Deeds of the
Past
By: Rona Y.
Marie D’Marigny looked at her reflection in the mirror and sighed
heavily. Her blonde hair was spread over her shoulders, brushed and gleaming
and waiting for her to coil it into the sophisticated chignon she wore every
evening when she went out to work. She eyed her face in an abstract manner,
seeing that her skin was still smooth and unlined, as it should be; after all,
she was barely into her early twenties. But her eyes were dull and lifeless,
weighed down by sorrow and shame.
Sighing,
Marie took up her brush and began the transformation from lady of leisure to
working girl. She was grateful to her cousin Eduard for giving her a job – he
paid her well for being a ‘hostess’ at his gentleman’s gambling club and that
allowed her to live comfortably and have the occasional treat, like the horse
she had hired to ride that afternoon. The memory of the exhilaration she had
felt at riding such a spirited beast made her smile and the dull eyes in the
mirror sparkled with life.
But
still… For someone so young, Marie’s past was littered with
sorrow. At just sixteen, she had fallen head over heels in love with the
dashing Jean D’Marigny. The feeling had been entirely mutual and their passion
had quickly persuaded Jean that they should be married. However, his harridan
of a mother did not think Marie – an orphan, although a lady – was suitable for
Jean. There was no love lost on either side and Marie had been exultant when
Jean proposed that they marry in secret. He arranged rooms for them and they
were married, the solemn Catholic service sealing their love for each other.
Their
wedding night was everything that Marie had dreamt it would be. They were so
happy together, just the two of them, and for several days lived cocooned in
their own little world, where reality held no sway. But Jean felt he had to
tell his mother and Marie agreed. After all, she had won; Jean was married to
her. She could afford to be magnanimous towards Madame D’Marigny, although she
knew they would never be friends. With light-hearted glee that she couldn’t
quite subdue, Marie dressed carefully in her best silk dress and went to meet
her mother-in-law.
The meeting
was a disaster. Monsieur D’Marigny was there, but later, Marie could produce no
memory of him. His wife totally dominated the proceedings and there was no
doubt that Marie came off second best.
She was decried as everything she was not and the young girl was cut to
the quick. She vehemently defended herself and it wasn’t until she and Jean
were back in their own home that Marie realised that
he had said not one word in her defence.
Wounded,
Marie turned on her husband and in the bitter row that followed, discovered
that the dashing young Frenchman she had married was a weak man, accustomed to
obeying his domineering mother’s dictates. Perhaps they shouldn’t have got
married without Mama’s permission, he muttered, perhaps they should annul the
marriage.
Fear pierced
Marie’s heart. If her marriage was annulled, she would be turned out on the
streets with nowhere to go. The convent would not take her back and Marie knew
that there would be only one option for her should that happen and the thought
terrified her. Sobbing, Marie threw herself into Jean’s arms and begged him not
to do that. Her tears prevailed – for a while.
It soon
became clear to Marie that Jean was almost incapable of making up his own mind.
He listened best to whoever spoke to him last. Marie made a concerted effort to
keep him by her side as much as possible, but Madame D’Marigny had cut off
Jean’s allowance and he was facing the humiliation of seeking a job. Among the
Creoles of New Orleans, it was no secret what had happened and Jean’s efforts
had so far come to naught. There were few who cared to cross his mother and
many people looked on the young bride with pity.
So when
Marie broke to Jean what should have been happy news, he looked utterly
devastated. “A baby?” he whispered and Marie’s heart broke.
“Our baby!”
she insisted fiercely. “Created by our love!” Her menses
were only a little late, but Marie was sure that she was pregnant.
“We can’t
afford a baby,” Jean replied.
“You’ll find
a job, beloved,” Marie assured him, as she did every day. “We won’t starve.
Perhaps your Maman will be happy about the news?” She prayed that it would be
so, but the look on Jean’s face told her otherwise.
In great
trepidation, Marie accompanied Jean to the mansion that had been his home. They were kept waiting in a drawing room for
almost half an hour before being summoned into Madame’s presence. Again,
Monsieur was there and he caught Marie’s eye for a moment and she recognised a
kindred spirit. For all that Monsieur D’Marigny had the money and the lineage,
Madame totally dominated him, ordering his life from the moment that he awoke
to the moment he fell asleep. She decided what time he would rise, what he
would wear, what he would eat, when he left the house and where he went while
he was out. If she could have, she would have controlled his dreams, too.
Monsieur pitied his vivacious daughter-in-law, but he was too cowed to offer
her support.
“We… we have
good news for you, Maman,” Jean stuttered. Marie took his hand and clutched it
tightly as she felt Jean try to withdraw it at his mother’s frown.
