A long way from home (Slow updates)

Chapter 3

Marguerite was pulling weeds from the garden, sweat beading down her brow. She wiped it away furiously, focusing at the task at hand. Hélène watched from a distance, wondering what had gotten into her sister, who was usually calm and collected, even though she hated pulling weeds.

Marguerite was still thinking of what her mother had told them the night before, but could not even begin to think of it becoming a reality. She stopped her furious weed pulling to look up from the dirt, looking around the garden, to the farmhouse, the bier, the scant trees nearby. Her home. Could I really leave France? She thought to herself. She didn’t know if she would be able to. All she knew was France, their little plot of land and her family.

And who was this Aunt Jaqueline of hers? She had never met the woman in her life! Her mother had told them that their Uncle Guillaume and Aunt Jaqueline had only one child, Lisette, who had passed from smallpox as a young child. How would she know how to care for them? Marguerite and Jean had been caring for their siblings for months now. Surely they knew more about raising children than this Aunt of theirs?

The whole idea of this absurd plan made her feel uneasy. But it was too late to protest or think the matter through; their mother had already made her decision, and had made arrangements with the physician to be brought to the holy sisters in less than a month’s time. They were to sell the little farmhouse for whatever they could and bring only what they needed.

And how would they tell their siblings? Marguerite looked over to where Helene and Marie were making candles, laughing. She wondered how they would take it. Would they be angry? They couldn’t be angry with their mother; even Marguerite wasn’t angry with their mother. She knew her mother was only doing what she could for them.

“Marguerite! Marguerite!” She looked up from her work to see Marie hurrying towards her, her little feet kicking up dust. “Hélène got wax on my apron!” The little girl pouted, her hands gripping the grey apron, holding it out so her sister could see.

“I did not! Marie did it!” Helene protested, holding out the wooden rod with long strings hanging from it, small bits of wax gripping them.

Marguerite let a small smile slip through her serious gaze. “It is alright. We will get it off. Somehow.” She watched her younger sister wander off after. Then she stood, and looking at the position of the sun in the sky, she decided it was time to start fixing dinner for her family. Hopefully Jean emerged from the forest where he’d been hiding out all day.

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Jean was tramping his way back to the little farmhouse, his father’s old musket in his hand. Louis couldn’t keep up with his older brother, with his strides being much longer than his own. He seemed distracted, not speaking, being short tempered.

“I wonder when Maman will get better. Soon hopefully.” Louis was trying to be optimistic, hoping his brother would speak to him. He didn’t like the tense silence that surrounded his brother.

“She isn’t getting better.” Jean kept walking as he muttered to himself. He hated this secret he and Marguerite were keeping. The others would find out soon enough, why not tell them now?

“What? Jean, what do you mean?” Louis felt panic grip him.

Jean sighed. “Louis, Maman is not going to get better. She’s too sick.”

“Then what will happen to us? Will we keep the farm?” Jean became silent again, and Louis had a feeling of foreboding. He wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

“Marguerite will take care of you.”

Louis felt his cheeks go red. “I don’t need Marguerite to take care of me! I can take care of myself!”

Jean didn’t pay attention to Louis’ childish pride. He was too busy wondering what they were going to do about the boat fare. The small village nearby was currently frequented by a man looking for strong backs and wives for the colony. He claimed to be taking ship soon, and warned all who were interested to decide soon. It would do no good to leave after this ship set sail, and arrive with no time to plant, or worse, in the dead of winter.

Their little farmhouse and plot of land should sell for a decent price. But would it be enough for the five of them?

There was the other option, the Fille du Roy option. But Marguerite would not stand for it.

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Jean pondered over the problem of money for nearly a week, wondering what he was going to do. If he couldn’t make enough money from the farmhouse, he would have to use what little money they had to make up the rest. Which would mean they would have nothing for the New World.

He knew his Aunt was going to feed and house them, but he also knew he would need even a little bit of money to be able to even start a trade. He knew he couldn’t leave anyone behind. Either they all went or no one went.

It was then he began devising his plan.

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A month later…

Marguerite was trying not to cry. Her heart wrenched, but she had to be strong for her sisters.

They were currently watching the nun’s work, getting their mother out of her sick bed and having her hoisted into a wagon, to be brought to the nunnery. The nuns were also cleansing her mother’s room, muttering prayers.

Marie was holding on the Marguerite’s leg, sobbing and soaking her dress. Hélène had finished crying and was now holding on to Marie’s hand, her face red and blotchy, still too angry to speak to Marguerite. They both didn’t understand. Or at least they didn’t understand the way Jean and Marguerite did.

They didn’t understand why they were to sell their home. Or why their mother had to leave. They were also equally confused as to why they had to leave France. Their home was here, on this little plot of land.

Hélène was the most stubborn of the younger siblings. Marguerite knew they were in for trouble when Jean told them to pack a trunk with the things they needed most. She knew Hélène would be the problem.

She not only refused to pack her trunk, be refused to budge from bed every morning. Following her example, for unknown reasons, was Marie. Which left Marguerite to pack three trunks while her sisters undermined her, unpacking whenever they had the chance. It was getting exhausting, and she wished her sisters would comply.

When she went to Jean for help, he simply told her sisters to stop being so stubborn and accept what was about to happen. This did not quiet their rebellion either.

Marguerite was tired of this journey they hadn’t even taken yet. And she knew they had a long way to go.

Note: The Fille du Roy (Daughter of the King) was organized by the King of France to have orphaned girls be sent to New France to find husbands and populate the colony. Each girl enrolled was given a trunk with things she would need, like linens, sewing supplies, gloves and a bit of money. Once arrived in Canada, they had 6 months to find a husband, or return to France and become a nun.