Captive in a strange Land

[cgraven]

Captive in a strange Land

Closed for Iris_Kitty and cgraven

The year was 1745 and war again came to the frontier. England and France where once more vying for control in Europe. Neither nation had troops to spare, as King George’s war boiled over into their North American colonies. The General court of Massachusetts called for the raising of provisional troops and called out the militia to guard against the lightening raids of the French in Canada and their savage allies, the Abinakis and the Huron. The scattered settlements of the Connecticut River Valley knew well what war would mean. Homesteads burned to the ground, crops burned in the fields, live stock slaughtered, and men women and children carried off to the far north into a life of slavery, with the Abenaki at St Francis, or servitude in some Papist household in Quebec.

It had all happened before as in 1704. Fort Massachusetts had been burnt to the ground, and Deerfield attacked in the dead of winter. A howling force of red hellions and Canadian Mallice had attacked Deerfield at dawn that cold February morning carrying off more than one hundred and twenty three men, women and children. They had been marched on snowshoes through the trackless wilderness, the Reverend Williams their only comfort.. The French Officer had allowed him to conduct services on the way to their captivity. At the lake of Memaeggo the huge raiding party broke up into smaller groups, each seeking their own winter quarters. Some of the prisoners where gifted to the French to be ransomed back, others would meet the same fate at the hands of their native captors and some would never return, among them Eunice Williams the Reverend’s own daughter.

The little settlement of Fort at Number Four knew all this that summer of 1745. They where in an exposed position, over sixty miles from the nearest help at Fort Hinsdale, a glorified, fortified grist mill owned by Mr. Hinsdale the head of the Deerfield militia, or Fort Dummer just across the Connecticut River on the western bank, but its rag tag garrison of Provencal soldiers where better suited to drinking and gamboling than to fighting the French and Indians. Whatever help there was to be had, laid in their own hands, and that of the local Militia and Captain Stevens their commander.

When the raids struck, they struck like a summer’s thunderstorm that had blown up over the mountains, swift deadly and gone as soon as they had come. All the outlying homes where burnt , live stock slaughter, and the fields reduced to burnt stubble. Summer turned to fall, and fall slowly wound its way towards winter, and all the while their provisions steadily dwindled till it was obvious that they could not survive the winter. At a special town meeting was held each man having his say, before it was decided to abandon the settlement and seek shelter in Deerfield. When spring returned they would return with it and start again.

As the families left by ones and twos, their ox charts loaded with what few meager passions they had, unseen eyes watched from the trackless forest, ready to strike.


Samuel Tougas looked up from his account books at the knock at his door. He closed and stretched his fingers, stiff from his long morning of making entrees into the ledgers.


“Abbé Gousse what brings you here?”

Monsieur Tougas I know you are an honorable man and have an aged mother to care for other wise I would not ask.?”

“Jean what is it you want we have known each other too long for such games. Remember I knew you at Niagara when you where a young cadet before you answered the church’s call.”

He paused a moment as he studied his friend. Damn the man could be so hard to read when he chose to be so, like every other priest he had know, the knack must be something they all learned in the seminary.

“If you are here on the behalf of Monsieur Le Governor then you can tell that old fox I will not reconsider and have no desire to go chasing the damn English through the woods.”

“No that’s not it my friend , I wanted to ask you to take into your household an English prisoner. Oh Yes I know you would rather not, but your mother is bed ridden and I thought you could use the help.”

The last thing that Samuel wanted in his house was a damn English heretic but the Abbé was correct he did need help with his mother.

“Very well Abbé Gousse you win. I will but only for my mother’s sake.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“So when does the old shriveled daughter of Satan arrive?”

In Three days time.

 

[Irish_Kitty]

Elizabeth Jackson

Physically Elizabeth was weary of traveling. She was weary of walking, weary of cornmeal, weary of feeling frightened. They had been walking for two days. She was a fortnight, plus two days, from home. When she left home, Elizabeth knew that she might never see her family or home again. Her father had arranged her marriage to an advernterous gentleman who owned farmland near Fort at Number Four.