“You’re
getting an annulment?” Madame asked, raising one haughty eyebrow.
Jean was
lost for words, his heart plummeting through his boots and down into the cellar
somewhere below him. He swallowed nervously, unsure what to say. He shot a
glance at his father, asking for help, but there was no support forthcoming
from that direction.
Seeing that
Jean was floundering, Marie felt her temper and her colour rising. Lifting her
chin, she boldly met Madame’s eyes. “We are delighted that we are having a
child,” she stated. There were, of course, other, more discreet, ways of
imparting that news, but Marie was furious and using one of the vague phrases
about ‘an interesting condition’ was beyond her at that moment. She wanted to
shock Madame.
Judging by
the look on the older woman’s face, Marie had succeeded. Madame’s eyes opened wide and she actually
gasped aloud – probably the first genuine reaction Marie had ever seen from the
older woman. For an instant, Marie felt a burst of triumph. She felt a smile
tug at her lips.
“Whose is
it?” Madame asked, the cruelty in her voice unmasked.
The pain and
awfulness of that question ripped Marie’s heart out. Although she had known
from the start that Madame disliked her, she hadn’t realised how deeply the
hatred ran. Marie found herself on her feet, unaware of how she had got there.
“How dare
you!” she cried, her voice quivering with anger. “This child is Jean’s, and
will be your grandchild, although you don’t deserve one! May God forgive you
for this insult, for I never will!” Drawing herself up
to her full, diminutive height, Marie met her mother-in-law’s eyes for a
moment. “Good bye, Madame.” She waited for Jean to rise with her and with a
sinking heart, realised that he wasn’t going to.
Married,
pregnant and not quite seventeen years old, Marie had just learned a hard
lesson. Trying to keep what little dignity she had left, she touched Jean’s
shoulder. “Come along,” she ordered, and Jean obeyed, keeping his head well
down.
As they
reached the door, Madame’s voice reached them. “You may return home whenever
you like, Jean.”
Neither of
them said a word as they hurried home through the busy streets. Marie kept her
head up, blinking to keep the furious tears at bay. Her heart was shrivelling
in her breast. She had given herself, body, mind and soul to a man who was not
worthy of her love. She was expecting his child. She was utterly trapped.
*************************
The row that
followed when they reached home was of monumental proportions. Jean had always known
that Marie had a temper, but he had never seen it displayed to its full
strength. It was more than impressive as the diminutive French girl started by
screaming at him, words that he didn’t think a woman should know.
“You
bastard!” she shrieked the moment the front door was closed. “How dare you not
stay silent while your mother accuses of me of sleeping with another man! How
dare you!”
“Marie,”
Jean started, but Marie was having none of it.
“Don’t you
dare tell that she didn’t mean it!” she hissed. “Don’t you dare!
I’m your wife, Jean! You promised to love, honour and
cherish and what did you do today? You threw me to the lions! I’m your wife,
Jean! Your first allegiance is to me!” Marie threw herself face down on the bed
and burst into tears.
“You said
yourself that you might not be…” Jean was unsure how to finish the sentence.
“No, I
suppose I’m not certain!” Marie shrieked. “But that still doesn’t excuse what
you just did to me! To your own child!”
“There may
not be a child,” Jean whispered.
“You are
despicable!” Marie hissed. “Denying the possibility that I am
carrying your child! I didn’t do this by myself! Jean, you loved me
enough to marry me despite what your mother thought! Do you hate me now?”
Instantly
contrite, Jean sat down beside her and patted her back ineffectually. “I do
love you, Marie!” he insisted, but to Marie, the declaration was too little,
too late. Gradually her sobs subsided, and she calmed down. She was terrified
that her rage might have affected the baby and vowed that she mustn’t lose her
temper again.
***********************
Things were
very strained in the little house for the next few days. Marie knew that she
could leave Jean and he would be forced to support both her and the child, but
her pride wouldn’t let her admit defeat. She had made her bed and now she must
lie in it. Jean continued to have no luck looking for work and he turned to
drink and gambling at night, usually going to the club owned by Marie’s cousin
Eduard. Marie begged for him to stay at home and not waste the little money
they had, but Jean was deaf to her pleas. By now, Marie knew that she was
indeed pregnant and the thought of a baby filled her with joy.
And then
came the fateful night that ended their marriage. Marie was in bed, waiting for
Jean to come home. Earlier, she had felt the baby move for the first time and
had waited impatiently for Jean to come home, optimistically hoping that this
would bond them together once more.
