The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  “Antoine!” His sister gave the look she always did when he wasn’t moving fast enough to suit her.

  “I am going, I am going. You are most fortunate that I allow you to boss me.” He turned to Louise and winked. “Do not get any ideas,” he said before following the boys upstairs.

  After a quick dash into the room he and Louise would share, he deftly washed his hands and face and combed his hair. Presentable again, he raced back down to his ladies. “I suppose you will want to inspect my hands.” He held them out to Aimée.

  “Why would I need to do that? You are old enough to be married; you are old enough to tell if your hands are clean. And for your information, you will always be my little brother.” Aimée sighed. “I am sorry. The need to care for you is a dragon that awakes from slumber when you appear. I cannot help it.” She shrugged.

  Antoine kissed her cheek. “You may care for me anytime. That right you have earned, though I think Louise will do a good job keeping me in line, so you do not need to worry.”

  Aimée and Élise chuckled, and Louise’s cheeks pinked to that lovely shade he adored.

  “Oh, and you have already met my friend and guest, Monsieur Dominique Bertrand.”

  Antoine nodded in the man’s direction and smiled. “We introduced ourselves.”

  “Bon.” Aimée looked about the room. “Since we are all here now, let us go to the table. Supper is served.”

  Antoine took Louise’s hand and noticed Bertrand took his sister’s arm as they walked to the dining room. When Antoine held the chair for Louise, Bertrand did so for Aimée, and Alexandre followed suit for Élise. The tension in the air was as thick as cannon smoke, but the women did not seem to notice. The men, however, did. Though he could not taste a thing or even remember what had been placed in front of him, Antoine made the obligatory remarks to compliment the chef. Someone took his plate and cutlery.

  Aimée cleared her throat. “I wanted to wait until we were all together to make our—mine and Dominique’s announcement.” All faces turned to her. Bertrand sat at her left and covered her hand with his. “You know it has been hard since Martín passed away. It has been the love of my family and the company of this kind man that has saved me. We have decided to marry—”

  Alexandre pushed himself to his feet, his chair crashed behind him. He slapped his palms to the table. “Never!” Kicking his chair out of the way, he ran for the stairs.

  Antoine stood, too, but not as quickly as Aimée. She raced to the bottom of the steps. “Alexandre, come this instant. I will not have you behaving so rudely to our guests. Alexandre, do you hear me? Alex—”She spun around at Antoine’s touch.

  “Allow me to speak with him.”

  “What is the matter with him, Antoine? I do not understand?” A tear squeezed itself from her eye to outline her nose and the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh, my sister.” Antoine pulled her close. “You of all people should know. You, who were my mother when I had none. Do you not understand? You have removed Alexandre from his position as man of the house.”

  Aimée pulled back, her eyes round pools. “I never thought— Oh, no. Antoine, he must know I love him. Why can he not accept I have found love again, a love he cannot give?”

  “Would you have accepted another woman as my mother after you had been caring for me? How would you have felt if Father had remarried?”

  “What must I do?” Her voice was a mere whisper and another tear streaked her cheek.

  “First, allow me to speak with Alexandre. Second, I must—”

  A clanging sound followed by rapid feet on the stairs. Antoine and Aimée looked up to see Alexandre armed with his father’s rapier and buckler.

  “No, Alexandre, you must not!” Aimée reached for him, but he pulled away.

  Antoine grabbed the boy by the arms. “Stop, you must stop this right now.”

  Alexandre fought and pulled. “Who will stand for my father then? Who?” He stared into Antoine’s eyes. “Do you agree with them? Does this seem like what my father would have wanted? This man has no business putting his hands on the wife of my father!” A quick twist and he was free from Antoine’s grasp, rushing into the dining room. “You, you will pay. I challenge you on the field of honor.” He struggled to pull the rapier from its scabbard.

  Antoine grabbed his elbow. “Alexandre, do not be foolish. You have had but a small part of one lesson. You would kill yourself!”

  “Better to die than see this man usurp my father’s place.”

  Bertrand stood before the boy. “I will not fight you. Not today, not ever. I will leave now, but Alexandre, know this. I love your mother. I have not done anything unseemly. I cannot take the place of your father. But I can be a good husband to her and perhaps a friend to you as well. I will let you think on it.” He lightly touched Aimée’s fingers before walking out the door.

  Alexandre sank to his knees. Antoine caught him and nodded to Louise and the other children, hoping she understood to keep them in the dining room. Then he helped his nephew though the doorway and back to the bottom step, sitting next to him.

  Aimée sat on Alexandre’s other side and attempted to brush the hair from his eyes. He slapped at her hand. “Still you treat me as a child! Why? Why could you not have come to me and discussed this? I am the man of the house. It is my job to care for you and my brothers and sister. Not the job of some stranger!” He dragged his sleeve under his nose. “How could you do this to us? To me?”

  “I am sorry, my son. You are right that I should have come to you and asked your opinion. Do you know what you would have said if I had done so?”

  Alexandre’s eyes turned to slits. “I would have said ‘no!’”

  Antoine turned the boy to him. “Why, Alexandre? What have you against this man?”

