There! Sorry that took a lot of time, but I had oh-so much work to do last week with my midterms… *sigh* but now it's over, and I have my "fall-break" : a whole week to myself! So here's the next chapter… Sorry for any mistakes… My Word corrector is crazy, and I wanted to post this asap…
Enjoy!
Water
December 10, 1755
Mercy pat Belle's back, a worried look in her eyes. "Belle…" The blonde woman raised a hand to stop her as she pulled away from the railing, wiping her mouth.
"I'm not sick, Mercy." The brunette shook her head.
"I never said that, Belle. But you've been sick for days, every day… Maybe… Maybe there's something else going on." Belle shot Mercy a sharp look.
"Non."
"Belle…"
"Non. I can't be." She tried to walk away, her head bent to hide her face behind dirty blonde locks, but Mercy grabbed her arm and put her other hand on her cheek, tilting her head up. She stared in Mercy's green eyes, letting her tears fall freely from her eyes. "I can't be, Mercy. It's been too long…" The older woman put her arms around her shaking shoulders.
"Shh, Belle, that wouldn't be a bad thing… Besides, it's been two months since we've been separated from our husbands. It's normal that you haven't noticed until now."
"Mercy, I don't even know if I'll see him again" she whispered between two hiccups. A tugging at her skirt made her look down. "Alex" she said, quickly wiping her tears away, "what… what's that?" Alexandre looked down at the piece of bread in his hands, and then back at his mother.
"C'est du pain, maman." [It's bread, mom] He handed her the small piece of rye bread, his soft brown eyes so much like his father's. "For you." Belle took the bread, but looked down at her son.
"Why?"
"Cause you need it." The simple answer made her smile through her tears. What a sweet child. She tried to push the bread back in his small hands.
"But why would I need it more than you, Alex? I'm all grown up now, but you still have to eat lots if you want to get as big as papa."
"But maman! Papa said a maman had to eat a lot when she had a baby in her tummy." Belle froze, her mouth agape. She finally moved, reaching for her son's head and pushing away a long auburn lock from his dark, worried eyes.
"Who told you that I had a baby in my tummy, chéri?"
"No one, maman. But you were sick like that when papa told me I was going to have another brother, two Noël* ago. I guessed." Tears welled up at Belle's eyes again as she pulled her son in tight embrace. She kissed the dark hair on his head, when a violent jerk shook the boat. Belle fell on her knees, holding her son tight against her, and Mercy grabbed the railing with a small yelp, trying to stay up.
"What was that?" she asked. Everyone was running to the front of the boat, and Belle's eyes went wide with terror as a small iceberg slowly floated away from the shaking boat.
"Oh mon Dieu…"
**
"Éloïse!" Her son's hand tight in hers, she entered the dormitory where everyone slept, looking for her daughter. "ÉLOÏSE!"
"Maman?" a scared voice called from behind her. Belle whirled and sighed with relief when she saw her daughter's wide blue eyes. She grabbed the little hand and ran outside.
"Come on, bébé, we have to get off the boat." But to go where? In the middle of December, the water would be freezing. She caught a flash of red, and ran in that direction.
"Officier Wolfe!" The man turned around. He looked tired, she saw, but she needed help. She had to get her children off that ship, and on one of the two others who were following them. "J'ai besoin d'aide, officier… help…" He looked at her a few moments, and pointed at the mass of people running around.
"Ye're not alone, lady. I'm doing my best." She spotted a rescue boat on which some people were packing children, and she pushed her own towards officer Wolfe. He looked at them, and then up at her.
"Please" she pleaded, and the man nodded, picking up Éloïse. Belle watched with tears in her eyes as her two remaining children were packed in the small boat, and as the men on board rowed in the direction of the Penelope, the other ship.
It was then she saw the third boat, the Violet, was sinking.** It was also then she looked up at the sky and the millions of stars over her head, and she grabbed the railing. And as another tear ran down her cheek, she put a foot on the railing, then the other, and she jumped.
She had hoped she would have died on impact on hard water, or at least loose consciousness, but instead of that, the freezing December water instantly seeped into her clothes, waking up every sense in her body and taking her breath away. She barely managed to swim towards the ship not very far away.
Soon her arms became heavy, and she felt like the depths under her were tugging at her skirt, pulling her below the surface. She felt something tearing up in her stomach, and felt something warm oozing between her thighs. Her eyes full of tears at the thought of loosing a baby she didn't even have yet, she grabbed on a piece of wood, and began to pray. "Notre Père, qui êtes aux cieux, que votre nom soit sanctifié… que votre règne vienne, sur la Terre comme au ciel…"***
**
Her nose hurt, and she tasted salt in her throat. She coughed, and heard an exclamation beside her. "She's waking up! Alex, maman's waking up!" Alex. Éloïse. She forced her will to let her open her eyes, and she managed to crack them open long enough to see the marvelled faces of her children. Then she saw Mercy's face, and smiled.
