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SEPTEMBER1817
ROCKYMOUNTAINS, RUPERT’SLAND(CANADA)
Cooking fulfilled Charlotte Durand like little else did.
Maybe not the act of slicing meat and stirring stew over a hot fire, but the steps required to ensure each morsel she prepared would bring her family pleasure. That her food would nourish and strengthen. And, in this case, furnish the setting for a celebration.
The trading party had returned from Fort Versailles.
Laurent’s council had finally opened their solitary village to a small bit of trade with the fort located two days’ ride to the east, but only a couple men went at a time. For this journey, Erik and Monsieur Rochette had been gone five days, returning this afternoon with heaping packs of supplies.
Tonight, their table would be overflowing just like the traders’ packs, and she had so many final preparations to finish. In less than an hour, both men would sup at the Durand table to share news. Who knew what fascinating tidings they’d bring this time? So many people passed in and out ofthe fort’s log walls. . . . Charlotte couldn’t imagine meeting so many strangers every day.
The rear door of their apartment opened, and her father stepped in, brushing something from his hands. Probably rock dust, if he’d been visiting the new homes being cut into the mountainside. “Smells wonderful in here.”
She smiled at him. She was no great chef, not like her good friend Audrey Masters and some of the older women in the village. Her skill had been completely self-taught through testing and watching others and tweaking her own methods based on the results. That had always made her outcome a little different from the rest. But she loved working in the background to make things happen as they should and to keep their home running seamlessly.
And this meal had to be perfect.
Papa had asked her to prepareragoût d’ours, and thankfully the fatty bear meat was almost impossible to scorch.
Papa approached the fire where she stirred the ragoût and inhaled deeply. “Ah, wonderful. Hugo will be pleased.”
She stiffened and glanced at him. “Hugo Lemaire? I thought Erik and Monsieur Rochette were dining with us.”
The chagrin on her father’s face tugged her middle into a knot. “I invited Hugo also. He was interested in hearing news from the fort, and he’ll be trading some of the supplies when our Dinee friends come in a few days.” Papa’s eyes turned hopeful. “He really is such a good man, Charlotte. And he thinks highly of you.”
The knot tightened into a thick coil. Papa had taken the young man under his wing. At first, she’d thought her father’s efforts were simply for Hugo’s benefit, to help him return to a better path after the mistakes he made in hisyouth—especially the debacle with Gerald that nearly took her sister’s life.
But Papa had clearly seen something he liked in the fellow, and the more time they spent together, the more her father spoke his praises specifically toherwhen Hugo wasn’t around. She’d finally come to terms with the truth: Her father thought Hugo should be her match. Hugo had made his interest clear, too, even in his shy way.
Could he really think she was interested in the man? Had he not seen the times she’d gone out of her way to avoid Hugo’s presence or turned the conversation when Papa droned on about the fellow’s growing list of good qualities? Hugo had come far in the past few years, exchanging his slothful ways for a trade where he worked hard. He’d even stopped mumbling, as he’d once been known for, though now his shyness kept him even quieter than before.
Still, he wasn’t the man for her. Every part of her cringed at the thought.
The look on Papa’s face now was almost sappy, as though he was caught up in the possibility of budding amour. He resembled more a meddling mother than the wise chief of Laurent she’d always considered him.
She had to stop this. If she didn’t speak plainly now, he would keep on with this matchmaking until he went too far. Once he knew exactly how she felt about the man, Papa would leave it alone. Surely. He cared about his children’s happiness. He’d always been the best of fathers.
Rising so she could face him, she steeled herself to speak the hard words. She hated confrontation, but getting this over with would stop the situation from growing worse. She never raised a stir if she could help it. Hopefully all thosetimes she’d passively given in to his requests would help him do the same for her now.
Her father lifted his brows, waiting for her to speak. Probably expecting a simple request, like for him to bring an extra pot of water or to borrow Audrey’s larger stewpot.
She let out a breath. “Papa. I need to talk with you about Hugo.”
His brows rose even higher, and a hint of a hopeful smile played at his mouth. “Yes?”
She steeled her nerves and started in. “You’ve made it clear you like him and feel he would be a good match for me. I’ve not been straightforward with my feelings on the matter, but it’s time I do so. I’m glad Hugo has come so far under your tutelage. I’m glad he’s become a respectable citizen now.”Instead of the lazy vagabond he was only a few years ago.“But I don’t want to marry him. I feel no attraction toward him. No deeper sentiment.”
None of the fiery sparks that lit between her sister Brielle and her husband, even two years after their marriage. Watching the pair together had shown Charlotte a passion she wanted for herself. If she were ever to marry, she wanted that depth of connection with her husband.
And Hugo Lemaire inspired no such reaction.
“Charlotte,mon chou.” Papa’s voice took on that coddling tone he’d used back when she was a girl and he urged her to eat one of Brielle’s scorched attempts at biscuits. “You’ve grown up alongside Hugo, so I understand how you might think of him as only a friend, not a potential husband. But I think if you work to adjust your thinking, you’ll find him the perfect match for your personality. He’s quiet and thoughtful, just like you. He’s become such a hard worker,taking pride in everything he does. The two of you would have a pleasant, productive home.”
Pleasant. Productive. Not her primary goals in a marriage.
