Haute de L'amour

By Willow Fae von Wicken

On the day Mary Beniot was engaged to Rheal Chaisson, she did what any girl of 15 in 1942 would do; faint, in St. Luc’s Cathedral. It served her papa right! Mary was not insane of joy that her papa chose a rotten cabbage for a husband.
Father Fitzpatrick called Mary Benoit forward. She faced the congregation along side Monsieur Chaisson. Jean-Claude, her papa, was invited next. A bewildered Mary was gauchely bumped, as her papa and Rheal shook hands across her front. The Priest, blessed the union announcing their engagement to Saint Agnies, the etiquette society of the front pews, the humble Saint Antonie of the back pews, and to the horrified shock of Mary, and her beloved Michèle Papineau.
Mary was traded for hogs. What a generosity, hein? Rheal bartered with Jean-Claude the local bootlegger. Jean-Claude was pleased. His daughter Mary would run the household of a pork farm, he’d have one less mouth to feed. Rheal gave him steady work.
Rheal in mid 40s was a papa of seven. He reeked of ode-to-hog, his shirt oozed of chewing tobacco, and they say he lost his second wife of thirty during childbirth. The women of the villages knew better. It was not a big secret that he was twice a widower by his own drunkard hand. The heat of the Grand Cathedral was suffocating. Mary felt her body sway. Her knees went weak beneath her. That’s when it all went blank.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willow Fae von Wicken
• Release date: Jan 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310817892

Willow Fae von Wicken

Willow Fae has travelled overseas exploring and embracing inspirations for her novels. Being nurtured in magic her entire life, she brings together enchanting worlds of unique, unforgettable beings, who brave obstacles of great peril, to maintain balance in the world.A college instructor by profession, she has been an online writer for many years, with over 4 million readers. Writing since she could hold a pen, she decided to share her novels with readers who love to escape to celestial worlds.In Willow Fae’s novels, good and evil aren’t always a simple matter of right and wrong, bad luck is the trip to being lucky, and consequences and misfortune are the elements to survival.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Back Jacket

About the Author

Copyright

Other Works

Title

Written and Illustrated by

WILLOW FAE VON WICKEN

Copyright © 2015 Dymond Publishing

Available on hardcopy, seek out the Author for more details.

Your support of the Authors Rights is appreciated.

Thank you for purchasing this novel,

please show your appreciation to the Author's hard work by submitting a friendly review.

Dedication

For mother mary – Her life was all but a dream.

Love you mom.

Prologue

A sudden rush of madness swept over Mary Benoit and she sat upright, taking in short puffs of breath in the thick blanket of the night. Then she stilled, curiously. It was a funny thing, what, to find Alix her sister sleeping on a coppy stool with her head settled on the edge of Mary’s feather mattress. Mary’s chest rose and fell. Then the lines on her forehead began to soften. She took comfort as the familiarity of her bedroom came into view, lit by the moonlight of her little window. When one wakes from a vivid nightmare, it was natural to question the authenticity, wasn’t it?

It was a mystery why her sister Alix was in her boudoir at such a peculiar hour, and then Mary’s thoughts were disrupted by a throbbing twinge in her head. In agony she stumbled upon a tender bump above her right ear, pressing her fingers against it, she winced in pain. Anxiously she looked to Alix, with an alarming stillness in the air. How the tender bump came to be, she could not recollect.

Alix inhaled a subtle breath in her sleep and Mary considered the circumstance of this night, gazing at her sister in wonder. Mary considered Alix was a loyal sister, and would only be by her bedside with good reason. Did such things always lead to malice news? Mary dejectedly lowered her lids, and supposed it did. She was temped to go back to sleep, and wait ‘till morning to discover the nature of Alix’s visit. Then again, she was curious. Mayhap it was best to get it over with, before her siblings woke up and eaves dropped, as youngin’s always do.

Mary coaxed her sister awake with a gentle shake, and Alix’s brisk dark eyes slowly opened. Alix sat upright upon the coppy stool, and looked about with sleepy uncertainty. She was a few inches taller than Mary, and she was coming of a pretty age, with long dark hair, and a porcelain skin tone. In fact, she was a year older than Mary to the day, and all of Mary’s life she looked upon her sister with adoration.

