Promised to the Crown (24 page)

“It's not that far,” Nicole said. “We'll be together all the time.”

“You sound like your nephew-in-law,” Rose chided. “You're a mother and a wife. You know that can't be.”

“Well, niece-in-law, I promise we'll make an effort,” Nicole said, taking Rose in her arms. “And you will stay here when the baby is born. If you need a doctor it will make things far less complicated.”

Rose exhaled. The realities of the birth hadn't even registered with her. The baby would arrive in spring at least, so she wouldn't have to contend with winter storms preventing her from getting to town. Henri would agree to stay with his uncle for a month or so. He would not prevent her from doing so, in any case.

“Thank you, dearest aunt-in-law,” Rose said, kissing Nicole on the cheek.

“Merciful heavens, that makes me sound old,” Nicole said with an uncharacteristic giggle.

“Baby clothes,” Elisabeth declared, reclaiming her seat. “You'll have baby Lefebvre outfitted before the afternoon is out.”

For the next hour, Nicole spoke of her early days mothering Hélène in the convent. Elisabeth spoke of her baby's impending arrival. Rose chimed in on occasion, smiled, kept up with her sewing. All the while it sank in that she was wholly unprepared for the enormous task that lay before her.

Childbirth still terrified her, but less so. On a daily basis, she saw women walking about the settlement, babes in arms, no worse for their toils. But in seven months, an innocent life would look to her for love, comfort, and protection. She was confident in her ability to provide the first two. The latter caused her worry. Her uncle had also sworn to protect her when she was twelve years old.

She found herself gripping her needle and gown too tightly, causing a cramp in her forefinger and wrinkles in the fabric. She set the handiwork down on her lap, and focused on the prattle of her two dearest friends. Focused on their words of love. Nicole mothered two lovely girls. Elisabeth fostered the young Giroux boy and would soon welcome her own child. Despite Elisabeth's losses, she seemed calm. Nicole didn't seem wrought with worry as her needles clack-clack-clacked together, a soft wool blanket forming beneath them. Inch by inch, Rose willed her muscles to unwind, her breath to deepen.

She would be a mother. The choice was no longer hers. The best gift she could give her child was a mother with the courage to face the cruel world he or she would inherit.
Would that I could have your courage, ladies, but I suppose I must find my own.

 

Rose designated the small bedroom next to their own as “baby's room.” Rose knew it was ridiculous, as they would be long removed from the cozy town house before the baby's arrival.
Every bird needs her nest,
she told herself. For weeks she tidied the space, filled it with the dozen baby gowns she and her companions had crafted in the space of an afternoon, and prepared it for the little bundle she found herself longing to hold.

Henri smiled at his wife's antics, but said nothing. Rose suspected he thought her over-eager to welcome their child into the world—something he could not fault in his beloved wife.

But he didn't see the scrubbing.

She took pains to keep her hands from cracking and bleeding. She made sure Agathe never noticed her labors. In fact, she forbade either servant from disturbing the space unless their duties demanded it. She spent more time in the nursery that would never house her child than in any other room in the house.

The more time passed, the more she dreaded leaving their home for the far-flung estate. She would miss her friends, miss the comfort and society of the town, and she would lose this haven she had created for their child. The small corner of the world where she felt certain she could keep her sweet child safe from all the perils that lay beyond its doors.

C
HAPTER
24

 

T
he crowd inside the Beaumonts' new bakery was the largest Elisabeth had ever seen. Pascal, who had turned thirteen and become a full apprentice, manned the ovens with Gilbert. The new bakery assistant, Pascal's younger sister Gabrielle, served customers and took payments. At age nine, she was Pascal's closest sister both in age and affection, both now thrilled to be reunited under the same roof. Pascal had spoken so often of her and seemed so downtrodden after his visits home that Elisabeth persuaded Gilbert to approach the Giroux man about letting her come on as her assistant. It wasn't the formal apprenticeship they had for Pascal. As she was a girl, this sort of arrangement was rarely bound by contracts, but it was a good opportunity for Gabrielle to make a place for herself in society. And going to bed with a full stomach was a more immediate advantage that the reedy child seemed painfully grateful for.

The bakery kept up with local demand, but only just. Though exhausted, Gilbert was proud of the thriving business.

On Gilbert's orders, Elisabeth spent the day upstairs, resting. In the past week, she had not even ventured out to see Nicole or Rose, but relied on them to visit her for company. She still insisted on making dinner, but was grateful that Gilbert always set aside two loaves of bread for their meal.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Gilbert asked as he came upstairs, Gabrielle trailing behind. “You look tired. Did you stay off your feet?”

“Except for making dinner, yes,” Elisabeth said. “I haven't the stamina for anything else.”

“Gabrielle will see to dinner until the baby is born and you've recovered,” Gilbert said. Turning to Gabrielle, he added, “You can leave the shop an hour early to see to supper. Pascal will take over your duties, and I'll manage the ovens during that time.”

“I would love to,” Gabrielle said. “I love to cook when there is good food to be made.”

