TheCourageuxfinally swept into French waters after five chancy weeks. On a blustery September day, beneath sapphire skies, they saw land as the sun shone down on a coastline considerably cooler than Virginia’s. At last, Bleu led them off the ship and into Nantes, a sprawling, chaotic city made more confusing by the different languages sounding all around them. A veritable Tower of Babel.
Not far from the docks was the River Loire and theaubergewhere they’d stay till they made their next plans.The White Crosslooked medieval but proved a refuge with clean, commodious rooms. Despite his Acadian patois, Bleu soon had them comfortably lodged, but only after an hour of waiting for theirletter de passefrom French authorities enabling them to travel.
The inn sat in the shadow of theChâteau des Ducs de Bretagne—the castle of the Dukes of Brittany—a massive granite hulk boasting towers, moat, and drawbridge. Cast back to the fairytales of heryouth, Brielle half expected to see a damsel, knight, and dragon amid all that grey stone.
Though unutterably grateful to be on land, she was seized with a sudden homesickness for the familiar sights and sounds along the Rivanna, particularly the peace she’d found in the riverside chapel. There were churches here, too, small and large, just vastly different than America’s. Nantes was layered and dense and centuries old whereas the colonies were young and raw and expansive.
Once they’d changed, they met for supper in the lively common room. Brielle couldn’t complain about the fare or the small miracle that her appetite was returning. Hefty servings of roast mutton seasoned with fragrant herbs, boiled vegetables, and crustybouleserved with butter and cheese made them forget the ship’s stale biscuits and salted cod. She ate carefully, savoring every bite, careful not to overtax her still sore stomach. All of them were a tad thinner than when they’d left Virginia, and a ravenous Bleu seemed determined to reverse that.
“Have sometarte aux pommeswithcrème,” Bleu encouraged, passing dessert.
Brielle eyed such richness warily along with the coffee he drank, a thick, black brew that smelled like burnt wood. She wanted nothing more than a cup of tea, the latter which he managed adroitly without her even asking.
She gazed at the stoneware cup and breathed in the scent of oolong. The attentive tavern maid even brought sugar. Brielle smiled her thanks, contentment stealing through her, as she met Bleu’s eyes across the table and found them shining with relief.
Every protective instinct Bleu had reared up and left him determined to regain all that Brielle had lost on the rough journey. If it had been any longer he wasn’t sure she’d have madeit. Another reason for her to remain in France. A return voyage might finish her.
Though he’d regained his feet fairly soon at sea, his own passage was so fraught with regret and apprehension that it marred his own enjoyment of the maritime world he found fascinating. He’d not been much beyondBaie Francaisein Acadie though he’d portaged and plied many inland waters. Much of Canada’s wilderness was known to him but the Atlantic was a world apart.
“You shall turn me plump as a partridge,” Brielle teased as if to alleviate his obvious concern.
“We will stay right here till you regain your strength.” Looking at Nadine, he added, “After supper I’ll make inquiries about your family.”
Nadine pushed away her empty plate with a satisfied sigh, as spirited as Brielle was spent. “I shan’t rest till you do.”
He pondered their next move as Brielle sipped her tea to the music of a fiddle and flute in a far corner while patrons ate and smoked and conversed.
She seemed a bit lost as she gazed out a large bank of windows, the Nantes sun sinking to the west. “I didn’t expect this city to be so grand.”
“Twice the size of Philadelphia,” he told her. “Good reason for you to stay close to me. I have signed you in as Madame Galant, besides.”
Her smile, so seldom seen of late, turned his heart over. Though she didn’t say another word he read much in her eyes. Could she read much in his? They held hers a fraction too long for propriety’s sake though he,un sauvage canadien, hardly bent to civility.
“I suppose I shall pretend to be Madame Galant’s lady’s maid,” Nadine jested.
He winked. “At least till you’re reunited with your family.”
The next day Nadine found her family on the outskirts of Nantes and, once they’d seen her safely settled, Brielle walked about the city with Bleu. When they happened upon a mantua maker’s shop as well as a tailor’s, one of dozens in the city, they tarried. Being a mecca for imported Indian chintzes and painted Chinese silks, warehouses were available to purchase ready-made garments. Surrounded by so many sumptuous choices, Brielle felt she’d stepped into a fairytale. They emerged hours later with parcels in arms and more to follow, hiring sedan chairs to navigate the narrow, crowded, and often filthy streets.
“And I thought my Lyonnaise silk would be enough,” Brielle told him as they reached their lodging and climbed the stairs to their rooms. “How is it possible for you to finance my entire wardrobe—and yours besides?”
“Possible?” Bleu chuckled. “For most of my life I have wandered the North American wilderness. Eating in the wilds and sleeping in the open requires very little coin.”
“And now you’ll exchange your rustic garb for tailored garments.” A far cry from the frontiersman he’d been when they’d first met.
He balanced their parcels and opened her door besides. “Next week should find us ready.”
“Ready to go upriver and meet thecomte?” Her eyes widened. Next week seemed too soon. “Shall we send word ahead of our coming?”
He hesitated. “The element of surprise might be best.”
She wondered. Perhaps being warned of their coming increased their chances of being turned away. “Will we go by carriage?”
“Non, by barge or pinnace.”
She sighed in dismay. “Another boat?”
“On a placid river.” His eyes held hers in what seemed a promise. “Nomal de mer.”