She must
have dozed off, for the next thing she knew, there were masculine hands on her
shoulders, touching her gently. Marie, surprised and delighted, leant into the
touch for a moment until the scent of an unfamiliar aftershave tickled her
senses. At once, she opened her eyes and beheld a strange man.
The scream
that escaped her lips was muffled against his hand, but that didn’t stop Marie
from fighting. Alone from an early age, Marie had learned to protect herself.
Now, she was afraid to fight too hard in case the baby was harmed. But she was
still determined that this man was not going to violate her.
A solid,
unexpected slap across his face had allowed her the chance to slip out of the
bed, but he caught her by the window and grasped her shoulders, trying to force
her to kiss him.
“Marie!” The
cry forced the man to let go of her and he fled out of the window without a
backward glance. “You bitch!” Jean was beside himself. He hadn’t truly believed
Eduard’s story that Marie had a paramour, but now he had just seen for himself.
His slap knocked his sobbing wife to the floor and he turned and left.
Marie never
saw Jean D’Marigny again.
*****************************
There was no
other choice, Marie admitted to herself. Jean had been gone more than a week
and the meagre amount of money he had given her before then had run out. Marie
could no longer afford to buy herself food and she had no way of supporting
herself. No one was going to employ a pregnant woman. She would have to go to
the D’Marigny mansion and eat humble pie, apologising to Jean, saying whatever
was necessary to repair their marriage. It was an ordeal that she was dreading.
She dressed
carefully, for her clothes were now becoming tight and she had had no
opportunity to buy material to make herself maternity clothing as yet. Finally,
she felt she was as ready as she could be and set out to walk. Her feeling of
dread grew and grew, until her breath was coming in short gasps. Far too soon,
Marie was standing in front of the main door. She saw that her hand was shaking
when she rang the bell.
“I’ve come
to see Jean,” Marie announced softly as the door opened. The butler looked
blank.
“He is not
here, Madame,” he replied, sounding confused. “I have not seen Monsieur Jean
since last you were here.” He stepped aside. “Please come in.”
Wary and
confused, Marie did as she was asked. The whole atmosphere of the mansion
seemed oppressive to Marie and she wondered why she had agreed come in. If Jean wasn’t here… The panic mounted in her breast and she
forced herself to take deep breaths to calm herself.
If Jean was not here, then where was he? She blinked back tears.
“Why did you
come here seeking Jean?” Madame demanded imperiously as she swept down the
magnificent staircase.
“I have not
seen Jean in a week, Madame,” Marie replied, feeling that honesty was the best
policy – it was the only choice she had. Madame had to know that her son was
missing. Then a thought struck Marie, one she would never have entertained
before her strained relationship with Madame. Was Jean hiding in the house,
avoiding her with the connivance of his mother? She wouldn’t put it past either
of them.
“Jean told
me he found you in the arms of another,” Madame told her.
“I was
attacked!” Marie cried. “If Jean had been home instead of gambling, that would
never have happened! I love Jean! This is his child I am carrying!” Marie
suddenly broke down and sobbed, sinking to the marble floor, heedless of the
fact her dress would be crushed beneath her. She was very young, pregnant and
suddenly alone. Some intuition told her that Jean was not in that house.
Regarding
the sobbing girl with contempt, Madame D’Marigny waited for her daughter-in-law
to regain her composure. With Jean gone, there was no way to have the marriage annulled
so that he would hear about it. They would have to wait until Jean came back
and Madame was sure he would soon return home. Then they would pay Marie off
and forget about her. In time, Madame would choose a suitable bride for Jean
and they would live happily in the house under her eye. It was the prefect
solution and Madame knew that she had the patience to wait. If Marie’s child
turned out to be a girl, it could be packed off ignominiously with its mother.
If it was a boy, then Jean would naturally get custody.
“Get up,
girl!” she ordered impatiently at last, when Marie’s tears had subsided. “You
will come and live here until the child is born or Jean returns. We cannot have
it noised about that the D’Marignys abandon their own.
If anyone asks, you will inform them that Jean is away on business. Do you
understand?” She didn’t wait for a reply. She simply turned to the butler and
ordered, “See that my daughter-in-law’s things are packed and brought here at
once. Get rid of their house.”
It was on the
tip of Marie’s tongue to say that she didn’t want to live with Madame
D’Marigny, but she was too tired and too heartsick to care. And she had the
child to consider. Keeping her head bowed, she nodded dutifully.
Madame
didn’t bother to hide a triumphant smile.