“I won't argue,” Elisabeth said, smiling at Gabrielle's exuberance. “I've neither the energy nor the desire.”

“Sensible,” Gilbert said.

Elisabeth stuck her tongue out, teasing her husband for his bossy demeanor. His worry grew worse as her time grew nearer, so she rarely protested his commands. The more she helped him keep his calm, the calmer she felt herself, which in turn made the coming ordeal less strenuous.

Gilbert stroked his wife's hair, causing young Gabrielle to smile. Elisabeth imagined seeing a couple that cared for each other was a novelty for the girl.

“I never want to leave,” Gabrielle said. “Your home is so clean and cheerful.”

“I'm glad you're happy here.” Elisabeth had grown fond of the child in the past three weeks. “But the time will come when you want to start a family of your own.”

“Maybe when I'm much older, like you,” the child said, her expression serious, “but not before.”

Gilbert smiled at the unintended insult, but neither he nor Elisabeth took offense. Gabrielle was a hard worker, cut from the same cloth as her brother, and had even better natural skill in the kitchen than Pascal. Elisabeth hoped to train the girl in the pastry making soon, but for now Gabrielle was needed with the customers.

The entire Beaumont house went to bed shortly after dinner, because the work demanded early mornings. Elisabeth had not toiled as hard as the others, but found herself just as anxious to find her bed.

Almost the moment she lay down, however, she felt a strange pop in her abdomen and a surge of waters. A wave of pain followed, as her muscles contracted. A second contraction came hard upon its heels.

“Elisabeth,” Gilbert said. “What's wrong?”

Unable to speak because of the pain, she pointed to her swollen belly.

Without another word, he threw on his coat and went to fetch the midwife. Elisabeth heard him shout for Gabrielle to attend to Madame, and that he would be back shortly.

 

The labor pains came closer and closer until Elisabeth felt no reprieve between them. The pains stole her breath and caused her to scream into her sheet, but it was not the wrenching agony when Adèle was born. It wasn't the unbearable cramping when she lost the others so early on. This was different, as though her body were working with her instead of against her. She was able to keep her wits about her well enough to keep from scaring poor Gabrielle out of hers.

It's going to be fine. This baby will live. He's had long enough to grow. He's strong. Stronger than the others.
She forced herself to repeat the words, but there was still the gray specter of doubt as she recited them. An uncomplicated birth didn't guarantee a healthy child.

Gilbert ushered in the midwife, Sylvie, a kindly woman of fifty-odd years, along with Rose and Nicole, who promised faithfully to let Sylvie perform her duty without their interference. Gilbert motioned for Gabrielle to follow him into the parlor where he would hold vigil until one of the ladies brought him news—whatever it was.

“I'll leave you ladies to your work.” Gilbert's face was the color of Elisabeth's bedsheet and as torn as she'd ever seen him. He didn't want to leave his wife in her hour of need, but he didn't want to see her in pain or impede the midwife as she worked.

“Kiss me,” Elisabeth rasped before he escaped the bedroom. “Please.”

She had her eyes closed against another surge from her midsection, but felt the brush of his lips against her wet brow.
I'll do my best not to fail you again, my love, for there is no chance that I'll allow our hearts to be broken again.

The implication of that made her heart ache. She would have to force Gilbert to sleep in another bed, night after night, until her courses stopped. After a time, any man would be forced to find comfort elsewhere. Gilbert would be more discreet than most. He would always love her, but there was nothing stopping him from falling in love with another. She wiped away a tear and focused on Sylvie's instructions.
There are other things to worry about at the present moment.

Nicole stood to Elisabeth's right and Rose to her left, anticipating her need for a cold compress to her forehead or a hand to grasp to help her through one of her surges.

“You can push when you feel ready, my dear.” Sylvie spoke in tones just above a whisper to Elisabeth and all the expectant mothers in her care. For this reason among others, she was one of the most sought-after midwives in the settlement.

With every push, Elisabeth hoped she was bringing a child to his first breath and not his last. The pain kept her thoughts in a maelstrom that flung them from hope to despair when they were coherent at all. Above all the image of Gilbert's face, manfully hiding his tears, alternated with his face resplendent with joy. One of the two would be before her soon enough.

“Such a fine young lad I've never seen,” proclaimed Sylvie as she handed the swaddled babe to his father. “Your wife did well, Monsieur Beaumont.”

“As I knew she would,” Gilbert said, beaming at his son. “Little Pierre, you are a handsome thing, aren't you?”

“I think you're a might biased, my darling,” Elisabeth chided with a smile.

“As well he should be,” Sylvie said. “I declare I've never seen a child so alert this soon after birth. He's going to be extraordinary, mark my words.”

“May we see him?” Gabrielle asked from the doorway.

“Of course,” Elisabeth said. “Little Pierre will be happy to meet you both.”

“Should he be so purple and wrinkled?” Pascal asked.

Gabrielle jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “That isn't nice, Pascal! He's lovely,” she added, peeking into the blanket-cocoon.

Sylvie chuckled. “He'll look better in a few days, don't you worry.”

