Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (44 page)

I mounted Pomme and hurried home.
I arrived at the house in time to see a harbor steward and a ship’s officer—with a satchel over his shoulder— approaching the front door. Once in the yard, I handed Pomme’s reins to a surprised Samuel and sprinted to the atrium to find Theodore thanking the officer and offering him tea. The man graciously refused, indicating his satchel and speaking of other deliveries. Theodore tossed me a bundle of missives as he led the manto the door.

I retreated into the infirmary and found Gaston in the surgery studying a book. He regarded my arrival with surprise until I dropped the bundle on the table: then he regarded that withtrepidation.

There was a letter from the Marquis. I tore it open. It was dated March thirtieth: which was after the time we thought he would have received our letter regarding the marriage to Christine and the deceptionwe chose to play.

I read no farther. I looked to Gaston and nodded. He sighed heavily and closed the book before adjusting his seat upon the stooland entwining his hands before himas ifin prayer.

“Aloud?”I asked.
He sighed againand nodded.
I read the letter. The Marquis opened with an

explanation that this was his fifth attempt at a communiqué since receiving our letter. He had destroyed the others, and now—that days had passed and his anger had abated—he felt this one might actuallybe finished and sent.

My gut roiled as I read the large, untidy, and obviously still angry script. My matelot had his face buried in his hands. I was reluctant to see more myself, but I soldiered on.

The next paragraph surprised me. The Marquis admitted the anger had many causes; obviously, that he had been made to look the fool; yet, one of the greater ones was actually that we could not have relayed such a devious and cunning plan to him sooner. He cursed that we were a world away, and that we had been so badly hurt as to have to hide for as long as we did, and thus slow the conveyance of the necessary information even more. He was angry at the world: as God had made it and men sullied it. As for us and the plan, he loved us and thought the plan brilliant. He was very pleased the child would be safe. He was delighted we had out-maneuvered Verlain so handily—even if it was at his ownexpense.

Gaston met my gaze and his relief and pleasure mirrored my own; and then something caught his attention beyond my shoulder and he froze with horror and surprise tightening his features. Dread gripped me, and I turned slowly to see the cause

ofit. There was a young man standing in the doorway:

stylishly dressed without ostentation. He wasn’t from Cayonne. He was holding a pistol aimed at us. My heart and stomach tumbled slowly and painfully down a very long flight of stairs.
He
was Christine.

“Damn,”I breathed.
“Why?”she hissed.
“Put the gun down,” I said as calmly as I could manage.

“Let us talk.”
“Non,” she spat, and moved into the room, kicking the
door shut behind her without taking her eyes off us. “I cannot
trust you.”
She had almost stepped too close: close enough for me
to knock the piece away. She saw this and dove back into the
corner. Her hand shook and she brought her other up to steady
the pistol. Her gaze was filled with fury, determination, and—
perhaps most dangerous ofall—desperation.
“Holding a piece on us will not make us tell the truth,” I

said. She awarded me a scathing glare. “Non, I doubt that it

will. It will keep you off me, though; will it not? As long as I shoot you—if I try and shoot him you will surely throw yourself into the bullet’s path.”

I would. I shrugged. “But if you shoot me, Gaston will

 

killyou.”“Perhaps that would be a mercy,”she growled.

I felt my matelot’s hand on my arm. “Why what, Christine?”he asked.
Her gaze flicked to him and back to me. “Why concoct this ruse?”
“We could ask youthe same,”I snapped.
Gaston’s hand tightened on my arm and he pushed and pulled me toward the end of the table. I acquiesced, and let him drag me to stand behind the table with him. I met his gaze and found his Horse not far below the surface: his man had the reins ina grip ofiron, though.
Once he no longer had to lean across the table to keep a hand onme, he addressed Christine, “For the child.”
“What?”she asked.

“She is mine and my responsibility,” he said calmly. “I

“She is mine and my responsibility,” he said calmly. “I would have her live a happy life: one free of hatred: your hatred ofme, and Will, and how she was conceived.”

