Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) (30 page)

“Normally, Jean never let me travel with him
or leave the city, except for this trip, which I don't understand.”
She paused reflecting for a moment, then shook her head as if to
clear it. “My father died several months ago, so he never learned
of Jean’s lies.”

Silence filled the room as Marian
contemplated this new bit of information regarding her former
husband. “You know, the sad thing is that he ruined so many lives
around him with his lying ways.”

Layla nodded. “I know it looks very bad for
me. Many people believe I killed him. I hated him and never wanted
to marry him.” She lifted her chin. “No matter what, I would never
have harmed him.”

“But who could have killed him?” Marian
asked. “Someone did.”

“I wish I knew. He was poisoned. Someone had
to have done it in the night.”

“But didn’t you give him the laudanum? Isn’t
that why they suspect you?” Marian asked.

Layla glanced down. “Yes. I often put
laudanum in his nightly drink to avoid being . .. intimate with
him.” She looked at Marian and shivered. “I’m sorry, maybe you
enjoyed being with him, but I despised the act. I couldn’t stand
him touching me any longer.”

“I would never describe Jean as a kind or
patient lover.”

Layla shivered with revulsion. “I never want
to have a man touch me again.”

Marian wanted to tell the young woman that
not all lovers were like Jean, but decided to keep that piece of
information to herself. Layla’s feelings were reminiscent of her
own emotions regarding Jean. Yet the woman’s words again confirmed
her beliefs that the problem was with Jean and not with herself.
She hoped someday Layla would learn this lesson.

“Layla, just remember that every man is not
like Jean. I know it’s hard to realize that at this time, but there
are a lot of good men in the world who would never treat a woman
the way we’ve been treated.”

She shook her head, her expression bleak. “It
won’t matter. I’ll never get the chance to find out about them. If
I’m convicted, I will receive the death penalty and I'll hang.”

Silence filled the room as Marian gazed at
the young girl, sympathy swelling within her. “I’m going to hope
that somehow the real killer is found and you are released.”

“I hope so. Right now I’m not holding out any
hope. It’s so much easier for the papers to condemn me, than to
think that someone else could have done this.”

***

Marian shut the door behind Layla, her heart
swelling with sympathy for the young woman. She seemed so resigned
to her fate and that troubled Marian more than anything. How could
she just accept the fact she was going to die, if she were
innocent?

And if she didn’t kill Jean, then who
did?

Suddenly the urge to find her children and
hug them close overwhelmed her. She wanted to protect them, keep
them safe from the winds of change and trouble that seemed to be
whirling around them since their father’s death.

Marian picked up her skirts and hurried up
the stairs to find her babies. She opened the door to Renee’s room
and found the little girl curled up asleep on her bed, her dolls
spread around her. Marian felt her heart swell with love at the
sight of her child sleeping so trustingly, and as Marian gazed at
her daughter her resolve strengthened to keep her safe.

Closing the door, Marian continued down the
hall to Philip’s room, realizing she hadn’t seen the boy since
breakfast this morning.

She knocked and opened his bedroom door. At
first glance it appeared to be in order, but then Marian noticed
items missing. His favorite hat that his father brought back for
him, a teddy bear he hadn’t yet given up, and his father’s picture.
Then she saw a note lying on his bed. She walked over to the bed
and picked up the piece of paper, a sense of fear overtaking her.
As she begin to read, her heart leapt within her chest and she
gasped.

Mother,

I don’t like living here without Papa. I
don’t like what the children say about him and you. I’m going to
France to find Papa’s family.

Love,

Philip

Marian ran out the door, screaming for her
servants. Philip had run away!

F
or the last two
days, Louis had done nothing but think about his reactions to
Marian facing the strikers. The last time sheer terror struck him
like that was at Anne’s death. The feelings caught him completely
off guard and he’d spent days analyzing them.

At first Marian had been a thorn in his side,
an easy target to help rid himself of Cuvier Shipping. First she’d
been an adversary and then she’d become his lover and now... God,
now he feared the feelings that gripped him with such power. After
more years than he wanted to remember, he now cared about a
woman.

