Love's Vengeance (58 page)

“It’s dead—oh it’s dead.” She cried.

Bridgett came from her dozing immediately, with Desiree’s frantic cry, “No child.” She soothed.

“Oh Bridgett my baby! Where is it? It’s dead—tell me the truth!” she sobbed, clutching Bridgett’s hand.

“The baby lives Desiree. She is downstairs with Mary—you have a daughter Desiree. A beautiful little daughter.”

“I don’t believe it—let me see! I want to see!” Desiree tried to rise and fell back upon the pillows weakly.

“Don’t move, I shall bring her.” Bridgett raced from the room, calling for Mary.

Minutes later, the two hurried back into the room and Mary held out the tiny bundle to Desiree. Desiree cried tears of relief and joy as she cradled the tiny babe against her. She drank in the little face, taking in every detail and touching a small hand. Then fingered the light hair lying in wavy tufts over the little head and smiled up at the two women, “She is so beautiful! She needs to be fed, doesn’t she?” she asked, with uncertainty and with a glow upon her ashen face.

“The doctor sent a wet nurse Desiree. He felt it would be best. You are still too weak—she’s been fed this morn and her appetite is not good but the doctor assures us it will improve. Isn’t she tiny?” Mary marveled.

“
Oui
but so perfect.” Desiree agreed while again taking in every detail of the new little face she had waited so long to see.

“You should have seen Antoine’s face—the whole bunch for that matter.” Bridgett laughed, “I feared I would need to bring out the smelling salts.”

“What did they say? Did they approve?” Desiree queried.

“You know men my dear—they didn’t quite know what to think of her or what to say.” Bridgett chuckled.

A breakfast tray arrived and Desiree was urged to eat while Mary held the baby, staying close to her side. Desiree took one small bite of the omelet and then lay her fork down, unable to manage more. She sipped at her tea and watched her little daughter, sleeping peacefully.

Bridgett turned away as tears came to her eyes and spilled over. She made a lame excuse over her shoulder and left the room, her fleeting hopes that Desiree’s appetite would return, dashed. It was hopeless, Desiree was going to die and nothing could be done to prevent it. Bridgett went to her room, taking quill and parchment and sat at her vanity, beginning to compose a letter.

***

Captain Colter,

I have been wrestling with myself all night on whether to write this correspondence but I fear time and hope are running out. I can no longer delay. Your daughter was born yesterday, prematurely. And though small and weak, she is expected to survive.

I realize you had no knowledge of Desiree’s state and I am sure this comes as a great shock to you but I am in hopes, that this knowledge will bring you to Rouen at some time, to behold your child.

I know you to be a good and decent man Stephen and I feel confident that had you known of the child, you would have done right by Desiree. You would have ended the rift and voiced what was obvious to me, so often in the past. I know in my heart, that you loved Desiree—just as she loved you Stephen and still does.

It is too late for talk of that now and it gives me such pain to write this. This news should be spoken gently, not written coldly upon parchment but there is no other way. Desiree is likely dying Stephen, she has been ill for weeks and the doctor fears the early arrival of the child is a sign Desiree will not live much longer. In truth, by the time this letter makes its way to you, it shall be much too late. She may well be gone. But I felt you must know that you have a child. It is your right. I only pray you will make an effort to come and see your daughter. You will be most welcome and I know Desiree would want you to have that opportunity.

Desiree has cried many tears over the pain she brought into your life Stephen and the pain she brought upon herself. Much of the responsibility, I take, for I misguided Desiree, filled her head with notions—without realizing what you and she, in fact, shared. I shall never forgive myself for destroying her happiness but know this; Stephen, she loves you with all her heart.

If she had the strength, I am sure she would be composing a letter herself. There is much more that could be said, much I could tell you but—it is pointless now, so I shall leave it at this and say only I pray you come and be prepared for the fact, that Desiree could well be gone, if and when you arrive
.

Bridgett carefully folded the parchment, dripping a wax seal across the fold and then wiping her tears, hurried from her room.

