The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Louise forced a smile to her lips and the dark thoughts from this day of all days. “Oui, I am well and blessed.” She changed into the soft-pink traveling gown while Josephine inspected Louise’s hair for misbehaving tendrils.

  When all was in place, Louise kissed the dear woman’s cheek and scurried out. The back stairs would take her out to her husband quicker and perhaps give her a moment to hug her father in private. She had not seen him at the party during the last hour and suspected he had barricaded himself in his office.

  Stifling a giggle, she raised a fist to knock at the study door.

  An angry voice from inside froze her hand in mid-air.

  “Philippe, I do not know how you can ask. Where is your self-control? Remember who you are.”

  “I do not need a lecture, Marie. Will you help?”

  Louise bit her knuckle and leaned in closer.

  “Oui, I will help you out of the mess, this time. For the sake of the daughter of my late sister. But do not ask again, Philippe. Do not give me cause to tell you no.”

  “Very well. I will have the papers drawn up.”

  Fear of being discovered made Louise hurry back up the stairs. What had she heard? How bad was the trouble her papa had gotten into?

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Louise came back down, this time by way of the front staircase. Friends and family stopped her every time she made another step toward her beloved husband. Yet with each step, worry settled deeper in her soul. Something was terribly wrong with her father. Was it right to leave him now? Who would take care of him?

  Antoine glanced her way, drawing her to his side with his smile.

  At that precise moment, her papa entered the room, his eyes, sad and old, tugged at her heart.

  There they stood, the two greatest loves of her young life. She must go with her husband, leaving her father to fend for himself.

  Her husband. Her father.

  She had made her choice.

  What had she done?

  * * *

  Antoine heard the sniffs. Here it was only their second night together and his bride tried to hide her crying. He had been as gentle as he knew how, and she had responded with an amazing passion. So why the tears? Ask her, you fool.

  He stoked her hair from her cheek. “Ma amie, what is it?”

  Louise turned to him, her face glittering wet in the sparse moonlight. Clambering to him she soaked his chest with her sobs, her fists clenching his shirt.

  He enveloped her while her body heaved with misery. Moving his fingertips in gentle circles over her spine, he waited. And waited. At last she seemed to melt into him and only the random shudder and sniff remained of her tearful episode. Antoine softly kissed her temple. “What causes such sadness, dearest? Can you not tell me?”

  She shook her head, soft tendrils floating under his nose. He wiped them down and asked again. “Louise, what is it?”

  “I am afraid.” She hiccupped. “I cannot explain it. I am sure you think me touched, but that is why I cried.” Another hiccup.

  “You are safe, my love. I will not let anything happen to you. I promise.” Antoine tipped her chin up and focused on the dim outline of her face. “You believe me, oui?”

  She hesitated the briefest of moments before nodding, punctuating her answer with a sniff. “I believe you, my husband.”

  Antoine pulled her secure, tucking her head beneath his chin and stroking her hair. With his eyes closed, he breathed in her scent, holding it in his lungs until he thought it might burst forth like truth. Then he released the air slowly, letting his breath ruffle her hair. Truth. It nagged at him, circling like a dog to settle at the back of his mind. Still it sent its message up to his last wakeful thought. Did she lie to him or to herself?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Wheels crunched on the oyster-shell covered drive as the carriage turned toward the house. Though the imposing structure breathed a persona of wealth, Antoine knew looks could be deceiving. The family who resided within those walls needed his assistance from time to time. But that was no hardship as far as Antoine was concerned. This was the home of his sister.

  Louise clutched his hand as children ran from the house, waving their greetings. Antoine mentally checked off each child as he came into view. Four boys ranging in ages from fifteen to three. He squinted and gave his wife’s hand a little squeeze. Where. . .? A girl, about twelve years of age, ran from behind the house and into view. Antoine smiled, relaxing into the seat. All there.

  The carriage jostled to a stop. Antoine opened the door, stepped out and held up a hand for Louise.

  “Oncle Antoine!”

  He barely had Louise on terra firma when he was grappled about the legs.

