Legacy

Chapter 15

Wachiwi

1784-85

The marquis returned from court a week after he had left, and he was happy to see Wachiwi. He came home to find Wachiwi giving Matthieu a riding lesson in the ring. A very sedate one. She wanted to ask Tristan for his permission before she did anything more advanced with his son. She asked him as soon as they met again, and he instantly agreed. He couldn’t imagine a riding teacher more competent than Wachiwi, from what he had seen. And she promised not to teach Matthieu any of the wild things she did on her own. But she wanted to teach him to ride bareback and to feel comfortable with their horses. There was a natural quality to her riding that Tristan wanted to learn from her too, but he suspected it was in her blood, and he would never fully achieve the ease she had. When the governess told him where Matthieu was, and his father went out to the stables to watch, he saw that Matthieu was doing well, and Wachiwi asked Tristan permission to teach him more.

Wachiwi was wearing her elkskin dress and moccasins, and was showing the boy several things about his horse. How to check his muscles, how to feel at one with him. She took the saddle off, and led him bareback around the ring. The boy looked thrilled, and then gave a shout of glee when he saw his father. Wachiwi helped him off so he could run to him, and smiled as Matthieu took off and threw himself into his father’s arms.

Wachiwi was planning to give Agathe a short ride on a pony that afternoon, to try and get her over her fears. She had become their new riding mistress while their father was gone. Her methods were unorthodox, by their standards, but her skill was supreme. And Tristan knew that if Matthieu learned from her, he would become an exceptional horseman, and he liked that idea.

He looked over Mathieu’s head at Wachiwi and smiled at her. He thanked her for her lessons to his son.

“I enjoy it even more than he does.” She was in the stables all the time now and rode out in the hills by herself. No other woman in the district did that, but she was totally at ease. There were no dangers here. No war party was going to attack her, or spirit her away. She was safe on his lands. And he suggested they ride together that afternoon. “How was court?” she asked him politely.

“As it always is. Excessively busy, with too many people and a thousand intrigues. It’s very fatiguing, but one has to go. It makes a bad impression to stay away for too long.” But it was a long trip for him from Brittany.

“At least you have a house in Paris to stay at when you’re there,” she mentioned, and he nodded.

“Since my wife died, I seldom use it anymore. She enjoyed going to court more than I do, and we went to Paris more often.” Matthieu was running ahead of them as they walked back to the house. He loved his riding lessons with her. And Tristan was excited at the prospect of her teaching the boy more.

“Is your house right in town?”

“Yes, not far from the palace of the Louvre, although the king and queen are more often in Versailles now, which is just outside the city. Perhaps you will go one day,” he said vaguely. He had mentioned her to one of his friends at court, who had said it would be amusing if he brought her. But Tristan felt cautious about his role with her. She had been his late brother’s fiancée, and no matter how much he liked her as a person, her presence was still awkward for both of them. She was keeping busy with the riding lessons for the children, and he was grateful to her. He liked the way she was with his children. She was sensible, and warm with them. And he could see how much they liked her. When he went to the nursery to see Agathe after his trip, she threw herself into Wachiwi’s arms first, and then her father’s. She was hungry for the mother she had never had. Mademoiselle was no substitute for the mother she had lost. Wachiwi wanted only to be her friend, and had hoped to be her aunt.

The riding lessons continued over the next several months. Matthieu became noticeably more proficient, and Wachiwi taught his father a few of her “tricks” (as he called them). She had taken his breath away one day when she showed him how she could conceal herself along the side of a horse at full speed. He wasn’t about to try it, but she seemed to become part of the horse, and hang in space as they flew and she clung to the heavy beast. She had no fear at all. She could stand on the horse’s back as it galloped, and leap onto its back from the ground. She had a magic with horses and they did things for her they would do for no one else.

His children adored her, and even Agathe had come to enjoy her pony rides now. She would never be a horsewoman, her mother hadn’t been, but she wasn’t frightened anymore, and she loved feeding her pony an apple when she got off.

Another thing they had all noticed about her was how silent Wachiwi was. Particularly in her moccasins, but even in normal shoes, Wachiwi made absolutely no sound when she walked. She seemed to walk on air. Her father had frequently commented on it too. She had the grace of a butterfly and made as little noise. The Dancer was the perfect name for her.

She was able to laugh at herself too, which was a trait that Tristan admired in her. When she did something silly or wrong, she made a joke of it and herself, and they all laughed with her. She had a multitude of good traits, all of which Tristan appreciated and admired in her. He had never been as comfortable with any other woman before.