“I hope so,” Pascal said. “Else, I don't think he'd get on well with the other boys.”

Gilbert jostled the boy's shoulder, freer from worry than he had been in months.

“To bed with both of you,” he ordered, pointing to the door. “We have a bakery to run in just four hours.”

“Rest now, madame,” said Sylvie, as she prepared to take her leave. “I'll come back in the late morning to check on you.”

“Thank you, Sylvie,” Elisabeth said, grateful to have had her gentle influence in the room.

“My pleasure,” she said, as she left the couple to admire their son.

“Thank
you
so much,” Gilbert said, returning Pierre to his mother. “I can't believe I have a son at last.”

“I know,” Elisabeth said. “I was worried it would never happen.”

“Me too,” Gilbert confessed. “Should I sleep in the other room?”

“You stay right here. I'm doing as well as can be expected,” Elisabeth said, inviting him to bed. “Much better than the last time.”

“Thank God for that,” Gilbert said. “Rest while you can. I'm sure he'll be hungry soon.”

“Too true,” Elisabeth said. “Thank you for letting me name him after my father.”

“It seemed only right,” he said. “Though I'd like the naming of the next Baby Beaumont, if you don't mind.”

“Provided I get to hear the choices in advance,” she said, so euphoric after giving birth that she would have promised him anything.

“I was thinking Fabien for a boy, in honor of my father,” he said. “And Elisabeth for a girl.... We could call her Lisette. I want our daughter named for the best woman I know.”

“The next after that will have to be little Gilbert, for his papa,” Elisabeth said, taking Pierre from his father's arms and cradling him to her breast.

“He's a little Canadian, isn't he?” Gilbert asked, peering over Elisabeth's shoulder at the baby. “He'll probably never see the country where we were born, just as Pascal and Gabrielle will not.”

“That's sad, in a way,” Elisabeth said. “I loved Paris so much.”

“But wonderful in another,” Gilbert said. “We have given him a country all his own. A nation to conquer, if he is strong enough.”

 

Three days later, on a bright Saturday morning, Elisabeth and Gilbert took Pierre to church for his baptism. It was the first time since the re-opening that the shop had been closed, except on Sundays.

Rose and Henri, the godparents, stood at the altar holding the sleeping babe as the priest offered the blessing. Pierre stirred in Rose's arms when the holy water was sprinkled on his forehead, but didn't display his capable lungs, much to his parents' relief.

The child could not have two godmothers, but Nicole had wanted to contribute to the festive occasion, so she had organized a reception at her home after the ceremony. Hélène's baptism had been a quiet proceeding, so soon after Luc's death, so Nicole made Elisabeth allow her full rein to create a lavish affair. The dining table fairly sagged under the weight of the scrumptious dishes.

“Sit, Elisabeth,” Nicole said, ushering her to a plush chair placed toward the center of the parlor. “Enjoy the attention the wee man is getting. I'll fetch you a plate.”

“Thank you,” Elisabeth said, keeping an eye on whoever held Pierre and watching for signs of illness in the guests. Sharing her newborn, even with their nearest friends, was not easy.

The Giroux family attended the fête, due to their children's connection with the Beaumonts. The poor farmers looked ill at ease in Alexandre Lefebvre's spacious residence.

“Please have a plate of something,” Elisabeth said to Pascal's parents, indicating the dining area.

“Very kind of you, madame,” Raymond Giroux said, “but I think we're going to take our leave.”

“What a shame,” Elisabeth said. “You traveled quite a distance. You ought to stay and enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”

“Thank you, madame,” Brigitte said. “We'll collect Pascal and Gabrielle and be off.”

“I was going to bring them home in the carriage this evening,” Gilbert said as he entered from the dining room. “I'd be happy to take you all, to spare you the walk. The evening air is getting brisk.”

“We don't need charity, Beaumont,” Raymond said, his tone disdainful. “We'll take our children and go.”

“We want to stay, Papa,” Pascal said, approaching his father. “We'll be home tonight.”

“You don't tell me what's what, boy,” Raymond said. “I'm still your father. I see now where you're getting your big ideas. I won't have you looking down on me. This job of yours is ending now.”

“Monsieur, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion,” Alexandre interjected. “Monsieur Beaumont will see your children home this evening. If you are not inclined to eat and celebrate the birth of this child, you are free to leave.”

“Think we own the world, do we, Seigneur?” said Raymond, though his tone was much less menacing. “These are my children. I won't have anyone tell me what I can or can't do with them.”

“Papa, please, can't we stay a bit longer?” Gabrielle asked.

Raymond slapped her smartly across her face.

“Did you hear me, girl?” he asked. “We're going home.”

Pascal, noticing that Gabrielle's nose was bleeding, grabbed his father's collar. Giroux's eyes widened with sudden fear.

“Damn you to the deepest fires of hell, old man!” Pascal hissed. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, I'll see you hanged. I'm a full apprentice. I have a contract you can't do a thing about. And Gabrielle isn't going anywhere, either.