Castles and kings, courtiers, balls and queens—another life across the ocean.
Adriaen Clavell threw the slop out to the hogs. She wiped her hands on her soiled apron and watched the squealing swine fight for their share of the day’s meal. She started into the barn. The young woman placed one hand on her swollen belly and twirled around in a circle, swinging the empty bucket in her other hand.
“Interesting dance partner you have there.”
“Madeleine!” Adriaen stopped, almost bumping into her sister-in-law. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
The two were not technically sisters-in-law, but they thought of themselves as such. The young Dutch woman was married to the brother of Madeleine’s first husband, now deceased. “I was . . . I was thinking about . . .”
She paused. Was the world of the royal palace of Versailles as dazzling as Adriaen had always heard? Had Madeleine in fact been the one true love of Louis the Sun King? She knew that Madeleine and her husband, Pierre Boveé, a former courtier, had met at a ball, but they rarely spoke of those days. Sometimes Adriaen felt as if there were a room in the house stacked with chests that contained fascinating and delicious secrets of their former life in France. But it was a room in which she obviously was not welcome.
It wasn’t that the Clavells didn’t love her. She knew they loved her deeply. It was that they had started a new life, and she was a part of that life—not the old one. They seemed to desire to forget the past completely. Still, Adriaen was curious to know more about their parents and the estate in Grenoble and . . .
Madeleine threw corn out onto the ground. “Here, chick, chick, chick!” She laughed at Adriaen, nearly fifteen years her junior. “You were in another world. Have you checked for eggs?”
“Not yet.” She rubbed her tummy. “I was daydreaming about the world that you and Pierre came from. It had to be exciting, to dance at the balls and wear the beautiful gowns.”
Madeleine hesitated for what seemed an eternity, then answered Adriaen in a voice barely above a whisper. “The gowns were beautiful, and the balls were spectacular.”
Adriaen held her breath. “Please, do go on.”
Madeleine cocked her head and looked away. “What I remember most about the balls was the myriad of colors in the gowns. Vivid blues, reds, greens—and gold—gold was everywhere. On the walls, in the paintings, on the furniture. The colors captured one’s senses and . . .” Madeleine paused. “However, it was a world that appeared glamorous on the surface and lulled you into contentment, then pulled you under with an unseen hand and suffocated you. Your values, your life.” She shook her head. “Sometimes one was not aware of the quiet encroachment upon one’s morals until it was too late.”
“But I love hearing how you and Pierre met at a bal masque. And how you appealed to King Louis to call off the dragoons, and—”
Madeleine’s mouth grew tight. “And how François was sentenced to the galleys for his faith; and how he contracted consumption, which resulted in his early death, leaving me a widow with three children; and how Vangie was kidnapped; and how Pierre was thrown in the Bastille? It’s easy to dream about the glamour and forget the reality.”
Adriaen blushed. “I’m sorry, Madeleine. That was insensitive of me.” She sat down on the end of the feed trough and fanned herself with her apron.
“How are you feeling this evening?”
“I’m feeling well, but the baby wears me out.”
“Moving around a lot? It seems . . . are you sure you are only six months along?”
Adriaen laughed. “As best as we can calculate. Feels like he’s turning somersaults.”
“He?”
Adriaen nodded. “I think so. And Jean prays so.”
Madeleine smiled. “God will give you what he wills. But I know that Jean longs for a son.”
“It was terrible for him to lose both baby and wife in childbirth.”
“Yes. It was a difficult time. I know Jean rarely speaks of it, but it crushed him.” Madeleine patted Adriaen’s hand. “I’m grateful he met you while we were in Amsterdam.” She started toward the henhouse. “I’ll go see if we have more eggs.”
Adriaen pushed herself up. “I don’t mind. Here, let me do that for you.” She followed Madeleine into the domain of the clucking hens.
Madeleine held the basket and watched the young woman pluck the eggs from underneath the hens with a nimble hand. “I never have gotten the knack for that. The hens always seem to get angry at me. I’m afraid I am not a very good farmhand.”
“I grew up doing this.” Adriaen waved her hand over the landscape as they started for the house. “And nonsense. Look how you’ve brought the property to life. The vegetables flourish, and the flowers grow more prolific every day. You have a knack for growing things.”
