a certain way, speaking a certain way, and acting a certain way are ways to let the elite know you are one of them.”
Nicole’s mother had been adamant about good manners at the supper table, but her directives were nothing compared to the list of rules to which Nicole now found herself subject. Fear loomed in her brain that someone would see her use a fish fork for the appetizer and have her flung out for her deception.
The food was elaborate, the presentation exquisite. Quail, foie gras, creamy sauces, delicate pastries, and more, all served in abundance. The best wines from France flowed freely. Nicole tried to choose her flatware by sneaking a glance at her husband’s hands before she ate. Despite her nerves, she had to admit the food was beyond any meal she’d ever eaten before. However, she understood that ladies did not eat overmuch at these occasions, so she was careful to sample the dishes but little more.
“Dancing next,” Alexandre whispered in his wife’s ear.
Nicole groaned to herself and longed for the warmth of her bed.
As couples made their way to the ballroom, Nicole took Alexandre’s arm and followed. The strains of a minuet sounded from the small orchestra. Couples took their places on the dance floor. Nicole had practiced the steps for two weeks and hoped against hope she would not fall on her face. Alexandre was more than adept at dancing, however, and she found it easy to follow his lead.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Alexandre asked after several minutes.
“Not as long as you lead. I can manage the steps, or at least pretend.”
“You’re catching on to the whole charade marvelously,” Alexandre said with a laugh. “You’re one of us now.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Nor am I,” Alexandre said. “But I’m happy you’re trying.”
“My pleasure.” Nicole was mostly telling the truth. The evening had not been quite as torturous as she imagined it might be.
“Ah, Lefebvre,” said a buoyant voice, approaching.
Alexandre broke from dancing to shake the governor’s hand.
“Let me congratulate you on such a lovely bride,” the governor said, “as I haven’t yet had the chance.”
“Thank you, monsieur gouverneur,” Alexandre said with a subtle inclination of the head.
“The King has not failed to send the finest flowers from his kingdom for our poor settlement, has he?” the governor asked in a grandiose voice.
Nicole could not hide her blush, but did not avert her eyes.
“Better than that,” Alexandre said. “I ought to send him a letter of thanks, for I’m certain he has sent me the finest jewel from his treasury.”
Nicole wasn’t sure whether to grimace or laugh. She despised these courtly manners.
“In that case, Lefebvre, you must allow me the pleasure of a dance with your breathtaking bride,” the governor said. “You could not deny an old man such a rare pleasure.”
“Indeed, I could not. Please enjoy yourselves.”
Alexandre bowed and handed Nicole to the governor’s hands. He led her to the center of the dance floor. Despite his considerable size, the governor was not without grace. He was as accomplished in dancing as her husband, no doubt the product of a social education that had started in the earliest days of childhood.
“And how long have you been in New France, my dear?” the governor asked, looking down at Nicole with interest as he led her about the dance floor.
“Not yet three years, monsieur,” she answered.
“That long?” he asked. “What a pity we have just now met.”
“A shame indeed, monsieur,” Nicole said, trying to emulate the manners and expression she had seen in the other ladies. She did not hint at the truth that until she had married Alexandre, she was well beneath his notice.
“Your husband has quite the mind for business, madame. You must be proud.”
“Immensely so,” Nicole said, with a genuine smile. “I’ve never met his equal.”
“It’s good for a wife to be so generous with praise for her husband’s accomplishments,” the governor said.
“As all wives should be. But then, I am fortunate to be married to such a pra
iseworthy man, monsieur,” Nicole said. “It makes the task much easier.”
The dance was coming to its end, and Nicole gave what she hoped was a graceful curtsy to her partner. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alexandre bowing to a gray-haired, elegant woman not far away. She hoped to make her way back to him but was tapped gently on the shoulder.
“Might I have the pleasure?” asked a balding man in his forties or fifties. Nicole nodded her assent and was not left without a partner for the next two hours.
“Will you allow an old man to dance with his wife?” Lefebvre said as another of the governor’s deputies led Nicole to the dance floor.
