Pride of the King, The (12 page)

Lauren stammered, "Then--then you don't blame me?"

"How could I? He told me everything in the letter. He said that you and Monsieur Aberjon were innocent." Anne clutched her forehead. "Oh Lauren, I have been too absorbed in my own grief to realize you knew nothing of the contents of that letter. He absolved you and Monsieur Aberjon of any responsibility. I should have told you immediately.
I
am the one who should be apologizing."

At this news, tears began to stream down Lauren’s face. Anne pulled her into her arms. The Lupone children came running, frightened and confused wrapping themselves around Anne’s legs.

"My poor child, you have been torturing yourself these past days," Anne murmured, stroking Lauren’s head.

One of the little boys reached up his pudgy hand and offered Lauren his dirty hankie. Lauren chuckled and dried her eyes. "I'm better now," she murmured.

"You go home and get some rest," urged Anne, guiding her to the door. "We are all exhausted. Rene is out doing chores. When he returns, he'll walk you home."

*               *              *

The trysts ended with Rene. He was far too busy doing work on the farm. Lauren broke away from the Aberjon household whenever she could to help Anne, but her opportunities were few. Late one afternoon when she stopped by the house to help feed the Lupone children, Rene came in from the fields and said, "Lauren, I must speak with you. Let’s talk outside."

He led her out to the porch and took her hands. She noticed that his eyes were red rimmed, and his face was drawn. He swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry, Lauren, but we must put off the wedding until this summer. No one is in any mood for a celebration."

"No!" cried Lauren, pulling away from him. "That's not true! We all need something to look forward to. It will brighten everyone's attitude. If we wait until later we will miss the convoy and not be able to leave Kaskaskia."

Rene shook his head. "I know how anxious you are, but we cannot be married right now, Lauren. There must be a period of mourning. It would not be proper."

She turned and walked to the other side of the porch fighting her anger.

Rene continued. "I'm only doing what is best for us and what is best for my family. We must stay here--at least until next spring. My mother needs me."

Lauren turned and looked at Rene blinking as if she had seen a ghost. Gabriel’s words haunted her. "There must be--” she stammered, “There must be someone who could take care of your mother."

"She is my responsibility, Lauren. Don't ask me to leave her."

This could not be happening. Rene could not be changing his mind. Could Gabriel have been right? Maybe Rene would never leave.

Lauren turned and started toward the gate.  

"Where are you going?" called Rene, but she did not hear him. Her feet carried her away faster and faster until she broke into a run.

Chapter 15

As time passed, so did Lauren's dreams of leaving Kaskaskia. Someday maybe they would leave the Illinois Country, but it did not appear to be soon. Lauren’s hopes were buried along with Gabriel. Spring turned to summer, and Anne suggested the two should be married at last. The time for mourning was over, and she said there should be something hopeful for all of them. A morning in July was set aside for the ceremony, and instantly Lauren felt rejuvenated. Every night she worked diligently on her new gown after Madame went to bed, planning and dreaming about the days to come, but when Madame fell ill everything stopped again.

It began as a mild stomach complaint, but the illness lingered far too long and was growing in intensity. This alarmed Lauren, but what disturbed her most of all was Madame's attitude. Without warning, the woman turned against her husband and son. Almost overnight, she recoiled from the two men stating that they meant to do her harm.

"Don't leave me, Lauren," she pleaded one afternoon. "They'll hurt me."

"What are you talking about?" questioned Lauren. "Who'll hurt you?"

"Jean-Baptiste and Claude. They are planning to kill me."

"Don't be absurd!” Lauren laughed. “You have always wanted them by your side. Now you want them to stay away? Honestly you
are
unpredictable."

The woman bolted upright, grabbed Lauren by her gown and hissed, "You've got to believe me! You are my only hope! I heard them the other night in the drawing room."

"You were downstairs?"

"Yes, after you went to bed."

“What!” gasped Lauren.

Madame had a wild look in her eye. She drew the girl closer and whispered, "Take heed. One can learn a great deal after dark."

"Madame, you must stay in your room at night! You could get hurt!"

"You must believe me, Lauren--"At that moment, Madame froze. Her eyes focused on something behind Lauren.

Jean-Baptiste stepped over the threshold and asked, "How is Madame today?"

Lauren pulled Madame's fingers from her bodice and straightened up, arranging her gown. "Well, Monsieur, I am concerned. There is increased pain in her stomach, and she eats nothing. Do you suppose we should call for Dr. Guillard?"

"Nonsense," he replied. "The man will come, examine her, and tell us what we already know, that she has simply a stomach complaint. What concerns me is her mental state. This
seems to be worsening."

"Yes, Monsieur, her outbursts appear--well appear to have changed." Lauren turned back to look at Madame Aberjon who continued to watch Jean-Baptiste warily.

He shook his head sympathetically, "The illness can manifest itself in many ways. These unfounded fears and delusions are an unfortunate example." He walked over to the bed and said, "I am going into town, Josephine. Is there anything I may purchase for you?"

Madame turned her head away and said nothing. As he bent to kiss her, Lauren noticed Jean-Baptiste’s linen shirt appeared threadbare and his boots worn. This was out of character for Monsieur Aberjon, but she thought no more of it.

After he left, Lauren sat down to a game of solitaire. She had never been comfortable with Jean-Baptiste, but Madame’s accusations were indeed the ravings of a lunatic. It was very unsettling, and it may be a sign that her demons were worsening.

Days passed and Madame's stomach problems increased. She grew weaker and could not keep any food down. For Lauren this meant endless days of basins and chamber pots and endless nights of changing the bed. Marianne could see the strain on Lauren and one evening offered to take care of Madame so the girl could get away.

