pier in her carriage with Madame and Monsieur Girald, along with a growing crowd whom had identified their understated political leaders, and gathered to see them off, waving a white lace handkerchief with the faint hope of being seen.
Soon after they set sail, she made her way to the chapel for a moment of prayer. She did not feel hypocritical or shameful, nor did she beg God’s forgiveness. Her relationship with Armand was preordained. He was her choice, for the brief period of youth when she had been at liberty to make choices. But what Armand had not known was that during those early years, she had not merely tired of his attentiveness, or used him to satisfy her sexual curiosity.
In refusing to speak with him that day long ago, she was attempting to shield them from the futility of their circumstance. The truth, in fact, came from another source. Her jealous sister, Marcella, wishing to find favour with their father, chanced upon the lovers, and apprised her parents of their clandestine relationship.
Her outraged father—angered not only by his cherished daughter’s breach of trust, but by her lowly choice—served her a severe reprimand, and threatened to put Armand to bodily harm, should she in any way persist with the affair. She had therefore been unable to contact her beloved, and took to her room for many days, unwilling to speak with family members.
It was not until a visit from her father, who convinced her that further histrionics would force him to confine her to an asylum or convent, that she reluctantly gave in.
Had she defied her parents and followed her heart they would have been left in penury, without means of support, and living in the fear that if discovered, her father would make good his threat.
And so, it was with Armand gone that she was readmitted into the household, sent on proscribed trips to Paris and abroad, fully indoctrinated into the constrictive life of refined society, and ultimately forced to sublimate her innate sense of fun and adventure, into a life of guilt and rigid adherence to the laws set by others.
Since their night of love, she had felt the return of effervescence, a little of the carefree bliss that lightened her step. Helene Girald was a kind and entertaining hostess, and she knew she would enjoy her stay. She was almost tempted to tell her about Armand, but common sense told her it would be foolish. Instead, she would focus upon a reunion with her son, for a message had been dispatched to Nicholas, apprising him of her visit.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, imagining the bath water had been exchanged for the strong, warm hands of Armand, sweeping her body like a sculptor moulding his statue, and again she was imbued with the awakening of a newfound strength in love.
Chapter 7
Felippe held out his spyglass for Armand, focusing on the rocky pine-topped cliffs rising before them on the distant shore. It had been a day since they had entered the mouth of Lake Ontario, and the difficulty in negotiating the rough currents nearer the shoreline soon forced a move to the safety of open water.
In the six days, since embarkation from Montreal, the weather had been mild—too mild some days; the bare backs of the crew quickly turned a rosy brown as they sedulously laboured, hour upon hour, dipping their oars into the smoky blue of the oft-turbulent river, and thence to the great expanse of Lake Ontario. Accompanied by several Indian guides, their crew members, supplies of lead shot, fresh meat, medicinal compounds, sleeping equipment, knives, brandy (to be given to the natives), and three additional canoes, they considered themselves fully prepared to meet the hardship; having seen little over the past week, with overnight stops at a number of privately-owned outposts. But soon they would arrive at their first official stop, Fort Niagara. From there, they were told, the going
Soon after they set sail, she made her way to the chapel for a moment of prayer. She did not feel hypocritical or shameful, nor did she beg God’s forgiveness. Her relationship with Armand was preordained. He was her choice, for the brief period of youth when she had been at liberty to make choices. But what Armand had not known was that during those early years, she had not merely tired of his attentiveness, or used him to satisfy her sexual curiosity.
In refusing to speak with him that day long ago, she was attempting to shield them from the futility of their circumstance. The truth, in fact, came from another source. Her jealous sister, Marcella, wishing to find favour with their father, chanced upon the lovers, and apprised her parents of their clandestine relationship.
Her outraged father—angered not only by his cherished daughter’s breach of trust, but by her lowly choice—served her a severe reprimand, and threatened to put Armand to bodily harm, should she in any way persist with the affair. She had therefore been unable to contact her beloved, and took to her room for many days, unwilling to speak with family members.
It was not until a visit from her father, who convinced her that further histrionics would force him to confine her to an asylum or convent, that she reluctantly gave in.
Had she defied her parents and followed her heart they would have been left in penury, without means of support, and living in the fear that if discovered, her father would make good his threat.
And so, it was with Armand gone that she was readmitted into the household, sent on proscribed trips to Paris and abroad, fully indoctrinated into the constrictive life of refined society, and ultimately forced to sublimate her innate sense of fun and adventure, into a life of guilt and rigid adherence to the laws set by others.
Since their night of love, she had felt the return of effervescence, a little of the carefree bliss that lightened her step. Helene Girald was a kind and entertaining hostess, and she knew she would enjoy her stay. She was almost tempted to tell her about Armand, but common sense told her it would be foolish. Instead, she would focus upon a reunion with her son, for a message had been dispatched to Nicholas, apprising him of her visit.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, imagining the bath water had been exchanged for the strong, warm hands of Armand, sweeping her body like a sculptor moulding his statue, and again she was imbued with the awakening of a newfound strength in love.
Chapter 7
Felippe held out his spyglass for Armand, focusing on the rocky pine-topped cliffs rising before them on the distant shore. It had been a day since they had entered the mouth of Lake Ontario, and the difficulty in negotiating the rough currents nearer the shoreline soon forced a move to the safety of open water.
In the six days, since embarkation from Montreal, the weather had been mild—too mild some days; the bare backs of the crew quickly turned a rosy brown as they sedulously laboured, hour upon hour, dipping their oars into the smoky blue of the oft-turbulent river, and thence to the great expanse of Lake Ontario. Accompanied by several Indian guides, their crew members, supplies of lead shot, fresh meat, medicinal compounds, sleeping equipment, knives, brandy (to be given to the natives), and three additional canoes, they considered themselves fully prepared to meet the hardship; having seen little over the past week, with overnight stops at a number of privately-owned outposts. But soon they would arrive at their first official stop, Fort Niagara. From there, they were told, the going
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