  The girl ran back to the house. “Maman, he is arrived! Oncle Antoine, he is here! Vite!”

  Antoine was seized and clamored over and climbed, nearly tripping over his own feet. He let go of Louise’s hand just in time to keep her from losing her balance. Still his nephews embraced him from head to toe.

  “Ho! Allow me breath.” Antoine shook his head and stared at the gangly lad before him. “You, you cannot be Alexandre! You were just a boy when last I saw you and now you are nearly as tall as I.”

  “But it is I, Oncle. See what happens when you are gone so long?” If possible, the boy had added another inch to his height.

  The shortest one of the lot tugged at the leg of Antoine’s trousers. “And I am Sébastien. Do you remember me?”

  Scooping up the raven-haired child with the piercing blue eyes and serious countenance, Antoine looked the boy over—in the lad’s ears, behind his neck, and under his arm—then solemnly nodded. “I believe you must be Sébastien, but I do not know how this is so. You are the same size and weight as Richard.” He set the excited boy down. “Richard, Richard—are you here?” Antoine searched and searched over the head of the child jumping up and down, waving his hand in front of Antoine’s nose. “Oh my, Richard, is that you? I cannot believe it. How has this happened? And where then is Jeannot? I suppose you will next tell me he is that one who looks like Alexandre used to look.”

  The child referred to, with the same shining black hair of his siblings, swung his arms about Antoine’s waist. “Oui! I am Jeannot. And you know that very well.” He tipped his chin up to stare at his uncle. “Have we grown that very much, Oncle?”

  “Oui, mes petits hommes, oui. You are becoming big, strong men. But please do not do it so quickly. It makes me feel old.” Antoine ruffled the hair of little Sébastien who had been but a baby the last time he’d visited.

  “Ah, but you are old, Oncle.” Jeannot giggled and dodged the swat aimed at him. He fell on the ground in a fit of laughter, his younger brothers following suit.

  “Antoine! At last!” And there she was, his sister, Aimée, who had been the only mother he remembered. He imagined the mother they shared had looked very much the way Aimée looked now—her blue eyes shining warmth with little crinkles about the edges. Antoine preferred to think the lines were there due to all the laughter that bubbled so free from his sister, but after losing her husband, he knew there were other causes.

  “Aimée!” He swept her up in his arms and whirled her around, her feet flying out behind, before planting a kiss at her temple. New silver threads intermingled among the black of her hair. Antoine bit his lip.

  “And you must be my new sister, Louise. I am so glad this brother of mine succumbed to my pleas and brought you. Bienvenue. Welcome to our home.” Aimée pulled Louise into an embrace.

  “I was about to introduce you to my wife. If you would only be patient one moment.”

  “I think the moment has passed us by, little brother. Do you not agree, Louise?” She winked, and Antoine’s bride tipped her head and smiled in return.

  “You might introduce me, Oncle Antoine.” The girl standing next to her mother, simply a younger version of Aimée, held her hands behind her back and bounced on her toes.

  Antoine’s heart flipped in his chest. Su
rely this was not his niece but some neighbor girl who teetered on the verge of womanhood. Yet she had Aimée written all over her in coloring and voice and mannerism. “Ma petite, how you have grown!” He turned to Louise. “My lovely wife, may I present my nièce, Élise. Élise, this is your new tante, the Marquise de Tarn-Et-Garon, Louise de Crocketagné.”

  “Enchanteé.” As his niece curtsied, Antoine caught the glance Louise sent in his direction. Even her eyes smiled at her new name. Bon. He needed to see her smile as much as she needed to feel it.

  Louise took Élise’s hand, pulling the child to her and kissing both cheeks.

  Élise suddenly stepped behind her mother, her face tinged a soft pink, but her eyes glittered.

  Aimée laughed and looped her arm with her daughter’s. “Come in,” she called over her shoulder. “We do not need to stand here on the lawn all day. Come meet the baby, Joan.” She led the way to the house.