A heavy gaze fell upon Mary, and as Alix became more alert she sharply reverted her attention to her hands, her fingers wrung together, she seemed nervous, unsettled. Never had Mary seen such a sad look, as the one clouding her sister’s expression. It confirmed Mary’s suspicion that something very grave was on the tip of Alix’s tongue, and she fretted over the conflict that weighted heavy in her heart. Was it something she really wanted to know? The girls were innocent to the ways of provincial life, and at the best of times each other was all they had to count on. Mary prepared herself, with a quick intake of breath. Something unpleasant was about to unfold, and Mary braced herself, vowing to support her sister, regardless of the matter.

Yet Alix said nothing. Mary wasn’t one to pry. Instead she opted to make her way toward the window, to check on the level of the moon in the sky as it really was the best way to determine the time. Mary lowered her feet and was comforted by the cushion of the scatter-rag rug, and then unexpectedly she caught her balance with the pencil post of her bed. Her body felt weak, and she plunked down on the side of the mattress, as her head began to spin. She had taken enough exertion for one night, and remained in position, straining her vision, as she peered toward the window. She guessed that it must be close to dawn, as the darkness seemed to be melting into a midnight blue, and the stars were faded.

Better are you? Alix broke the silence as a look of urgency crossed her face.

Mary didn’t respond. She fell deep in thought as she honestly couldn’t recall taking ill. She stretched out flat on her mattress, as the looming aftershock of her nightmare re-emerged. Before she dared speak, she pointed to the A frame door of her boudoir, urging Alix to close it. With a nod of understanding Alix pounced to her feet, and gently peeked out, before she carefully shut the door. The others would easily hear, as privacy in this house was mostly unheard of, even in the thick of the night.

For one thing, it was Mary’s boudoir, in a house of ten children, and she was the only one who had a room all to herself. Mama allowed this, and Mary was never quite sure if it was out of guilt, or payment for Mary’s sacrifice. Mary claimed the attic closet of the girls’ boudoir when she became her mama’s full-time helper, last year. The tiny attic steps were in the back of the girls’ chambers, and one would have to walk past a set of four single beds, of Alix, Margarette, Lise and Louisa, to get to it. Mary didn’t mind the slanted ceilings of her room, it was cramped and uncomfortably small, but the privacy was welcomed. The walls were decorated with a cream background of little rosebuds on a vine. Madame Labelle, the lady of Mary’s employ, had extra paper and gave it to Mary for assisting in her labor a few months back, as she helped bring into the world, her most recent edition to her family, her baby daughter Mineau.

What grains you? Mary finally came out with the question that had been pulling on her heartstrings. Mary’s stare was fixed on Alix who was frowning, her eyes were red from crying, and it glossed Mary’s own eyes at the thought of it. Mary saw a look similar on her sister’s face only once, it was on the night Alix braved to tell their parents that she pledged to Father Fitzpatrick to join the Convent. One would expect parents to be proud to have a Sister in the family, a Nun from poverty or rich, was revered with grand respect.

But not for their papa. As far as papa could tell, God owed him one, and Alix joining the Convent was a squander of good stock. Mary and Alix huddled together in the corner, while papa ranted that night, pacing the floors with fists raised high. ‘Phh, where was the profit to be made in that, hein? Mary and Alix were red faced and shamed to hear his opinion, about how it was a waste of money to give a child freely to the Church, when he could gain profit from a prospective husband. They were however, pleased, that papa kept the gripe inside the house. The Priest would be offended by papa’s view, and even papa wouldn’t dare cross the Pope. So it was done. Alix would be initiated into the convent, and was spared from papa picking her husband. Much to papa’s dismay, he was charged with protecting her virginity, and thus Alix no longer handled his moonshine customers. If any boys dared to come a calling, papa was ready and waiting for what he called target practice from the front porch, that part her papa didn’t seem to mind too much.

That left Mary in a precarious position. She didn’t begrudge Alix for her choices in life, as it wasn’t her fault of the consequences that Mary would face, being the second eldest daughter, the next one in line. Mary considered that Alix’s choice was between her and God. If she had a true calling to the Church, then she must follow her path in life. She never dared to ask her sister, but she wondered if it was a clever way to escape the fate of poverty.

Mary relaxed when she thought of this as it was not to question, she wasn’t riddled with worry about her future, as she desired a different path for her life. Mary was willing to stay behind on the farm, and take the risk of fate God had in store. Mary, like Alix, had faith, but Mary was a bit different yet, in Mary’s heart she believed, if her dreams were meant to be, it would be.

