Bal Masque (13 page)

Lucienne impatiently let the dress remain. “Quick, we have to do something with my hair.” She shook the blue ribbon loose and let her curls fall free.

“I could braid it and then pin up the braids.”

“Yes, do that. It will be horribly unbecoming, but I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”

In her haste Pierrette knocked a covered box to the floor. Cascades of pearls spilled over the dark wood. “Oh, the Dupre pearls! I’ve broken them!” She frantically gathered the strand into her lap.

“Don’t worry about that now! Just help me get out of here.”

Pierrette tumbled the pearls into their box and pushed it to one side of the vanity. Lucienne cast the box a yearning look. Did she dare take the pearls with her? It seemed a pity to leave them, after all. No, it would give Armand a stronger reason than wounded pride to hurry after her. She’d never be able to wear them anyway; the Dupre pearls were too well known.

“That’s the best I can do with your hair.” Pierrette pushed the last pin into place. “You should take the back stairs down now, before people start to leave.” Lucienne tied her bonnet over the haphazard hairstyle. “Wait, you’ll need something to cover that light dress.”

Lucienne dragged a dark cloak from the back of the wardrobe. A new one had been ordered for her trousseau. She’d meant to leave this one for Dorcas. Still, it would cover her from neck to toes. She tied the cords and started for the door. Ninette scrambled off the bed to chase a single bead rolling over the floor. The sight of the bundle of black fur caught at Lucienne’s heart. How could she leave her little friend? No, Lucienne reminded herself, taking the kitten was out of the question. She had no way to carry Ninette, no idea where she’d spend the next few days. Ninette would be a hindrance and would be better off at Mille Fleur. Lucienne paused to search out a page of notepaper and a pencil.

“What are you looking for?” Pierrette leaned over her shoulder. “Can I help?”

“I’m leaving a note asking Marie to look after Ninette until I can send for her. Papa may be so angry he’ll banish her to the barn. I couldn’t endure that.” She scribbled the note and tucked it into the frame of the vanity mirror, then continued to paw through assorted bits and pieces in the drawer.

“Money, I’ll need some money.” Lucienne dumped the contents of a small velvet bag on the vanity. A few coins, the gold locket on a chain, and Armand’s pearl-and-opal ring clinked against the marble top. Haste pushing her, Lucienne twisted up her skirt hem and scraped the coins into her petticoat pocket. She slipped the ring onto the locket chain and clasped it around her neck. Another gleam of gold caught her eye. The wide gold band on her left hand reflected a touch of lamplight. She slipped it off. “Give me a pin,” she directed her cousin.

Pierrette found the paper of pins and passed them. “What are you going to do with that?”

“A gold ring can be sold for money. I certainly don’t have much real coin here, and I don’t know what I may need. The locket and chain are worth something, but this gold ring isn’t as easy to recognize. One of them looks pretty much like another.” She tied the ring to a handkerchief and pinned the bundle inside her chemise. “Raise the curtain and see if anyone is in the garden. If I can get to the stables, I’ll risk taking a horse.”

Pierrette crouched beside the window to draw back a lace panel. “It’s clear from here to the landing. Everyone is in the garden on the other side of the house.” She continued to kneel for a moment. “That’s odd. There’s a signal light up at the landing. Someone must be taking the riverboat. I think I see people down there, a man and a woman.”

“Some guests going back early?” Lucienne pushed her cousin aside. “I think it’s Price and Dorcas. Maybe they’re going into town.” She grinned. “As Papa always says, matters begin to arrange themselves. The riverboat will be much safer than riding alone at night. And much less obvious. Run along to bed, and don’t give anyone the smallest hint you’ve seen me. Pray Philippe is unharmed. I should be with him by morning. When we get our arrangements made, I’ll send word to you.” Giving Pierrette a hug and tucking Ninette into the froth of lacy pillows, Lucienne caught up her borrowed valise and climbed through the long window to melt into the shadows of the gallery. Though she could hear sounds of the party still in progress from the other side of the house, she met no one on the back stairs as she dodged from one group of shadows to another.

Through drapes of moss and over carpets of night Lucienne slipped across the grounds to the landing. The valise slowed her, and try as she might she couldn’t hurry any faster. In the distance, she heard the low whistle of the boat, indicating the pilot had seen the lantern signal requesting a stop. She had to get there before the boat left. Suddenly she realized Price and Dorcas would probably tell Papa where she went. Let them. If they were going into New Orleans for a day or two, by the time they were able to reach Papa, she and Philippe should be far away.