**********************
As the
months progressed, there was no word from Jean. Marie’s body swelled with the
growing life within and she loved to caress her bump, feeling the baby moving
inside her. It was the only thing that gave her pleasure. She was a virtual
prisoner in the mansion. She was provided with clothes fitted by the best
seamstresses in
Marie was
desperately lonely. She ate her meals with Madame and Monsieur but the strain
in the atmosphere was always there. Madame made a point of reminding Marie
every day that she was living on their charity, solely because the baby was
their grandson. Marie wondered what would happen if her baby was a girl. Had
there been any way at all for Marie to support herself, she would have done so.
Then the day
came and Marie went into labour. A midwife had been resident in the house for
several days, but there was no empathy between the young woman and the midwife.
She was one of Madame’s creatures and Marie found herself in the unenviable
position of enduring a hard labour surrounded by hostile helpers.
All day and
all night she endured the wracking pains until, as dawn broke, she expelled the
baby from her womb, accompanied by the worst pains of the entire time. Panting,
exhausted, sweating, Marie flopped back on her pillows. She heard the baby
mewling, then there was the sound of a brisk smack and the infant’s voice was
raised in righteous indignation.
“My
baby!” Marie demanded weakly. “Give me my baby!”
The joy that
flooded through her being overwhelmed Marie. She had never expected to feel
anything like that. The child had some dark hair and the blue eyes common to
all newborns. Marie quickly moved the shawl that swaddled the child close to
count the fingers and toes and to check that this was, indeed, her son.
“I will take
the child.” Madame didn’t wait for Marie to obey and hand over her son. She
simply reached down and took the infant. “The midwife will attend to you.”
“No!” Marie
objected, but when she tried to rise, she found that she was still too weak.
Then another horrendous contraction took her and she groaned as the afterbirth
was expelled. By the time that was delivered, Madame had left the room.
It was the
last time Marie would ever see her baby son.
**********************
A
year to the day that his son and heir was born in
However, the
facts of the matter were that he needed a job to raise the funds to get back
home. He had been told that the Ponderosa was a growing business, always
looking for ranch hands. Jean had very little experience with ranch work, but
he was willing to try anything.
Ben
Cartwright, owner of the fastest growing ranch in
Haying was
hard, brutal work and the weather was broiling. Jean’s palms were blistered,
his back sunburned, but he noticed that Ben was working just as hard as the
rest of the men. He felt a great deal of respect for Ben, for few bosses would
do the same work as the men they hired. As they worked together, Jean and Ben
struck up a friendship, for Ben was intrigued by Jean’s obvious education and
breeding and wondered why he was working as a ranch hand, when it appeared that
an office job or the like would be more suitable.
Disaster
struck as the haying season drew to a close. Ben had just pitched up the last
of the hay onto the wagon and was leaning on his pitchfork, pleased with the
job they had done. The hay field was on a slight slope and Ben was standing on
the downhill side of it. As the wagon driver started the team moving, the wheel
hit a rock and the wagon tilted. Had the field been flat, there would have been
no problem. The wheel would have bounced and then resettled. As it was, the
wheel bounced and gravity prevailed, the wagon began to silently topple over.
“Ben!” The
cry was torn from Jean’s lips. He dropped his pitchfork and threw himself
across the short space that separated the two men, catching Ben around the
waist and knocking him backwards and clear of the wagon.
Jean wasn’t
so lucky. The wagon crashed down on top of him, crushing his body from his ribs
down.
“Jean!” Ben
knelt by his side. He knew that there was nothing he could do for Jean; the man
was dying. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth and the breath rattled
in his throat. “Jean!”
“Please…”
The voice was barely more than a tortured whisper. Ben leant closer to hear the
words. “Go to…
“I promise
I’ll go,” Ben murmured, knowing that Jean couldn’t hear him, but promising all
the same. It seemed to be the least he could do.
**********************
Sadly, Ben
made his arrangements. He and Jean had talked of going to
********************
Eduard was
waiting for Marie as she left the D’Marigny mansion. She looked thin and pale
and for a moment, Eduard felt a pang of pity for his cousin. But just for a
moment. He went forward and took her case from her hand. “Come, I have arranged
for a house for you,” he told her.
“Thank you,
Eduard,” Marie whispered. She was exhausted, grief and illness weighing her
down. Just two days after the birth of her baby, a virulent fever had swept
through
“Your baby
is dead,” Madame reported coldly. “He was too small to survive the fever. I
have contacted your cousin Eduard Darcy. He is coming for you. I never want to
see you again.”
“No!” Marie
sobbed. “My baby! He can’t be dead! He can’t!” She
looked at her despicable mother-in-law with wild eyes. “Please! Let me see
him!” she begged. “Just one last time!”
“It is too
late for that,” Madame informed her. “He died several days ago and has been
buried already. It is summer, you know.”