"Where are we?" Mercy's soft hand brushed her forehead, pushing away some blonde locks.
"On the Penelope, Belle. And safe. Everyone's safe." Her eyes held a dark shadow, though, and Belle sat up, watching her sister-in-law's face.
"Everyone?" Mercy looked down at her hands.
"Not really. I managed to get on the same boat as Éloïse and Alex with Thomas and Louise, but I can't find Anne, or Luc or Marc… I can't find anyone****." Belle closed her eyes, thinking about her sweet sisters-in-law, and their children. "But Belle…"
"What?" She looked at Mercy again, who bit her lower lip.
"I found out where we're going, Belle. The Penelope's going to France."
* Christmas
** Based on real facts. On December 10, the Violet and the Duke William, two ships who were bringing hundreds of Acadians in Europe, sunk. Though I'm not sure about the iceberg, maybe it was a storm… I added the third ship, the Penelope, though there probably was other ships around, since some people were rescued.
*** Belle is reciting the Pater Noster (the Lord's prayer) in French.
**** Just a reminder : Thomas and Louise are Henri and Mercy's children, Anne is Julien Boudreaux and Jacqueline's daughter, and Luc and Marc are Marguerite and Émile's; Marguerite, Madeleine and Jacqueline being Remy's sisters.
~~~
December 20, 1755
"Hey, Acadjan!" I didn't even turn around. I already told her my name so many times in a month, I wasn't about to tell her again. I heard her sigh angrily, and smiled. She had the most wicked temper on this side of the ocean, and her anger was easy to wake. And it probably was my favorite game.
Since the night we met, Mary hadn't come back for another midnight visit, and avoided me at all costs. But being the person who took care of her nice cinder grey mare, she was doomed to see me each time she would enter the stables. I could see she was dying with curiosity though, shooting a curious glance at me and the Creole each time we would talk to each other in French. And, just for fun, I would look at her and shoot her one of my best smiles, just for the pleasure of seeing her blush and look away each time.
I learned from Ibbo that she was the youngest child in the Sherston family. She had a sister, Geneva, and a brother called William, who took care of the plantation with his father. Lord Charles Sherston had been suffering of a disease which made walking more and more difficult, so I'm guessing the young man's help must have been appreciated by the middle-aged man. His wife, Isobel, was a strong woman who led the house slaves with a steel hand. I, myself, had only worked with young William who, at age 20, was more than unsure in that business and worked his ass off to make his father's plantation run. It was difficult thinking of him as a boss, but the young man had earned my respect with his efforts. Geneva was another story. The nineteen years old girl wouldn't even come near the stables, let alone a slave. The brown-eyed girl would let out a yelp each time she saw me. It would have been annoying if it hadn't been so funny.
According to Ibbo's information, the night I met Mary was her fifth try to escape her father's plantation, and the last. The reason why she wanted to get away was still a mystery to me.
"Acadjan!" The voice came from much nearer, and I turned around from my work to meet her eyes as she stood a few feet away from me and the horse, arms crossed on her chest.
"Mon nom est Rémy, mamzelle." [The name's Remy, miss.] I turned back to the horse foot I was cleaning, and I heard her furious intake of breath. "Vous semblez bien habituée à traiter avec des esclaves, mamzelle Mary. Le problème, c'est que je ne suis pas habitué d'en être un." [You seem to be used to live with slaves, miss Mary. The problem is, I'm not used to being one.] She exhaled, and I heard the tapping of her foot on the hard-packed surface.
"Remy," she said much lower, in an effort to be polite, "Ah need mah horse." Obtaining no reaction, she stamped her foot on the ground. "Now!" I chuckled and got on my feet, turning to her and looking at her directly in the eye.
"Vous pourriez avoir l'air gentille, si vous souriiez. Pourquoi tenez-vous tant à être une petite peste?" [You could look nice, if you smiled. Why do you insist on being a little pest?] She flushed, recognizing the word peste, and opened her mouth to yell some more, but another voice came from the other end of the stables.
"Remy, get Mary's horse, please." We both turned to see William bringing back his own horse back in. He gave me a stern look, though I could see smiles dancing in the brown irises. "Before she kills yah." I nodded and walked away. I could feel her eyes burning my back, and wished I could understand what they said.
"Why does he listen to yah?"
