Читать книгу Sophie's Treason - Beverley Boissery - Страница 8

It was a sombre meal and, as soon as they had finished, Lady Theo suggested they retire to the back parlour.

Sophie felt as though the sword of Damocles hung over her when she entered the room. Lady Theo arranged the chairs so that she and Luc sat close to the fire. Close to its warmth, but to its light as well. Sophie thought she’d done it deliberately and felt aggrieved. While Lady Theo’s face would be hidden by shadows, her own would be as transparent as daylight.

For a few long minutes the three of them sat in silence. Luc fiddled with things on the table beside him and Sophie fervently wished she was anyplace else. Lady Theo seemed content to let them fret. Just as the silence became unbearable, she cleared her throat and turned to Sophie. “Now then, young lady, what was the last thing I said to you this morning?”

“That you supposed you had no control over what Luc did but that I had to stay in the house all day,” she answered sulkily.

“And did you?”

Sophie glared. “You know I didn’t.”

“Yes, I know you didn’t. What I don’t know is why you would disobey me.”

“Someone had to be with Luc.”

“And I planned to be,” Lady Theo answered sharply. Then she sighed and leaned forward, letting Sophie see the lines of exhaustion and worry on her face. “Sophie, child, this is a horrible situation for all of us. Unless we trust each other, it can only get worse. Can you understand that?”

After Sophie nodded her head, she went on, “What have I told you ever since we came to Montreal?”

Sophie quickly looked across to Luc. This wasn’t the scolding she’d expected. “That I had to watch what I said because we could all get into trouble. That if I said the wrong thing and the wrong people heard me, we could all be charged with treason.”

“And, today you saw just how serious treason is, Sophie. That could have been any of us on trial. A couple of the things we did during the rebellion made us just as guilty as some of those men.”

Luc nodded, his face haggard. “I feel terrible, Lady Theo. I know that I’m far more guilty than some of them. More than poor Lesiège, for sure. He’s just there because they’ve mixed him up with someone else. But when General Clitherow made his speech, telling us that treason was the worst of all crimes, I thought he was looking straight at me.”

“It’s not fair, Lady Theo,” Sophie burst out. “Mr. Christie, the man who explained everything to us, thinks the judges have already made up their minds. They’re not going to listen to anything — they’re going to find everyone guilty.”

“They shouldn’t be judging them anyway,” Luc added. “Like Sophie said, they fought against them. They can’t possibly be neutral. Maybe we need another rebellion to make sure they treat us fairly.”

“That’s enough, Luc,” Lady Theo said sternly. “That’s just the kind of talk the government wants to stop. As much as I hate to say it, I think your Mr. Christie was right. The verdict has already been decided. I’m sorry, Luc. Desperately sorry for Marc and the other men. I’m afraid, however, that you have to prepare yourself to accept the worst.”

When Luc choked on a sound that was suspiciously like a sob and buried his face in his hands, Sophie dragged her chair closer to him, then turned back to face Lady Theo. “You shouldn’t have reminded him.”

Lady Theo ignored her and spoke again to Luc. “I’m only trying to help you understand. I looked at those officers’ faces carefully today. They mean business, I’m afraid. However, that’s not why I wanted to talk to both of you.”

She waited until she had their complete attention. “Sophie, I gave you a direct order this morning when I told you to stay here. Now, why do you think I’d do that?”

Sophie squirmed in her chair, her fingers twitching on the armrests. She couldn’t gauge Lady Theo’s mood and didn’t know whether she should brazen it out or be contrite. “Maybe because you didn’t want me to get hurt in the crowds?” she responded, half-flippantly. “Or maybe you didn’t want me to see the courtroom because I might worry too much about what would happen to Marc and Papa?”

“I had both those reasons in the back of my mind. Neither was the main one. Now tell me, either of you: you saw the people in the courtroom today. What did you notice about them?”

Luc looked across the room to Lady Theo, his attention diverted from his brother’s fate. “A lot of ugly English who wanted my brother’s neck stretched by the hangman’s rope.”

“Well, yes. They were unforgettable,” Lady Theo replied. “But think. What other groups were there?”

“I suppose there were other English, the ones like Mr. Christie,” Luc said grudgingly.

“And the country people,” Sophie added, thinking back to the jammed stairwells and the smell of food in the courtroom. A few had looked resentful and seemed willing — like Luc — to start another fight. Most had seemed fearful, as though they, like Lady Theo, thought the verdicts were a foregone conclusion.

“Think. Harder,” Lady Theo responded. “There was one more group.”

Sophie shut her eyes. She visualized Alf’s friends behind her and the country people sitting silently on the left side of the room. “I know. Priests. There was a group of priests!”

Lady Theo smiled. A tired smile that really didn’t erase the sadness and exhaustion on her face. “And did you look at any of their faces, child?”

Sophie turned to Luc. He shrugged. “I saw Father Labelle of Châteauguay on the stairs, and I did wonder if Father Quintal had come across from Beauharnois.”

“Then you didn’t recognize anyone else? Either of you?”