***

Jacques Monet smiled but the gesture did not reach his sad eyes as he looked up from his breakfast when Bridgett entered the dining room, “How is she Bridgett”? Has there been any change?”

“I’m afraid not Jacques. We can only pray for a miracle.” She said touching his shoulder comfortingly, “Please excuse me, I must have a word with Georges’.”

Bridgett continued across the dining room, through the kitchen and out the back door, around the cook house, crossing the lawn, to the stables.

“Georges’?” Bridgett called, through the dim barn. Sparrows chirped and lit upon the floor, sending up small puffs of dust as they feasted upon a scattering of oats. The birds flitted out of her path, then took flight as Georges’ hurried toward her, just emerging from a stall.

“What is it Bridgett? Not a turn for the worse?” he rasped, fear plainly etched upon his face.

“No Georges’ but I need your assistance. Would you drive me to the Roche’s? I must enlist Philippe’s help on an urgent matter.”

“Bridgett, Philippe would be in Rouen. He shall be there until nightfall.”

“Do you know where to find him? Where he might be?”

“Of course, at the docks unless he is down river somewhere.”

“Then you must take me to Rouen. Philippe shall help me from that point. Please, we must hurry. I need to be back by nightfall.” she exclaimed anxiously.

“Of course but if we are unable to locate him…”

“Then I shall find someone else, I must go in any case.”

“Of course, I shall hitch up and meet you at the front door.” Georges’ nodded, calling for assistance from a lad above them in the loft, who Bridgett had failed to notice.

Bridgett fairly flew across the back lawn to the house and was packing a basket containing dry rolls, honey and cheese for her journey which would take all of the day and early evening, when Mary entered through the swinging door, carrying Desiree’s tray. She stopped short, watching her frantically toss her basket together.

“What’s this?” Mary frowned, placing the tray upon the counter, “Where are you going?”

“Mary I shall return by nightfall. I must go to Rouen and then, if necessary, on to Le Havre. I must deliver a letter and cannot entrust it to anyone else. It may be for naught but I must try. I shall be back this evening, Georges’ shall be gone also. Do not tell Desiree, say simply I have gone to town.”

“I won’t say a word but Le Havre—it is so far! You will never make that trip in one day!”

“I know but it may be necessary. Perhaps by some miracle I may even find the one it is intended for. I must go. I shall see you this evening.”

Bridgett rushed past the old housekeeper and hurried through the house and out the front door where Georges’ helped her into the carriage for the short drive to Rouen.

***

The docks of Rouen were jammed with men, boats, cargo and in the chaos, Bridgett and Georges’ searched out Philippe. They found him standing near the water’s edge, speaking with several men and when he caught sight of the two, he paled noticeably and met them halfway up the dock, “What is it Bridgett? Don’t tell me she is—or the baby!” he whispered.

“No Philippe, both are home and nothing has changed. I need your help—I must go to Le Havre.”

Relief flooded Philippe’s face and he smiled weakly, “I jumped to the wrong conclusion, thank goodness. Of course, I will take you—come along.”

They started toward the sloop and Bridgett spoke briefly, “I must try to find someone, anyone from Somerset or a vessel going in that direction. I have a letter I must have delivered to Captain Colter as soon as possible.”

“From Desiree?” Philippe asked hesitantly, unsure if he was overstepping his bounds.

“No but concerning her and I must do my best to ensure it makes its way to him. Going to Le Havre may be my only chance.”

“Let’s be off then. Georges’ are you coming?”

“No I shall remain here and wait for your return.” Georges’ stated and helped Bridgett into the sloop and tossed the lines to Philippe.

“Look for us by dusk?” Bridgett questioned looking to Philippe for confirmation and he nodded.

“Take care Lad.” Georges’ said, assisting them away from the dock with a shove and with his oars, Philippe worked the sloop into the current and the small sail was set.

***

The journey toward Le Havre was as it had been almost a year to the day, when Bridgett and Desiree had arrived in the same sloop, with the same boy, to start an adventure that, she mused, had turned and twisted in so many painful directions.

As they moved ever closer toward the large port city, sea going vessels lined the shore from just down stream of Rouen and on down toward the coast. It was only an hour into their journey when Philippe gestured, “Look there, several vessels ahead flying colors.”

