A Fille du Roi by Cheryl Nobles

A Fille du Roi by Cheryl Nobles

Author:Cheryl Nobles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cheryl O'Brien Nobles
Published: 2021-02-13T00:00:00+00:00

After that night, our family only had one more interaction with Monsieur Perrot. Jean was walking through the village to go to the bank one afternoon a few weeks later when he turned a corner and almost collided with Perrot himself.

Later, a shakenJean told me what had happened.

Jean nodded to Perrot. Perrot stopped and put a hand on Jean’s chest. ‘There you are, Lalonde. I have been hoping to see you.’

‘What do you want, Perrot? I don’t believe we have anything more to discuss. Our business is over.’ Jean stepped back and let Perrot’s hand fall.

‘Oh no, Monsieur Lalonde. It is far from over.’ Perrot answered back. ‘I know. I know.’

‘Well, you know more than I do. What are you talking about?’

‘I know who turned me into the authorities.’

‘Again, Perrot, you know more than I do.’ And Jean started to walk away.

‘I know it was you and your wife who told’, shouted Perrot as he ran up behind Jean,‘ I saw her, Lalonde. Her and your little girl – lurking outside my store that day. I know she told you, and you reported me. I know.’

Jean turned around and faced Perrot.

‘You know nothing, Perrot. We had nothing to do with what happened. You are the cause of your own misery – and anything that happens to you, you deserve. But we are not responsible. Now,’ and Jean held up his own hand and put it on Perrot’s chest, ‘leave us alone.’

As Jean walked away and up the two stairs into the bank, Perrot yelled after him, ‘You are not getting away with this, Lalonde. I will not forget what you did!’

Jean was at heart a peaceful man, a kind man, but he had been a soldier too, and knew that sometimes soft words were not enough to stop a man who was intent on doing harm. He ran back down the stairs and came right up to Perrot.

‘Is that a threat, Perrot?’ and he raised his fists in a combat position.

But Perrot just smiled a strange smile. He bowed to Jean and backed away down the street.

Jean finished his business in the bank, and then came home for diner.

‘The boys said he was a bit crazy,’ he told me, wiping his plate with a piece of bread. ‘Let’s just hope that’s the last we hear of him.’

I wish it had been.

We didn’t give it too much more thought as we had more important things to think about.

Our second son, Jean-Baptiste, was born on October 10, 1675. Of course, he was named after his father, and in memory of his brother whom we lost, but why the Baptiste part, after my experiences on the St. Jean-Baptiste ship? Well, I was happy, that was the reason. Although the St. Jean Baptiste was a creaky nightmare at the time, that old ship had carried me here, to Jean and my new life, both of which I loved with all my heart. I could only wish for my new son that he would be


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