Read Online The Last Broken Promise by Grace Walton - Free Book Online
Authors: Grace Walton
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was wonderful, but aristocratic connections did a lot to ease one’s way in the world. Jess’s maternal grandfather had been a nobleman’s younger son himself when he’d come to the new world all those years ago. Land and money were nice, but a title never hurt. London was the perfect place to begin the hunt. Dorcas could find a lord for Jess. And if the old lady was lucky, Dylan would be persuaded to leave his foolishness in Savannah and travel, with his family, to London to ease their way into society.
“Jessamine, what I’m about to tell you must be shared only with my friend, Arthur Bassett. He’s the Commissioner of Peace appointed by President Monroe to England.” Her tone was businesslike and sharp.
“Ma’am?” Jess was completely confused. What in the world could a nun in a small rural convent need to tell someone as important as a Commissioner appointed by the President?
“Arthur Bassett is a good man, Jessamine. He saved my life in France a long, long time ago and I vowed to help him, if I ever could. It has been more than twenty years. But finally I have the opportunity, and I need your help.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Arthur is not only trying to keep the peace between England and France, he’s trying to save American lives here as well.” Mother Marguerite Marie stood up and began pacing the floor. “Jessamine, do you remember the trapper who came to the convent last month?”
“Yes, Mother, he sat next to me at supper that night. He was French. I could understand very little of what he said.”
“Yes child, he doesn’t speak English at all, poor man. That’s why he stops by St Cecelia’s every few years. He is not a religious man. But he makes his confession to me, and we speak of the beautiful France of our youth. He journeyed all the way from New Orleans this time. And he told me some very disturbing news,” she explained.
“He did?” Jess encouraged her to continue.
“Yes, he did.” Here the nun stopped. She stared straight at the girl sitting on the bed. “Very disturbing news, indeed. My trapper friend lived for a time with a tribe of Creek Indians. Right before he left to come back here, he overheard a Frenchman try to persuade the Creeks to initiate another war against the settlers. I imagine the poor trapper looked so rough, he was mistaken by the French aristocrat for an Indian himself. Because of all the native dialects there, the man proposing another Indian massacre spoke exclusively in French. The trapper understood every word.”
“My brother, Connor, says the French have been trying to gain the support of the Indians for years. Apparently, they want all the land they sold us in Louisiana and the wilderness back under their control. Surely if Connor knows that, your friend Arthur Bassett does also.” Jess tried to console her.
“I’m sure he does. But the trapper said the French are claiming the Royal Dauphin lives. The rumor is he was spirited out of prison as a child and lives now under an assumed name, Herbert Le Roi, in New Orleans. Certain French royalists want to set up a provincial kingdom for this imposter in the lands ceded to the American government. Southern Indian tribes are being wooed by the promise of regaining their lands. He said modern guns were being smuggled through a southern trade route to the Creek Indians. Enough to arm hundreds of warriors. They have even planned massacres, like the one on Fort Mims, at undefended white settlements. Arthur has to be told. You must get my letter to him Jessamine. Perhaps he can stop the murder of all those innocent settlers.”
“I will, of course, Mother.” The girl went to stand beside her. “Just let me get to the coast, one of my family’s ships will surely be there. I will sail to London as soon as possible.”
Jess sounded confident. But she was not at all positive that a ship would be there waiting on her. Her older brother ran the family
“Jessamine, what I’m about to tell you must be shared only with my friend, Arthur Bassett. He’s the Commissioner of Peace appointed by President Monroe to England.” Her tone was businesslike and sharp.
“Ma’am?” Jess was completely confused. What in the world could a nun in a small rural convent need to tell someone as important as a Commissioner appointed by the President?
“Arthur Bassett is a good man, Jessamine. He saved my life in France a long, long time ago and I vowed to help him, if I ever could. It has been more than twenty years. But finally I have the opportunity, and I need your help.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Arthur is not only trying to keep the peace between England and France, he’s trying to save American lives here as well.” Mother Marguerite Marie stood up and began pacing the floor. “Jessamine, do you remember the trapper who came to the convent last month?”
“Yes, Mother, he sat next to me at supper that night. He was French. I could understand very little of what he said.”
“Yes child, he doesn’t speak English at all, poor man. That’s why he stops by St Cecelia’s every few years. He is not a religious man. But he makes his confession to me, and we speak of the beautiful France of our youth. He journeyed all the way from New Orleans this time. And he told me some very disturbing news,” she explained.
“He did?” Jess encouraged her to continue.
“Yes, he did.” Here the nun stopped. She stared straight at the girl sitting on the bed. “Very disturbing news, indeed. My trapper friend lived for a time with a tribe of Creek Indians. Right before he left to come back here, he overheard a Frenchman try to persuade the Creeks to initiate another war against the settlers. I imagine the poor trapper looked so rough, he was mistaken by the French aristocrat for an Indian himself. Because of all the native dialects there, the man proposing another Indian massacre spoke exclusively in French. The trapper understood every word.”
“My brother, Connor, says the French have been trying to gain the support of the Indians for years. Apparently, they want all the land they sold us in Louisiana and the wilderness back under their control. Surely if Connor knows that, your friend Arthur Bassett does also.” Jess tried to console her.
“I’m sure he does. But the trapper said the French are claiming the Royal Dauphin lives. The rumor is he was spirited out of prison as a child and lives now under an assumed name, Herbert Le Roi, in New Orleans. Certain French royalists want to set up a provincial kingdom for this imposter in the lands ceded to the American government. Southern Indian tribes are being wooed by the promise of regaining their lands. He said modern guns were being smuggled through a southern trade route to the Creek Indians. Enough to arm hundreds of warriors. They have even planned massacres, like the one on Fort Mims, at undefended white settlements. Arthur has to be told. You must get my letter to him Jessamine. Perhaps he can stop the murder of all those innocent settlers.”
“I will, of course, Mother.” The girl went to stand beside her. “Just let me get to the coast, one of my family’s ships will surely be there. I will sail to London as soon as possible.”
Jess sounded confident. But she was not at all positive that a ship would be there waiting on her. Her older brother ran the family
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