His Dark Desires (17 page)

"If the roles were reversed and you could do something to help me, would you walk away or lay abed while I struggled?"

"
Non
. Absolutely not."

He brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips. "Someday we're going to make love again, and it won't be rushed. You can count on it."

His words grabbed at my heart and sent my pulse racing. He left before I could say a word. The day, washed anew by the storm, sparkled bright with promise, and I thought perhaps my optimism for the future was not misplaced. I touched my lips with my fingers and thought that perhaps I wouldn't be alone as I had been for so long.

Returning inside, I found Andre awake and lacing on his boots. He'd dressed in his most worn clothes, as if he were leaving to join friends in the swamp.

"Andre?"

He looked up but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The coverlet was back in the hearth. I had made a grave mistake in lying to him, but to leave him on what appeared to be his current path would be an even graver one.

"Good. I am glad you are dressed." I said briskly. "As you are the man of this household, there are a number of responsibilities that I have been negligent in sharing with you."

"I have other things to do."

"First," I said, ignoring his excuse, "you are going to retrieve the coverlet that my mother made for you. When she was dying, instead of feeling sorry for herself because life was not being fair, she spent some of her last days making that for you. You were to be her first grandchild, and her dearest wish in life was to hold you before she died. She did not get her wish, but I promised her that you would be a man she could look down on from heaven with pride.

"Then the second thing you are going to do is determine what damage was done to your grandfather's office. We apparently had an intruder the night before last, and we need to report the incident to the authorities. Meanwhile, Aunt Nonnie and I will tend the boarders, and await the doctor. Your Aunt Ginette is very ill."

He blinked with surprise.

"You would have known that if you had been here. You would have known that if those who have cared for you all your life were as important to you as you are to them."

Andre looked at me as if he wondered who I was, and I couldn't blame him. I hardly recognized myself. He didn't say a word, but he gathered his coverlet from the hearth and placed it carefully at the end of his bed. Then he followed me down the stairs. After I set Andre to cleaning up the office, I walked into the kitchen to see Mignon, Mama Louisa, and Papa John looking at me as if I were condemned.

"Ginette needed another pair of woolen stockings," Mignon said. "When I got them from your drawer I found some disturbing things." She held up the telegram from Mr. Goodson. "Why did you not tell us about this?" Then she held up the post from Jean Claude's sister. "And Jean Claude is alive and he's back?"

"I haven't seen him," I whispered, unable to breathe.

"I knowed somethin' was wrong. And it ain't right you didn't tell us." Mama Louisa clutched a dish towel angrily, her eyes more troubled than I had ever seen them.

"She's right, Miz Julie. And I'm mighty disappointed. You should have told us, so we could help," Papa John said, shaking his head.

I found a stool next to the butter churn to sit on. "I planned to tell everyone when I knew more. Why cause all of you worry when I didn't yet know what there was to worry about?"

"That argument don't hold water, Miz Julie. That's like not telling your neighbor the Yanks are coming cause you don't know who's leadin' them to your door. We needed to know so we could be on the watch. Even after some scalawag done broke into the house, you didn't say a word."

"We are in danger and you did not tell us," Mignon charged.

"What of the cigar and the charred paper? What do they have to do with this?" Mignon held up those as well.

"I found them in the attic. I think our intruder might have tried to start a fire."

Everyone gasped. Mignon stamped angrily toward me, and I winced again. I'd never really considered how my actions would appear to them.

"You did not think to tell us? You do not trust us," she shouted, tears welling in her eyes.

Tears filled my eyes, too. I caught hold of her fingers as I took the telegram. "That's not true. I love you all dearly. Of course I trust you."

She pulled her fingers from my grasp. "
Non
. You may trust us not to cause you harm, but you do not trust us enough to share your burdens. Loving is sharing," she said, then ran from the room.

Mama Louisa shook her head and went back to the stove.

"She's right, and you know it in your heart, Miz Julie," Papa John said. "I am mightily disappointed." He left the room, shaking his head.