The thought scared him and warmed him at the
same time. He’d been trying to convince Marian to marry him because
he wanted control of the business, but now his reasons for wanting
her were so much more than the business. Yet if she found out about
him arranging the sale of Cuvier Shipping, she would hate him.

The buyer for the business was ready to
conclude the deal. They were waiting for the final signatures and
the sale would be complete. Yet he hesitated, knowing how much this
business meant to Marian and her children, and how much she meant
to him.

If she found out, she would never forgive
him. Yet for the last two days he had struggled, knowing he should
tell her, should be honest and give her the choice of what she
wanted to do. He felt tom between his own selfish desires and
Marian. He’d dreamed so long of owning his own business, yet he
wanted Marian too.

For the last two days he had gone over and
over in his head how he could have both Marian and the mill, yet
every time he’d found no solution. The buyer was waiting for the
final papers to be signed and Louis knew he couldn’t keep him in
limbo much longer. Sooner or later she would have to be told and
her signature acquired.

Time was running out on Louis. Very soon
Marian would want nothing to do with him, unless somehow he
convinced her to marry him. They were getting along, she’d even
kissed him back in the office after the strike. Maybe now was the
time to ask her to marry him again. Maybe this time she’d say yes
and he could rush her to the altar.

Louis picked up his hat and pushed it onto
his head. He left his small apartment in the French Quarter and
walked down the street to the livery stable where his buggy was
kept. In a matter of moments they hitched his horse and brought the
buggy to him.

As he passed down Bourbon Street, past the
bars and the restaurants, he realized he couldn’t wait to see
Marian. He slapped the reins against the horse’s back, picking up
speed. In just a few minutes Louis turned into the Garden district
where Marian lived.

A young boy walked along the roadway,
carrying a small suitcase. As he passed the child, Louis recognized
Philip, Marian’s son. He pulled the buggy over to the side of the
road, tethered the reins of the horse, and hurried to catch up to
the boy.

What did he need a suitcase for? Especially
this late in the evening and alone?

Finally, he sauntered up beside the boy.
“Hello there.”

“Hi,” Philip said sullenly. “I’m not going
back.”

“Where are you off to?” Louis asked, ignoring
his remark.

The boy frowned at him suspiciously.

“France. To live with my Papa’s family,” he
said, his eyes dark with unshed tears.

With all the change and turmoil in the young
boy’s life recently, Louis realized he was running. Marian probably
knew nothing of the child’s whereabouts.

“France is very nice, I hear. You’ve got a
long trip ahead of you. And your Mother gave you enough money for
your ticket, did she?”

The boy glanced up at him his eyes widening
and Louis knew he hadn’t even thought of how he would pay for his
passage.

“No, but I’ll work my way across,” the boy
replied. “Or maybe I’ll stow away.”

Louis fought to keep a straight face, knowing
that to the child his pain was serious and he felt compelled to
help Marian’s son.

“I wouldn’t stow away. If you get caught,
they’ll toss you overboard.” Louis pulled out his money clip and
peeled several small bills off. “Here, take this. It’s a little
money to get you started.”

“Thanks,” Philip said pocketing the bills.
“You’re not going to try to take me back?”

Louis shook his head. No, he wouldn’t force
the boy to go back, just help him to reach the conclusion that it
would be best to return home. And he wasn’t going to leave here
without him.

“A man’s got to follow his dream,” Louis
replied.

“Yeah,” the boy said, not as certain as
before.

“Your Mother will be upset about your
leaving.”

Philip shrugged.

“She and Renee will miss you.”

He shrugged again, not saying a word, his
young face drawing together as if he were in pain.

Louis remembered the fight Philip had gotten
into at school and doubted the children made his life any easier
now. Adjusting to his father’s death and the news surrounding
Jean’s demise couldn’t be easy for the child.

They continued down the street, the suitcase
banging against Philip’s legs.