At first her eyes widened with surprise, and then she shook her head and snorted with incredulity. “Hatred? Do not speak to me ofhatred. Youcannot beginto comprehend…”Her gaze darted to me. “
Even you
cannot comprehend the breadth and depthofmyhatred; because ifyoucould, your cousinwould surely be a dead man. Non. I had such plans for this moment: our meeting. Such plans. I was going to arrive here—or wherever you were—with my uncle’s men; and I was going to make you suffer so. And then…” Her glare switched to Gaston. “And then
you
go and agree that I amyour wife! Now my uncle considers the matter done, and he is pleased with the result. He says I should be happy!”

I smarted fromher jibe, but I followed my matelot’s lead and held my Horse still and spoke quietly. “You have what you wanted. You have a noble’s name. We can give you money. YoucantravelChristendom. Youcanmingle at Versailles.”

“What I wanted?”she snarled. “That is not what I want.” “What do youwant?”Gastonasked kindly.
She glared at him, onlyto lose that resolve and shake her

head infrustration. “Damnyou!”

Her eyes were filling with tears. I poignantly recalled her strikinga post and swearingshe would somedaylearnnot to cry. It was such a weakness of women: the tears that always accompanied anger.

“Who are we talking to this day?” I asked. “The brave

 

girl I first met at the governor’s: the one who wished to lead

girl I first met at the governor’s: the one who wished to lead armies and sail the seas; or the coquettish, lying creature we last saw: the one who disavowed such foolishness and only wished for a husband?”

Her fury reached such proportions her tears dried and she dropped the pistol to her side to stand and glare at us. “Damnyoubothto Helland back,”she said icily.

“Christine, I am sorry,” Gaston said. “I can never atone for what I… allowed to happen to you. I believed you wished to hurt Will. So… I unleashed my madness upon you. And now… things stand as they stand. I give you my name—and title. I will care for the child. I will provide you what I can. I will not ask that you not hate me—or that you forgive me. I ask nothing of youother than… That youlive your life as youwish.”

She had refuted his words with little shakes of her head as he spoke, and when he finished her tears returned and she shouted with more frustration than rage as she gestured about withthe pistol. “Ohdamnyou!Youdamnbastard! Whycanyou not be a proper demon? Why does everything have to be so damncomplicated?”

Her words struck a resounding chord in my heart and I smiled. “I felt much the same… When I first learned I favored men, and that that was not as it should be. But, Christine, there is no gloryina simple life.”

She snorted and pawed her tears away. She glared at me. “I amnot that
girl
youfirst met, but a grownwomannow.”
“Withthe same dreams?”I asked.
She cursed quietly. “They are as much foolishness as I said whenlast we met.”
said whenlast we met.”
“Yet you are here,” I said. “I assume you traveled dressed thusly.”
“Oui! But I cannot live like this!” she hissed, her voice low as if she worried for this admission alone being overheard despite allelse she had said.
“Whynot?”I asked.
“I do not wish to be a man in… all regards—even if it were inmypower to trulybecome one.”
“Whynot?”I asked again.
She glared. “I discovered I wanted…” She looked away. “A man of my own.” Her gaze glanced over Gaston and quicklyshot away. “Before… Damnyouboth.”
Mymatelot sighed and leaned heavilyonthe table.
I sighed as well, but not with regret or resignation. It was asAgnes had said, Gaston’s Horse had seen, and I had come to believe:Christine had wanted me for herself.
“Youare youngyet, and there is the entiretyofthe world left for youto search. I amsure…”
Her renewed glare stopped me. “I do not want a man who would want that girl you so despised.” She looked away with a rollofher eyes as ifin disgust at speaking as she had. Her quiet cursingfilled the corner she stood in.
“Then Christine, you need to live as that girl I did not despise. I feelyou know that well. So what excuse do you make for not wishingto do so?”
“I cannot live like this! Not for… long. You do not understand. It is living in constant fear. I will speak too high. Someone will think my attempting to pitch my voice low is too Someone will think my attempting to pitch my voice low is too affected. I willtalk in my sleep. I amnot standing correctly. I am not sitting correctly. I am weak. I do not know a thing men should know. I cannot wield a sword as I should. I cannot stand and piss. I willbleed throughmybreeches.
“It goes on and on. Every moment of every day is filled with fear that I will be found out. It is torture! Every time I have attempted to live as a boy it has been a relief when I am discovered or revealed. And then when I am discovered… My God, the anger at my hubris. How dare I—a lowly woman— masquerade as a man? It is ungodly. I might as well confess to witchcraft. If the men in the Carolina colony had not known I was a knight’s daughter I would have been…” She glanced at Gastonand looked awayagain.
I understood. I surely did not see her as a slender youth in her frock coat and boots. I saw a scared and sad girl. And I felt she was correct, even if I had not known her gender I would have thought her effete. She was not masculine, and even the attempts I had seen her make had been more affectation than truth. Though others who saw her had been quite taken in: primarily because they had possessed no reason to regard the matter carefully.
“Perhaps we canassist you,”I said.
She cocked her head with sarcasm. “You can teach me to piss while standing?”
She frowned at Gaston, and I turned to find him nodding.
He gave us a sheepish grimace. “I met an old fliebustier once. In his youth his member was… truncated in a battle. Some once. In his youth his member was… truncated in a battle. Some clever person fashioned a leather horn for himto use. He placed it against the stump so he could piss properly… away from his bodywhile standing.”
I nodded with enthusiasm, and even Christine appeared