“In one night you’ve become the grande dame of New France society,” Alexandre whispered, with mirth in his shining gray eyes. “I’ve never seen the like of it.”
“Very funny,” Nicole said. “I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my life. My feet are killing me.”
“Then we’ll escape back home once this dance is over,” Alexandre promised. “But you must tell me what you said to the governor.”
“He commented on your business skill, and I agreed with him, as any good wife would do,” she said. “I hope I haven’t said anything I oughtn’t.”
“Quite the contrary, dearest,” Alexandre said. “I believe you said all the right things. He wishes to see us in his offices on Monday.”
“Us?” she asked. “Both of us?”
“Yes,” he said. “I believe you have bewitched him. And I don’t blame him for wanting to see more of you. You are the most beautiful woman here.”
“Then keep your promise and take me home,” Nicole said, smiling as the song ended.
“A distinct pleasure, madame,” said Alexandre, offering his arm.
Though Alexandre claimed the meeting was likely a social formality, Nicole had never seen her husband so anxious. The governor, however, had grander plans for Lefebvre, as Nicole suspected. When they returned home, Nicole saw to it that the dinner was a meal of special magnificence. The finest hens, well seasoned and roasted with a careful eye, graced the Lefebvre table along with creamed potatoes, Elisabeth’s good cakes, and a bottle of champagne that Alexandre himself had brought over from France. It was becoming popular with the elite in Paris, though Nicole had yet to adjust to the shock of bubbles bursting in her mouth, releasing a tidal wave of flavor.
“To Seigneur Lefebvre,” Gilbert toasted.
“Seigneur Lefebvre,” the others chorused.
Alexandre beamed a radiant smile and raised his glass to his guests and family. Nicole knew this was the day he had hoped for since setting sail for the New World six years before. He was now a lord in his own right, with land to rent, tax, and govern like any of the landed gentry in France.
Nicole beamed back, knowing her husband would be the kind, fair landowner he had always longed to be.
CHAPTER 23
Rose
September 1670
“How shall we spend the day, my beautiful Madame Lefebvre?” Henri asked, his tone buoyant at the breakfast table. “I cannot bear to face a day of work on one of the last fine days of the year.”
Rose offered him a smile, pleased to see the furrow of worry absent from his brow. Their reserves were dwindling and they needed income. She knew it pressed on him, but she didn’t want to add to his burden by bringing up the subject overmuch. “As long as I spend the day with you, I’m happy to set aside my needlework for a spell.”
“I honestly don’t know how you ladies manage that awful stuff,” confessed Henri. “It looks so boring.”
“It’s knitting I loathe,” Rose said. “But I’ve always been partial to embroidery. It’s refreshing, in a way.”
“I suppose I can see that,” he said. “I feel the same way about riding. I’d sooner go without my arm than my horse.”
“Will we be able to keep him?” Rose asked. “I imagine it’s expensive.. . .”
“Never fear, darling, Abraxas is safe. Uncle Alexandre will keep him in hay for us if the need arises.” Rose nodded her approval. The palomino gelding was a source of pride and pleasure for Henri and she hated the idea of seeing them separated.
“He’s a good man,” Rose said.
“That he is,” Henri said, a grin appearing on his lips. “And, what’s more, he hates my father, so my disinheritance infuriates him.”
“Why does he hate your father so?”
“It began as nothing more than the second son’s resentment of his older brother,” Henri said. “But Grandfather was so determined to keep his estate in one piece that he left Alexandre with nothing other than his God-given wit. Thankfully, he has plenty of that.”
“That he does,” Rose said. “How unfeeling of your grandfather not to leave something for his son.”
“To make matters worse, Alexandre is thirteen years my father’s junior. He was still at university when Grandfather died,” Henri said. “Had Grandmother not insisted, I’m sure Father would have pulled his funding.”
“You honestly think so?” Rose asked. “How terrible.”
“I would not put such a thing beyond my father’s capabilities,” Henri said. “He is more concerned about money than any man I ever met. My brother, Lionel, is just like him. I think, ultimately, Father would rather leave the estate to Lionel. I have always been too independent, too adventurous with my money, for Father’s liking.”
