Duty to the Crown by Aimie K. Runyan

Author:Aimie K. Runyan [Runyan, Aimie K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Manon

December 1678

Say what I might about the French, their Christmas is a marvelous way to muddle through the middle of winter. Manon helped Nicole festoon the parlor with fragrant boughs of fresh evergreens accented with squat cream-colored candles that would give off a warm glow to ward off the chill of the December evening. The smell of molasses and cooking spices wafted in from the kitchen, and Manon felt more relaxed than she had in weeks. In the years she spent with the Huron, Christmastide was the only time she really yearned for the French.

The Lefebvres had cultivated a custom of hosting an intimate gathering for their friends and family two days before the church services would keep them occupied. The feast was the most magnificent of the year, and the company far more enjoyable. No governors, deputies, judges, intendants, or other royal envoys. The younger Lefebvres, the Beaumonts, Claudine, Laurent Robichaux, and a handful of other friends welcomed in the splendor they would otherwise reserve for the likes of King Louis himself.

“Perfect,” Nicole declared once the last of the boughs were placed. “We’ll have Nanette light the candles at the last moment so we don’t risk fire. It will be lovely.”

“As usual,” Manon agreed. “The smell. It’s a shame we can’t contrive a reason to keep boughs indoors all year long.”

“Then we’d soon grow immune to the scent, and that would be a real tragedy,” Nicole said with a smile. Nicole wrapped her arm around Manon and kissed her temple lightly. “Now go get dressed. We’ll have company before you know it.”

In her room a gown of velvet, the color of her beloved evergreens, waited for her. Gabrielle was not in town to fashion it, so another, far less capable seamstress had taken the task. Though the services of a lady’s maid were available at her request, she and Claudine preferred to help each other dress and style each other’s hair. Manon examined the tall woman with rich brown skin and almond eyes, who looked in contrast with the rich fabrics and European fashion. You can’t exactly go down in deerskin. Just smile and make the best of it.

Rose and Henri had already arrived when she descended the stairs, and they stood in the parlor with glasses of fine port. Manon soon found a glass in her own hand and sipped at the rich wine, glad for its restorative warmth and pungent sweetness as it trickled down the back of her throat. Pascal entered with the Beaumonts a quarter of an hour late. I’m not sure I’ve had enough port for this, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself.

She buried herself in conversation with Rose, but it only provided a diversion for so long. Pascal loomed about the edges of the room looking ready to pounce on Manon at the first sign of a break in the conversation. Mercifully, the butler announced dinner before he had his chance, and for the next two and a

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