  “Would you allow your sister to marry a Huguenot?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Somehow the breath in Antoine’s chest became thick, and the beats of his heart slowed to deliberate blows in his pulse. He attempted to turn to face his sister, but it was as if he sat underwater, and he fought to move his head even that slight distance. When his eyes met Aimée’s, he knew the boy spoke the truth. He opened his mouth, but the words were not his. “Alexandre, being a Huguenot does not mean a person is evil or dangerous. Many good men have served at His Majesty’s command and have been of the Huguenot faith.”

  The look of gratitude in Aimée’s eyes overcame the shock of what he had spoken. He had no idea where the words had come from, but his sister apparently needed to hear him say them. “Allow me to speak with your mother, and then we will both come speak with you. Please wait in your room.” Alexandre stood. “And leave your father’s sword and buckler with me for the moment.”

  The boy laid the weapons down and dragged his feet up the stairs.

  Aimée scooted next to Antoine, and he wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “Do you love Bertrand?”

  “Oui, very much.” She leaned her head on him.

  “And he will love the children?” Even as he said it, Antoine remembered how the younger boys all ran to Bertrand and he seemed to enjoy them.

  “He loves them as his own. Dominique’s wife died soon after they married. They had no children. Though those of his faith encouraged him to remarry quickly, he could not. Martín and Dominique were neighborly, not that Martín was home enough to make friends outside of the army.”

  Antoine nodded, his cheek rubbing against the top of her head.

  “As soon as Dominique heard about Martín he came to help. Neither of us thought of again marrying, but as time passed, we became friends and then fell in love.” She lifted her head and looked Antoine in the eye. “He is a good man. A decent man.”

  “He is a Huguenot.” His words held no condemnation, only facts.

  “I know. He did not ask me to convert, but we could not be married in the church. Therefore, I asked more about his faith. I find nothing to which I disagree, therefore, I will become a Reformeé
when we marry.”

  Antoine’s throat constricted. “What of the children?”

  “It will be their decision, but I hope they will see the truth in Dominique’s goodness and kindness toward us all.”

  “You are sure this is what you want?”

  “I was. Now I do not know what to do with Alexandre.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  He stood and held out his hand. “Then let us go speak with him and see what can be done.”

  Aimée took his hand and they went up the stairs to Alexandre’s room.

  * * *

  Later that night with Louise in his arms, Antoine recounted all that had been said. “No boy wants to think of his maman as having those kinds of needs or desires. I have a hard time thinking of my sister. . .” He shook his head.

  “Men.” Louise sighed and snuggled closer. “And so, what will happen now?”

  “Alexandre and I will call on Monsieur Bertrand and question him. If he answers to our satisfaction, Alexandre will give his consent. And Alexandre knows he must be reasonable and give the man a fair chance.”

  Louise leaned up on her elbow to look him in the eye. “But if Monsieur is Huguenot, what will happen to your sister and her children?”

  “I do not know. Before I met your Monsieur Maury, I would not have accepted it. Now I am willing to at least give the man an opportunity to share his mind.”

  Louise grew quiet, and at first Antoine thought she had drifted off to sleep. Then she ran a finger down his cheek. “I watched you play with the boys this afternoon.”

  “You did?”

  “Oui, I did. I think you will make a wonderful father.”

  He hugged her close. “You will make the most beautiful mother in the world.” It was strange how he could feel her blush in the dark.

  “I do not know about that, however, I enjoyed watching Aimée when she was with her children. She loves them dearly, and they are such good children. While you spoke with Alexandre, little Sébastien curled up on my lap and Jeannot must know every story ever written. And Richard, sweet, quiet Richard. Oh, I helped Élise with her hair when she readied for bed. I want sons and daughters, Antoine, many sons and daughters. A house full of children to laugh with and cry with. I do not like that I had no brothers or sisters.”

  “There were days I would have sold you a sister.” Antoine laughed.

  Louise punched his chest. “Oh, you!”

  He took her hand, opened it and brought it to his lips. “My love, we can have as many babies as you want to have. Whatever will make you happy.” Whatever, my love.

  * * *

  Antoine helped Alexandre up behind him on Vent, and the two of them rode for Monsieur Bertrand’s home. Alexandre had promised to be reasonable and to listen. There wasn’t much else Antoine could ask of the boy. He had a few questions himself, but those would be better to ask man to man.

  The Bertrand home was closer than Antoine had imagined. They could have walked if he’d realized. A lovely country home, he could picture his sister and her children living here. No, he must not get ahead of himself.

  He and his nephew dismounted before he tied Vent to the rail.

  Apparently, Monsieur Bertrand saw them approach as he greeted them at the door before they had mounted the steps. “Welcome! Come in.” Though he smiled, Antoine noticed a nervous look in the man’s eyes. Did he have something to hide? Or was this meeting with Alexandre that important to him?

  Monsieur Bertrand led them to the parlor. “Please sit. I’ll send for some tea.”

  “None for me.” Alexandre was a bit quick on his reply.

  Antoine gave him a look that he hoped reminded the boy of his promise.

  He got the point. “No, thank you, sir.”