“I want a dress like Wachiwi’s,” Agathe said one day as they went back to the house in a group, and her governess instantly gave her a furious look. She thought Wachiwi’s native dress disgraceful as it molded her figure and ended just below her knees. Despite the leggings she wore beneath, the governess thought her native costume shocking. It looked well worn now, and Agathe’s remark gave Wachiwi an idea. She sewed almost as well as she rode, and had made a little doll for Agathe for Christmas, and a small bear for Matthieu, and they loved them.

It was spring by then and the weather had been unseasonably warm in Brittany. They had a picnic in the garden one day, on a cliff overlooking the sea. The king had been sick that winter, and the queen had given birth to the Duke of Normandy only weeks before. So the marquis had only gone to court once, but he was planning to go again soon. He hated to make the long trip but knew he should. And he wanted to bring a gift to the new royal baby. But he was so much happier in the country, with his children, on his own land. There was always so much to do. This spring they had been busy cutting down trees that had been damaged in storms during the winter. And he loved talking to Wachiwi about what he did on the property. She was always interested and offered him excellent ideas, which sometimes amazed him coming from a young girl.

He surprised her one afternoon after a long ride, when he asked her to have dinner with him that night in the dining room. He had never asked her before. She usually took her meals in the nursery with the children. They loved her company, although their governess still didn’t.

Wachiwi accepted his invitation with pleasure. She always enjoyed her conversations with him. They spoke of many things-he was very knowledgeable, and her French was proficient now. The one thing she didn’t know, and wished to learn, was how to read. He had promised to teach her, but hadn’t had time to do it that winter. She wanted to read the books in his library. They looked fascinating to her.

He told her about some of the current intrigues at court that night at dinner, and why they fatigued him. People had been complaining about the queen and her extravagance for several years. Tristan had always found Marie Antoinette a pleasant woman, even if silly when she was young. But now that she had begun having babies in the past few years, she seemed more serious to him, and more mature. He had no patience with the politics and manipulations of the ministers, the courtesans, and all the opportunists who gravitated to the court. He told Wachiwi that the queen was Austrian, not French, which people tended to forget, and she had become queen as barely more than a child. Her marriage was arranged when she was fourteen. Wachiwi explained that that happened in Indian culture too. Girls married very young, and most marriages were arranged. She was grateful her father hadn’t done that to her. Undeniably, the queen had led the court into incredible excesses and people were constantly vying for her favor and her ear. It was a lot of power for a young girl. But it was all too much for him. He was a quiet man who enjoyed managing his vast properties, and spending time in the outdoors. They were still talking about the court at the end of dinner, and Wachiwi found what he told her very interesting, but she could tell that he didn’t. Jean had told her that he had never liked court much either, and had been happy to flee to the New World, rather than get caught up in the intrigues of the court. But as head of the family and owner of extensive lands, the marquis couldn’t avoid his responsibilities to the king, and couldn’t shun going to court. It was even more tedious for him now without his wife. At least he had enjoyed showing her off and dancing with her. Now he stood talking politics with the men all night.

As they left the dining room, Tristan turned to her with a warm smile. Their evenings together were always pleasant, and they had stayed at table that night for a long time. He was lonely at times, and had been since his wife’s death, and he envied Wachiwi her nightly dinners in the nursery with his children. He would have enjoyed that too, but it would have seemed odd for him to be there. Something had occurred to him that night during dinner, and he suggested it cautiously to Wachiwi.

“Would you like to come to court with me next time? I have to go in a few weeks. It might be interesting for you to see it, and I’m sure the king and queen would like to meet you.” She was very flattered to be asked. She was worried that she didn’t have the proper clothes, but he said he’d see to it that the local dressmaker made something suitable for her, and she thanked him for his kind invitation. She mentioned it to the children the next day, and they were excited for her. Agathe said she thought she should wear her pretty dress with the porcupine quills, and Wachiwi smiled mysteriously when she said it. The child’s birthday was a few days away, and Wachiwi had been working on a present for her for months, and it was almost ready.

It had been singularly hard for her to find all the materials she needed for the gift. In her village all of it would have been easy. Here it was a challenge to find each piece she needed. She hadn’t been able to find elkskin, but she had been able to buy deerskin in the village, which reminded her of Jean’s buckskin trousers that she had given away when he died. The porcupine quills had taken months to find. Tristan’s game warden had gotten them for her. And she was delighted to find the right berries to make the paste she needed to dye them. She had taken the beads off the shirt she’d made for Jean. She preferred to give them to his niece now. She had carefully sewn them on the tiny deerskin dress. And she had had enough left over to make a pair of moccasins for her. And on Agathe’s birthday she carefully wrapped the gifts in a soft red cloth and tied it, and she gave the package to her in the nursery that morning. The child squealed with glee when she saw them. She insisted on putting them on immediately much to Mademoiselle’s horror, and to Wachiwi’s delight they fit perfectly. It was an exact replica of her own dress with the porcupine quills, only it was fresh and new and perfectly proportioned for her, and the moccasins fit her small feet exactly. Agathe was so excited that she ran downstairs to show her father, without asking for her governess’s permission. And the moment her father saw her, he burst out laughing.