“No!” Marie
knew all too well that funerals were held as soon as possible in the summer in
Madame was
unmoved. “Monsieur Darcy will be here for you in the morning.” She turned to
leave.
“May you rot
in hell!” Marie yelled at her back. “You
unfeeling bitch!” She started sobbing again. Madame didn’t hesitate or
look round.
**********************
“What am I
going to do?” Marie asked. She didn’t really expect an answer. She was almost
past caring. If it wasn’t for the fact her death would be a mortal sin and
would also give Madame great satisfaction, Marie might well have taken her own
life. After all, what did she have to live for?
“I’ll look
after you,” Eduard assured her as he drove her to the modest, one storey house
he had rented for her. “Don’t worry.”
“I can’t
take charity,” Marie told him a few days later when she was feeling a little
better. Pride was the only thing she had left. She didn’t even have friends,
for she had told Marius, Jean’s friend and her fencing master that she didn’t
want to see him again. Marius had challenged Eduard to a duel. Marius had been
badly injured. Eduard had magnanimously forgiven Marius for challenging him,
but Marie never had.
“Then you
could help me by coming to the club for a few nights,” Eduard suggested
tentatively. “I know it’s not considered proper,” he went on before she could
refuse, “but all you would have to do is talk to the men who come, maybe play
cards with them. That’s all.”
Still, Marie
hesitated. She knew what people would think of her if she did this, yet if she
refused, she could find herself out on the street. She shrugged mentally. What
difference would it make anyway? She was sure Madame D’Marigny had already
labelled her a prostitute in the eyes of the Creole community.
“All right,”
she agreed. “Just till I find something else.”
“Of course,”
Eduard smiled, knowing that she would be under his thumb in no time at all.
***********************
With icy
cold, shaking fingers, Marie fastened the back of the low-cut gown that Eduard
had sent over. She had regained her figure quickly after the birth, which was
fortunate, as the gown was tight fitting. Marie was dreading the evening ahead.
Like all gently-bred girls, she had never been in a gentleman’s gambling club
and had no idea what to expect.
“This is
nice,” she commented to Eduard as he showed her around prior to the opening.
“What did
you expect?” he asked.
“I don’t
know,” Marie replied. “But I have a vivid imagination.” She flashed a smile
that was still tinged with sadness.
Smiling,
Eduard showed Marie where the drinks could be found and introduced her to his
staff. The knowing looks brought a blush to her face, but there was nothing she
could say to them. They obviously had their own opinion and nothing she could
say would change that.
The first
evening passed more quickly than Marie expected and she found that some of her
natural vivacity started to creep back as the men she entertained made it quite
plain that she was a very beautiful woman. When the club closed in the early
hours of the morning, Marie was exhausted but feeling more alive than she had
done for a very long time.
And so it
continued, night after night. Marie soon felt she was in charge of the
situation and whenever a man got too persistent, she always made a point of
telling them she was married.
About six
months later, Eduard took her aside one evening. “Marie, there is a man coming
tonight who is very important to me. I want you to do everything he wants.” He
caught her eye. “I mean everything.”
For all the
worldly air that Marie could project, she was still a convent-reared young lady
and she did not understand the extra gleam in her cousin’s eye. “All right,
Eduard,” she agreed.
At the first
sight of the customer, Monsieur Robert Dumas, Marie felt her skin creep with a
presentiment of unease that she didn’t entirely understand. He was tall and
dark, with even features that some might have proclaimed handsome. But there
was a cruel set to his mouth and his dark eyes were hard. As Marie was
introduced to him, his eyes raked her up and down, undressing her visually.
Marie flushed.
“Marie will
do anything you want,” Eduard told Dumas. “Anything.”
“Good,” the
man grunted and for the rest of the night, Marie found herself standing close
by his side, making sure his drink was always fresh and that he had a cigar
within reach. The club was open much longer than usual that night and Marie was
exhausted when Dumas’ party began to trickle out.
An iron hand
encircled her wrist and she forced a smile onto her face. “Is there something
else I can do for you, Monsieur?” She fervently hoped the answer would be ‘no’,
for she had felt Dumas’ hand on her body far too often for it to be
coincidence.
“Come with
me,” he ordered, his face hard.
“No,” Marie
replied, more puzzled than afraid. She glanced around seeking Eduard, and when
her eyes found her cousin, she saw that he was smiling. “Eduard?” she called.
“You said
you would everything he wants, Marie,” Eduard told her. He gave her a glance
that was scornful. “If you don’t do this, I might lose the club. And then where
would you be?” He struggled to look regretful. “Marie, I am sorry. I didn’t
want to tell you what trouble I was in.”