Again Sophie and Luc looked at each other and, again, Luc shrugged. They shook their heads as they turned to face Lady Theo again.

She pursed her lips. “Yesterday, Sophie,” she said quietly, “I found out that your brother, Bart, is in Montreal.”

Bart was the most anti-British of Sophie’s brothers. He was also the father of the boy Sophie loathed most in the entire world: the sneaky, manipulative Elias, whose main delight appeared to lie in tormenting her. She would be defenceless against him if she had to go back to Malloryville without her father or Lady Theo or Luc to help her.

“Are you sure?” she asked, feeling her heart drop to her boots. “I didn’t think he would allow himself to even touch British soil.”

“He came here to the house and talked with John Coachman, pretending he was lost. John recognized him, but didn’t let on. He says Bart’s hurt and can only walk with a cane. That’s probably why I recognized him today. I can’t tell you if he’s come to find out about your papa, to see what’s happening with the trial, or, Sophie, to try to take you back to Malloryville. I wish I knew, but I don’t.”

Sophie clutched Lady Theo’s hand, words gushing as she fought her fear. “You won’t let him, will you? I promise I’ll never disobey again. I’m sorry for today. Truly. I won’t ever disobey you again.”

“Ah, Sophie. Of course, you will. Disobey me, that is.” Lady Theo laughed a little and tried to smile reassuringly. “You’ve such a big heart, child. But things are so complicated. If your brother wants to take you back to Vermont, I could fight him. In court, of course. But, legally, I have no right to keep you with me.”

Sophie saw that Luc looked as astonished as she felt. “Why not?” she asked. “You’re Luc’s guardian. I thought you were mine as well.”

“I’m Luc’s guardian because Marc and his grandmother want it. They are even making it legal because she’s far too sick to look after him. As well, if Marc is found guilty, he forfeits everything, including his right to look after Luc. So, you see, dear child, I’ve more right to have Luc here with me than you. I have his grandmother’s permission, and if Marc is found guilty and the courts formally approve our petition, I’ll have legal custody.”

Sophie had known a little of this but, until that morning, hadn’t been terribly interested in the legal niceties. Now she understood what an incredibly generous thing Lady Theo had done. If things went badly for Marc, and with Luc’s grand-mère so close to death, Lady Theo would look after him.

“But, what about me?” she asked. “Papa told me that I should think of you as my new mama and do what you tell me to do when he sent us off to Beauharnois. I know he gave you that piece of paper to show the guards at the border when we left Vermont. I saw it. It said you had his permission to bring me here.”

Lady Theo sighed. “Had, Sophie. That’s the problem. I had it … but I don’t have it now. I don’t know where it is. I didn’t have it on me when we were captured. I was in my nightclothes, remember? I did send someone, a couple of weeks ago, to search the manor house for it, but they couldn’t find anything. I sent another messenger down to New York hoping that he could catch up with Edward and Jane. It was too late. They had already left for England. I’ve written to Edward in London, but it will be months before I get an answer. Even then it may well be that Edward is tired of being involved in our affairs and won’t help.”

Sophie was startled to see tears in Lady Theo’s eyes. Both she and Luc waited motionless while she dabbed them away, “At the very least, I’m hoping he will send back an official affidavit confirming that your papa gave me temporary custody of you. Of course, all this becomes irrelevant once we find Benjamin. I’m sure we’ll have him out of prison before we can hear anything from London. In the meantime, if your brother wanted to take you now, I don’t know how I could stop him.”

“Papa put me in your care and if a judge doesn’t understand that, he’s stupid,” Sophie muttered resentfully. She stared at the intricate red and gold pattern of the Bokkara rug on the floor in front of the fire, then stood and faced Lady Theo. “I will not go back to Malloryville without you or Papa. I don’t care what any judge says. I won’t go back. If Bart tries to kidnap me, I’ll scream and say he was a rebel or something. I’ll tell on him. He’s the one who got Papa into trouble.”

Both Luc and Lady Theo looked at her. “What do you mean?” Luc asked.

Sophie shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He and Clart are always doing things that don’t work. When I was little, Papa was always getting them out of trouble. I bet they’re involved in this.”

“Marc is something like that,” Luc put in. “Sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop. He keeps going and going until he’s gone too far. Not always,” he qualified. “Just sometimes.”

Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but Lady Theo held up her hand. “Tell me later. I still have to meet the lawyer this afternoon. However, in the meantime, I want you both to be very careful if you see a limping man around. Sophie, I meant what I said earlier about trust. We have to trust each other. Maybe I should have told you why I didn’t want you leaving the house today, but I didn’t want to add to your worries. Now you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophie said as she kissed Lady Theo’s cheek. “I should have realized you had a good reason. But I thought no one would be with Luc, so I had to go.”

“I’ll do my best to be with him tomorrow, but I also have to deal with the lawyers. Things were difficult already without the complication of Bart.”

“I don’t need anybody to go with me to court,” Luc muttered. “I’m not a baby.”

