Archer, Jane (19 page)

"Well, Jake, could that have been the lovely Alexandra?"

She abruptly dropped his arm, stepping back in fright as he stopped and looked down at her. She had never seen a man so full of cold, unrelenting rage in her life and it was now directed at her. She was afraid. What had she done? Had she gone too far?

Controlling himself, Jake said coldly, precisely, "You are not mistaken, Bella. That is, indeed, Alexandra and Giles. How she came to be here with him, I don't know, or care. I am sure that you have somehow managed it, but not without their cooperation. The lovely Alexandra will not go with me to Texas."

He turned and strode angrily from the room.

Madame LeBlanc did not follow him. She was too afraid. He was quite capable of killing someone in his present rage. Then she smiled wickedly to herself. Her plans had worked. Jake would forever hate Alexandra as a deceiving whore. Her revenge was sweet, very sweet, but still it was only the beginning. Perhaps, sometime soon she might consider a brothel in Galveston. She knew they did well there and she knew several of the madames for she had procured girls for them frequently. Yes, now that Alexandra was out of the way, she could consider her plans for Jake once more. Laughing to herself, she stretched out languidly on her bed. Life was good, very good indeed.

Alexandra had never felt so strangely in her life. She knew that Giles was thrusting deeply within her, and that she needed him, wanted him with a strange burning that she had never felt before. She clawed at his shoulders, moaning in desire and frustration as he continued his deep penetrating movements. But she could not seem to get enough and yet it all seemed hazy, foggy as if she were not on the bed with a man she'd never wanted before, had never even allowed to touch her before. Now, suddenly, this evening, she accepted everything he did to her, wanting only more, and nothing could seem to satisfy the ache that burned in her loins. Oh, what was happening to her? She opened her eyes slightly as she began to feel herself slide toward the point that would bring her release and her eyes met those of Giles. They were black with passion, triumph. Then she felt him penetrate her finally and she cried out in ecstasy as she plummeted through a gateway of fire.

When she returned, she still felt the strange emptiness in her loins. It could not be satisfied, nothing could fulfill her, and she ached with frustration and unhappiness. Giles came toward her as if in a dream, completely nude, with a glass in his hand. She drank. It was thick, sweet, and faintly bitter. He took the glass from her hand, and she thought she saw evil in his eyes, but even as she tried to shake away the picture, she felt herself grow dizzy, tired, and then finally she slipped into dark oblivion.

Chapter 13

Alexandra lay in bed, not daring to move for fear the dizziness in her head and the nausea in her stomach would overcome her. Gradually, as she lay still, the feelings passed and she began to think clearly once more. The last she remembered was her strange passion for Giles. She was unable to forget her boldness and desire—hardly believing it had happened.

She had to leave the brothel. She could trust Madame LeBlanc no longer. She had obviously helped Giles get into her bedroom. How much had Giles paid for her body, she wondered.

Deciding to test her strength, Alexandra started to lift herself from the bed. She gasped with shock. She wasn't in the brothel. She'd never seen this room before. It was a bedroom, true, but it was done in pale, harmonious colors and elegant taste, although everything about the room suggested a slow decay.

"It's all right, dear, Don't be afraid," a soft voice said.

Alexandra jerked her head around. A small woman sat in a rocking chair near Alexandra's bed, smiling softly. The diffused sunlight came in through windows behind the woman, casting a golden glow on her still body. A soft, moist, warm breeze moved the sheer white curtains back and forth in front of the windows. And it was absolutely quiet. There was no sound to be heard. Alexandra shuddered. It was an eerie place to her, a place that didn't seem quite alive and yet not quite dead. Where could she be?

"Welcome to Jarmon Plantation, Alexandra," the soft voice continued.

Jarmon! Alexandra quickly focused on the woman. She was small, shrunken, her skin clinging to her bones, and yet there was a trace of beauty about her still. She was not old, but she was no longer young. And there was something familiar in her features. Most of all, the woman looked sick, as if constantly in pain.

"Jarmon Plantation?" Alexandra asked, looking in confusion around her. How had she gotten here? The last she remembered was being with Giles in the brothel.