“Miss Lucy Ann?” Dorcas turned at the sound of Lucienne’s half-boots tapping across the loading wharf. “What are you doing out here in the dark, and where’s that new husband of yours?”

“All my plans failed. Philippe didn’t come. It’s the Blanchards and that horrid duel again! Philippe challenged the man, even after I begged him not to. When I saw the boat signal, I slipped out of the house so I can join him. I can’t stay here and be married to Armand! And Philippe may be wounded…or worse! I have to go to him.” Price might run and tell Papa this minute, she realized. She had to offer some acceptable destination. “I’m just too upset to deal with the situation right now. I’ll go to town and stay at Grandmère’s house till I know Philippe is all right and we can be together.” She cast an appealing look at the overseer. “M’sieu Price, you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Price, a burly man beside his reed-slim daughter, regarded her. For a second Lucienne thought he’d refuse. Then he spat something into the river. “Guess it’s only right. Seein’ how your pa done so much for me, I sure cain’t leave his little girl to fend for herself.” He peered into the darkness where the lights of the riverboat had begun to shine a path along the water. “You got money for a ticket, Miss Lucy Ann? Riverboats doan take folks on credit, you know.”

Lucienne dug into her pocket and shook out her handful of coins. She’d never bought her own ticket before and had no idea how much one cost. “I have this. Is it enough, you think?”

Price glanced at the gold and silver clutched in her hand. “Doan know, miss, I just doan know. Have to dicker with the man sometimes to get a fair shake. Let me have what you got there, and I’ll make the best deal for you I can. Might be a little shy of the mark, but I’ll see you get on.”

Lucienne let the coins dribble into his massive fist. “So very kind of you, m’sieu.” He nodded and walked to the end of the pier.

“I didn’t know you and your papa had business in town, Dorcas. I suppose Papa gave M’sieu Price some time off.”

“No, Pa and me are leavin’. I hate to go, Miss Lucy Ann, but your pa arranged a real good place for us with some plantation down in the islands. We take the ship out of N’Orluns tomorrow noon. It’s hard to leave just as my garden was comin’ up so good. And I’m gonna miss you right smart, too, but Pa gets itchy in his boots from time to time, and he’s just got to move on. It was kind of your pa to find him this new place. I hear tell those islands are like heaven.”

The sound of Price’s boots on the rough boards made them turn. “It was pretty close there, Miss Lucy Ann, but I jawed with the feller over it and got you a first class bed in the ladies’ cabin. And seein’s you doan have a maid to do for you, my girl Dorcas is goin’ to be right there with you to see you’re safe.”

“That was kind of you, m’sieu. Dorcas and I will have time for a real visit.”

The trio boarded, and Lucienne followed Price and his daughter along a dim passageway to a cabin below decks. Lucienne gave the room a cursory inspection. It was nothing new to her, but she saw Dorcas looking about as if trying to take in everything at once. At the far end, where fringed red curtains covered the high windows, a group of women chatted over refreshments on a low table. The cozy sofas and chairs invited casual meetings. Lucienne checked twice to see if there was a familiar face in the group.

“You want to visit a spell?” Dorcas asked.

“No, it’s awfully late, and I’ve had a tiring day. I think I’ll just go on to bed. I must be up the instant we dock.” Most of the mosquito-netted beds at the other end of the cabin were empty. If she selected hers now, she could be sure of getting one at the end, away from eyes that might recognize her.

“Pa thought you might want to do that.” Dorcas took Lucienne’s valise and her own tidy bundle to the corner shelves Lucienne indicated. The girl was again wearing the hand-me-down dress, Lucienne noticed.
It must be the best one she has. I’ll give her that dark cotton one that Pierrette stuffed into my bag
.
I never liked it, but it looks a hundred times better than that faded thing she’s wearing. Papa will have to send my trunks on to Etienne’s house once Philippe and I are together. I barely brought enough to be decent.

Worried for Philippe but a little smug that things were at last going well, Lucienne pulled her trousseau nightgown, now missing most of its buttons, out of her bag. “Can you unfasten my dress, Dorcas? That bed looks good to me right now.”

Dorcas nimbly complied. “Pa thought you might like a little somethin’ before bed. He said he’d get you somethin’ to help you sleep.”