“No, you’re not,” Lady Theo answered. “In fact, if you will agree to two conditions, I’ll entrust Sophie to you tomorrow.”

Luc immediately straightened his shoulders and Sophie could see that Lady Theo had managed to give him back his pride. His voice sounded confident as he said, “I’ll do whatever you ask, my lady.”

“Well, three things, actually. From what I’ve been able to discover, the Montreal police aren’t looking for you. They have their hands full with the seven hundred men already in jail. As long as you’re careful and don’t look for trouble, I don’t think trouble will find you. But you must keep a better guard on your tongue, Luc. You need to appear uninvolved, particularly if I’m to vouch for you. The lawyer and I are working on getting permission for you to visit the jail after the trial to see your brother. So, watch yourself in the courtroom, please.”

“Agreed,” Luc answered in a voice that cracked, and Sophie guessed he realised that Lady Theo was again gently warning him that Marc would probably be hanged.

“Second,” she went on in a much brisker voice. “You must allow John Coachman to go with you and you must stay with him the entire time. I need to have your word that you won’t try to run away from him.”

“Agreed,” Luc said again. “And the third thing?”

“You must protect Sophie. I’m worried about Bart coming here to the house. John Coachman thought he was spying out the lay of the land, so to speak. So, Luc, do I have your promise?”

Luc looked outraged. “You had no need to make that a condition, Lady Theo. It’s like you said earlier. About trust. You should know by now that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Sophie. Always.”

“I can protect myself,” Sophie interjected.

Both Luc and Lady Theo ignored her and just nodded at each other. As Lady Theo turned to leave the room, Luc gave her a quick hug. “Thank you for your care of us,” he said. “I know neither of us deserves it, but thank you anyway.”

Sophie kissed Lady Theo goodbye. Luc gave her a quick peck on the cheek as well, then grinned. “There’s one more thing,” he said. “Something to keep our spirits up. Marc’s got a crackerjack defence. I listened carefully to what they charged him with, and I think he’ll get off, because he didn’t do what they said he did.”

The Loon felt stronger the next time the Englishman with the boots came to see him.

His head no longer ached as badly, and he had become accustomed to the constant darkness. He knew by now there were bandages over his eyes, and although they were changed daily, it was only done at nighttime.

He wondered why the nuns were so careful about this. Four of them were responsible for his care. Sisters Marie-Josephte and Celeste during the day; Jeanne-Thèrese and Ursuline at night. He had learned a lot about them.

Sister Celeste, who didn’t speak English, was the most gentle. When she changed the bandages, she didn’t pull the scabs off. She soothed his face and gently massaged the pins and needles out of his legs. She, more than any of the others, always untied his arms while she worked.

Judging by the clicking of beads, Sister Ursuline was the most devout. Sometimes he lay awake, terrified, and only the soft sound of her rosary reassured him that someday things would be right in his world. Without ever saying a word, she was the one who gave him the most hope.

Sister Mary-Josephte was the most curious. She wanted to know all about him. His name, where he had come from, how he had become so badly injured. He got tired of saying, “I don’t know,” to everything. Sometimes he answered, “Je ne sais pas.” The fact that he knew a little French puzzled both of them.

He often wondered if she believed him, if she had any idea of the enormity of what he didn’t know. He thought she was beginning to understand that he was speaking the truth and that he really could not answer her questions. She was always present when the Englishman came but he thought she stayed for his protection rather than to satisfy her curiosity. “Finis!” she’d say and the Englishman accepted her authority and walked away.

One afternoon he caught Sister Marie-Josephte by surprise. “Ask me about loons, if you want me to tell you something,” he told her.

“About loons? The birds?”

“Oui, soeur. I can tell you about their beauty, about the moment they enter the water from the air, about sitting by a lake at dusk and listening to their cries. About how they mate.”

She let him talk, both of them amazed at the torrent of words that poured out. When they ebbed, she asked softly, “And, monsieur, where is this lake?”

The Loon was silent for several long minutes. “Ah, soeur,” he said finally. “May your good Lord help me. I don’t know.”

She stood up, suddenly all briskness. “Well, tomorrow we’ll know more. We’ll take the bandages off just before noon. We’ll give you a mirror, Monsieur La Lune. And then, you’ll see.”

As she bustled from the room, he crashed back against his pillows, utterly defeated. If two faces appeared in the mirror, he knew he wouldn’t be able to tell which belonged to him. He had no idea what colour his hair was, or his eyes. He didn’t know if his nose was straight or crooked, if his Adam’s apple jutted out like the highest peak in a mountain range or if he had a dimple in his chin. All he knew was when he looked in that mirror tomorrow, he’d see a stranger.

However, he’d found something out to add to his meagre collection of facts. For the first time the implication of his name had registered. He’d somehow always heard “Loon” when the sisters talked to him. Sister Marie-Josephte, though, had clearly said, “Monsieur La Lune.”

He wondered why they had called him that. Because he was crazy, a lunatic? Or, maybe, because he had come to them on a moonlit night? Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, he’d ask.