Louisiana History Collection - Part 1 (57 page)

She was ushered with formality into the office of the governor. He was seated behind a large table of cherry wood driving a quill over a sheet of foolscap at a rapid rate. A fire smouldered at the end of the room, filling the air with the smell of smoke. The plank floor was bare and only the thinnest of velvet hangings draped the windows.

“One moment,” Governor Perier muttered without looking up. He came to the end of his document and signed it with a flourish. He threw down his quill, seized a sand pot, shook it over the page, and poured off the excess. Only when he had laid it carefully aside did he look up to see who stood waiting to see him.

He jumped to his feet immediately and came around the desk. “Madame Laffont, forgive me, I did not catch your name. I am desolated to have kept you waiting.”

“Do not think of it,” she said, smiling. She had been taken aback by his rudeness and so great was her relief that it had been unintentional that she was perfectly willing to forget it.

He took her hand and led her to a chair, then turned to dismiss his aide as he resumed his own seat. “You are gracious, indeed. I trust I see you well this morning after the dissipations of the night.”

This was her cue to compliment him on the success of his reception in its many details, which she did not fail to do. They spoke of general things for a few minutes, then, in her impatience, she could not prevent herself from coming to the point.

“I know you have much to do preparing for the supply ship that is due, your honor, and so I will not take up too much of your time. I have been persuaded that you might be able to grant a small request for me if it should meet with your approval.”

“I will be happy to do what is in my power.”

“That is most generous of you. The problem is with my lands near Fort Rosalie. Due to the unrest still in that area, I am convinced it would be foolhardy of me to attempt to begin cultivation of them any time soon. In the meantime, however, I have no place to go, nothing of my own.”

“There are many in your same predicament, I fear.”

“Yes, indeed. I understand that they are being given other lands, however, and this is the crux of the matter that I wish to put before you.” She lowered her lashes with what she hoped was becoming modesty. “You may be aware of what I have suffered at the hands of the renegade, Reynaud Chavalier?

The governor cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

“It seems only fitting that I receive some recompense stemming directly from this man. I understand that he has a holding of some thousands of arpents near the bayou known as the Due du Maine. This is some distance from the present scene of conflict and should be comparatively safe. If it is in your power … That is, is there any possible way that the ownership of this land could, perhaps, devolve upon me?”

He leaned back in his chair, putting the tips of his fingers together. “Your request seems reasonable enough, Madame Laffont. However, I am sorry to have to inform you that this matter has already been looked into by this office with the view of confiscation, of course. The property in question is not in the name of this Chavalier, but in that of his cousin.”

Elise had known it well enough since Madeleine herself had told her. Still, she knew she had attained her purpose, that of gaining his sympathy, by the honest regret in his tone.

“I see.” She made a helpless gesture, looking at him with weary anger in her amber-brown eyes. “Then is there no way that I can be revenged upon this man? If he were a savage, it would be different, but since he is half French I feel such rage against him for the way he has used me that I cannot tell you the half of it! How I would like to have him at my mercy, if only for an hour!”

“The fury of a woman,” the governor said, smiling a little unctuously as he shook his head. “It is truly said that hell cannot match it.”

“I believe the reference is to a woman who has been put from a man, not one taken unwilling.”

He shifted in his chair, adjusting his papers. “Yes, well, I regret that I must refuse your request, but it is not in my power to grant it.”

“If only there was something I could take from this man as he has taken so much from me, my pride, my self-respect. You must understand that I was forced to do the bidding of this man for fear of my life and those of other people; I was his slave. How much pleasure it would give me to see him in the same position!”

“But, madame, he will in fact be a slave in St. Domingo. Can you not find comfort in this fact?”

“Oh, yes, but if I had my dearest wish, he would be my slave, mine!” The essential truth rang in her words. She wondered that the man across from her did not hear it.

“You speak in the heat of the moment. It would be quite impossible.”

“But why?” she asked, her tone reflective, faintly intrigued, as if she was only just now considering the problem seriously. “Reynaud Chavalier is not a savage. He has a great deal of knowledge that could be helpful in the planting of my land. With the uprising all but crushed, with his brother the Great Sun out of the colony and his mother a slave on the king’s plantations, I doubt that he would prove a danger.”

“He was the war chief and might rally the group of Natchez into a cohesive force once more.”

“After being shown the might of France? Knowing of the men and arms that can be sent against him and also the temper of the man who governs this colony? I doubt it. Besides, I will undertake to see to it that he has no time for such a useless task. He will be the most peaceable of men.”

The governor rubbed his chin with a rasping sound and the look in his eyes was harassed. “I don’t know.”

“It isn’t as if he were a true Natchez. He is the legitimate son of the late Comte de Combourg, you know — though he renounced the title in favor of his half-brother — so he must be allowed to have some feeling for his father’s people.”

“Can this be true?”

“The marriage of his father and the Natchez woman Tattooed Arm is recorded at the church; I saw it myself. It would be wrong to embarrass the young man calling himself the count, his half-brother, of course, and I would not attempt to do so; still, it cannot be denied.”

“I see.”

“It is my understanding that the ties between him and the family in France, both of affection and gratitude, are enduring if not close. The possibility exists, therefore, that the present count could take an interest in the welfare of his half-brother. Should it happen that Reynaud Chavalier had died in the meantime in St. Domingo, it could, perhaps, give rise to embarrassing inquiries at court. This is especially true if the colony should revert, as is rumored, to the crown. It might be better, don’t you think, if this man were still in Louisiana should that happen?”

Perier stared at her and his gaze was no longer as pleasant. “You are a most persuasive woman, Madame Laffont.”