Lucienne thought of her mother’s chamomile tea. It always helped her sleep. “That would be perfect,” she agreed. Dorcas left the cabin to find her father, and Lucienne slipped out of her dress. Keeping her chemise on under her gown, she tucked her chain with its locket and Armand’s opal ring into the pocket of her petticoat. Mama always warned her not to leave valuables where they could be taken while she slept. She had no money left, but the locket and ring would be worth a good bit to a thief. For a moment she regretted she hadn’t brought the Dupre pearls. They looked so well on her, wound through her curls. But that would have been common thievery, she reminded herself, and no lady would stoop to that.

The hot drink in the thick mug Dorcas brought didn’t taste as good as Mama’s chamomile tea, but within minutes Lucienne found her eyes drooping shut. She curled into a ball behind the swirls of netting and drew a deep breath. As if she had fallen into a dark well, sleep closed over her. Somewhere, through the gray mists taking her away, Lucienne heard some garbled words. “I didn’t want to do it, Miss Lucy Ann, remember that. I didn’t want it to be this way.” Lucienne struggled to push back the fog, but sleep’s unyielding grip held her. She couldn’t form the words, couldn’t ask the question. She slipped further into that mindless haze and knew nothing more.

Hours later, Lucienne called back that half-forgotten apology. She stared, disbelieving the testimony of her own eyes. The cabin was empty; she was alone. The bed opposite, where Dorcas had spent the night, held only a mound of tumbled covers. All the other passengers were gone and their bags and satchels as well. Not even Dorcas’s neat bundle or the Turkey red valise left in her care came into sight. In her half-buttoned night rail, bare feet scuffing the red carpet, Lucienne searched the cabin. With a head as wooden as the compact shelves beside the beds, she examined every inch of storage. Empty, all the shelves and bins were empty. No Dorcas, and no valise, clothing, or jewelry. She had nothing left.

Lucienne paced the room, each step jarring her head, trying to make sense of something she couldn’t believe. Lucienne finally had to accept the truth, wildly implausible as she found it. Dorcas was gone and must have taken the valise and all Lucienne’s belongings with her. How could the girl be so ungrateful? Papa would deal with her and her father most severely when he heard of this. She’d taken Lucienne’s locket and ring as well, the little thief!

The riverboat bumped against something. The movement was small, but it was enough to topple Lucienne onto the bed. She groaned as a wave of nausea swept her. What had been in that cup Dorcas brought her? Not chamomile tea, she was certain. She lay still, letting the sick green feeling fade a bit. The cabin bobbled with a tiny rise and fall. From the slight motion, she guessed the boat had docked. Dorcas and her father had been gone some time, leaving as soon as they had robbed their unsuspecting companion, she supposed. Lucienne climbed up on a sofa and raised the curtain’s edge to look out, her head just clearing the bottom of the open window. Dock smells of fish and tar and water-logged wood met her. She gulped back the acrid taste rising in her throat. The sun was high, the glare reflecting on the water adding more anguish to her muddled senses. Clapping a hand over her eyes, she shut out the sight. The day was well advanced. Probably the Prices’ ship had departed hours ago. And the duel! Philippe could be wounded, even dead, and she was miles away. Frustrated, fearful, with flashing agony in her temples, she kicked a sofa cushion to the floor.

“How can I get to Philippe when Dorcas took my clothes?” Lucienne picked up a tumbler from the low table and heaved it the length of the room. It smashed with a satisfying tinkle of glass against the paneled wall. “Philippe needs me! How could Dorcas leave me like this? Taking my things! All of them! How dare she? She knew I had to get to Philippe.” Lucienne’s voice went up a notch. She looked around for something else to throw. “Philippe may be wounded—or worse? What can I do?”

“Missy, you just hold yo’ hosses.” The voice rumbled through the open window beside her. “You got no cause to go breakin' up things just ’cause sum’pin don’t suit.” A face, careworn, black, weary with work that never ended, showed in the opening. “I gots to clean that room you in. Git on out, and I means now.”

“But they stole my valise! I can’t go without my valise!” Lucienne shouted at him.

“You leavin’, lessen you got a ticket for riding back the way you come. Bossman ain’t gonna wait on you.” Lucienne started to scream a defiant answer. “Don’t mean nuthin’ to me either way, but I ’spect somebody be right put out with you iffen the law gets called.”