“You look like a little Sioux!” Agathe was beaming and preened proudly for him. And when Wachiwi followed her downstairs, he thanked her. “Now if you can teach me to ride like one, I will be very happy.” But she had already taught him enough that he had become a far more skilled rider, and so had Matthieu. She had shared many of her talents and customs with them, and it was hard for any of them to believe that she had already been there for five months. Doing little things for them was the only way she could think of to repay them for their kindness. She still had no idea where to go, or what she would do when she left them, but she knew that sooner or later, she had to move on, whether she wanted to or not. She couldn’t take advantage of Tristan’s kindness and hospitality forever. But in the meantime, the dress and shoes for Agathe were an enormous success.

And the gown Tristan had made for Wachiwi for court was even more so. It arrived the day before they left for Paris. It fit her perfectly, and she looked spectacular in it. It was a heavenly pink satin, and had a deep décolletage and an enormous skirt with huge extensions on either side, beautiful sleeves trimmed with lace, and a lace shawl to wear with it. The color was very flattering to her, and Agathe gasped when Wachiwi tried the dress on, and assured her that she looked like a queen. She showed Tristan and he approved as well. The gown was packed in its own trunk, and she took several of the dresses Jean had given her the year before. All of her things were carried in a separate coach when they left for Paris. They rode in Tristan’s elegant carriage.

The children waved goodbye when they left, and Wachiwi looked nervous and excited. She and Tristan chatted easily on the long two-day drive. They had left the château at nearly dawn, drove into the evening, and stopped at an inn along the road. The accommodations were decent but no more than that, and on the second day, they arrived in Paris after midnight. The house in Paris had been prepared for them. There were candles burning everywhere, the furniture had been polished till it gleamed, and one of the bedrooms had been opened and aired for her. She was sleepy when she walked into the house on the rue du Bac, but dazzled when she saw the main hall, the beautiful marble staircase, and her apartment. And it had been exciting just driving through the city late at night. Tristan had gone to his own rooms once he put Wachiwi into the hands of the housekeeper and told her he would see her in the morning.

She could hardly sleep that night she was so excited, and she was up early the next morning. She was surprised to see Tristan already downstairs, finishing his breakfast. He left shortly after, saying he had business to attend to. He told Wachiwi to rest all day, and they would leave for court that afternoon. A hairdresser was coming to do her hair, and would powder it if she wished, but she didn’t like the idea, and preferred to leave it her natural color. And since the king was expecting her visit and knew she was a Sioux, he might be disappointed if, like everyone else at court, she had white hair. It was a style that had been set by the young queen, who had a passion for all things white.

She went for a walk that afternoon and took one of the grooms to escort her, as was the custom. She walked for a long time, and found her way to the Seine, where she looked at the water, the bridges, the boats drifting by, and the buildings on the opposite bank. She had never seen anything so lovely as Paris, and it didn’t frighten her at all.

She looked invigorated when she got back to the house, and the hairdresser was waiting for her by then. By the time Tristan got home, she was almost ready, and two of the maids and the housekeeper helped to dress her. Her undergarments and corseting were far more complicated now than when Jean had dressed her in St. Louis and New Orleans. And she looked exquisite when she walked down to Tristan, waiting for her at the foot of the grand staircase. He was in pale blue satin knee breeches, and a red brocade coat with a jabot of lace at his neck, and his hair had been powdered. She hardly recognized him. He smiled broadly when he saw her. He had never seen a woman look as lovely as Wachiwi in her new gown.

He complimented her as they got into the carriage, and it seemed like only moments later they were at the palace, as they chatted on the way. He could tell that she was nervous and she admitted it to him shyly. He patted her hand reassuringly, and told her she would be wonderful. He was sure of it.

The royal family had wintered at the Louvre, but they were already at their summer residence in Versailles, and Wachiwi could never have dreamed of anything as opulent as the hall they entered. The grounds and gardens and orchards had already impressed her as they arrived. They were led to where the king and queen were receiving, in a small private room before they joined the others. Tristan whispered to her just before they walked in, to remind her to make a deep curtsy to them both. She executed it to perfection, and the king thought her charming. Marie Antoinette ignored her, as she often did with guests. She was whispering to two of her ladies-in-waiting who were huddled near her. But the king more than made up for his inattentive wife, and eventually Marie Antoinette acknowledged her, and she and Wachiwi ended up giggling like two girls. Tristan was delighted and thought their audience with the king and queen had gone exceptionally well.