Several moments had passed in silence, and Mary was practically squirming in her seat, waiting for Alix to answer her question. Yet she hadn’t made a move since Mary had asked. Mary took her sister’s hands in hers, and made deliberate contact with the eyes and summoned her courage, and broke the silence, herself. My God! Mary sighed, taking in short puffs of breath, and looked to Alix with a haunted expression. You wouldn’t believe. The worst dream I had, we were in the Cathedral and Alix? What horror! Papa engaged me with mean old Monsieur Chaisson. Relief washed over Mary, as saying it out loud made her realize how silly it sounded. She felt the weight on her chest lift the moment the words christened the air, and she sung out. Thanks be to Mary of God, it was all a bad dream, hein?

Alix recoiled, and tilted her head from leveling with Mary’s sight. Mary couldn’t see her sister’s melancholy, but she felt it, and Mary’s heart sunk when she heard her sister exhale with a long drawn out breath. In the silence of the night, Mary could see the profile of Alix’s face. Her cheeks were sinking in, her face paled until it glowed against the dark. Mary lowered her head, it wasn’t the reaction she hoped for, and she felt her stomach wind in knots, as she watched the shadows on Alix’s face twist with anxiety. Mary nearly forgot to breathe, this silent treatment was unnerving, and the seconds scraped by, and for Mary it felt like years. As if she would never breathe again. Her heart was pounding and her palms broke into a sweat. Alix sat a statuette, with her lips in a slim grim line. Mary became unsettled, even in the dim moonlight Alix wouldn’t look at her sister. She seemed unable to say what she was feeling. Fear knocked on the backdoor of Mary’s mind, and she waited for Alix to release her from her misery. Beseeching her sister inside her mind, begging her to say something, even one word.

Then Alix made a move. Instead of showing a reaction to Mary’s rambling of her nightmare, she instead reached out unsteady hands for the washbasin, which sat on the floor next to her feet, by the coppy stool. Without as much as a blink of her eyes, she wrung out the excess water of the sea sponge, and pressed it against Mary’s forehead, urging her sister to be still. A flicker of moonlight caught in Alix’s eyes, and Mary duly noted they had darkened. Why was Alix not eager to share in Mary’s relief? Mary managed a weak smile and took the sponge from Alix’s trembling hands. Do not look so upset my sister, it was only a dream. Mary said lightly, but deep down she was a bit rattled, she knew Alix better than anyone. She was not liking the look of her sister, at all.

With regret Mary wished she had kept the dream to herself, and began to question if Alix heard her scream from her nightmare, and it was the reason that she came to her side. She watched curiously as Alix wiped tears from her young face with her pocket-serviette, and her bottom lip quivered. Mary watched, nervously, as Alix seemed to be gathering her courage. Shh little sister, it 'aint no dream. Papa did engage you and Monsieur Chaisson. Alix’s tone was harsh but Mary could hear the pain behind it.

Aide! Say it’s not so. Mary sobbed. She reached for Alix’s wrists, gently shaking them, and Alix’s only response was to stare down at her sister, grimly. Mary covered her face with shaky hands. How can it be so? He’s an old man, a drunkard.

Reaching out, Alix raised Mary’s head with a firm finger beneath her chin, and Mary reluctantly gazed upon her sister. Alix had never lied to Mary, not when it counted at least, and Mary swallowed hard, and her insides tightened with a mixture of sickness and fear.

What was done was done, the only thing left for Alex to do, was to help Mary accept her fate. Her harsh message had crashed down on Mary, crushing her heart, and Alix bit back bitter tears. As the elder sister, she knew what she must do, she must help Mary bear the burden of reality. She thought of the teachings from their grandmother, who prepared them well for the life of a woman, so tired, so true.

The battle of the classes is reality, sadly my little sister, it is ours which does not reap. Alix said with a shrug, then turned away. Mary’s stomach lurched when she heard the deep sob come from Alix, at that moment Mary understood that her big sister felt the guilt. The gut wrenching guilt, had stiffened every part of Alix, the lines on her face were hard and firm. As the eldest sister, she should be the one who was engaged to Monsieur Chaisson. If she had not joined the convent, if she hadn’t chosen God as her life. But God was her life, and the fate of her sister was a regret that she would long suffer to live with, all the days of her life. Alix kept her view lowered on her hands, her cheeks heated with shame and she couldn’t bear to look upon Mary’s sweet merciful face. She knew Mary wouldn’t begrudge her, but accepting Mary’s forgiveness was the last thing Alix felt she deserved.

