Queen of Swords
Page 50
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She would send away for books on Africa, and together she and Adam would read those stories, too.
Jennet resolved that she would do everything in her power for this boy, who had been sent, she had no doubt, to take the place of the child she had conceived on the night Honoré Poiterin agreed to take her own son away to safety. The child she had wished dead, and who had died, but was now given back to her.
Jacinthe had brought him into the world alone, crouched in some alley in her travail. That he had survived at all was a miracle. He might have come dead to the world, as Helen’s child had. A dead daughter born of a dead mother.
It was always a surprise, how much blood the human body could hold. Hannah and Maman Zuzu had worked hard to stop the bleeding, and then Dr. Savard had come, fetched by Julia, and together they had failed. Helen was gone, and somewhere in this overcrowded city the four children she had hidden away were waiting for her to return.
To Maman Zuzu, Hannah had said, “Will you ask? Will you see if you can find out where they are? I will pay to have them brought here.”
The old woman hadn’t been cruel, but neither had she offered any comfort. The chances were slim, but she would ask.
Then Dr. Savard had put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. He said, “She has her own to worry about now, but ask Ben. Ben will find them, if they are anywhere to be found.”
He could do more for the young Chickasaw girl, who would be alone when her grandfather died, as must happen within hours or days. She would be brought into the household, Julia told Jennet. There were so many orphans, they would do what they could for her.
Jennet should have fallen directly to sleep, once she had washed and changed and nursed both babies. When the nursemaid came to fetch Nathaniel and found two children where there had been one, she hadn’t even blinked, nor had she asked any questions. Jennet was thankful. Tomorrow was soon enough to cope with Mrs. Livingston.
The maids had done their work, so that if she had wanted occupation, there was precious little to do. Her few gowns were clean and carefully pressed, as were all of Luke’s things. This household, overseen by Mrs. Livingston and her formidable mother, was ordered enough to please even the housekeeper at Carryckcastle; everything smelled of freshly aired linen, lavender water, starch, beeswax.
She had been far more comfortable in the crowded apartment above the kine-pox clinic, with Hannah sleeping beside her and the smell of damp swaddling clothes in the air.
On the table that stood between the windows was a porcelain vase that held a long spray of ivy, and Jennet’s tarot cards. Mrs. Livingston had got into the habit of coming by to ask Jennet to read the cards for her. A small secret, she whispered to Jennet. A diversion in difficult times. Her mother would not understand, of course, but she and Jennet were women of broader experience in the world.
Now Jennet took the cards in hand and sat for a moment concentrating on the weight and shape of them. The softened edges, slightly rough against her palm. She tried to recall the first deck she had had, which she had left behind her in Canada, the shapes and colors. No more could she remember the face of the lady who had given them to her, on her way to Canada for the first time, excited beyond measure. Mme. Rojas had told her she would travel, and Jennet had laughed in delight at this new game. She had understood very little, but she had learned. She had come to understand how the cards worked, how they could open the mind to possibility. One card was sometimes enough.
She turned it, and setting her hands on the table, Jennet let her weariness and imagination lead the way.
PART III
The Chariot: Strength, bravery, vigilance, endurance, discipline. In troubled times the efforts of one extraordinary person can turn the tide.
Chapter 44
Jennet found the letter on her pillow, along with a note in Mrs. Livingston’s delicate hand.
Mrs. Bonner, this letter came with the post-rider some days ago, and was waiting at the post office to be claimed. My brother August D’Avezac saw it there today and took it in your name. I pray that the news it brings you in these difficult days is welcome.
Louisa Livingston
The letter, stained and creased from a long journey, had first gone to the care of Mrs. Preston on the Bayou St. John, and then been returned to the post office because no one had been at home at the Maison Verde.
Elizabeth Bonner had written the address.
She should wait for Luke, or go to Hannah; she could rise and dress and ask for an escort to walk with her back to the clinic.
Jennet opened the seal, and unfolded the two sheets of paper, closely written.
Dearest Children,
We are in possession of the letters you wrote to us in late August from the Island of the Manatees in the French Antilles, as well as Luke’s letter from Pensacola written almost two weeks later.
To say that we were relieved to hear your initial report of Jennet’s safe recovery would be an understatement of the first order. Indeed, we talked of little else for three days, all of us gathered together either here in our kitchen or in Mrs. Freeman’s. The letter from Pensacola arrived yesterday, and has brought us back together to discuss your difficult situation.
You must understand that we are full of gratitude that Jennet has been safely returned to the care of her family. Once young Nathaniel has been restored to you, and she has had sufficient time and peace of mind, I believe she will recover. We hope that you will come to us for that purpose.
No doubt you can imagine that there has been considerable debate here on how best to help you. Uncharacteristically we came to a common resolve very quickly: None of us can bear to sit by and wait for word. In the end we have come to a conclusion that may not surprise you.