The threat was
more than clear and so was the implication that if she refused and the club
went under, it would be all her fault. And after all her cousin had done to
help her, feeding, her, clothing her… It would be base ingratitude. For an
instant, Marie was tempted to resist, cry out that she was no man’s whore, but
she still had little money, for Eduard supplied her needs without giving her
much in the way of cash. She was trapped. It was only much later that she
realised that Eduard had duped her.
“She’ll come
with me, one way or the other,” Dumas growled and Marie knew that he meant
every word.
“Very well,”
she replied and tilted her chin. She would rather go with him than be beaten
and raped. This way, it would be no less rape – to her mind anyway – but she might
save herself a beating. She willed herself not to cry as she was dragged from
the club.
****************************
The memory
of that night robbed Marie of her sparkle for quite some time. Eduard was
apologetic the next day, seeing the bruises on Marie’s wrist, but it was only
when she insisted, tears in her eyes and fury oozing from every pore that he
agreed that she would never have to sin again.
So life went
on, with her baby’s birthday passing in a haze of pain-filled memories. Marie
did not go to work that night. She simply lay on her bed and sobbed. What had
she done that God was punishing her so much?
The next
day, she wearily got to her feet and went back to work.
******************************
Marie
D’Marigny looked at her reflection in the mirror and sighed heavily. Her blonde
hair was spread over her shoulders, brushed and gleaming and waiting for her to
coil it into the sophisticated chignon she wore every evening when she went out
to work. She dressed quickly and by the time she reached the club, her social
face was on.
It was with
a distinct sense of shock that she saw Marius coming in with a handsome young
man. She spoke briefly to her old friend, the ties of affection still there,
despite how she tried to deny them. And when the young man said he had come to
talk to her about her husband, she had cut him off,
terrified that he would tell her Jean was waiting for her at home. How could
she ever face him again?
But that
hadn’t stopped Ben Cartwright. The next day, he sought her out at her home and
told her that Jean was dead. She had been cold and dry-eyed while Ben was
there, but the instant he was gone, she threw herself down on the chaise and
sobbed bitterly. Now it was all over. Her marriage had been an abject failure,
through no fault of her own and now it was over.
For his
part, Ben was intrigued by the young widow. He couldn’t remember the last time
he had met someone so beautiful and he sought her out at every opportunity,
even coming across her fortuitously in the convent gardens while out walking
one time.
In the
meantime, he had met and taken a great dislike to Madame D’Marigny. Monsieur
had died of the fever, something that Marie had not learned until much later and
something that Madame had not forgiven Monsieur for. She had not given him
permission to die! For the only time in his life, Monsieur had done something
without Madame’s permission and she could not forgive him that. Madame was a
hard, bitter old woman and Ben sensed that she was hiding something. She
hesitated briefly to ask for her help in selling his furs, but she had obliged
him and he got a good price – good enough to more than pay for the expense of
the trip.
From Marius,
he learned about the scandal surrounding Marie, but he, like Marius, believed
that Marie was innocent. He said as much to her when they met and for an
instant, her eyes had warmed.
And then came the debacle in the club, with Ben and Marius facing a
challenge from Eduard Darcy. As he and
Marie rushed to the appointed duelling place, Ben was convinced that Darcy was
the man behind Marie’s disgrace. With Marius fatally wounded, Ben took on Darcy
and forced a confession out of him.
As the dawn
broke, Marius died. For Marie, it was devastating. Eduard had proven to be
behind all her troubles and she had foolishly trusted him. But now what was she
to do?
“Marie, I
want you to marry me,” Ben said. “I want you to be my wife. I love you so.”
“I love you,
too,” Marie breathed, suddenly realising why she had been feeling so much
better in the last few days. She had tried to fight it, but now… She raised her
mouth and they kissed. For Marie, the good times were just beginning.
***********************
They were
married as soon as they could be, although Marie was disappointed that she was
unable to marry in the Catholic Church because Ben was a Protestant. But in the
end, it was of minor matter. The civil ceremony was simple and moving and the
two did not feel the lack of a church blessing.
They wasted
no time in setting off for the Ponderosa. Marie packed her clothes and left the
house Eduard had given her without a backward glance. Her life now was with Ben
in
The journey
home was long and tedious and by the time they were nearing the ranch, Marie
was wondering if she was pregnant. She hugged the secret to herself, wavering
between joy and fear.
But by the
time they reached the ranch and she saw the humble cabin that was to be her
home, Marie knew that it had been a false alarm. She put aside her
disappointment and concentrated on getting to know her two stepsons. Hoss was a
darling, desperate for a mother’s love and responding to her at once with
touching trust.