  “I will take some, thank you.” Antoine almost felt sorry for the man. Accepting a cup of tea wouldn’t hurt and might ease the tension.

  Their host stepped from the room. It would have been the perfect time to verbally remind Alexandre, but at this point the boy knew. Anything more would just push him into a corner. Antoine glanced about. “It’s a nice room.”

  Alexandre nodded.

  “The house looks quite large. I imagine Monsieur Bertrand does well.”

  “Oui.” His nephew squirmed in his chair. “But there is more to this than a nice big house.”

  “You are right, Alexandre. On that we are agreed.” Monsieur Bertrand entered the room in time to see the boy’s face turn to crimson. “I apologize. I should have made more noise coming in. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

  Antoine liked him for that. He was honest and aware of the gravity. This was good.

  Taking a seat, their host smacked his hands to his thighs. “Shall we get started? I know my housekeeper will be in in a moment with the tea, but I feel like we all want to get this into the open.”

  “I agree, sir. Alexandre, do you want to start?”

  The boy pulled out a folded piece of foolscap, opening it slowly. Was he rethinking this? Alexandre cleared his throat. “Why do you want to marry my mother?”

  Bertrand smiled. “That question is easy. I love her very much. I would like to make a home with her and your family. I know that it is not enough to love only your mother. I also know I am not a replacement for your father. But I can offer my home, my care, and a relationship that would be unique to us.”

  “What can you do for my mother and brothers and sister that I cannot do?”

  The housekeeper brought in the tea at that moment. The room became silent until she left, closing the door behind her.

  “Alexandre, the love between a man and a woman is not the same as the love between a young man and his mother. For one, she will always see you as her son no matter how old you are. It is the way of the world. Also, there will come a day when you will want to have a family of your own. You will have less problems with that if you do not feel you must put your mother’s needs above your own. That is something I can do—put her needs, and those of her children, above my own. God willing, on the day when the last of your siblings have married and started a family, I will still be with your mother. We will have each other to love and care for. Does that make sense?”

  Antoine knew the man had been thinking this through. His answers showed he’d worked to form his emotions into thoughts he could convey. He’d also referred to Alexandre as a young man, respectful yet accurate. Antoine glanced at his nephew.

  “Oui, it makes sense.” Alexandre slowly folded his paper and put it away. “You have not treated me as a child today. Thank you for that. What would I call you?”

  “Well, you would not have to call me papa. For now, we could stick with Oncle Dominque, or perhaps another name will seem fitting that we can decide on together.”

  There was a lengthy pause where it felt like the room was losing air. “I have one last question. Must I become a Huguenot?”

  Antoine had wondered if that would be asked. Better coming from Alexandre than him though.

  “That is something you will have to decide, Alexandre. I am not making it a requirement. My faith is mine. I am happy to share it, but I will not force it on you. When forced it is not faith.”

  Antoine was proud of his nephew. He’d asked good questions. Even more, he opened the door for Monsieur Bertrand to elaborate enough to satisfy his own questions. The only thing left was to learn if the answers satisfied Alexandre.

  The boy took a breath, clearly mulling things over in his mind. Standing, he walked to Monsieur Bertrand and held out his hand. “I give you permission to marry my mother.”

  Bertrand pulled Alexandre into a hug and kissed him on both cheeks. “Merci. Thank you, Alexandre. You do not know how much this means to me.”

  Antoine had the feeling, however, that one day the boy just might.

  * * *

  “Please come again! I will miss you so much!”

  Antoine laughed as Aimée, baby Joan on her hip, pulled Louise and then him to her.

  “You must write
to us and let us know how things fare with you and I will write to you, as well.”

  Louise’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh, oui! We must write. I am so glad Antoine brought me here. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Antoine began to maneuver Louise toward the carriage.

  “It was my pleasure! I would have been crushed if he had taken you all the way to Tarn-Et-Garrone without stopping here first.”

  “You know I would not have done that. I fear your wrath much too much.” He tweaked Aimée’s chin.

  “Do not think you are too old for me to make you behave.” She grabbed him by the chin before kissing him soundly.

  Once she released him, Antoine turned to his niece Élise and tugged on her braid. “You will be good and help care for your maman?”

  “But of course, Oncle Antoine.”

  “And you will stop growing so lovely.” He winked.

  “That is out of my control, Oncle.” She laughed, and he pulled her into an embrace.

  After clearing his throat, Antoine called his nephews over and hugged each one. When he arrived at Alexandre, he leaned to his ear. “You still must behave as a man. Keep a close eye on your brothers and sisters. This is a very big job. Think of Monsieur Bertrand as help. We know he is a good man, no?”

  “Oui, Oncle, he is a good man, and I will try to do as you ask.”

  Antoine raised an eyebrow.

  “Very well, I will do as you ask.”

  Pulling him into an embrace, Antoine held him a moment. “That is the young man I have grown to love as my own.” He kissed him on both cheeks and followed Louise into the carriage.

  The visit had been far too short.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tarn-Et-Garrone, 1670

  When the knock at the door sounded, Antoine looked up in time to see Josephine go to answer it. Her excited voice could be heard in the parlor.

  “Monsieur Maury. It has been a long time. How good it is to see you.”