It was a sultry summer night, which reminded Lauren of New Orleans. She stepped out into the night air and thought of Simone and the lazy summer evenings of their youth spent by the fountain in the convent courtyard. She remembered the cool mint drinks the nuns taught them to make and wished she had one now.

Candles illuminated the windows in town as Lauren strolled through the streets, fanning herself. It was good to be away from the sickroom breathing fresh air. She enjoyed walking through town and decided to explore a new route to the Lupone home. She turned down a quiet street lined with well-kept homes inhabited by the wealthier residents of town. She enjoyed watching the families through their front windows dining, reading by candlelight or sharing the day's events over a
sapinette
.

Suddenly, she stopped. There in the candlelight was Jean-Baptiste dining with a lavishly dressed woman of middle age. They were sipping out of aperitif glasses conversing intimately. Lauren stepped back into the shadows as the woman rose, dropping the ties on the damask curtains. Lauren's heart began to pound. The relationship between the couple did not look platonic and a feeling of dread washed over her. Madame's voice echoed in her ear, "Take heed. One can learn a great deal after dark."

She continued down the street.
It was all too unthinkable
.
Who was this woman? Perhaps a business associate from the lead mine? A relative?
Suddenly, the peaceful evening had taken a dark turn. Monsieur Aberjon’s clothing had looked threadbare lately and Claude's monetary demands were indeed extravagant. The thought crossed her mind that maybe Jean-Baptiste needed another "good" marriage to pay some debts. Try as she might Lauren could not dismiss the image of Jean-Baptist in the window with that woman.
Could there be something more sinister at play here than a mere stomach complaint?
It all seemed too absurd yet a tiny voice inside of her screamed "danger".

By the time she reached Rene she could contain herself no longer and told him everything that she suspected.

"You are becoming as addled as your mistress!" he laughed. Then his smile dropped. "Don't be accusing someone as powerful as an Aberjon of murder, Lauren. That is a very dangerous business.”

Lauren frowned. “I cannot sit by idly and watch her die!”

“Yes, you can, because there is nothing to be done. It may be her time. This is all ridiculous. How could they poison her? You and Marianne make all of the meals."

"I know, I know," admitted Lauren covering her face with her hands. "It all seems so absurd. I have been around Madame so long that I am starting to think like her.”

"Put it out of your mind immediately," he said drawing her near, but try as she might Lauren's mind was not with Rene that evening.

Lauren felt compelled to do something about the failing health of her mistress. When Madame fell asleep the next morning she returned to her room, threw her apron on the bed and tied on a cloak. Glancing in the mirror she stopped and looked closer. She did not recognize herself. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her face was pale. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. For days now she had been fighting the urge to retch, unable to eat, completely nauseated cleaning up Madame's vomit and flux.

Thunder rumbled as Lauren stepped out the front door. The skies opened, and it began to pour. By the time she reached the doctors home she was soaked to the skin. Lauren stood by the fire dripping on a small, braided rug as the doctor finished packing his medical bag.

In spite of his years the man moved quickly, and his mind was alert. "I have many calls to make, child. I must go."

"But I fear for Madame’s life," pleaded Lauren. "She is most ill."

He darted to a cabinet, removed several bottles of tonics and placed them inside of his bag along with some clean bandages. "I must trust Jean-Baptist's judgment in this matter. He has taken care of Josephine for many years now, and he knows what is best for her." Dr. Guillard snapped his bag shut and grabbed Lauren under the chin. "You are a good girl and Josephine is lucky to have you. Now run along."

"Doctor!" blurted Lauren, stepping forward. "There is something you don't know." Her heart began to pound.

The old man drew his gray eyebrows together and said, "Well--what is it?"

He was growing impatient as Lauren wrung her hands in desperation. "Poison!" she cried out. "They are poisoning her!"

"What! Who is poisoning her?" he gasped.

"Jean-Baptist and his son are poisoning Madame Aberjon!"

"This is unbelievable! Do you know what you are saying?"

Lauren looked down at the braided rug and whispered, "I do."

He grabbed her by the arm and barked, "There will be no more talk of this kind! Do you understand?"

"But Madame heard them plotting--"

"
Madame
is a lunatic!" he roared. "Now please. Say nothing of this again. That is a
very
dangerous accusation. You must go."

The doctor pulled open the door and waited for her to leave. Lauren could feel his gaze as she stepped out into the storm.

*               *               *

It was late at night when Eugenie finally emerged from Monsieur Aberjon's room. She lit a taper and started down the hall. Usually no one was awake this time of night, and she jumped when she met Lauren on the stairs. Their eyes met for an instant, but they said nothing passing each other.

Having second thoughts, Lauren took a deep breath, turned around and said, "Eugenie, may I talk to you?"

Eugenie stopped walking, her back to Lauren. The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock in the hall upstairs. Lauren continued, "I know when you tried to explain things to me I ran away. I--I am sorry." Her hand was perspiring as she grasped the railing waiting for Eugenie to reply.

Finally, the girl said quietly, “We will talk on the
galerie
."

They met outside on the porch. The night air was sultry and close. Lauren was tense as she reached for the post to steady herself. Eugenie stared straight ahead.

"I've missed our talks,” Lauren said at last. “I used to tell you everything and--I thought I knew everything about you until--until
that
night."

Eugenie remained aloof.

"Help me to understand why you go to Monsieur Aberjon," continued Lauren.

The girl remained mute.

"Why have you chosen
him
?" Lauren asked.