Promised to the Crown (22 page)

C
HAPTER
22

 

T
he Lefebvre house bustled with activity after the temporary addition of the Beaumonts and Pascal. Nicole was pleased to have her friend in residence, and was in no rush to see the new shop complete. There was seldom a day when Rose did not make an appearance as well, eager to spend as much time as she could with her friends, while they both had ample leisure time to socialize.

“How pretty you look in blue,” Nicole said, draping a length of lovely linen over Elisabeth's shoulder. “Fitting the three of you for new clothes is the most fun I've had in ages.”

“The color does suit you,” Rose said. “We should make a little gown for the baby from the scraps.”

“You and Alexandre have been too generous to us.” Elisabeth sighed, not for the first time.

“You needed new clothes,” Nicole said. “Alexandre wanted me to hire a tailor, but I wanted the fun of making your wardrobe ourselves. Aside from looking after Hélène and Manon, I don't have a lot to do. Alexandre isn't used to a wife who works.”

“I'm sure you'll adapt,” Rose said with a smile.

“That worries me, too,” Nicole said, more sober. “I don't want everything to change.”

“But it does,” Elisabeth said, “and we're better off embracing it.”

Nicole smiled. “You're the best-suited of us for life here. You grew accustomed to this place long before Rose and I did.”

“I left behind far less than either of you,” Elisabeth said. “You had a family who loved you. Rose had her duties at the Salpêtrière. I wouldn't have had the shop for much longer. All I had to cling to were the memories of my father, and a mother who didn't care.”

Nicole didn't answer. Letters from home arrived less and less often, which came as no surprise. Her family had moved on with their lives—lives that no longer included her. She wouldn't want them to pine for her, anyway.

“Well, you're certainly easier to fit than Pascal,” Rose said. “That rascal could hardly stand still.”

“He can't bear to sit idle,” Elisabeth said. “So much like Gilbert.”

“At least Gilbert could stand long enough for us to take a proper measurement, for pity's sake,” Nicole said. “I'm worried none of Pascal's things will fit at all.”

Elisabeth laughed, taking her seat now that her own measurements were complete. She took up a pair of trousers she was fashioning for Gilbert. These would be much finer clothes than the Beaumont family had worn before the fire. Nicole hoped that their generosity wouldn't grate too much on Gilbert's pride.

Alexandre had told Nicole to see to the replacement of the Beaumonts' household goods, and had allocated a generous budget. For his own part, Alexandre helped Gilbert contract for the construction of the new shop, with an apartment above, on a plot near the center of town.

Nicole understood that although the cost was minimal to Alexandre, it was an enormous sum to Gilbert. Nicole tried to give her gifts with sensitivity and discretion. She knew Gilbert and Elisabeth felt beholden enough already.

“It seems a shame to make so many dresses when I won't be able to wear them once the baby is here,” Elisabeth said. “That is, I hope I'm back to my old size soon enough once he or she is here.”

“This little one won't be the last,” Rose said.

“No,” Nicole said, thinking of her own precious bundle that was not yet noticeable under her skirts and stays.

She frowned as the memories of her pregnancy and labor played through her head. She was not looking forward to reliving the last month of pregnancy, or the childbed. Alexandre was thrilled, and longed for a son, though he would not say so directly.

Three hours later, Gilbert had sturdy trousers, and Pascal had a starched new shirt for church and Sunday school well under way.

“The three finest seamstresses in all of New France,” Alexandre said, entering the salon as they tidied up their bits of cloth and thread. “It looks like you put your afternoon to good use.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rose said, smiling at her uncle-in-law. “Your wife has quite the eye for fabric.”

“I'm pleased to hear it.” Alexandre placed an affectionate hand on Nicole's shoulder. “You'll forgive me if I claim her from you now.”

Nicole followed her husband to his office. According to their semi-weekly tradition, Nicole sat in the stiff chair opposite Alexandre's desk as they went over the household accounts together.

“Well done,” Alexandre said as he looked at the ledger. “There isn't a better house manager in all of France, I'd wager. The household expenses have gone down by a wide margin since you and the girls moved in.”

“Thank you.” Nicole refrained from saying that the only thing she had to do was eliminate the waste the servants caused when Alexandre wasn't looking. In the beginning, the staff was not overly happy to have an attentive mistress, but seemed to be accepting her supervision. Managing a staff, Nicole learned, was not much different from managing a family, and Nicole had seen her mother do that with skill for many years.

“The governor is having a ball two weeks from today,” Alexandre said. “You need a new gown. Take money from the household funds and have one of the local seamstresses concoct something fashionable for you. Don't fret about the cost.”

“Alexandre, that isn't necessary. Surely I have something that would do.”

“This is an important function,” Alexandre said. “I need you dressed accordingly.”

“Very well.” There was no use arguing when Alexandre gave an order.

“Most women enjoy spending money on such things.” Alexandre looked at Nicole as though trying to solve a complex mathematical problem.

“I must not be like most women,” Nicole said. “I'd rather see the money spent elsewhere, or, better still, saved.”

“You're a wise woman,” Alexandre said, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his tired eyes. “But this is a case of money well spent. You're not accustomed to a world where appearances mean as much, if not more, than substance.”

“No I'm not. And I fear I don't like it.”

“Neither do I,” Alexandre said. “But it is the world I was born into. And there are worse things in the world for a man than seeing his wife well dressed, so please accommodate me. I'll be up to see the children shortly.”

Nicole recognized her dismissal, and ascended the stairs to the nursery where Hélène played with her nurse and Manon sat immersed in her studies.

“Mamah!” the child cried.

Nicole smiled and took her from Eloise.

“Was she a good girl this afternoon?” Nicole asked.