“God has sent abundant rain this spring, and your touch with the flowering bulbs you brought from the Netherlands is almost supernatural.” Madeleine handed the basket of eggs to Adriaen, then stooped down and cleared debris from the blooming lilies of the valley, narcissi, and daffodils around the porch. She plucked a handful of daffodils and stood to watch Pierre in the corral, currying his beloved black Percheron. The stallion had survived the ocean voyage six years ago, but he was getting old. Pierre would be lost when Tonnerre died. The whole family would be devastated.
Adriaen knew about the time when Pierre and Jean rescued Vangie from the convent. Jean had told her about it, as had Vangie herself, who still called Pierre by the pet name Prince she had given him as a child. That Tonnerre would make the journey across the ocean with them, although the price was costly, seemed completely natural.
Adriaen shook her head. It seemed unconscionable that their horse made it off the ship without consequence, but Philippe and Charles had not. The family’s money chest had been stolen on board, and the boys had to be auctioned off to redemptioners to pay the remainder of their ocean journey debt. Adriaen had heard Madeleine declare over and over again that she trusted God to take care of the boys, but she didn’t know how the woman had been able to bear the separation from her sons these past six years.
Adriaen carried the eggs into the kitchen where Claudine—the children’s governess in France, now simply a member of the household— was beginning preparations for the evening meal. Vangie sat in front of the fireplace with a quilt over her knees, washing an early crop of onions and placing them in a basket.
Madeleine followed her sister-in-law into the kitchen, got a goblet off the shelf, and poured water into it from a pitcher on the table. She stuck the daffodils into the makeshift vase. Claudine, who had taken over the kitchen duties since their arrival in the New World, stirred the bubbling kettle over the fireplace.
Vangie tossed several onions into the stew. “Those daffodils are pretty, Maman.”
“Yes, aren’t they?” Madeleine arranged the blossoms and stared into space as she fingered them.
“Maman? What are you thinking about?”
“What I’m always thinking about—the boys.” Madeleine walked over to twelve-year-old Vangie and gave her a hug, then sat across from her daughter in another rocker. “I wonder if they are well. I wonder if they are hungry, if they are cold, if they are being treated well.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t worry so much about Philippe. I miss him terribly, but the Barringtons are kind to him. And he will be home in a few weeks.” She laid her slender hand over her heart. “I can hardly wait. But I can’t help but worry about Charles.”
“I know, Maman.” Vangie reached out and patted her mother’s knee.
The child’s skin was pale and transparent, and Madeleine worried that her youngest would never recover her health after the hardships she’d endured as a little girl.
“Don’t we have almost enough money to pay out his debt?” Vangie asked. “Won’t we be able to bring Charles home soon too?”
Madeleine smiled. “I hope so, ma petite. I hope so.”
Pierre and Jean came onto the porch, stomping the mud off their feet. Jean opened the door and looked around the room. “Adriaen?”
“I’m right here.” The young woman, holding a bowl of stew in her hand, stepped around from behind Claudine.
Jean strode to her side and put his hand on her belly. “Is the baby well? Active?”
Adriaen laughed and set the bowl down on the table. She reached up and kissed Jean on the cheek. “We are fine, my solicitous husband. We are just fine.”
Jean tugged on her thick braid. “Wanted to make sure.”
Pierre hung his hat on a peg next to the door. “I can hardly get any work out of him these days. All he wants to do is check on you and the baby.” The former courtier walked over to Madeleine, who was setting plates on the table, and gave her a hug. “But can’t say as I blame him. We’ve been married over six years now, and I’d rather be with my wife than anybody else.”
Madeleine snuggled next to him. “Even Tonnerre?”
“Hmm, you may have some competition there.”
Madeleine gave him a playful swat. “I’ve always suspected as much. Did you two wash up outside? Dinner is ready.”
Pierre held up his hands and showed both sides to his wife. “Clean as a whistle.” He scratched his cheek, where a full beard had replaced his fashionable goatee. “My beard needs trimming. It’s getting a mite scraggly.”
Madeleine reached up and stroked his beard with the back of her fingers. “I like it, and you’re still most handsome and dashing.”
Pierre made a mock bow and kissed her hand. “And you, my fair madame, are still the loveliest one at the ball.” He held Madeleine’s hand and spun her around as a roll of thunder rumbled in the distance. Pierre went to the window. “I thought those looked like rain clouds. I need to check on the horses.” Turning back to Madeleine, he bowed again. “We shall finish our dance when I return, Madame.”
“Ach, Pierre. Go on, but do hurry. Dinner is ready.”
“I’ll be right back.” He ran out the door as raindrops began to pelt the roof.
Madeleine chuckled. “The horses always come first.”