intrigued.“Oui, oui,” I said. “These things are just problems to be

solved—cleverly. And I am sure you can be taught to act in a more masculine manner. If you wish to live like a man and… see the world or whatever you wish… If you wish for glory and adventure, I amsure we canaid you.”

She met my gaze with challenge. “Why would
you
? He feels guilt—as he should, but whywould youdo this?”
I could only guess at what she sought, and I did not like where that guess led. “For the glory of the challenge,” I replied coldly. “It would not be for you alone. I would do it for any youngwomanwho wished to defyexpectation.”
She looked away with a decidedly feminine moue of rue and embarrassment.
I nearly asked her why she was in love with me, but my Horse told me quite plainly that that was not a thing to utter—it would verylikelyget me shot.
Instead, I said, “Mendo not show suchanexpression.”
She whirled to glare at me. I grinned.
“Where shall she stay?” Gaston asked. “Everyone here knows her.”
I sighed. “True, but perhaps that will make it a better school for the endeavor. If all know the ruse she is attempting, they will give the necessary critique without there being a danger of exposure. She—excuse me—
he
will have to be careful outside the house, though.”
I looked to Christine—Chris. I needed to think of her as male. The name was as far as I felt I could go on that matter for the time being, though. I simply could not see her as male… yet. For that matter, I was having a difficult time once again envisioning how we would ever convince anyone. Yet—in obvious and blatant refutation of my less-than-objective arguments—she had sailed here withnone apparentlythe wiser.
This was the matter at hand and a solution. “You will need to live as a man at every hour of every day. There are complicated situations here. Anywho do not know youwillneed to believe you are what you seek to be. And we will need to concoct a fake history. You are Chris, non, Christien… Sable: a cousinofGaston’s.”
“I suppose we cannot legalize the marriage in the Church,”Gastonsaid witha thoughtfulfrown.
“I do not wishto be married to you,”Chris said quickly.
“Nor I you,” Gaston said coolly. “But all of France has been told we are. It might be useful—when we are much older —to have a true Church record for the benefit of our child.” His expression hardened. “I have no interest in you. I only offered the first time because it provided a convenient solution for both our problems.”
She winced fromhis scolding.
I pressed on. “You will need to be a Catholic. I assume you are capable of acting the good Catholic—you would have had to while visitingyour familyinFrance.”
She nodded tightly. “I feel no great loyalty to the Church of England: and I do not feel it will be a transgression of my faith to sayI amCatholic.”
I wondered if she was being sarcastic or sincere. In the aftermath of her earlier show of emotion, she now seemed withdrawn—and I imagined, exhausted.
I sighed and continued. “You came here seeking adventure, perhaps. You heard of your cousin and his exploits and life from your… uncle, and being a bored young man of noble birth and no title, you came to see more of the world and perhaps make a name for yourself.”
“Youare ambitious,”Chris said witha frown.
“A young man would be,” I snapped. “People will think you are a fool, especially considering your build and foppish mannerisms. That will be good. We can pass you off as a deluded boy who knows nothing other than the King’s court, brothels, and taverns, with far more ease than trying to tell them youwere a soldier or farmhand.”
“I suppose.”She sighed and nodded. “Who lives here?”
I knew what she sought. “Agnes.”
She sighed and glanced at Gaston before studying the floor again. “The Marquis said she made a very fine Comtess. He was quite pleased with her. Was she happy being your