Don Gutteridge - Governing Passion

So, Jardin had no alibi, but also no realmotive other than a general dislike of his foreman, a dislikeshared by his colleagues.

“You men all used your own tools?” Marcthought to ask.

“Yes, we do. And our hammers are alldifferent.”

“Except that Jacques’ hammer has got bloodand brains on it,” Marc said.

“That means nothing,” Jardin said. “Anyonecould have used it. You people are picking on us because we’reFrench!”

“Was anything stolen last night?” Marc said,ignoring Jardin’s agitation.

The question startled Jardin, but herecovered to say, “Yes, there was. Another bundle of laths.”

So, the thief had been here. Still, itwas difficult to believe he had done it. However, it would serveLeMieux’s lawyer well if a trial ever came about. (One of Marc’sploys in the courtroom was to offer the jury alternative views ofthe crime.) And the way things were going, he himself might end upbeing that lawyer.

Marc dismissed Jardin. He got the address ofeach worker from Campion, then joined the architect for the rideback to Kingston. Marc went immediately to Robert and Hincks. Louisjoined them, and Marc briefed them on everything he had discoveredso far.

Robert was first to speak. “Marc, we’re goingto have to settle this matter quickly. We need definite proof ofLeMieux’s innocence or guilt. If the business hangs fire, up in theair, we could be in for trouble here with our negotiations. I’mgoing to go to Magistrate Wilson and get his permission for you tocontinue your investigation — officially — if you’re willing to doso.”

“Of course, I will,” Marc said, “but I’m alsoneeded here to help out with Christopher Pettigrew and HenriThériault.”

“Well, we’re not expecting a reply fromThériault for a day or two. That should give you a little time toinvestigate further.”

“All right, then, that’s settled,” Marcsaid.

“Thank you, Marc,” Louis said.

***

Marc had just finished supper when he was accostedin the lobby by Christopher Pettigrew, looking distressed.

“Why, what’s the matter?” Marc asked.

“I just received another letter from mysister,” he sighed. “She’s desperate to have me back inToronto.”

“Perhaps I could help you formulate a replyto her,” Marc offered. “She will relent when she knows what apivotal role you’re playing in the negotiations for the success ofour alliance.”

“She’s most upset at my getting married, Ifear.”

“But you’ll be living at home.”

Pettigrew shook his head. “That may be worsethan not living at home. It’s my bride she seems to be anxiousabout.”

“That’s perfectly natural. Your bride isusurping her place, as it were.”

“But I’ve told her that Miss Todd is thespitting image of her. Look, here is my fiancée’s portrait.” Hepulled out a locket, opened it and showed Marc the miniature of hisbride’s head and shoulders. She was a fair-haired beauty.

“That may not have been the wisest thing todo,” Marc suggested tactfully.

“I know that now. It enraged Christine,”Pettigrew said, then grabbed Marc by the shoulder. “Would you mindlooking at her latest letter and letting me know what you think?I’m worried sick.”

And worried they did not want this young man,this linchpin in their plans. “All right. I’d be happy to.”

“Come up to my room and I’ll show it toyou.”

They went up the stairs to Pettigrew’s room.Christopher went to his desk and picked up a letter, which hehanded to Marc. Marc read:

Birch Grove

March 11, 1841

My Dearest brother:

I found your most recent letter unsatisfactory inthe extreme. What you offer me are not reasons but excuses. Andwhat is reason even, when love and devotion are at stake? You go onand on about politics, about being absolutely required to stay onin Kingston whilst there is some faint hope that Henri Thériault,who sulks in his tent in Quebec like Achilles, may decide to heedthe calls for his presence in Kingston. Is there no-one else in allthat conglomeration of politicians and hangers-on who will sufficeexcept you?

I do not for one minute believe any suchthing. Indeed you are not staying away from me in the horrid stonetown because of Robert Baldwin and Louis LaFontaine. You cannotfool me, who have shared your company and one half of your beingfor twenty-five years. We were struck from the same ore, as closeas any two humans can hope to be. No, Christopher, I know youbetter than you know yourself. You remain in Kingston and eschewthe company of your soul-mate and fraternal friend because of MissTodd. And it is in a futile attempt to save my feelings that youconcoct this sorry tale of being needed by the Reformers to act asa go-between in their efforts to woo Thériault. But I know, withoutyour having to admit it directly or obliquely, that you have becomebesotted with Martha Todd, and in doing so have automaticallyestranged yourself from me. Even though the wedding is not untilApril, you feel compelled to pay court to this interloper, thisfair creature who places her shallow beauty between the vows wemade together as children and have sworn to keep ever since. Is herbeauty so fragile that you feel you must ever be in its presencelest it falter and fail?

Meanwhile, I am alone in the cold empty roomsof the house we lit with the warmth of our companionship. I feellike Ariadne on Naxos, abandoned and betrayed by the one sworn toprotect and love her always. And each letter from you does littleto propitiate and much to vex. So much so that I am sorry to reportthat my headaches have once again begun to torment me, and I feelthat there is no-one but you and your immediate return to Torontothat will give me a moment’s relief. If you cannot find it in yourheart to tell me the truth about your stay in Kingston, please donot bother to write at all. I prefer to suffer in silence.

Your loving and devoted twin,

Christine

“You see, Marc,” Christopher said when Marc hadfinished reading, “how she dismisses my role in politics here andrants against my fiancée.”

“What are these headaches? Nervoustension?”

“No, they’re serious setbacks she suffers.She retreats to her room and won’t let anyone but her personal maidcome near her. I’m really afraid for her well-being.”

“Well, the letter is extremely literate andquite rational, despite its sentiment. I’d say she is pulling outall the stops to get you back in Toronto.”

“You think I should not give in to her?”

“It’s not for me to say, but I really doubtif her health is in jeopardy. Try writing her a very personalletter. Recall your happy memories. Make the point that you areneeded here, but that it is only a matter of three or four weeksbefore you’ll be back. I think she is just looking for reassurance.If you can’t be present, then work on reassuring her by every othermeans. If you like, I’ll add a brief note on the work here. It maycarry more weight.”

“Thank you. That is good advice.”

“I hope it works,” Marc said. “We need youhere.”

And clear-headed if the alliance was tosucceed.

“It ain’t fair,” Cobb was saying to Dora aftersupper. He felt so put upon and irritated that he had broken acardinal rule of the Cobb household: not to talk shop. Cobb was notto burden Dora with the tawdry details of his daily patrols and shewas not to burden him with accounts of childbirth and its aftereffects in her role of midwife to the eastern half of town. “I wasonly on the job fer a few days. And I was gettin’ close, Iwas.”

“Life ain’t fair,” Dora said, as if thattruism settled the matter.

“It has to be one of the gentlemen at MadameLaFrances’s. But I been told not to bother the good madamagain.”