Old World Thunder, New World Fire

Anne-Marie de Parthenay

New France

Anne-Marie had not left her quarters since the day she kicked the savage man. Part of her was afraid of some retribution, that he’d see her out in the city somewhere and decide to take revenge against her. Part of her was ashamed and horrified of what she’d done, the memory lingering in her dreams every night. Part of her was afraid to see Jeannine again, for more reasons than one. She had dropped by a few times since then, and though Anne-Marie had hosted her politely each time, she tried desperately to limit their meetings to no more than a few short visits.

Anne-Marie was of course worried that Jeannine was a bad influence, and that each hour spent in her company would corrupt her, little by little. But it was more than that. Jeannine was not just corrupting… she was intoxicating. Anne-Marie had never met anyone else like her. She exuded an aura about her wherever she went, a palpable air of refinement and dominance. Jeannine was a young woman who knew what she wanted, and knew how to get it. Anne-Marie was jealous of that–of her surety, of her confidence. She, in contrast, had no idea what she wanted, or even what she liked. All her life she had formed her identity around the needs of others–of her ailing father, of her tortured brother. Now that she had witnessed Jeannine’s ambition, she realized she had none of her own, and that worried her greatly.

Every time she thought about Jeannine, a swirling chaos of mixed emotions filled her heart and mind, at once confusing and overwhelming her. Was she jealous of her, or smitten by her? All she knew was that she hated the woman she was, and she so desperately wanted to grow and change into someone else, someone who she could be proud of. Someone who didn’t live in a cage, sitting and waiting for someone to unlock the door rather than breaking free herself. But what was she to do? She did not have the strength to pry open the bars, or the knowledge to pick the lock. All she could do was wait to be rescued by someone who cared enough to take pity on her.

The door to her chambers opened, and Le Vicomte sauntered in as if it were his. Her room, the prison cell that it was, never allowed her any semblance of privacy. Anyone who wanted access to her need only open the door, while she was expected to host her intruder with nothing but pleasant grace. A fire burned in her chest as she saw Le Vicomte enter, and she steeled herself with a newfound resolve. She would not be the docile little lamb he wanted. She did not know what she would be, what she wanted to become, but at the very least she would strive to be the exact opposite of whatever convenient form Le Vicomte wanted her to take. If he wished her to be soft, she would grow spikes. If he wished her to be pleasant, she would be rude and foul. And if he wished to wed her and make her bear his children, she would make him drag her to the altar, kicking and biting and screaming all the way. If she carried no other ambition than to spite him, then so be it.

She ignored him as he thumbed through the books Jeannine had gotten for her on the mantle. She would not concede anything to him, not anymore, not even her attention. She opened the book she’d been reading, as if he weren’t even there. He stood there by the mantle for several minutes as she paid him no mind, until he eventually got fed up of waiting for her to notice him.

“I’m back,” he said, trying to get her attention.

“Where is my brother?” Was her only reply.

“Back at the fort,” he said. “He’ll be stationed there for some time, I’m afraid.”

Anne-Marie gripped the book tightly until her knuckles turned white. He was just waiting for a chance to separate them, to have the newly-budding distance between the two siblings grow and fester. The man knew Chrétien was the only one that would protect her from him, and now that sole guardian was out of the way, leaving her defenseless.

“What did you do?” She asked, trying to retain her composure, though not well. Her voice trembled in anger, her fists shaking at her side.

“I did nothing,” he said, feigning an offense at her accusation. “He’s been assigned by Le Marquis himself to lead a troop of soldiers in the war, and he’ll spend the next month or so training them. You should be happy for him–it’s a grand opportunity for a boy his age.”

Anne-Marie tried to calm herself–any anger she showed would only amuse Le Vicomte. So instead she smiled.

“That is good news, then,” she said. “When will he return?”

“That’s up to Le Marquis, but likely not for several months. He’s planning a campaign against the savages in the winter.”

“Isn’t waging war in winter generally ill-advised?”

“Is it? You should write a letter of complaint. I’ll deliver it to him myself, tell him he should call the whole thing off because a little girl thinks it’s a bad idea.”

Anne-Marie bit her tongue to keep herself from retorting.

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s not like I know anything about tactics or strategy.”

She returned to reading her book, ignoring Le Vicomte’s gaze.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked.

She lifted her face from her book to look at him, tilting her head to appear confused.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“That,” he said, gesturing at her. “That’s what I mean.”

Anne-Marie lifted her eyebrow in perplexion.

“Have I done something to offend?” She asked.

Le Vicomte’s brow furrowed. He searched her eyes, trying to find some ulterior motive in her, but she would not show him any.

“No,” he said. “No, you haven’t.”

“Then? Is there anything else you need from me?”

Le Vicomte hesitated. His lips squirmed with some discomfort, until they contorted into an amused smile.

“No,” he said. “There isn’t. Good day, Anne-Marie.”