"Cause I'm nice with him, Mary…"
"Even if yah're nice, he can't understand yah, he's French…" William laughed.
"Well, if he doesn't understand me if Ah'm nice, will he understand better if Ah'm yelling at him? He's one of the most hard-headed men Ah've met. Tha more yah yell at him, tha less he moves. Besides, he can understand, Mary. Yah can't live in tha middle of English speaking people without catching a few words."
"But he's so impertinent!" William chuckled.
"So are yah, sister. Give'im a chance." He was walking away, leaving me to care for his brown stallion, when I came back, the grey mare's bridle in hand. Mary turned to me, her lips pursed. She reached out and gently caressed the mare's nose, not looking at me.
"Would… could you saddle her, Remy?" she asked, her eyes intent on the horse's mane. "Please?" she quickly added. I smiled, patting the horse's back.
"Bien sûr." [Of course] She looked authentically surprised, and I laughed. "Please… it's good word." She gave me a feeble smile and looked at me the whole time I saddled the horse, holding it's bridle. She stayed silent as I walked away, but cleared her throat as I took William's stallion's bridle.
"Remy…" I turned back to her, eyebrows raised. The change in her attitude was startling, and I was beginning to wonder if she was the same girl. "Ah'm sorry. D'yah know that word? Ah'm sorry?" I looked at her a long time, the words making their way in my head as I translated what she said. Then I slowly nodded.
"Oui" I said softly. I was about to turn back again when she spoke in a light voice, tainted with curiosity.
"How do you say it in French?"
To be continued… (soon, I hope…)
Now before you comment on Remy's progress in English, I would like to mention that he still can't understand it, let alone talk it fluently, but he did link some repeated words with their reference (as anybody would do in a foreign country), especially those referring to the work he has to do on the plantation, such as horse, stables, bridle, saddle, French, English, please, thanks, etc. Intonations and gestures can also help a lot… 90% of the message you deliver comes through non-verbal means.
Review comments :
Igamblelife : Wow, you've just won the award of the longest review ever on this fic (no offence to ishandahalf!), and the first thing I'm going to say is thank you for pointing out the mistakes… I've learned a lot about English writing since June when I started writing on ff.n, but I still have lots to learn, and probably always will. Thanks. Second, I know Rogue is from Mississippi, not Georgia, but if I'm not wrong, Mississippi didn't exist yet in 1755 (I think it was added as a state in 1817, found that on mississippi.gov… :-) So Georgia it was. As for the accent, I'm guessing the southern accent wasn't as pronounced, if it existed at all, in 1755, but Rogue just wouldn't be the same without it! Oh, and you don't know how happy you made me by saying I helped you learning some French! Wow! I never knew my fics could do that… Hope you're still learning :-) As for sixteen years… This fic is finished, in some kind of way, but I'm currently building up a plot for a sequel, so I can begin it as soon as Medieval Times is finished (which shouldn't be really long).
WarmerThanFire : Oh good, learning is good! Are you learning some French too? *grins* I feel like a teacher. Which is also good, since I've been studying my ass off to become one in the last 3 years… And yeah, poor Remy, poor Belle, poor everyone… Get used to it, though, this is a drama :-P
Yumiko : lol! Well, Rogue is the daughter of a wealthy planter, so it is allowed to think that she might be a spoiled little brat. She's learning respect, though, give her some time…
velvetine*rose : Communication on the way! Don't worry!
ishandahalf : Oh, I was so hoping to have a comment on Remy's insult to Scott. I was so happy. Insulting in French is so much funnier than in English! And the good stuff is coming, it's already begun in this chapter… Give them some time! The age difference isn't that important (he's 26, she's 18… not too bad isn't it?), but Remy is married to Belle, and is probably still hoping on seeing her and the kids again. You're worried about the whole Belle thing? Well, you should. It's not easy putting aside the thought of your wife and four children (he doesn't know two of them are dead, after all… Oh, my, I sound so cruel…). But don't worry! You got me hooked with the idea of cookies… I love cookies!
foofighta : lol, on with the YMCA! As for the big black guy, he's Creole, and lots of islands (Jamaica, per example) belonged to France, so people on these islands spoke French… How that Creole guy ended up on a Georgian plantation… beats me. And Mary is Mary, simply because I want to leave it that way. Looks too much like French written Marie… Besides, I personally think they gave Rogue a name in the movie, just so people wouldn't bother them with it… So Mary it is! And yes, he played cards on a boat and got into a fight with Julien! And now, after reading this chapter, you can see I take your ideas really seriously! Be careful what you say! Just because it isn't in my original storyline, means I can't add it up… Call me cruel, or even evil… heck, I like it!