The king had asked about her tribe with interest. She told him about her father and five brothers, and Tristan added that she had a warrior’s skills with a horse. And then they left the room to join the hundreds waiting for the king and queen to enter. When they did, dinner was served, and there was music and dancing. People were milling about, talking to each other, trying to make deals and exchange information and trading gossip. Tristan introduced her to several of his friends, who were visibly intrigued by her, but neither disapproving of her nor shocked, as they had been in New Orleans. This was a far more sophisticated group and because she was an Indian, she was of greater interest to them. Her shining black hair had been arranged in enormous curls on top of her head, and the fact that it wasn’t powdered made her stand out more. Wachiwi was a great success, and Tristan was the envy of all the men who saw her. She couldn’t help thinking that this was a long, long way from the slave quarters to which she had been banished in New Orleans. And she looked as elegant as all the other women there in the dress that the marquis had ordered for her.

She was having such a good time she didn’t want to leave. She loved watching people dance although she had no idea how to do it, and she thought the music was lovely. It reminded Tristan that he really ought to teach her how to dance, particularly if he brought her to court again, which was beginning to seem likely. She had been far too big a hit not to bring her back, and she enjoyed it so much that he didn’t want to deprive her of some fun. It made everything far more pleasant for him as well, and for the first time in years he wasn’t bored all evening at court. He had fun watching her be fussed over, talk to people, and make friends.

She was still talking excitedly about everything as the carriage drove them back to the house on the rue du Bac, and he smiled as he listened to her. She looked as animated as Agathe after a birthday party with her friends.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said to Wachiwi easily, relaxing in the carriage, happy that it was over. Even though he had had a much better time with her there, he always found visits to the court fatiguing and stressful, and the powder in his hair made him sneeze. She teased him about it as they rode along. She felt very important and very special, and she turned with a grateful look at him.

“Thank you for being so kind to me, Tristan. I had a wonderful time.” She only wished that Jean had been there. They both did. She still missed him, and so did his brother. “It was the most perfect evening of my life.” She expressed it so elegantly that he smiled. He had been very proud of her that night. So many people had approached her, and then afterward praised her to Tristan, he was actually surprised. He had expected at least some of the women to be critical of her, but they weren’t. They seemed only too happy to welcome her, and she was so innocent and open with everyone that they willingly embraced her. The king had made a point of telling him to be sure to bring her back.

When they reached the house, they chatted for a few minutes, and then said goodnight and went to their respective rooms, where the housekeeper helped her out of her finery. Wachiwi lay awake for most of the night, replaying every moment of the evening in her head, and still unable to believe she’d been to court. It was even better than she had expected, and far more wonderful than anything she’d hoped. And she had been very proud to be at court with Tristan, who as always had been so kind to her. And after a brief sleep, she was up early the next morning, and they met at breakfast again.

Tristan offered to show her some of the sights that day, and she could hardly wait to see them. They visited the gardens at the Palais Royal near the Louvre, and walked in the Tuileries Gardens. They drove to Notre Dame and the Place des Vosges in the Marais. She was bursting with excitement again when they got back to the house, and they had a quiet dinner that night in the dining room before going back to Brittany the next day. She was anxious to tell the children what it had been like to meet the king and queen. She had particularly promised to tell Agathe everything about it. And she was going to tell her how handsome her father had looked in his red brocade coat and blue satin breeches, and his elegant shoes with the buckles.

He looked entirely different when he got into the carriage to leave. He was wearing easy traveling clothes and a long black coat to protect his clothes from the dust on the road, and he covered Wachiwi with a blanket before they left in the cool morning air.

They talked for many hours this time as they rode along, and they stopped at small inns for lunch and dinner, and again for the night at an inn by the side of the road. The trip seemed to go faster on the way back, but it was still late on the second day of traveling when they reached the Château de Margerac, and everyone was sleeping. She thanked him again, and he told her that her trunks would be brought up in the morning. The men were tired from the long trip.

And even before breakfast, Wachiwi ran up the stairs to tell the children all about Paris and their evening at the court. Agathe said she wanted to go too one day, and Wachiwi said that she was sure she would. Her father would take her there and be very proud of her in a beautiful dress that he would have made for her, and she would look like a princess.