With nothing else to say or do, he left, though Anne-Marie noticed the smile on his face remained. That was good. He was amused, clearly, thinking that she had changed in the past two weeks. Something had caused her to have a change of heart–perhaps her near-death experience. Whatever it was, she had started to become the docile and submissive thing he wanted her to be, or at least appeared to. That appearance was everything, for as long as he continued to think she was conforming to his wants, he would allow her a certain degree of freedom. Ounce by ounce, she would obtain more, all the while pretending to submit to him. She would wait, biding her time and planning her next steps, until he became complacent enough to give her another opening to exploit, one to see her rebirth, or to see his end. She did not know what new form she would take upon reincarnation, but it would at the very least be free, released from Le Vicomte’s slimy grasp.

Anne-Marie stood, pacing back and forth across the room, her mind stirring with unanswered worries and hopeful plans. She did not have much time to resolve or enact them–with every passing day, Le Vicomte grew bolder in his true intentions towards her. Though he considered himself to be a cunning and subtle courtier, he showed little of either quality in his dealings with women. Their servants often gossipped, attributing it to a boyish naivete, but Anne-Marie thought it was mostly due to the fact that he just didn’t consider women to be smart enough to see through him. He viewed Anne-Marie as a naive child, and his wife as a lunatic, so he saw no reason to hide his nature from either.

The only thing that kept Le Vicomte from marrying Anne-Marie was his wife, but even that was not to last. In the past year, she had finally grown mad from the way he treated her. That only served to make Le Vicomte despise her more, and to try and be rid of her. But there was a great shame in the court to divorce–most men who hated their wives just took mistresses while keeping their marriage intact. Before they left, Le Vicomte tried to have his wife committed to an asylum, but she always conducted herself well whenever the doctor visited, Anne-Marie would have to do something soon, as

The doorknob clicked, and Anne-Marie banished her worries to the back of her mind, forcing a smile on her face to welcome whoever her next intruder was. Le Vicomte’s wife, La Madame Juliette d’Harcourt, rushed into the room, a cold fury in her eyes. Anne-Marie could not even greet her before her adoptive mother grabbed a fistful of the girl’s hair, pulling until her neck snapped upwards. Anne-Marie gasped from pain and shock, and La Madame produced a sharp knife, holding it to her now-exposed throat.

“What did you do to him?!” She spat, venom dripping from her teeth with every word.

“Nothing,” Anne-Marie pleaded. “I don’t know what you mean!”

“You lie. Twenty minutes he’s been in your chambers. Twenty minutes, and he leaves with a spring in his step and a whistling tune. His hair is messed, his cravat undone. You bedded him, didn’t you? You whore.”

“I didn’t! I swear to you I did nothing of the sort!”

“Liar. Whore. Show me what he’s done to you.”

La Madame pushed Anne-Marie onto her bed, and began ripping her dress off of her, exposing her undergarments.

“What are you doing?” Anne-Marie cried. “Stop it!”

“You let a married man defile you. Your words lie, but your body can’t.”

The woman took her knife and cut open her undergarments, exposing the poor girl’s body to the cold air.

“Stop,” Anne-Marie said, tears streaming down her face. “Please! I would never do anything with him! You have to believe me!”

La Madame did not listen, tearing Anne-Marie’s clothes up with her knife and lifting her legs into the air, inspecting her most private areas like she was livestock. Afraid that she would take the dagger to her if she resisted, Anne-Marie could do nothing but lie there, sobbing.

La Madame finished her invasion of Anne-Marie’s intimate regions, and sat next to her on the bed, holding the girl’s head in her lap as she stroked her hair softly.

“Forgive me, ma chérie,” she whispered. “You did not lie to me. I should never have doubted you. I should never have called you those horrible things. Please forgive me.”

Anne-Marie could do nothing but sob into the woman’s lap as she held her. Needless to say, her relationship with her adoptive mother was a complex one. She did not even blame her, necessarily. She knew that if she was in her place, if she had married a man only to be discarded like trash once he learned she could not bear children, she would be bitter and resentful, too. If her husband adopted a young girl half her age with the plan of abandoning his wife to marry her instead, Anne-Marie would be driven to madness just like La Madame. Knowing all this provided no comfort from that madness however–La Madame was unstable, even dangerous. But what was Anne-Marie to do about it? What could she do, other than cry?

“Shhhhh,” La Madame cooed, petting Anne-Marie to try and soothe her. “It’s alright now. I’m sorry.”

Anne-Marie lay there, paralyzed in her captor’s embrace.

“Look at what he’s done to us,” she continued. “Look at what he’s turned us into. But we won’t let him win, will we? I’ll trust you from now on. I swear it. You’re my only friend, you know that? And now that your brother’s abandoned you to go fighting, all we have is each other. We have to look out for one another, don’t we?”

She continued to speak, as if her words were really meant to comfort herself. Anne-Marie just lay as still as she could, waiting for her to leave, for this torment to end.

Thankfully, a knock on the door sounded throughout the room, saving her. La Madame went to the door and opened it. She spoke to someone outside, then closed the door.