"Yes, we're glad to have you, of course. It's not like it once was, but you're welcome here," the woman said in that same soft voice. She pushed back a strand of gray-blonde hair with a thin, work-worn hand. "I understand that you came to Louisiana looking for Eleanor and Jacob Jarmon."

Alexandra leaned toward her. "Yes. "Yes, indeed. I must see them. I've come a long way."

"You look a great deal like your father, Alexandra."

Alexandra's eyes widened in wonder. 'My father? I, I don't understand."

"I'm Eleanor Thorssen Jarmon. Please call me Eleanor. And you
must
be Alexander Clarke's daughter?"

Alexandra smiled, nodding at the woman, breath escaping from her lips in relief as she leaned back on her pillow. "Eleanor Jarmon. I'm so glad."

"I'm very glad to have you here, Alexandra, but I, frankly, don't understand. Giles didn't tell me anything except your name and that you were looking for me and my son."

Alexandra frowned suddenly, sitting up again, as she said, "Giles? Giles Beaumont? What does he have to do with this?"

Eleanor looked a little confused, then said, "But Giles brought you. Giles Beaumont Jarmon."

Alexandra stared at her a moment, utterly shocked. "Giles Beaumont Jarmon lives here?"

"Indeed. He's Jacob Jarmon's half brother. Giles Beaumont Jarmon III was my husband's first son by a New Orleans woman of high Creole lineage."

"Yes, I see," Alexandra said slowly, indeed beginning to see that Madame LeBlanc must have contacted Giles when she first learned of her desire to go to their plantation. But why?

"I'm sorry that my own son isn't here. You did wish to see him, too, isn't that correct?"

Alexandra looked at her sharply, then said, "Yes, that's right. He isn't here? I don't understand. Isn't this his home?"

Eleanor sighed deeply, then began a faint coughing which increased until her entire body shook. She drew out a heavy cotton handkerchief and pressed it to her lips. When at last the seizure subsided, she leaned back in the rocker, weak and pale. The handkerchief she hastily tucked away, but not before Alexandra had seen the blood on it. Alexandra looked at the woman more closely— perhaps she was more sick than Alexandra had realized.

"Can, can I help?" she asked hesitantly.

Eleanor shook her head, unable to speak.

Alexandra looked away, embarrassed, confused, not knowing what to do, or how to act.

"It's all right, Alexandra. I'm all right," Eleanor finally said.

Alexandra looked back at her and saw that the tired, pain-ridden blue eyes watched her with much interest. "You have come here, inquiring of me and my family, but you have not yet told me why."

Alexandra blushed. "I'm sorry. I suppose I appear the ill-mannered Yankee." Eleanor laughed gently. "No, my dear. You must remember that I, too, am a Northerner. I've never become used to the South and its strange ways," she said, her voice lonely and haunted.

Alexandra spoke quickly, not realizing how she emphasized her Northern traits with her quick speech and blunt tongue, reminding Eleanor of her lost home and family, and so hurried on with her story.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor, but your father died a few days before I left New York City," she finally said.

The small, thin body before Alexandra shook with silent sobs as Eleanor buried her face in her lap. Alexandra looked on in sympathy. She'd never yet cried for the one man she'd loved more than any other. She couldn't cry, not even now with his daughter. Her heart was like ice. Too much had happened for her to still feel anything but loathing for any man.

At last, Eleanor looked up at Alexandra and said, as she dried her eyes, "You came to tell me that?"

"More than that, Eleanor. When your father died, he asked me to come here to tell you that he was sorry and that he'd loved you always."

Eleanor's eyes brimmed over with fresh tears. "I loved him so, Alexandra. He was all I had until I met my husband. It almost broke my heart to leave him, but I had to—I loved my husband so dearly. And then, I wanted Jacob to have his father's inheritance. I wanted what was best for my son. I wanted him to inherit his father's plantation. Only, only—"

"Yes?" Alexandra prompted.

"Only," Eleanor said, trying to control her tears, "he was dead when I arrived here.
Dead.
I came all that way, quarreled with my father, to find my husband dead and buried when I arrived. He never even got to see his son. He'd been killed instantly—thrown from a horse."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How horrible. But why didn't you go back to your father?"