  Antoine offered his arm to Louise, and together they followed Aimée and Élise inside. Louise would love his sister and family and they will all love Louise. This would help. He knew it.

  * * *

  “Shall we?” Louise didn’t know whether she asked Josephine or herself. The proper thing to do would be to offer to help with dinner. Though Louise may be a guest, Aimée was now family. Would she expect help?

  Josephine nodded and opened the door for Louise, closing it after and following Louise down the stairs.

  The kitchen was a bustle of activity. Aimée chopped celery, Élise plucked pinfeathers from a chicken, and a woman Louise had yet to meet kneaded bread. None looked up as Louise and Josephine stepped down into the kitchen. “Might we be of some service?”

  Aimée looked up with a start then smiled. “Oh, my, no Louise! You should make yourself at home in the parlor. You are a guest.”

  “But we are now family. Will you not let Josephine and me help, s’il vous plaît?”

  The pause lengthened, but Aimée’s smile never faltered. “What if—.” she inclined her head toward Josephine.

  “Madam LeSeure.”

  “Oui, Madam LeSeure, merci, what if Madam LeSeure takes over my celery and I show you around my home?” Already Aimée was wiping her hands and removing her apron.

  Louise and Josephine exchanged glances. The older woman’s brief nod was enough. “That would be lovely. Merci.” After waiting until Josephine had donned the apron and knife, Louise followed her hostess—her sister-in-law—back up the stairs to the nursery where baby Joan still slept, and then down again through the front way.

  Once in the parlor, they stopped before a window. Laughter filtered into the house from somewhere on the lawn, and Louise peeked past the drapes to see if she could locate the source.

  Aimée’s hand squeezed Louise’s shoulder. “The boys have missed their father greatly. It is good that Antoine is here to give them that type of fun.”

  When Louise glanced back, Aimée’s eyes were rimmed with moisture. Instinctively Louise covered the gentle hand still on her shoulder and squeezed back. Only married a little more than a week, and already the thought of being without Antoine made her heart freeze. She could not imagine what her sister-in-law must feel. Then a new thought rose up from her very soul. “I hope I may give him sons one day.”

  Aimée’s arm wrapped around Louise’s shoulder and a fierce love for the man outside bonded them. Louise tipped her head over against Aimée. She may not yet know her new sister well, but she already loved her.

  * * *

  “Gentlemen, have you your weapons?” Antoine’s sternest look descended on each nephew.

  “Oui!’ “I do!” Oui, Oncle!” Each boy nodded his head and stood at attention, brandishing his miniature tree branch.

  “Very well, we shall begin. Remember, without the basics the warrior is not fit for battle. One must be able to perform the basics of swordplay in one’s sleep. Feet apart?” He surveyed with a critical eye. “Bon, bon. And now, en garde!”

  The boys rushed at him swinging at his stick. Encircling him, they giggled with delight as he danced in their middle, clashing sticks, swatting thighs, and making them run about.

  “Ho! Where are my trusty companions in this exercise?” Antoine swirled around as each boy hid behind a tree or bush. “There, I have discovered one of you!” and he ran to scoop up Sébastien and hold him high overhead. The boy screamed with delight and took off running the second his feet touched the ground.

  “And where are the rest?” He caught Richard and Jeannot at the same time, pulling both into a rugged embrace and swinging them around. They both dropped into heaps of giggles on the lawn.

  “Who is left for me to capture? Shall I search for you Alexandre or will you come face me as a man?”

  A stick tapped Antoine’s left shoulder. He grabbed it and swung its wielder around to the front. “Aha! There you are.”

  Alexandre dropped the stick. No laughter danced in his eyes. Instead an earnestness shone that struck Antoine like a revelation. “Oncle, no more games. I am nearly a man. Can you not teach me how to fight like a man?”

  “Oui, you are nearly a man and growing closer to that each day. Bon, I will show you a few steps to start, but you must practice. And remember this is for self defense and the defense of your family. This is not to pick fights with your schoolmates.” Antoine stepped closer.