She was prepared as well as she could be for frontieer life. Her faith that God's plan for her was firmly in place made it easier for Elizabeth to accept changes in her life. She knew about keeping a house in order and although her father had servents to actually do most of the work, Elizabeth had a passing acquantance with hard work. After all, God helps those who help themselves and one's greatest form f prary is work.

That being said, Elizabeth looked on her capture as a form or redemption. She didn't know what she had done to anger God, but that wasn't important. The hardship was cleansing and no matter how sore or weary she felt, Elizabeth was closer to God. Elizabeth knew God had aplan for her and that gave her stregnth.

 

[cgraven]

The war party pressed north, their captors showing as much mercy as possible, given the necessity to distance them from possible pursuit. Often the braves would hoist the younger children on to their shoulders carrying them for miles. On the third day Mrs. Jenkins went into labor as she was heavy with child and her time had come due. The savages saw, and called an early halt, build a shelter of brows and there in the stark vastness of the forest, Mrs. Jenkins gave birth to her daughter Elisa. They rested the next day, the braves playing with the children along the rivers bank, the Canadians singing jolly songs, and joining in with their heathen brethren as if they where equals, and even friends. The children seemed to forget that theses men where their sworn enemies, heathen and Papists. The next day the trick began again and the braves sat Mrs. Jenkins on an old plow horse that they had stolen, Goggens That had strayed from Captain’s farm. After four days the beast exhausted they slaughtered it and feasted on the horses flesh.

At Fort Cambly, on the reviver Richelieu Elizabeth was gifted to the French, a captive for ransom. And so four days latter she came to the city of Quebec, the seat of French power in North America.

Nothing in her young life had prepared her for her first sight of the impressive citadel. The houses where made of stone, their roof of slate. The upper city sat on the crest of Cap Dormant, surrounded by an impressive stone wall brisling with cannon, and the lower city nestled between the St Lawrence and the cliffs. It was a bustling seaport, ships lying alongside the stone quays. Every where she looked the habitants where eloquently dressed, more like noblemen that then the honest yeomen farmers that she knew so well. A man dressed in black with the clerical yoke of a papist priest approached Elizabeth and her military escort..

“Mademoiselle vous parler Franĉais.”

At her uncomprehending look he simply smiled. It was a warm and gentle smile as was his voice.

“Mademoiselle I am the Abbé Gousse and I have arranged that you be placed in the household of Monsieur Samuel Tougas. He is an honorable man and you will have no fear for your virtue my child. If you give me your name and where I may contact your family I will let them know what has befallen you, so armaments for you ransom can be made.”

Turning to her escort Abbé Gousse dismissed them and then with a gentle gesture indicated that she was to follow him.

“Mademoiselle Monsieur Tougas speaks English, so it should ease your time here.”

She was led to a stone house that spoke of wealth and prosperity and the Abbé softly knocked on the door. A tall man answered.

“Bonjour mon ami.”

 

[Irish_Kitty]

Elizabeth stood in the doorway watching as the French Catholic priest knocked on the door. She wasn't thinking about the carving on the door, nor that it was made of oak. She barely noticed the stone stairs leading from the sidewalk, only that she had to climb them. She paid no attention to the many people conversing in a language she could not understand.

Elizabeth had seen and experienced so many new things in the past couple of months that she no longer absorbed those little facts that might have made a good journal. Quebec was like something out of a dream to Elizabeth. There was almost nothing about the city that was familiar to her. It was larger and more ornate than any town Elizabeth had seen. Not that Elizabeth came from a poor family. Her father had enough money to book passage across the Atlantic, buy land in the Colonies, and build a house.