Jennet resolved that she would do everything in her power for this boy, who had been sent, she had no doubt, to take the place of the child she had conceived on the night Honoré Poiterin agreed to take her own son away to safety. The child she had wished dead, and who had died, but was now given back to her.
Jacinthe had brought him into the world alone, crouched in some alley in her travail. That he had survived at all was a miracle. He might have come dead to the world, as Helen’s child had. A dead daughter born of a dead mother.
It was always a surprise, how much blood the human body could hold. Hannah and Maman Zuzu had worked hard to stop the bleeding, and then Dr. Savard had come, fetched by Julia, and together they had failed. Helen was gone, and somewhere in this overcrowded city the four children she had hidden away were waiting for her to return.
To Maman Zuzu, Hannah had said, “Will you ask? Will you see if you can find out where they are? I will pay to have them brought here.”
The old woman hadn’t been cruel, but neither had she offered any comfort. The chances were slim, but she would ask.
Then Dr. Savard had put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. He said, “She has her own to worry about now, but ask Ben. Ben will find them, if they are anywhere to be found.”
He could do more for the young Chickasaw girl, who would be alone when her grandfather died, as must happen within hours or days. She would be brought into the household, Julia told Jennet. There were so many orphans, they would do what they could for her.
Jennet should have fallen directly to sleep, once she had washed and changed and nursed both babies. When the nursemaid came to fetch Nathaniel and found two children where there had been one, she hadn’t even blinked, nor had she asked any questions. Jennet was thankful. Tomorrow was soon enough to cope with Mrs. Livingston.
The maids had done their work, so that if she had wanted occupation, there was precious little to do. Her few gowns were clean and carefully pressed, as were all of Luke’s things. This household, overseen by Mrs. Livingston and her formidable mother, was ordered enough to please even the housekeeper at Carryckcastle; everything smelled of freshly aired linen, lavender water, starch, beeswax.
She had been far more comfortable in the crowded apartment above the kine-pox clinic, with Hannah sleeping beside her and the smell of damp swaddling clothes in the air.
On the table that stood between the windows was a porcelain vase that held a long spray of ivy, and Jennet’s tarot cards. Mrs. Livingston had got into the habit of coming by to ask Jennet to read the cards for her. A small secret, she whispered to Jennet. A diversion in difficult times. Her mother would not understand, of course, but she and Jennet were women of broader experience in the world.
Now Jennet took the cards in hand and sat for a moment concentrating on the weight and shape of them. The softened edges, slightly rough against her palm. She tried to recall the first deck she had had, which she had left behind her in Canada, the shapes and colors. No more could she remember the face of the lady who had given them to her, on her way to Canada for the first time, excited beyond measure. Mme. Rojas had told her she would travel, and Jennet had laughed in delight at this new game. She had understood very little, but she had learned. She had come to understand how the cards worked, how they could open the mind to possibility. One card was sometimes enough.
She turned it, and setting her hands on the table, Jennet let her weariness and imagination lead the way.
PART III
The Chariot: Strength, bravery, vigilance, endurance, discipline. In troubled times the efforts of one extraordinary person can turn the tide.
Chapter 44
Jennet found the letter on her pillow, along with a note in Mrs. Livingston’s delicate hand.
Mrs. Bonner, this letter came with the post-rider some days ago, and was waiting at the post office to be claimed. My brother August D’Avezac saw it there today and took it in your name. I pray that the news it brings you in these difficult days is welcome.
Louisa Livingston
The letter, stained and creased from a long journey, had first gone to the care of Mrs. Preston on the Bayou St. John, and then been returned to the post office because no one had been at home at the Maison Verde.
Elizabeth Bonner had written the address.
She should wait for Luke, or go to Hannah; she could rise and dress and ask for an escort to walk with her back to the clinic.
Jennet opened the seal, and unfolded the two sheets of paper, closely written.
Dearest Children,
We are in possession of the letters you wrote to us in late August from the Island of the Manatees in the French Antilles, as well as Luke’s letter from Pensacola written almost two weeks later.
To say that we were relieved to hear your initial report of Jennet’s safe recovery would be an understatement of the first order. Indeed, we talked of little else for three days, all of us gathered together either here in our kitchen or in Mrs. Freeman’s. The letter from Pensacola arrived yesterday, and has brought us back together to discuss your difficult situation.
You must understand that we are full of gratitude that Jennet has been safely returned to the care of her family. Once young Nathaniel has been restored to you, and she has had sufficient time and peace of mind, I believe she will recover. We hope that you will come to us for that purpose.
No doubt you can imagine that there has been considerable debate here on how best to help you. Uncharacteristically we came to a common resolve very quickly: None of us can bear to sit by and wait for word. In the end we have come to a conclusion that may not surprise you.