However,
Adam was a different matter and there was many a night Marie could have wept
for the cold looks and icy politeness with which the dark youth treated her.
Ben, having caught Adam in some piece of flagrant rudeness, had been rightfully
furious with the boy, but it hadn’t endeared Marie to him; quite the opposite
in fact.
But each
morning, Marie rose and persuaded herself that today would be the day when Adam
came around and accepted her. She treated him no differently than she did Hoss,
whom she already loved devotedly and when Ben announced that he had started
building a new, bigger house, she was ecstatic. For a time, it drew them all
closer together, but the inevitable strains of the building process could soon
be felt in the short responses that Ben gave to innocent questions and his
exhaustion, which caused him to fall asleep over many a meal.
There were
strains in the town, too. Marie found it difficult to get to know the women.
They were a long way from town and Ben wouldn’t allow her to drive in alone;
the land was still too dangerous and he couldn’t always spare a man to
accompany her on a pleasure trip. Marie understood, but she was still lonely.
But at last
the house was done and they moved in, exclaiming over the space they had. Ben
and Marie had ordered furniture in
That night,
they lay in bed together, Marie’s head on Ben’s shoulder. They had just made
love and Marie’s skin was still glistening, her hand resting on his chest,
feeling the strong beat of his heart. “Ben…”
“Yes,
darling?” Ben pulled her closer.
“I love the
house,” Marie told him. “It’s wonderful. But I was wondering about that room
next door to this one.”
“What about
it?” Ben asked. He was feeling sleepy, but he was interested to see what his
young wife would try and wheedle out of him.
“Is it going
to be a guest bedroom?” Marie asked.
“Probably,”
Ben replied. “We haven’t bought any furniture for it yet. Why?”
“I thought
it might make a good nursery,” Marie replied innocently.
“What?” Ben
was sitting bolt upright, Marie sprawled on the bed laughing at him. “What are
you saying?”
Smiling
coyly, Marie reached out to twine a bit of his chest hair in her fingers. Ben
loved it when she did that, but he almost wished she hadn’t at that precise
moment, as he tended to stop thinking…
“I’m
expecting our baby, darling,” she told her, her voice a warm caress in the rosy
darkness of the room.
“Are you
sure?” Ben whispered and when she nodded, he caught her into his arms. “Oh, Marie, my love! You’ve made me so happy!” He pulled
away and looked at her. “I’m going to be awfully old though…”
“Don’t
start!” Marie scolded him. “You’re not old and I don’t want to hear you say
that!”
“How far
along are you?” Ben asked, hesitantly. He knew this was something that women
often didn’t want to discuss, but Marie was remarkably forthright.
“About four
months,” Marie replied. “I didn’t realise that so much time had passed, but I
have been a bit sick in the mornings and my dresses are tighter.”
“Oh, my darling,
we are so blessed,” Ben whispered and his hand gently caressed the tiny bump of
her stomach.
********************************
The
pregnancy was not difficult at all. Marie blossomed and although she had her
dark days of worry, they were few and far between, so secure was she in the
strength of Ben’s love.
But the
birth was a different matter entirely. Marie went into labour in a straight
forward manner and the midwife was summoned. Several hours later, the midwife,
pale and trembling, asked Ben to send for the doctor. In fear and trepidation,
Ben sent a man into town.
As
with her first child, Marie laboured all day and all night and then into the
next day. The baby was breech but by the time he was
safely delivered and Dr Paul Martin was sure both mother and baby were going to
be fine, he also knew that there was no way Marie could carry another child.
She had been badly damaged by the birth. The baby – a boy – was small, but the
most beautiful child.
Ben was
ushered in to see his wife lying like a broken lily on the pillows, her face
pale, but still radiant as she held the baby to her breast. “A boy, Ben,” she
cried. “A boy.”
“Joseph
Francis,” Ben replied, for they had long ago decided on names. He gazed in awe
at his small son, by far the smallest sized baby he had ever seen. Ben had
deeply loved both Elizabeth, Adam’s mother and Inger, Hoss’ mother, but he had
never felt for either of them what he felt for Marie. Marie was his soul mate.
Both courageous people, their dreams soared together.
When the
baby was finished nursing, Adam and Hoss were permitted to come in. Marie was
exhausted by then and desperate to sleep, but she knew how important it was to
prove that she still loved them, even though she now had her own child.
Hoss was
entranced, although that would quickly wear off. Adam was the most moved though
and as he held his tiny brother, he looked at Marie. “I’m sorry I’ve been so
horrid to you,” he apologised awkwardly.