“It must be hard to lose your father. You met
my father, the old goat is still around and I’m glad.” Louis
observed the boy carefully, and said, casually, “But yours is gone
and I’m sorry about that. Other kids often don’t understand what
it’s like to lose a parent. Especially a father.”

The boy kept walking and nodded his head.
Louis thought he saw him wipe away a tear in the fading
sunlight.

“Kids don’t talk about your father and mother
the way they do mine,” said Philip. “Everyone laughs and says he
married all those women. They call them the Cuvier Widows. I don’t
believe my friends. My papa wouldn’t do that” Philip glanced up at
Louis, his green eyes accusing. “They’re also talking about
you.”

“Me?” Louis asked stunned. “What are they
saying about me?”

Philip’s child’s face drew together in a
scowl. “They’re talking about you and my mother.”

Maybe he and Marian hadn’t kept their romance
such a secret after all. “You know your mother and I work together
for the business now.”

“Yes, I know. Most mothers don’t work. They
stay at home,” Philip said, his eyes dark and accusing, like the
kid wanted to cry but refused.

“Not all mothers. Your mother is determined
not to let your father’s death interfere in your welfare, so she
went to work in your father’s business. She’s really trying to look
out for you, Philip.” Louis watched the child consider his words
carefully.

“But what’s she doing with you?”

Halting on the street, Louis looked at the
child who awaited his response. “I don’t know what the kids are
saying about your mother and me. I’ll admit that I think your
mother is a beautiful woman. I’ll also admit that in the last month
our business partnership has changed. I like your mother,
Philip.”

“So you two have been kissing?”

His question startled Louis.

“Did someone tell you they saw us
kissing?”

“Well, were you?”

Louis thought for a moment wondering what to
tell the kid and then decided to be honest “Yes, I’ve kissed your
mother and I’ll kiss her again if I get a chance.”

The boy considered this for a moment and then
frowned up at Louis. “So you like her now?”

“Very much,” Louis told the boy honestly.

The boy nodded his head and then suddenly
became cheerful. “Do you think I should go to France?”

Louis felt a sense of calm overcome him and
he smiled at Philip. “Yes, I think you should go to France,
someday, when you’re older.”

A small smile of relief lit Philip’s face.
“Would you take me home?”

“I’d be happy to take you home,” Louis
said.

It took them about ten minutes to get to the
house on Josephine Street. Purple and orange rays streaked across
the sky, bathing the home in a warm glow as they pulled up
front.

“I wonder if she found my note?” Philip
asked.

“We’ll find out together,” Louis said smiling
at the boy trying to ease his discomfiture.

“She’s probably going to be mad,” the boy
said climbing down from the buggy.

“Maybe not,” Louis said. “Let’s go see.”

He carried Philip’s small suitcase up the
sidewalk to the door. Philip opened the front door and stepped
inside, and Louis followed him.

“Mother?” he called.

Claire came round the corner, her eyes wide
with gratitude. “Is that you, Philip Cuvier?”

“Yes, Aunt Claire. Where’s Mother?”

She glanced at Louis standing in the entryway
holding Philip’s suitcase, and then returned her attention to the
boy.

Claire dropped to her knees and wrapped her
arms around him, hugging his small body to hers.

“Thank God, you’re all right. Your mother has
gone to the police station to ask for their help in locating
you.”

“Oh!” he said dejectedly. “I guess she found
my note.”

“Yes, sir, she sure did.” She glanced up at
Louis. “Did you find him?”

“We sort of found one another,” Louis
said.

“Philip, you worried your mother terribly,”
Claire scolded.

“I'm sorry.”

“Go upstairs, young man, and wait for your
mother. She should be home soon.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He hung his head and started
toward the stairs. He turned back and glanced at Louis. “Thank you,
Mr. Fournet. Let’s play baseball soon.”

“It’s a deal, Philip. Get some sleep.”

“Goodnight.”

Louis watched the boy disappear up the
stairs, his heart going out to the child. He needed love and
support, not to be made to feel guilty for running from the scandal
of his father. He waited a moment longer to make sure that Philip
was out of hearing and then turned his full attention on
Claire.