“He knows his business with them, that’s a fact.” Jean started for the door. “I’ll see if he needs help.” He turned back and pointed at Adriaen. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She laughed. “I shall be right here. But I think we may go ahead and eat.”
Madeleine nodded. “The cornbread is ready.”
Jean grabbed a poncho off a peg and ran out the door after Pierre into rain that had started to come down harder. “Be back as quick as we can.”
“Vangie, come. Supper is ready.” Madeleine pulled the quilt off her daughter’s lap and extended her hand. “The stew has fresh carrots out of the garden in it. You love cooked carrots.”
Claudine cut the cornbread, and the women gathered around the table. Madeleine and Vangie sat on one side, Adriaen and Claudine on the other, leaving the end spots for the men. They bowed their heads, and Madeleine spoke a blessing over the meal.
Vangie looked at her mother as Madeleine dished the steaming stew into a bowl for her. “Maman, I’m not feeling very well. May I be excused and go to bed?”
“Oh, Vangie. Try to eat a bit of something. It will make you feel better.”
Vangie ducked her head and picked up her spoon, but the utensil dropped from her grip.
“Vangie! You’re trembling.” Madeleine touched her daughter’s face.
“I feel a little weak. I just want to rest.”
“Try to eat a few bites. That will give you some strength.”
The young girl picked up her spoon again and ate two or three bites, then excused herself and pushed away from the table. Madeleine stood up with her, but Vangie shooed her away. “I’m fine . . . really, Maman. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.” She made her way to the small room behind the fireplace that she shared with Claudine.
Madeleine sat down, and Adriaen reached across the table and patted Madeleine’s hand. “She’s just tired, Madeleine. She’ll be fine.”
“I’m not so sure. Nothing seems to make her better.”
Claudine got up from the table. “I forgot the butter.”
“Thank you, Claudine.” Madeleine took the butter from her former servant. “You have been a loyal . . . a loyal part of our family for so many years. How old were you when you first came to be the children’s governess in France? About twenty?”
“Oui, I was nineteen.”
“You are still young. Do you desire to have a family of your own?”
“I think about it sometimes, but you all are my family.”
“It’s not like having your own children. If a young man should come along who pleases your fancy, we would be so happy for you.”
Claudine blushed and fidgeted with her apron. “I’m an old maid by now, Madame.”
“Nonsense. You’re just reaching your prime.”
“Madeleine, you’re embarrassing her.” Adriaen smiled as she passed Claudine the cornbread.
“Well, you never know what God is going to do. Don’t dismiss the idea.”
Pierre and Jean burst through the door, shaking the rain off their ponchos.
“It appears Tonnerre is going to be a daddy again tonight!” Pierre announced. “The black mare is ready to foal.”
“It will be a long night in the barn,” Jean added.
A thud and crash shuddered through the house at the same time that lightning struck nearby. Madeleine jumped up from her chair. “What was that?”
Jean looked outside. “Just a bolt of lightning a bit too close.”
“No, there was something else.” Madeleine ran toward Vangie’s room, with Pierre and the others close behind her. “Vangie! Vangie!”
The young girl lay on the floor with a chair toppled beside her. “I . . . I got dizzy.”
“Oh dear. Are you hurt?” Madeleine knelt beside her daughter. Blood oozed a bright red trail down the side of the girl’s face. “You are hurt.”
Pierre picked Vangie up and laid her on the bed. “Ah, ma princesse, what have we here? Looks like you bumped your head pretty hard.”
Madeleine handed the lamp to Pierre and pulled the girl’s dark hair aside. “Umm, yes, you have a pretty good cut there. Claudine, would you get some clean towels and water so I can clean this up, please?”
Pierre held the lamp closer. “Do we need to send for the doctor?”
Madeleine brushed Vangie’s hair back and looked closer at the cut. “The bleeding is already slowing down,” she said. “She will be fine.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead and straightened up. “You gave us a scare, ma fille. You’re going to have a bump and a headache in the morning.”
“I’m sorry, Maman. I sat down to take off my shoes and dropped my book. When I bent down to get it, I . . . I just got dizzy.”
Claudine handed Madeleine the cloths and water.
“What can I do?” Adriaen sat down on the bed.
“Hold her hair back while I wash off this blood.”
Pierre held the lantern so the women could see. They finished and bade Vangie good night.
Adriaen saw Madeleine look at Pierre with a tight-lipped expression and concern in her eyes. She didn’t blame her. Adriaen would be worried as well if Vangie were her child.