  Solemn eyes, steady and blue, gazed up at him, only the chin did not tip up much. Within a few short years, Antoine realized, this stance might be reversed. “I understand, Oncle. I am now the man of the house. I must know these things. Shall I get Papa’s sword?”

  “Not yet. We can begin with these weapons.” He pointed his stick at the other boys. “You men, take a rest while I work with this recruit.”

  The younger ones scampered to a safer place with a good view, eyes wide with excitement.

  “First you need to remember it is not all about the rapier. You must make your off hand do its part as well. Your buckler will be more effective against other cutting instruments, but your dagger can give you added help against thrusting instruments. The buckler will help you with defense but the main-gauche is helpful for offensive strikes. For now, we will stay with the buckler and leave the left-handed dagger for another lesson.” Antoine scanned the lawn for something to use as the small shield and noticed his hat, tossed aside when he came out to play. “Here, you shall use this.” He picked it up and brought it to Alexandre. “Grip it thus.” Antoine modeled holding it so the crown faced away from the body. “There are several ways to employ it but for now, just use as a shield to your chest.”

  Alexandre took the hat and held it as shown.

  Antoine nodded and stepped back to face the boy. “Next, you must remember, the edge is for cutting but the tip is for . . . the thrust.” He was not ready to talk of killing to this boy, not yet. “Are you now ready?”

  “Oui, Oncle!” The boy’s eyes gleamed. Had he been that eager at the same age? Alexandre would not be so excited if he had seen the aftermath of such fighting. Perhaps he should not be encouraging his nephew with this lesson. “Oncle Antoine?”

  “Very well, stand thus and face me.”

  Horses’ hooves clattered up the laneway. “Oncle Dominique!” The three younger boys jumped up and ran to greet the horseman.

  “Oncle Dominique?” Who was this other uncle? Neither their father nor Antoine had any brothers. He turned to Alexandre.

  The icy stare and set mouth told Antoine there was more to this than a visit from a family friend.

  “Halloo!” The rider jumped down from his horse and tousled the hair on Jeannot’s head before tickling Richard and Sébastien under their respective chins.

  Antoine strode over, hand extended. “Bienvenue. May I assist you with something?” The stranger quietly eyed Antoine. “I am the Marquis de Tarn-Et-Garonne, Antoine de Crocketagné, brother to Madam de Lefèbvre. Might I be of service?”

  The stranger smiled but did not completely lose the wariness in his e
yes. He took Antoine’s hand. “And I am Dominique Denis Bertrand, a neighbor and friend to Madam de Lefebvre. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Was my sister expecting you?”

  Jeannot tugged at Antoine’s arm so he leaned towards the boy. “Maman invited Oncle Dominique to supper. He often eats with us.”

  “I beg your pardon, Monsieur. I am rather protective of my sister, but do not mean to offend an invited guest. Shall we go in and announce your arrival?”

  The three younger boys ran ahead, calling as they went.

  “I do not think we will need to announce my arrival. By the time we enter the house, the whole of France will be aware.” Bertrand chuckled and walked to the door as though it was a familiar habit.

  Antoine stopped to look for Alexandre. The boy stood stock still, but his emotions ran free about him.

  Oui, there was definitely more to this story and he would have to uncover it.

  * * *

  “Boys, you will wash quickly. Vite, vite!” The sound of his sister saying such things took Antoine back to simpler times. He resisted the impulse of wrapping her in his arms.

  “Oh, and you are not excused from that command, little brother. Go with the children and wash. I know you.”

  Antoine grimaced. He could have done without the scolding in front of his wife and this stranger. But this was Aimée, his beloved sister. She always could get him to do what she wanted. That would never change.

  Louise came to kiss his cheek. “Did you have fun?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “But of course. Did you?” He claimed her chin and stole a real kiss.

  “I think I love your sister. She loves you so much, how could I not?”

  The most wonderful women in his life liked each other. But then, he knew they would.

  Louise glanced over his shoulder. “Is there a problem with Alexandre?”

  “I do not know. I will speak with him, do not worry.” He stole another kiss.