The apology
was so sincere that Marie could not stand against it. “It’s all forgotten,” she
assured him and was thrilled beyond measure when he hugged her for the first
time.
****************************
Life could
have been very difficult for them then had not Ben had the good luck to have
come in contact with a young Chinese man, Hop Sing. Hop Sing had come to the
ranch as a cook for one week, when Marie wasn’t feeling well and had stayed
ever since. He gave the impression of being forever impatient, but he adored
the children and doted on Marie. He and Ben became fast friends.
Now, he kept
the household running as Marie dealt with the weariness of a new baby – and a
very active baby at that. From the start, Joe was more alert than most
newborns, sleeping for a comparatively short time during the day and robbing
Marie of time when she could have rested.
And in many
ways, little changed as Joe grew into a toddler. He was forever on the go, with
more energy than the rest of his family put together. He was the most beautiful
child, with golden ringlets and huge green eyes. He had innate charm and soon
had the household in an uproar. Marie was a doting mother, but she never let
Joe get away with murder. He had to do what he was told, although he was
incredibly inventive at getting around the strictures place upon him.
It was a
disappointment to both Marie and Ben that they would be having no more children
together. Marie would sometimes watch Joe playing on the rug and imagine her
lost son there, too, but she refused to become despondent. She was incredibly fortunate
– and what’s more, she knew it.
*****************************
By the time
Joe was breeched, Marie had a bit more free time on her hands. She was an
excellent horsewoman and one of her greatest pleasures was to ride across the
Ponderosa, either alone or with Ben or the boys. Joe was also showing signs of
loving horses and had to have a ride on someone’s horse at the end of the day
as the horse was put into the barn. Marie had already asked Ben to find him a
pony if at all possible.
“I wanna come,
Mama!” Joe sulked one afternoon when Marie came down dressed for riding.
“Not this
time, mon petit,” Marie smiled. She kissed her
rebellious son on the top of his head and Joe forgave her enough to throw his
arms around her knees.
“I love you,
Mama,” he told her, looking earnestly up into her face.
“And I love
you, too,” she responded. She disentangled herself from Joe and went out to the
barn where her new mare was waiting for her.
Dapple grey
and beautifully made, Wind was spirited but a lady’s ride, meaning that she
would stop when asked, a great virtue when riding side saddle. Marie was
looking forward to her afternoon alone and she ranged much further than she
usually would. When at last she turned back towards home, she was running a
little late.
As she
approached the yard, Marie could see Ben was out on the porch, Joe in his arms.
She waved and saw her husband and son wave back. Joe squirmed down and ran back
inside, presumably to tell his brothers that Mama was back.
Entering the
yard, Wind put her foot into a depression on the ground. It wasn’t quite a
hole, but it was deep enough to cause the mare to stumble. The mare went down
and Marie heard the leg break.
It was the
last thought Marie ever had, as the mare collapsed to the ground, on top of
Marie, who died instantly of massive internal injuries.
********************************
Perhaps
twenty years had passed when Joe fell from Cochise, his pinto gelding, in the
yard. Quite what made the animal stumble was never decided. But Joe was spilled
from the saddle. Ben’s heart was in his mouth as he raced towards Joe,
terrified that somehow, history was repeating itself.
That Joe had
had a nasty knock on the head was obvious. Ben found himself waiting by Joe’s
bed, bathing the bruise rising on his temple, and reliving the moment that
Marie, his beloved Marie, had fallen and died. Joe listened quietly as Ben
relived the meeting with his mother and later submitted to the doctor’s
examination.
“He’ll be
fine, Ben,” Paul assured the anxious father. “Good thing he’s got a hard head.”
“I’m sorry,”
Joe said, as the doctor left. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I know,”
Ben soothed.
“Am I really
so like my mother?” Joe asked and Ben nodded, blinking away the tears.
“Oh yes, son,”
he replied. “So like her. One day, I promise I will tell you everything I know
about her. But not today. You need to rest now.”
As Joe
settled into sleep, Ben watched over him. He would tell Joe about his mother,
but there were things that it was best that he didn’t know. He didn’t need to
know what Marie had been forced to do by Darcy. That was something Marie had
told Ben and sworn him to secrecy. She had taken the chance, telling him,
knowing that he might turn against her as Jean had – but Ben had not let her
down.
“Ah, Marie,
my love, how I miss you still,” he whispered. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed
with loneliness.
Then a voice
spoke – a voice laden with sleep. “I miss her too, Pa,” Joe muttered and Ben
knew that he could never truly be alone when he had the precious gifts that his
wives had given him.
Reaching
out, Ben ran his hand over Joe’s hair and for a moment, it seemed to him that
Marie was in the room with them.
The End