To be honest, one word occupied Elizabeth's mind -- randsom. She wasn't really part of her father's house any longer and she wasn't part of her fiancee's house yet. Would either man pay for her to return after living with a strange man as a captive? If she was married, it would be her husband's responsiblity. If she was captured from home or on a trip to visit her sister, the responiblity would fall to her father. At this point, Elizabeth was between worlds. She could certainly see her father reasoning that she was now her fiancee's responsiblity.

Presently a tall and commanding man answered the door. He was older, close to her father in age, but there the similarity ended. He gave Elizabeth's companion a warm greeting in that strange language and his warm smile remained when he turned to acknowledge his captive.

Taught to respect her elders, Elizabeth submissively averted her gaze more out of respect for her position. She clasped her hands in front of her, waiting for his greeting.

 

[cgraven]

”Monsieur Samuel Tougas Let me present Mademoiselle Elizabeth Hinsdale. Elizabeth Hinsdale, Monsieur Samuel Tougas in whose protection you will reside until your ransom is paid.

The Abbé Gousse made the introduction with a genial formality. He smile warmly at both then he punched Samuel in the arm.

“Are you going to leave us standing on your door step like common beggars you wretch?”

“Jean I thought that humility and a beggar for Bon Dieu was your vocation my young friend.”

There was a warm smile on Samuel’s face as he clapped the Abbé on the back, a friendly comradeship, borne of shared hardships. He turned to the young English woman and smiled. He could not help but notice how young and calmly she was, how she kept her eyes demurely downcast. Memories of when he had been a prisoner at Ft Edward came back and he realized how alone and afraid she must be now.

“Mademoiselle Hinsdale please, come in.”

The smile that creased Samuel Tougas’s lips was genuine.

“Jean Perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce Mademoiselle Hinsdale to Madame, for I shall never hear the end of it if she discovered you called again and did not pay her a visit.”

Ah oui mon ami.


<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Madame Tougas was a frail woman she lay in her bed, and a warm smile bowed her lips at the sight of the priest and then her eyes shown with curiosity at the young woman that was with him.

“ Abbé Gousse bonjour mon ami ça va bien? »

Madame Je te présent Mademoiselle Elizabeth Hinsdale

“ Enchanted my dear you may call me Marquette “

The white hair women spoke English with just a hint of an accent more from years of disuse rather than from it being a second language.

 

[Irish_Kitty]

As Elizabeth watched the interaction between Abbè Gousse and Monsieur Tougas she began to relax. She started to explore her surroundings and new "family." The entry way where Elizabeth met Monsieur Tougas led to a large, comfortably furnished sitting room. Tall and broad with long red hair, Samuel reminded Elizabeth of his house. Samuel was imposing, and rather filled the doorway but his smile was genuine and welcoming.

Elizabeth smiled when Monsieur Tougas mentioned Abbè Gousse's devotion to God. Perhaps these Catholics were not as different as Elizabeth feared they would be. The Abbè led Elizabeth down the hall to a well furnished bedroom. A frail woman, Madame Tougas, sat up against the pillows. Her long white braid rested against her shoulder.

"Enchanted my dear you may call me Marquette"

Elizabeth nodded and smiled at the older woman. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Marquette." After a short pause, Elizabeth asked the question that had been on her mind since she was captured. "Madam, what is expected of me?"

If Marquette was startled by the question, it did not show. "I have no doubt that you are nervous about your situation, ma chere. Please, do not concern yourself with that now. Please, trust that you are safe with us." Madam Tougas looked out the window. "Perhaps Samuel could make you something to eat. Then you should rest." She turned back to face Elizabeth, "I am looking forward to get to know you, ma chere."

Abbè Gousse led Elizabeth to the kitchen. Where he told her to sit, patted her hand, and then for the first time in weeks, Elizabeth was alone with her thoughts.

 

[cgraven]

Abbé Gousse led Elizabeth to the kitchen. Where he told her to sit, patted her hand, and then for the first time in weeks, Elizabeth was alone with her thoughts.