So sorry my little sister, Alix’s voice rang lowly, and she pressed her fingers against her eyes, and took in a long breath. She covered Mary with a hand-sewn quilt, attempting to comfort her with a gentle tuck to the sides of the mattress. Mary made but one attempt to ease Alix’s guilt with a subtle lift to the corner of her lips, but the sentiment was missed. Hush now, your weak from falling. Back to sleep, we’ll speak more on this, in the morn. Alix’s sweet voice rang regretfully as she bid Mary good night. Mary clamped her eyes shut, as she heard the click of her door handle and heard Alix’s sympathetic young voice whisper. Please forgive me.

Mary burrowed her head beneath the pillow, and wished her sister had lied.

Chapter One

Mary Benoit raced down the untamed trail through her papa’s field not daring to glance back, for fear that it would give her the jinx. She ran until her stomach pained and she was forced to slow down, her legs had been pushed so hard and rough they felt like rubber wobbly things, that were about to give out. She pressed on with a wild panting chest, feeling freedom whispering to her in the wind. It was the first time she’d snuck out of the house since the first thick blanket of snow had covered the fields, so many months ago. She stopped briefly, until her rapid breathing caught a rhythm, and she tore off running, again. She ran and ran, through fields, paths and tiptoed over stones in streams, wary of any sound or movement. When she was finally convinced that no one followed, her shoulders began to lower and the sweet air of spring brought her a new comfort. She made it this far, only a little more land to cover, and she’d arrive.

Spring was amidst, filling the air with rich smells of lilac, apple blossoms and sweet sap from Maple trees. It had been a long harsh winter, the snow never seemed to stop coming, but spring was on time, none the less. It was here. It was now. She couldn’t think of a better day, than the first day of spring to go on her joyous adventure. She sighed with relief, smoothing out her powder yellow sundress, it was a pretty big risk to try to leave the yard with it on, as she wasn’t allowed to wear it on a weekday. It was her Sunday clothes and her mama would make her sorry for being so disobedient. She was careful not to be seen. And she vowed not to get it soiled, and have it returned the cupboard before her mama came home. It was the only dress she owned, and she wouldn’t normally be so bold, but she wore it special for this occasion. Unfortunately her mama would never level with her in the eyes about this, she anxiously glanced over her shoulder, and started running again.

Coming to the main road of Saint Anthony, she felt a peaceful feeling settle over her as she neared the peak of the hill. Below was a wide valley divided by a twinkling river, Loop River, and she gazed at the rushing water with glee. It was running high, with the spring snow filling it to the brim, the salmon were jumping, and the closer she stepped, the louder it became, and until she was coerced into covering her ears with both hands. And there he was. Her temperature began to rise, and her heart beat was running a raging river of its own.

He was the perfect sight for sore eyes. Especially eyes that had just awoken from the deep hibernation of the farm house. He was standing by the river, a long lean silhouette against the beaming sunrays. She knew it was him in an instant, his dark wavy hair was softly blowing in the breeze. He was standing straight with a noble posture, he carried himself with dignity. Nothing like the boys from Saint Anthony. Michele was dressed in dark pants and matching suspenders. He was wearing a vest with a white shirt, white socks, and black shiny shoes. He looked as though he was attending a swarthy event. Mary was relieved she thought to wear her Sunday’s best. As she got closer, his smile caught her eye. His teeth were perfectly straight, and he was already darkened with a deep tan, and she noted how it made the whites of his eyes, and the ivory of his smile stand out. Brilliantly. It was something she hadn’t considered before, but Mary would describe him, as debonair. He was very debonair.

Hello Michele, how are you! Mary called out, stepping lightly down the hill, leaving her side of the river behind, facing the opposite side, Michele Papineau’s side, St. Charles Garnier.

My jolie Mary! Good to see you! He called out, and began walking to meet her on the hillside. You look very belle today. How have you been? He smirked and ducked when Mary swung a hand at him, for the juvenile comment that made her blush.

I haven’t long today, papa will be home by 3:00.