I stared down at the butter churn, tears falling. In my desire to protect my family, I'd brought them nothing but pain. My good intentions had paved the way to a Hades full of hurt, and reparation wasn't going to come easy.

Midmorning, I called a family meeting in my father's office. Bundled up in a quilt, Ginette lay upon the settee. Mignon stood to her right, Papa John and Mama Louisa on the left, and Andre sat on the hearth rug, lingering hurt in his features.

"We are waiting for one more person," I said.

"Who?" Mignon asked, puzzled.

A sharp knock sounded on the door, and I let Stephen in. He saw everyone gathered, lifted an inquiring brow, but didn't comment. He didn't look like a man who'd been up all night. Dressed in a suit that spoke more of business than elegance, the underlying edge to him seemed sharper than ever.

"Monsieur Trevelyan, please have a seat and I will get started." He joined Andre near the hearth, leaning against the mantel.

"In my desire to protect all of you whom I love so dearly, I have been the one to cause you pain. It is time for all of us to be truthful with each other. I have asked Monsieur Trevelyan to join us, because as of yesterday, he has committed himself to helping us determine who is threatening our home and our lives."

I explained the events beginning with the telegram, and told them our suspicions that the gold Jean Claude had stolen might be at
La Belle
. When I finished, no one said a word.

Mignon recovered first. "For years I have prayed for excitement and adventure, but this is too much."

"My father is here and he hasn't come to see me!" Hurt and anger filled Andre's voice.

Stephen settled a hand on Andre's shoulder. "We don't know that, lad. Not until Jean Claude is actually seen. All we know is that someone is threatening your home. Everything else is supposition, but we have to start with the facts."

"How does pretending that your family will be leasing land from
La Belle
help?" Ginette asked.

"Power," Stephen said. "By blending the financial and legal resources of Trevelyan Trading Company with your family, you will be perceived as being less vulnerable. Your sister's reputation remains untarnished, yet she will no longer be seen as destitute and alone or easy for someone to take advantage of."

"But if this is just pretend, how will it make a difference?" Mignon asked.

I stepped forward. "Because only we know it's pretend, and nobody is to tell anyone otherwise. Not even your friends, Andre."

"They are not my friends anymore."

Before I could question him, a knock sounded at the front door. Papa John went to answer it and quickly returned with a man.

Stephen left Andre's side, holding his hand out. "Thank you for coming. I know this is a difficult time." They shook hands as if they'd known each other for years.

The man glanced around the room and his eyes settled on Ginny's pale face. "I hear you have a special patient for me."

"Yes. I will let Mrs. Boucheron make the introductions." Stephen turned my way. "Mrs. Boucheron, this is Doctor Marks. He is the physician I mentioned who specializes in exotic ailments."

Dr. Marks appeared young, but scholarly and somber enough to inspire confidence in his abilities. After I introduced him, he followed Ginette and me to her room to examine her.

Dr. Marks was so meticulously thorough during the exam that he instilled a kernel of hope inside me. The only comment of note that he made concerned a faint red rash Ginette had on her hands. I remembered her saying her hands itched when she was cutting the fruit yesterday morning.

"What is your opinion, Dr. Marks?" I asked, with my heart in my throat.

"To be honest with you, Mrs. Boucheron, I am rather perplexed. There is definitely a degenerative condition in progress, but there appears to be no determinable cause at this point. I'd like to have a few days to do some research into her symptoms. For now, can you tell me for sure that you are not taking any patent medicines, any healing tonics or such?"

Ginette shook her head, her eyes tearing. I, too, felt her disappointment. I had hoped he would have an answer. "Other than an occasional cup of sassafras and lemon verbena tea, and the headache powder Dr. Lanau gave me once, there has been nothing," Ginette whispered.

"Who prepares the tea?"

"Mama Louisa."

"Good," he said. "I will want to ask her exactly what ingredients she uses."

Stephen waited outside for Dr. Marks and as soon we exited, they launched into a conversation. I excused myself to go to Ginette.

Rather than staying in her room, Ginette asked to go to the courtyard. Papa John set her up a comfortable chair and I gave Andre the task of reading
Swiss Family Robinson
to her while I helped Mama Louisa and Mignon prepare the noonday meal.

