The Exiles Read Online Free
don’t need a love potion. I’ve got all the love I need right here.” Cretien smiled and put his arm around Aimee.
Thirty minutes later they pulled off the main road and went down a much narrower lane until Jacques said, “That must be it.”
They had been passing through cane fields, but now they had come out into an open space. A cottage occupied the center of a small ridge overlooking the fields, and several smaller shacks, obviously slave quarters, were off behind it.
“Don’t be disappointed, darling,” Cretien said quickly. “We will build a fine house. Even today we’ll find a location, and I’ll get started at once.”
As the carriage pulled up to the house, a woman came out. She was in her forties, a solid woman with a pleasant face and black hair covered by a kerchief. She smiled and curtsied. “May I help you? My name is Marie Bientot.”
Cretien introduced himself and said, “Is your husband here?”
“No, he is out at the far field, but I will send someone for him.” She turned around and called, “Brutus!”
A huge black man, who was carrying wood from a pile, dropped it and came over. He was an enormous man, muscular, with a rather sullen look.
“Brutus, go fetch my husband at once. Tell him the master’s here.”
Without a word the black man turned and plodded away.
“What a massive fellow. He looks rather villainous,” Cretien murmured.
“He’s not the best of the slaves, but he is strong. Will you come inside the house, sir, and you, madame?”
They got out of the carriage and went inside. “My husband and I live over there.” She waved her hand toward the window. “But I wanted to fix the house up.”
“It’s very nice, Marie,” Aimee said.
“You look around, and I will fix you a lunch. We will have a fine dinner tonight.”
Cretien and Aimee wandered around the house. It was a very modest place, but it was clean and large enough and seemed to be well kept. Then they stepped outside.
“It’s not much, is it?” Cretien frowned. “I thought it would be better than this.”
Aimee turned to him, reached up, and touched his cheek. “It will be very nice when we fix it up. And we’ll be here every day while the house is going up.”
Cretien smiled at her. “You’re a patient woman. Most women would rather stay in town at a fine hotel.”
“No, this will be our home until we build the big house. We will call it Fontaine Maison, for your name will be on it.”
Cretien reached out and took her in his arms. He kissed her and said, “Our name will be on it. We will have a good life here, mon chère!”
Chapter three
A sense of pride came to Aimee Fontaine as she walked out of the house to greet her visitors. She thought of the almost two years that had passed as Fontaine Maison was rising, and she was filled with a strong sense of possession. The house had become her life, for although Cretien was drawn often to the city, where he enjoyed the theater and dining and excitement of cosmopolitan life, Aimee loved the plantation.
She paused for a moment as the carriage pulled up and turned to look at the exterior of the house. The French influence on the structure was strong. She had wanted to make it a miniature Versailles, but not quite that formal.
Fontaine Maison was a raised structure with large columns in the lower story and colonnettes in the upper. It had a typical French roof slanting upward to a peak, and she had designed it with many, many windows so that every room would be bathed in light. The house was surrounded by a white fence that also protected a large garden. In years to come it would be more attractive, but at least the seeds were sown.
Aimee felt a strong love for the place, and at the same time a guilt of sorts. She had prayed that she would not make the house an idol, but it had become a haven for her, and she loved it with all of her heart.
A tall man stepped out of the carriage and turned to help a woman. Aimee at once advanced,
Thirty minutes later they pulled off the main road and went down a much narrower lane until Jacques said, “That must be it.”
They had been passing through cane fields, but now they had come out into an open space. A cottage occupied the center of a small ridge overlooking the fields, and several smaller shacks, obviously slave quarters, were off behind it.
“Don’t be disappointed, darling,” Cretien said quickly. “We will build a fine house. Even today we’ll find a location, and I’ll get started at once.”
As the carriage pulled up to the house, a woman came out. She was in her forties, a solid woman with a pleasant face and black hair covered by a kerchief. She smiled and curtsied. “May I help you? My name is Marie Bientot.”
Cretien introduced himself and said, “Is your husband here?”
“No, he is out at the far field, but I will send someone for him.” She turned around and called, “Brutus!”
A huge black man, who was carrying wood from a pile, dropped it and came over. He was an enormous man, muscular, with a rather sullen look.
“Brutus, go fetch my husband at once. Tell him the master’s here.”
Without a word the black man turned and plodded away.
“What a massive fellow. He looks rather villainous,” Cretien murmured.
“He’s not the best of the slaves, but he is strong. Will you come inside the house, sir, and you, madame?”
They got out of the carriage and went inside. “My husband and I live over there.” She waved her hand toward the window. “But I wanted to fix the house up.”
“It’s very nice, Marie,” Aimee said.
“You look around, and I will fix you a lunch. We will have a fine dinner tonight.”
Cretien and Aimee wandered around the house. It was a very modest place, but it was clean and large enough and seemed to be well kept. Then they stepped outside.
“It’s not much, is it?” Cretien frowned. “I thought it would be better than this.”
Aimee turned to him, reached up, and touched his cheek. “It will be very nice when we fix it up. And we’ll be here every day while the house is going up.”
Cretien smiled at her. “You’re a patient woman. Most women would rather stay in town at a fine hotel.”
“No, this will be our home until we build the big house. We will call it Fontaine Maison, for your name will be on it.”
Cretien reached out and took her in his arms. He kissed her and said, “Our name will be on it. We will have a good life here, mon chère!”
Chapter three
A sense of pride came to Aimee Fontaine as she walked out of the house to greet her visitors. She thought of the almost two years that had passed as Fontaine Maison was rising, and she was filled with a strong sense of possession. The house had become her life, for although Cretien was drawn often to the city, where he enjoyed the theater and dining and excitement of cosmopolitan life, Aimee loved the plantation.
She paused for a moment as the carriage pulled up and turned to look at the exterior of the house. The French influence on the structure was strong. She had wanted to make it a miniature Versailles, but not quite that formal.
Fontaine Maison was a raised structure with large columns in the lower story and colonnettes in the upper. It had a typical French roof slanting upward to a peak, and she had designed it with many, many windows so that every room would be bathed in light. The house was surrounded by a white fence that also protected a large garden. In years to come it would be more attractive, but at least the seeds were sown.
Aimee felt a strong love for the place, and at the same time a guilt of sorts. She had prayed that she would not make the house an idol, but it had become a haven for her, and she loved it with all of her heart.
A tall man stepped out of the carriage and turned to help a woman. Aimee at once advanced,