“And will you come too?” Agathe asked with dancing eyes, and Wachiwi hesitated before she answered. She didn’t know it, but Tristan was waiting for the answer too. He had just walked into the nursery when Agathe asked her the question, and Wachiwi hadn’t seen him.

“I don’t know if I’ll be here,” Wachiwi told her honestly. She never lied to children, or to anyone else. She was unfailingly honest. Her father had taught her that as a child. His wisdom and honesty had made him a great chief, respected by all who knew him. “That will be a long time from now, you know, and by then I’ll be an old woman, and I don’t know where I’ll be.”

“I want you to be here with us,” Agathe said, looking worried.

“Then she will be,” her father said, stepping forward, and Wachiwi looked startled and bade him good morning.

“By then, you’ll know everything there is to know about riding,” she said to him and his children with a smile. It had been an awkward moment for them all. “And I’ll be too old to teach you. I’ll have to ride Agathe’s pony.” The child giggled when she said it, which lightened the mood again. And the children claimed their father’s attention, as Wachiwi quietly slipped away and went back to her rooms.

Tristan found her there a few minutes later, after he left the nursery. “The children want you to stay, Wachiwi, and so do I.” He addressed the issue immediately. He hadn’t liked her answer either, nor had his children. They had brought it up again when she left the room.

“I can’t impose on you forever,” she said so elegantly that it was hard for him to believe she had only spoken French for a year, thanks to his brother’s foresight.

“You’re not imposing. We like having you here. You make my children happy.” And then he spoke more softly to her in a voice raw with emotion. “You make me happy too, although I don’t say it.” He looked into her eyes, and it was easy for him to see why his brother had loved her. She was at the same time gentle and strong, and always kind to all of them. She was fierce in some ways, and as light as a feather in others. He had come to realize that she was the perfect woman. For him, and his children. And there was no one for him to ask if he could court her. “Will you stay with us?” he asked solemnly.

“For as long as you want me to,” she reassured him. He nodded gratefully, and with a troubled look, he left the room. She didn’t see him again until later that afternoon, when he found her in the garden. He walked with her for a while, and together they sat on a bench and looked out at the sea.

“It feels like you’ve always been here,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes it does to me too, and then at other times I think of my father and brothers and my village.”

“Do you miss them a great deal?” She nodded and a tear sneaked down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away, and touched her face in a way he never had before, and then without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. He didn’t want her to think he was taking advantage of her, and he quickly pulled away. She looked up at him, still surprised. He had never shown any interest in her in that way before, and she didn’t know what it meant that he had kissed her now.

He had wanted to wait a month or two for an opportune moment, but he had made the decision in Paris, and now he wanted to tell her, so that she would know his intentions were honorable toward her. He was not looking for a mistress, he wanted a wife.

“I want you to stay here, Wachiwi, for as long as you live, for as long as we both live.” He looked at her meaningfully, and she still looked puzzled.

“That’s very kind of you, Tristan, but if you marry again, your wife won’t like that. She won’t want an Indian girl staying here.” She smiled shyly at him as she said it. She thought the kiss a moment before had been an aberration of some kind, never to be repeated. With Jean she had known immediately that he was in love with her, but Tristan was different with her. He was quieter, and always courteous, but he didn’t show his emotions. He had learned to hide them as a young man and still did.

“I don’t think we should worry about how my future wife would feel about you,” he said cryptically.

“Why not?” she asked him with wide innocent eyes that melted his heart. He had realized for a while that he had been in love with her from the first moment he saw her, but with Jean’s recent death, and her reason for coming here, the situation had been too awkward to let himself even think about it or say anything to her. But now he felt he had to. He couldn’t keep his feelings for her a secret any longer nor did he want to.

“Because you’re the only wife I want, Wachiwi.” He got down on one knee then, next to the bench where she was sitting, and took her hand in his own. “Will you marry me?” And then he added what he had wanted to say for months, and hadn’t even allowed himself to feel. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said softly, lowering her eyes. She had known it for months too, and loved every moment she spent with him, and his children, but she had never dared to think that her feelings for him would be returned.

He took her in his arms then and kissed her hard. They sat on the bench talking for a long time, making plans. By the time they walked back to the château, they had agreed to marry in Paris in June, with the children present, and he would present her at court as the Marquise de Margerac the next day.

They told the children when they got back to the house, and Agathe and Matthieu jumped all over the nursery laughing and shouting and they both kissed Wachiwi. The governess slipped quietly out of the room then, and gave her notice the next morning. The children were thrilled about that too. But most of all they were thrilled that Wachiwi would be their mother now, and so was she. They didn’t want a governess anymore, they had her. Forever. And Tristan did too.