In the kitchen, I had just put a thick bouillon sauce on the chicken when I heard the jaunty notes of a song being played outside. We all hurried over to the window to see. Stephen, with apparently little care to his dignity, marched around Ginette's chair like a comical pied piper. Andre followed, looking just as silly as he smacked two stones together, punctuating the beat of "Jim Crack Corn" and then "Yankee Doodle." Ginette's laughter rang out. Stephen always seemed to know exactly what to do to help.

"There's just somethin' about that man that does a heart good. Does a mighty favor to the eyes, too," Mama Louisa said, pointedly. "Somethin' you should be a takin' note of, Miz Julie."

"Mama Louisa!" I said, scandalized. "I am a married woman."

"Marriage ain't no written words, and it ain't no church's fancy ritual. It's lovin' and helpin' between a man and a woman. You ain't been married for a decade, if you ask me. And you've done been alone too long. That man is here, and it looks to me like he's wantin' to be lovin'."

Mignon spoke up. "Every month, you go to your suffrage meeting to discuss the rights and independence of women, yet for years you have kept yourself imprisoned, because you weren't sure what had happened to Jean Claude. I would not sit idle for ten years accepting a lifetime of loneliness as my fate. I would choose a quiet
affaire de coeur
, be it right or wrong in the eyes of an unforgiving Church."

"Mignon!" Heat flushed my cheeks. I felt as if I'd been stripped bare and exposed. Were they right? I'd worried that Mignon would let a man rule her because she feared to hurt his feelings, but in truth, it was I who had enslaved myself.

I needed to think and quickly excused myself. When I reached my room I went to the balcony, where I could watch Stephen with Andre and Ginette. I was there but a moment before Stephen turned my way. The intensity of his gaze told me that if I went outside tonight, or the next night, or the next, he would be waiting for me in the sultry light of the Louisiana moon.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

"Mr. Phelps is doing remarkably well, don't you think?" Stephen whispered from behind me.

We'd all gathered in the parlor for refreshments, including the boarders, Mr. Phelps—Stephen's hired guard posing as a Trevelyan Trading Company representative, who'd arrived an hour ago—Mr. Davis, whom I had invited, and unexpectedly, Mr. Latour. Apparently Mr. Latour's conscience wouldn't let him rest until he'd apologized again for his unseemly behavior at his office yesterday. He'd brought me an armful of spring flowers. Thankfully, he'd spent most of his time speaking to Mr. Phelps about Trevelyan Trading Company's interest in leasing land on the river.

"What I think is that this dinner has the makings of a nightmare," I whispered back, pulling my silver shawl tighter.

"I wouldn't miss a minute of it," he replied.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Except for your ever-absent husband, everyone whom you might consider a player in the game is present"

"Does that include you?"

Stephen brought his searching gaze to mine. "I thought we were beyond that."

I smiled softly. "Perhaps. I am reserving judgment on some things, though." I was half teasing, but some part of me still questioned what had brought him to
La Belle
.

He lowered his voice and spoke intimately close to my ear. "Was I on your mind this afternoon? I enjoyed you watching me from the gallery, much as Juliet must have looked down upon Romeo. 'Were I silk upon your skin, Juliet, O what pleasure would be ours.' " He slid his hand beneath the shawl to the small of my back and softly caressed my spine.

My pulse sped and heat coiled inside of me.

"You take liberties, monsieur," I gasped. "I believe Romeo said glove, did he not? 'O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.' "

"That, too," Stephen said, sliding his finger up my spine, making my toes curl. "Or a slipper upon thy foot, a stocking upon thy thigh—"

"Enough! Someone will see."

He laughed. "I think your beauty has indeed addled my wits. I quite forgot myself."

"I am beginning to think that there isn't anything you would not dare."

His eyes darkened with passion. "When it comes to you, you are right."

I fled to the kitchen, but before checking on the dinner preparations, I shut my eyes, remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, and the power of him inside me. My body burned for him, leaving a long, hot night ahead of me.