Their villages were connected by a covered bridge, called Pont de Milieu. It was rumored to be the kissing bridge, but not for Mary, she thought it was a silly joke and was still at the age where she though boys had the cooties. She scoped out the scenery that faced her on the royal hills of St. Charles Garnier, the hills rolled smooth, and the light and dark shades of emerald grass always seemed to be more shiny, and plump compared to Saint Anthony.

He immediately went to work, slipping open a sack and pulled out a book. It’s been a while, are you ready? He asked, with his deep dimples showing on the sides of his cheeks. Overhead the sky was shining and she lifted her face as her plush caramel hair flowed over her shoulders. The sun felt divine against her skin, for weeks now Mary was willing winter to go away, eagerly awaiting the first sign of spring. She could hardly believe today finally arrived, and she could go back to the lessons, with Michele.

The way Michele was looking at her made her shiver inside, and she duly noted he had grown, taller, masculine things about Michele that seemed insignificant before had suddenly stood out in Mary’s mind. His forearms were sculpting into smooth long knots that were bronzing from the sun, his frame broadened at the shoulders, and he had a shadow of dark hair under his nose. When he called her name his voice sounded deep and gruff, it tickled her ears and made her insides quiver with delight. Mary accepted the book eagerly opening it, and smarted herself for the distracting thoughts that were rushing through her mind, and began to read.

Le Dive, the dove she spread her wings knowing she was hunted, bravely she flew to the tip of their perch, awaiting her beloved. Lovesick Doves have one lifetime mate, the Dive’s beloved was killed by hunters. The Dove, loyal, awaited her mate, alas starved to her death, never knowing his fate. Why he hadn’t returned. Mary read a passage from her favorite story, and she lowered the book onto her lap, and sighed. Dive Amoureux, Doves in love. She set her view straight before her and discreetly wiped a tear, pretending to tuck a strand of ash hair behind her ear.

Why so sad ma belle chou, my pretty cabbage. Is what Michele has always called her since they became friends. His keen perception hadn’t missed Mary’s reaction, he was smiling at her, and she noted that was looking at her the way she moments ago had regarded him. With bewildering eyes. She wriggled in her spot, tempted to turn away, but she was intrigued. Michele scrutiny moved along her face, her neck and arms, and her skin heated in each spot under his inspection, it was fascinating, and exciting. But it was not the reason why she came to meet with him, they were best friends, they always had been, and she shied away in confusion.

L’amour. It’s sad and beautiful. To have true love, and have it taken away. They could have a family. What makes the people so cruel? Her voice trailed and she drew attention to the river. Keeping her eyes away from Michele leer was something that became difficult to do, as strange stirrings fluttered inside her. It was unexpected, and yet welcomed. She stilled quietly, feeling deeply troubled by this. It wasn’t Spring fever, it was something much more.

Michele matched her direction, and his handsome smile appeared. It lifted her heart to see his smile, and the troubles clouding her mind became unimportant. What life is for you, ma belle chou?

I never gave it much thought. Mary’s shoulders stiffened. In a perfect world, I work with the sick, but I do not want to join the nunnery. I wish to take care of the people. Not a midwife either. Can a girl be a doctor?

Not according to Doctor Campeau my papa’s best friend. A woman Doctor is not acceptable.

I suppose you are correct Michele. But I think a woman would make a better Doctor, hein? We take care of the household, our elderly grandparents, anyone who is sick. Not the men.

He nodded his head and agreed.

I would like four children, a marriage of l’amour, and a nice little house, with a picket fence. Also, a dog and a horse of my own. A little ray of light sparked in her eyes, but her expression had remained solemn, and dismal.

Yes? Funny I see, you didn’t think it through. He chuckled, and quickly recovered at Mary smashed her knuckles against the side of his shoulder. She could always take him in a fight, but now she was starting to question if that would still be the case. She kissed the back of

Reviews for Haute de L'amour

[BookWormy · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've read a few of Willows books and I think she is a crafted writer. This one is so different from the ones she normally writes. It's not for the faint at heart, or those who are soft. It's a reality check on the history of how horrible it was for women, and it makes us appreciate how far we've come as a society. Men and Women have changed so much in respect and equality, that we forget it wasn't always like that. It's good for us to be reminded, because it helps us to strive for change with other groups that maybe are being treated unfairly even today. It was a good read, I would love to read the book two, I want to see what happens to Mary's baby.