“Get dressed, darling,” she said to Anne-Marie. “Your little friend is here.”

It must be Jeannine. Anne-Marie leaped to her feet, scrambling to find another dress in her closet. Would this day not end? Would her visitors and their torments never cease? She threw on something casual, standing in wait to receive her next guest. Sure enough Jeannine entered, looking effortlessly beautiful as always.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said to La Madame. “Anne-Marie speaks very highly of you.”

“Does she?” La Madame replied. “Bless her soul.”

“Do you mind if we spoke alone for a moment.”

“I do. Anything you say to her you can say in front of me.”

Her complete and utter rebuke took Jeannine back for a moment, but she smiled, taking it in stride, and walking to Anne-Marie.

“Hello, Anne-Marie,” she said. “How have you fared since we last spoke?”

“Not tremendously,” Anne-Marie said, trying to banish the prior events of the day from her mind. “My brother’s been stationed at a distant fort, so I haven’t been able to speak to him since my accident. He’s to lead a company of soldiers in a winter campaign against the savages.”

“Oh, but what an honor to lead a company at his age! Worry not–my father will not let any harm come to him. He is loath to make the same mistakes as the last Governor, La Barre. He practically groveled at the savages’ feet in surrender, you know.”

“I didn’t. How horrible.”

“You have no idea. But we should speak of more exciting things than campaigns and battles.”

Jeannine produced an envelope, and handed it to Anne-Marie.

“What is this?” Anne-Marie asked, unfolding it.

“It’s an invitation to a ball my father is throwing in three days,” she said.

“Oh, this is wonderful! But… I am unsure if Le Vicomte will allow me to go.”

“He better. The ball is in his honor, to celebrate the arrival of him and his many marine reinforcements.”

“He will allow it,” La Madame cut in, watching the two girls from the door. “I will make sure of it. It’s unbecoming to keep a young lady with so much potential cooped up in her room, rather than meeting suitors her age.”

“Are you certain you can convince him?” Anne-Marie asked.

“Don’t you worry about that,” La Madame replied. “I will leave you two to plan for the ball. Leave Le Vicomte to me.”

With that, she left, and Anne-Marie let herself exhale at her departure, a weight lifted from her shoulders.

“She’s a strange woman,” Jeannine said.

“She’s a witch,” Anne-Marie replied. “She was kind once, but she’s been twisted into an evil woman by an evil man.”

“Let us pray the same fate does not befall us,” Jeannine said, motioning the cross over her chest. “But our thoughts should not linger on old crones whose futures are already determined. For your future, my precious angel, is still to be decided, and I will settle for nothing less than the best for you. There are a great number of young men who will be in attendance, and you’ll need to know which ones to flatter and which ones to avoid.”

“This is wonderful news, Jeannine, and I am glad for it. But I wonder if I could ask you a favor.”

“Oh?”

“Would you tell me about all of this another day? I’m sorry, I just–it’s been a long day, and I’m really rather exhausted. I–”

Anne-Marie stopped herself, realizing that there were tears in her eyes. Jeannine’s face softened, and she wiped the tears away delicately, her soft palm resting on Anne-Marie’s cheek.

“Of course,” she said. “I am throwing this ball for you. If my prattling is something you can’t handle today, then I’ll make you suffer it tomorrow. I dare not offend or upset you–the sight of such a precious thing crying is more than I can bear.”

“Thank you Jeannine”, Anne-Marie sniffed. “You are a true friend.”

“Pas tout à fait,” she said. “I am more than that. You will soon see. I’ll come visit you tomorrow.”

Jeannine left, pausing for a moment at the door to look back at Anne-Marie with a smile. Once the door closed, Anne-Marie collapsed onto her bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. She allowed her tears to return, sobbing into her pillow as she curled her body into a protective ball.

Despite the terrors of the day, the upcoming ball still excited her. If one of the boys was kind, and handsome, it would be a perfect opportunity for her. Courting a boy her age both spited Le Vicomte and freed her from La Madame’s paranoid suspicions. If she got one of the other noble’s sons to propose to her, it would put Le Vicomte in a difficult position. He could not flatly refuse without exposing his own plot to marry her, and denying at all would be an insult to another family. But that was only if she met a boy, and only if he liked her. She clasped her hands in prayer, kneeling next to her bed. Please, God. Please let me meet a good husband. Someone who will protect and care for me. Someone who will free me from my shackles, who will take me far away from this terrible place. Please.

Her prayer finished, she laid back on the bed, somewhat relieved now. She thought she had no allies left without Chrétien, but she was wrong. Jeannine was planning and hosting a whole ball just for her, which meant she both knew her troubles and how to deal with them. But why? Why would Jeannine do so much for her? Anne-Marie’s heart fluttered at the question, and excited her for the ball even more. She wanted more than anything to peer into Jeannine’s heart, to understand her real intentions. Like everything else, that girl hid them behind her dazzling dark eyes and an innocent smile.