When the Abbé returned to his old friend Samuel was back at his desk working on the accounts. He had been very much surprised at how young this English Captive was and how very attractive as well. He looked up at his old friend.

“Jean Are you trying to tempt me by bring such a young beauty into my house?”

There was a teasing tone in Samuel voice as he spoke laying his quill aside, which barely hid his amazement that the priest had placed this young woman in his house.

“You are a good man mon ami. And you do need help with your mother.”

Jean Gousse slapped his friend on his back as he moved to the door;

“But I fear the Bon Dieu’s work calls me.”

With that the Abbé Gousse was off on his parish rounds. Samuel Rose and walked back to the kitchen a fire was burning hearth, and a leek soup was simmering. There was the subtitle fragrance of onions, garlic, and spices in the air and a warm glow from the fire.

“Mademoiselle Hinsdale you must be hungry after your long journey.”

His voice was soft and deep some where between a base and a baritone his physical presence commanding, but his manners pleasant. Though Samuel spoke English it was with a heavy French accent. He noted the quizzical look on the young beauty’s face, and thought back to the time he had been a captive of the English at Albany.

“You only see our horns in the morning when we rise or when we dance naked under the Dark of the moon.”

He teased her as he served the young English woman her leek soup and broke off a large piece of fresh baked bread to go with it. He knew that the English Colonist where told by ther heretic Ministers that the French where devils in league with the Evil One. There was merriment that danced in his clear hazel eyes. Though Samuel was a man of deep faith he cared not for the politics of religion. He found his eyes drawn to the subtitle curves of the girl’s firm young body and noted the torn and warn condition of her clothing.

“Mademoiselle Hinsdale we have been told that you English are demons as well.’

Samuel paused as he cleared away the dishes and set them to soak in a basin of water. He found the soft feminine fragrance of Elizabeth Hinsdale pleasantly distracting.

“Come Mademoiselle”

Samuel Tougas led her up stairs then up to the loft where ther was a small cozy room with a box bed, a night stand with a candle, and a chest at the foot of the bed. There was a chair by a widow at the dormer that looked out over the St Lawrence to the south and far to the south across the trackless forest lay Elizabeth’s home. An awkward silence hung between them for a moment.

“You will find clothing in the chest so change and then come see me in my counting room and I will show you your duties.”

Samuel took his leave and left Elizabeth to change and settle into her new home. She found that the skirts where scandalously short the helm coming four to six inches above her trim ankles. and would revel the curve of her calves. Yet they where of the finest wools, with bright gay colored stripes, the bodices where tight form fitting and the chemises where deeply cut just barely covering the nipples of her firm young breasts, and of the finest linen. The quality of the clothing fit more for a lady of wealth and position rather than that of a serving girl. Of course she had hear the roamer of how wealthy these French where but nothing in her young life had prepared her this.

Samuel’s body had brushed lightly against hers when he had opened the chest, and the memory of that brief contact lingered in his mind as he sat waiting for her in his counting room. and the thoughts that plagued him where definitely not those of a gentleman. And would have shocked any priest with possibly the exception of the Abbé Gousse. Samuel Tougas found he was looking forward to what his young English Captive would chose to wear. He lifted his head when he heard the soft tread of the girl’s dainty feet.

 

[Irish_Kitty]

After attempting not to devour the soup, Elizabeth followed Monsieur Tougas up to what she supposed was to be her room. It was a lovely room well situated with two lovely views. Unfortunatly, Elizabeth could not quite appriciate the wild view.

You will find clothing in the chest so change and then come see me in my counting room and I will show you your duties.”

As soon as Monsieur Tougas left the room, Elizabeth removed her torn clothing. Standing in her petticoats and chemise she turned to the chest. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. So many bright colors. She chose the dullest color she could. A dark blue dress with cheerful yellow stripes. She found a glass over a washbasin and pulled her hair down and recombed it with her fingers before repinning it.