“I’m so sorry, Henri,” Rose said. “There is no way he would change his mind?”
“I doubt it,” Henri said. “And in my heart of hearts, I’m glad. We would have had to return to France when he died, and I much prefer the freedom here. France stifles me.”
“I’m sorry it was all because of me,” Rose said. “I don’t want our marriage to be the cause of discord.”
“It makes no difference,” Henri said. “You are worth a dozen fortunes.”
“You flatterer.” She gave him a playfully scornful look. “The sad part is that if they knew who my family was, they probably would have approved of me.”
“Which lends credence to my idea that he was looking for reasons to disinherit me,” Henri said. “I am out from under my father’s thumb, and it doesn’t suit him, but it suits me well. Don’t think any more on it.”
“I agree, not today. Not while the autumn sun shines.”
“Indeed, Madame Lefebvre,” Henri said. “We should spend the day out-of-doors. A picnic. I know just the spot.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Rose shared her husband’s love of the mountains and woods of Quebec. After three years of clean air in New France, the thought of returning to Paris, even without the confinement of the Salpêtrière, sent Rose into a cold sweat.
Agathe was given orders to prepare a basket with the finest lunch she could procure, and the couple took off, both mounted on Abraxas rather than bothering to hitch the horse to their small open carriage. Abraxas was a massive horse, with a thick golden coat well suited to the climate. He bore the extra passenger with ease and seemed elated with the chance to exercise his legs in the fine weather.
“Here we are,” Henri said.
“I can see why you love to ride,” Rose said, rubbing the horse’s nose and offering him an apple from the picnic basket. “Abraxas is such a sweet animal.”
“Best horse I’ve ever ridden,” Henri said, patting the gelding’s golden shoulder. Turning to his wife, he asked, “What do you think of the view?”
They stood in a large clearing that allowed a view of the Saint Lawrence to the south. Mountains loomed to the north and east. The odor of the evergreens wafted heavy in her nose. “It’s stunning,” Rose said, setting out a blanket on the grassy field. “How did you find this place?”
“It’s ours. Or will be. This is part of Uncle’s estate. He will rent this to us and he’s agreed to make some vast improvements to the existing farmhouse, just there.” He pointed to a small, but sturdy-looking stone building off in the distance. “It will be infinitely cheaper than our place in town. It wo
n’t be a luxurious life, but it will be a comfortable one. If you consent, of course.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Rose said, looking up as she set out Agathe’s inviting dishes. “Do you think you could be happy as a farmer?”
“I wasn’t made for manual labor, I admit,” Henri said, as he took a seat on the blanket. “I will help manage Uncle’s lands on-site and make sure that the tenant farmers do their part for us and us for them. Like most of the seigneurs, Uncle prefers to live in town, but knows the absence of the seigneur does not inspire the farmers to hard work. Between Uncle and me, we’ll have the most successful estate in all of New France.”
“And you hope they’ll make you a seigneur as well,” Rose speculated.
“Well done,” he answered. “It will probably be several years before the governor thinks of me, but my uncle’s influence can’t hurt.”
“I imagine not,” Rose said. “Is this what you want?”
“Without question. To make my own way without my father trying to control every aspect of my life? It’s what I’ve always dreamed of.”
“Then how could I object?” Rose asked, looking over the landscape. “I would love nothing more.”
Rose looked out at the vast expanse of land and admired the stately mountains and proud pines. They would make for lovely scenery in the coming years. Whether they could provide equally good companionship was a thing far less certain.
The plans for their removal to the estate took time. They would need a crew to renovate the old farmhouse and to make their plot of land welcoming. Their plot of land was small, with the majority reserved for the tenant farmers. The terrain was too precious to be wasted for anything other than cultivation. Henri decided it would be the following spring before they took residence—perhaps summer, if luck was not on their side. Rose feigned indifference to the delays, but was happy with anything that prolonged their removal to the country.
“You aren’t too unhappy to leave town, are you?” Henri asked one night as they snuggled in each other’s arms in the moments before sleep. Tonight was one of the nights where his closeness was comforting rather than stifling.
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