“Why, thank you, Governor Perier,” she said and smiled, knowing she had won.

The governor’s aide went with her to the long brick-and-plaster building that housed the prisoner. He carried with him an order signed by Perier with a slashing scrawl. This he presented to the captain of the guard. The captain read it, raised his eyebrows, then shouted out a name. A turnkey came to see what was wanted, then, with a pair of guards in tow, stomped away to bring the prisoner. Elise stared at the wall opposite her, ignoring the curious stares of the men and their idle conversation, willing herself to remain in control of her features and her voice.

There came the measured clank of chains. A guard appeared, his musket held at the ready. Behind him, Reynaud ducked into the room through the low doorway. He came to a halt at the sight of Elise and the guard behind him blundered into him, then cursed and gave him a shove that made him stumble forward.

Elise had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying out to the guard not to touch him. At her side, the aide nodded at the captain. The officer unrolled the governor’s order and, in a droning voice, read it to the end. Rolling it up, he handed it to Elise.

She took it in her hand as if it were precious. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin. “I assume everything is in order?”

“Yes, Madam Laffont.”

“I will take the prisoner.”

“As you wish. The two men here will remain with you until you have the man under lock and key.”

“Very well. I am ready.” She turned to Reynaud. Keeping all expression from her face with an extreme effort, she said, “You understand you are now my slave?”

“I understand.”

His voice was rough, with a husky note as if he had not used it in some time. The look in his gray eyes as they met her brown gaze was suspended, yet tinged with wry admiration.

“You will follow me at three paces.” Elise swung around toward the captain and the governor’s aide. “Good day, gentlemen.”

She swept from the prison without a backward glance, though she knew from the clanking of the chains and the tramping of feet that Reynaud and the guards were behind her. The hour was nearly noon, due to the time it had taken to write the necessary orders and affix the proper seals, and she saw with relief that there were few people on the streets. A cold wind was blowing from Lake Pontchartrain and she drew her mantle around her. She did not increase her pace, however, because Reynaud’s chains made it difficult for him to take a normal stride.

She wondered what he thought, what he made of what had taken place. Would he be glad or sorry to be parted from the Great Sun and the others? Would he be ready to do as she had promised and forget the war with the French? Or would he make a liar of her and take himself off to join the remnants of the tribe? She did not know, but she would find out soon enough.

At the house, St. Amant stood waiting in the salon with his back to the fireplace while Helene sat on a small settee. As Elise entered, the Frenchman started forward, his mouth opened as if he would ask what had occurred. Then, as she stepped aside, he saw Reynaud behind her. He moved past her with no more than a brief glance of congratulation and put out his hand to clasp Reynaud’s shoulder.

“Welcome to my home,” St. Amant said quietly, then turned to the guards. “You may remove the chains.”

The guards looked at each other, then the older of the two ducked his head in a bow. “As you please, m’sieu, but are you sure it’s wise?”

“Quite sure.” When the men did not move, St. Amant added, “You may unlock these shackles or I will strike them from him the instant you are gone. It’s all one to me, but I thought you might prefer to take them with you.”

“Yes, m’sieu,” the guard said. Moving forward with care, he unlocked the wrist and ankle bands and stepped back quickly with the chains in his hands.

Elise watched Reynaud rub one wrist, which was rusty from the iron band and dark with the stains of old, dried blood. Her voice cold, she said to the guards, “You may go.”

When they had taken themselves out the door with a final backward glance, Helene rose and paced forward. She stopped at St. Amant’s side. “I add my welcome to that of my husband,” she said to Reynaud. “Our home is at your disposal, as once you made me at home in yours. Now, which do you desire most, something strong to drink, hot food, or a hot bath?”

Reynaud smiled, a slow curving of his well-molded lips. “All three, if it pleases you.”

Helene nodded as St. Amant moved to pour a glass of rum and put it in Reynaud’s hand. “A bath shall be brought to you in Elise’s chamber and afterward something to eat. We beg that you rest and will not expect to see you until tomorrow, if then.”

When the door of the bedchamber had closed behind the maid bringing the last pot of hot water, silence descended. The fire that crackled in the hearth seemed noisy, intrusive. Beyond the window, the sky had darkened still more and a light rain was falling. So cool had it grown that steam rose from the water that sat ready in the round, wooden tub.

Elise realized that she still wore her mantle. Turning from Reynaud, she put back the hood and unfastened the clasp. She fumbled a little, nearly dropping the garment of heavy velvet as she drew it from her shoulders. It was not surprising that she was a trifle overwrought after her interview with the governor, she told herself, but knew all the while that that was not the cause. Moving to put the mantle away in the crude armoire built of native cypress that sat in one corner, she turned to face Reynaud with her hands clasped at her waist.

He stood watching her as if he had never seen her before or else could not believe that she was really there. She met his gray eyes for a long moment, and when she looked away again, there was a trembling inside her, though whether from fear or anticipation or some more elemental emotion she could not tell.

She made an abrupt gesture toward the tub. Her voice strained, she said, “It isn’t St. Catherine Creek, but it’s the best that we could do.”

“It will be fine.”

Without removing his gaze from her, he slipped off his cloak, striped away his leggings and moccasins, and discarded his breechclout. With a smooth movement, he stepped into the tub and knelt in the water. He took up the soap and clean cloth, both left with a length of toweling on a nearby chair, and with quick, economical movements began to soap himself from head to foot.

St. Amant had made Elise free of his wardrobe for Reynaud’s outfitting. The garments she had chosen lay across the foot of the bed. She turned her back, moving to straighten a perfectly flat sleeve.