Elizabeth recrossed the room to look at the dress she chose. It really was lovely. The wool felt nice against her fingers and the dyes were rich and brilliant. She looked at the mess she had made of the dresses and thought of Monsieur Tougas. When he had opened the chest for her he had brushed against her. Although she was fully dressed when he touched her, she could feel his touch against her skin. She lightly feathered her fingers over her shoulder and chest where they had made contact.

Suddently Elizabeth shook herself. She was giving in to temptation. Swiftly Elizabeth donned the dress and was startled at how little there was to it. Looking down she could see her ankles and her breasts. As hard as she tried she could not get the dress to cover more of her. Resigned to exposing her ankles, Elizabeth dug through the clothes again, this time looking for a shawl or anything that would cover her now quite large chest. Elizabeth sighed, she knew she was stalling. But she just couldn't go downstairs so naked. She had no luck, but carefully packed the dresses back into the chest before the closed the lid.

Elizabeth sighed again, but this was one of determination. She knelt by the bed and prayed for stregnth to endure this trial. Then stood, and promptly left the room. She had no difficulty finding her way back downstairs and was soon standing before a large oak door. She knocked softly and waited to be told to enter.

 

[cgraven]

The girl was hungry and devoured her soup as if it was the first real meal that she had had in weeks. Samuel had made several raids with the Abenaki and knew other than a hand full of corn meal that rations where few and meager especially for prisoners. The Abenaki shared what they had but it was poor fare for Europeans that where not use to such hardships. Yet still in her hunger there was a certain dignity Mademoiselle Hinsdale possessed. He showed her to the room in the loft that would be hers until she was ransomed back by her family. He was surprised at his reaction when he had brushed against her as he opened the chest.

It was with some relief that he left her to dress. Yet that momentary contact had stirred feelings in him he had thought long dead. His thoughts where interrupted by a soft knock at the door and instantly he knew it must be Elizabeth Hinsdale.

“Enter.”

Samuel Togas sat there for a moment stunned as she entered . the sensual turn of her ankle, the way the corset framed her firm young breasts, and the way the shawl she wore could do little to hide her charms. He rose and went to her he extended his hand to the young beauty and he was tempted to kiss her as she took his hand. And then he could not resist and his lips brushed hers in a chaste tender kiss.

 

[Irish_Kitty]

Samuel's warm smile filled his face and eyes as Elizabeth entered his masculine study. In only a few long stides he crossed the room from his desk to meet her at the doorway. Taking her hand, he only hesitated a moment before she was stunned by his face moving towards hers. Elizabeth's breath caught as Saumel's lips gently brushed hers. Like with the brief contact upstairs in her chamber, Elizabeth's lips tingled and sparked from the contact.

When he stood--a respectable distance away--Elizabeth cleared her throat and spoke. "Do all French women dress like this?" She selfconsiously pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

 

[cgraven]

The young English beauty did not pull away from the kiss but rather seemed to lean into it. Her cheeks flushed crimson when at last Samuel’s lips drew away from hers.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and spoke.

"Do all French women dress like this?"

She self-consciously pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

What ever possessed him to do what he did next Samuel Tougas did not know and he was certain that the Abbé Gousse would be scandalized, yet before he could think Samuel drew open the shawl that the young English beauty had been clutching so tightly to her. Her bosom was heaving as she stood there just in her skirt and Chemise. The garment barely covered the girls taunt nipples the upper limbs of her areola’s clearly visible above the next line.

“Mademoiselle Hinsdale you have forgotten your corset.”


He took her hand and led her back up to the loft and selected a tight fitting corset for her and helped her do up the ties in the front. It looked very much like her English Bed jacket and clung to her like a second skin. Samuel was standing very close to Elizabeth their bodies just a breath away from each other. Her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils and he wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before. His lips where s close to hers his eyes held hers captive and he hesitated for a moment to see what the young beauty would do.