“As always,” Eloise said. The girls loved the nursemaid, and while Nicole had no qualms about the kindly old woman's care, she felt an occasional stab of jealousy. Running the household did necessitate the help, however, and Eloise was wonderful with the children.

“And how goes the studying, mademoiselle?” Nicole asked.

The candlelight reflected off the top of Manon's black head as she pored over her Latin grammar.

“Very well.” Manon looked up from the text with a smile. “How was your day, Maman?”

“Just fine,” Nicole said.

It was hard to believe that the child did not speak a word of French only two years before. Manon had shown a scholastic aptitude far beyond her peers, and now took private lessons from the Sisters after the classes with the rest of the Huron girls concluded for the day.

“Tell me, what has Homer to say today?” Alexandre asked as he entered the nursery.

Manon, as always, gave a perfect account of her lessons and expertly answered all of Alexandre's grammar queries. He nodded his head in satisfaction. Manon understood herself to be dismissed. She took her text and retreated to her bedroom.

The nurse followed suit, taking leave to her own small chamber.

“And how is Papa's little angel?” Alexandre asked, bouncing the joyful toddler on his knee.

Hélène's response was a drool-soaked grin and squeal.

“Manon is coming along so well in school,” Nicole said. “Rose says the Sisters have rarely seen the likes of her.”

“Very good,” Alexandre said, kissing the child on her plump cheek. “Do you think they intend her for the Church?”

“Likely,” Nicole said.

“You don't want her to become a nun?” Alexandre asked. “It would be an excellent choice for her, studious thing that she is.”

“If it's what she wants, I'll accept it,” Nicole said. “But I worry that life will be too confining for her.”

“Time will be the best judge of that,” Alexandre said, dismissing the subject. “And what future for you, little cherub? A handsome duke? Nay, only a prince in shining armor for my girl.”

Nicole smiled at her husband's exuberance, but his obvious preference for Hélène over Manon troubled her. Outwardly, Alexandre was kind, never raising his voice or a hand in Manon's direction. He ensured the Huron girl was well dressed, well fed, and had the best of everything. However, Nicole understood far better than her husband that material goods and physical comfort were not the same as genuine affection.

 

The adults dined together each night precisely at seven o'clock. Manon, Hélène, and Pascal ate together in the kitchen an hour before.

“Three more weeks until the shop will be complete,” Gilbert said one night, after yet another day of overseeing the construction. “Were it not for your influence, Lefebvre, it would take three times as long.”

“Glad to be of use,” Alexandre said. “Heaven knows there is plenty of building to do in this colony. The builders need to keep focused and finish a job before they take on the next. I'm not sure the governor was wise to bar the formation of guilds within the settlement. It seems to me the organization would help.”

“You may be right,” Gilbert said. “But the guilds are harmful in some respects as well. They insist that the workers and even apprentices earn wages in addition to their meals. It may discourage some from taking them on, which may deplete the supply of skilled laborers in time. And there's precious few of them already.” Nicole nodded. Many who came from France did so in exchange for three years of free labor. Most masters worked hard to ensure their workers were well taken care of, but had little in the way of liquid money to repay their help. Alexandre was aware that people like Gilbert traded in kind rather than in cash for most things, but it was a reality, Nicole expected, he couldn't fully understand.

“That could be amended within the system,” Alexandre said. “But the main thing is, you'll be installed in a month or two more, and open for business soon after, I trust.”

“As soon as I can manage it,” Gilbert said. “Best to open doors and get established before winter.”

Nicole ate in silence as the men conversed. Gilbert was now indebted to another man in order to establish himself, as were most men in the colony. It would take four years, at least, to clear the debt, and Nicole had seen more than a few of the colonists struggle or fail to pay their debts. The consequences were sometimes dire. Nicole hoped Alexandre would prove a gracious creditor. She tried to temper the nagging worry that her husband might be steering Gilbert into too large an enterprise. She pushed the worry away.

It was not her place to doubt her husband.

The evenings passed pleasantly in the company of the Beaumonts. Conversation never lacked, and they often retired to bed much later than anticipated. Elisabeth and Gilbert, along with Pascal, occupied the guest rooms on the west side of the house, while Alexandre and Nicole each had a room down the hall from the nursery on the opposite side.

The arrangement was not what Nicole was used to. She and Luc had shared a bed for the duration of their marriage, as did her parents and all of the other couples in her acquaintance. After her marriage to Alexandre, Nicole learned that separate rooms were traditional for the upper classes.
So cold. So formal. I can't see why anyone would want this.
For all the comforts of Alexandre's home, Nicole questioned whether she'd been wise to marry above her station. She felt sure she'd never be a part of Alexandre's sphere and even more certain that she didn't want to be.

There was no knock at the door that night, nor did she expect one for at least six months. Not until the baby was born and she had time to heal. On nights when Alexandre did not make an appearance, Nicole would have, in the space of a single heartbeat, exchanged her husband's position for that of an honest blacksmith who chose to share a bed with his wife.

 

“Excellent, madame,” said Yvette Babineaux, Nicole's seamstress. “This color suits you well. I haven't seen satin as fine as this in three years or more. You will be ravishing.”

The dress
did
fit well, and did not bring undue attention to the thickening of her midsection. The soft pink silk felt decadent. It was the finest garment Nicole had ever owned, and she felt a twinge of vanity when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a fine lady, even if she was not one by birth.

What wouldn't I give for Maman to see me dressed this way,
Nicole thought.
She would know that she would never need to worry about me going without ever again.

“Thank you, Madame Babineaux,” Nicole said. “You've done splendid work.”

“It was a pleasure, madame,” Yvette said. “There isn't much call for finery here, so jobs like these are particular fun.”