Eleanor raised her chin slightly. "Pride. I was too proud to say I was wrong, to say I was sorry, and then I still thought that Jacob might get something even after I'd learned that—" she hesitated slightly before continuing.

"It was such a shock to learn that my husband had been married before. He'd married a beautiful Creole girl from New Orleans. She died in childbirth. He'd loved her before me. I never really knew then if he'd loved me as much as I had him. He left me pregnant in New York to hurry back here when his father became ill. He said he had to run the plantation, but I wonder, I've always wondered. I suppose I always will."

"Of course, he loved you. He married you, didn't he?"

Eleanor smiled faintly. "Yes, he did, and I had nothing to offer him—not money, not a fine family name like his first wife. He must have loved me, mustn't he?"

Alexandra nodded and said, "Of course, and you were very beautiful, too."

"Yes, I was. He adored my blonde hair and blue eyes. He was so used to the dark Creole beauties that he was fascinated with my fairness."

"Then," Alexandra said hesitantly, "all has been well with you, after all?"

"In some ways it has been all right. In some ways it has not been well at all. You see, the plantation and everything it stands for will go to the first son, nothing for the second. That's the way it always has been in this family. And there will not be much for the first son if the taxes continue to rise."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if we can't meet the carpetbaggers' exorbitant taxes, we will lose the plantation."

Alexandra's eyes widened. "You can't make a living on this good land?"

"No. The South is broken and I doubt if it will ever recover," she said sadly.

"But the land, the cotton?"

" We have the land, but what good is it without the slaves? There is no cotton because there are no slaves to plant it, pick it. Don't you see? Without all those workers, there is no more South. I hated the slavery, but yet it was a beautiful life for the few."

Alexandra nodded, hardly comprehending. "And your son?"

Eleanor smiled softly, thoughts of her son altering her face completely. She became almost beautiful again. "Jacob has won in the end. He doesn't need this burden of the South. He chose another life long ago—when he was little more than a boy. I think he always knew. No, nothing of this will ever go to him. It will all go to Giles when his grandfather dies."

"He's still alive?"

Eleanor laughed harshly. "Of course. It would take a lot to kill that old man. If anything, the war only made him stronger. He will leave everything to Giles, the first son, just as his father left everything to him, the first son. You know, he had a younger brother, Lamar. There was nothing for him so he left years ago. He went to Texas."

"Texas?" Alexandra asked, the word reminding her of Jake, but she pushed the thought from her mind.

"Yes, he got a land grant under the Mexican government and has kept it through everything, even the wars. He's never made a fortune and life has been rough for him, but he has the land and his dreams. That's where my son lives. He went to Texas some time ago to join his uncle, Lamar Jarmon. He wanted me to go with him, but it was no place for a woman and I haven't had the strength for such a rugged life in years. Now it is too late."

"Too late? What do you mean? If you want to go to Texas, we'll go."

Eleanor looked at Alexandra sadly, then said, "No, my dear. I'm not well. I don't have long. Life has been too hard, and the climate here—it is too moist for my lungs. But soon it will all be over."

"Oh, but no! I've just found you. I, I—"

Eleanor shook her head. "Your coming here is a great gift—to know that my father still loved me and forgave me when he died will ease my own passing. I always felt guilty and sorry, more so as I grew older. I won't feel that any longer, and I thank you for that."

"I'm only happy to have helped, but still—"

"You could have seen my son, too. He's only been gone a day. He came to visit me before he went back to Texas. He wanted me to come with him. It is better there now he says, and he and Lamar have big plans for Texas and their ranch. They'll do well, I know. But I couldn't go. I couldn't take the trip."

"I'm sorry I missed him. His grandfather loved him very much. I want to see him too. I promised."

"Of course, but it's a long way to Texas and it's not so civilized there, although the South is not what it once was either. It has become quite unsafe here for a woman alone. I'm surprised you even made it here. It's so lucky that you happened on to Giles."

"Yes, isn't it," Alexandra said coldly, determined to confront Giles with his charade at the earliest moment. She had no desire to stay under the same roof with that man, but she couldn't leave Eleanor yet, not yet.