“Let us stop here and give a look around before we go all the way to Le Havre.”

Philippe agreed and headed toward the docks, glancing about the crowded waterfront. “We may have a task ahead.” He sighed, “Let’s start this end and make our way down, then we may need to go on down to the bay if you cannot find a vessel here.”

Philippe offered his arm and Bridgett accepted it, smiling gently, “Philippe—thank you for your help. I know we have been at odds and I have treated you unkindly in the past but I want you to know, I think you have grown into a fine young man. I never realized how very much you cared for Desiree.”

Philippe briefly looked down at the ground as they walked, then back to the masts above as he spoke, “Desiree gave me kindness I had never known Bridgett—or that I had known but lost with the death of my parents. You have no idea all she has done for me over the years.” he laughed softly, remembering, “She told me she would be my family, my sister, for the rest of our lives and she has never failed me. She was barely eight years old when we met and yet so gentle and kind. I looked up to her for advice, comfort—I always have. I have always known she loved me and I was secure that her care was genuine and she changed my life. I only wish I could help her now and there is nothing anyone can do…” his voice trembled and he looked into Bridgett’s eyes, “except pray.”

Bridgett was quiet and the guilt she felt for her treatment of this young man was humbling. She looked up to his handsome face and could remember him so small and quiet when he first arrived, skittish of his own shadow and she was amazed at the strength and depth of Desiree’s care for him, in her own tender years. Desiree was truly a treasure, and she only now realized the unbounded love she lavished upon those she called friend.

They moved along the water front and though an abundance of British ships could be found, none looked vaguely familiar and Bridgett wished she had paid closer attention to the names of the vessels along the cove at Somerset. Then—ahead she couldn’t believe her eyes, she saw a ship she did recognize and the sparkling rigging was that of Captain Anderson’s ship the
Dalton
. With a gasp, she clutched at Philippe’s arm and shook it as she drew his attention and pointed excitedly, “Philippe! There—a good friend of Captain Colter owns that vessel. Come along!”

Bridgett pulled Philippe along the dock and up the plank without hesitation, “I must speak with Captain Anderson.” She informed the first sailor they came to and the man rose from the forward hatch with a kind smile.

“Yes Madame.” He nodded politely, “This way.”

He showed them below to the captain’s cabin and knocked, receiving a call for entry and preceded the two in, “A lady and gentleman to see you sir.”

Bridgett and Philippe entered and Anderson came forward from his desk, with obvious surprise upon his face, “Bridgett! How may I be of service?” he clasped her hand in his, “What brings you here?”

Anderson dismissed the sailor as he spoke and led Bridgett to a seat, taking his once more, behind his desk. Philippe stood silently at Bridgett’s side as he tried to understand the English they were speaking in, but found it beyond his comprehension.

“Captain I have a favor to ask.” Bridgett began soberly, “but first, do you know the whereabouts of Captain Colter or Timothy for that matter? Are they in port here or close by?”

Anderson leaned back in his seat with a shake of his head, “Neither are here. I have no idea where they might be.”

“I have a letter…” Bridgett produced the parchment from her bag, “It is for Stephen and is most urgent. I know you are a good friend of his and trust you to see he receives it as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow for the colonies after a stop on down stream at Le Havre. I suppose I could stop at Somerset if it is urgent. What is this about—could I venture to ask?”

“It is so very complicated Captain—I can’t go in to all the details but it concerns Desiree and I hope you can accept that as an answer.”

Anderson nodded, noting the anguish upon her face, “I will deliver it post haste, have no fear.”

He took the letter from her outstretched hand and placed it safely within his desk drawer, “I know he needs to hear something from the lady, one way or another.” He sighed heavily.

“What do you mean Captain?”

“He has been a changed man since her departure. I’ve not seen him but I have heard a string of tales from here to the colonies on his exploits. A ship just in,” he gestured to the docks, “Brought news that he had been jailed in Jamestown for a time. Timothy bailed him out. Believe me—that is not typical behavior for Stephen Colter.”