The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) (34 page)

“It is too late for threats, Father.”

“What is it you want?”

“I am not here to blackmail you,” Tristan said. “The good Lord knows why I came here at all.” He picked up the ledger and started for the door. But I have one more question. Is mother a party to this?”

His father chuckled cynically. “She has her alcohol and Charles. She cares not how I obtain my money.”

Tristan opened the door.

“Beware,” Cuthbert snarled. “I will unleash my wrath upon you.”

“That is nothing new,” Tristan replied, unconcerned. “You have been doing it for years.”

*                  *                   *

Sydnee was too late. She watched from across the street as Tristan climbed into his carriage and left his father’s office. She sighed. In her heart she knew Cuthbert Saint-Yves had poisoned Maxime. The man was capable of anything and murdering a slave was the least of his worries. She would see Tristan that afternoon at her townhome when he rendezvoused with D’anton, and at that time she would tell him about the possible murder.

D’anton was the first to arrive at Sydnee’s house that afternoon. He was smartly dressed in a dark blue coat with grey trousers. Taking off his hat and dropping his cane in the rack, he asked, “What’s wrong with you Sydnee? You look pale.” He moved his hand up and cupped her cheek.

“Tristan and I have something to discuss with you,” she replied.

When Tristan arrived, they told D’anton everything. “Here are the documents for you to lock in your office,” Tristan said, handing D’anton the ledgers.

“You have the mask, Sydnee?” D’anton asked.

She nodded.

He stood up, reached in his pocket and took out a calling card. On the back he wrote a name. Handing it to Sydnee, he said, “This is the name of a judge in Natchez. Take the mask to him as soon as possible. We must keep these items far apart.”

“I will go now and purchase a ticket on the next packet,” Sydnee said, picking up her gloves and calling for Atlantis.

When Sydnee left, D’anton said, “You look weary, Tristan. Let’s go upstairs and try to rest for a while.”

Tristan nodded. “I don’t believe I slept at all last night.”

“You will need to be alert. Anything can happen,” D’anton said as they climbed the stairs to their room.

Tristan fell asleep instantly, but D’anton lay on the bed staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. It was hard to absorb everything, and his mind was racing. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not hear his wife walk into the room, not until she gasped.

“What the hell!” he cried, bolting upright, trying to cover himself.

Paula Delacroix stood over him wide-eyed. A big-boned brunette, she towered over the bed.

Tristan woke up with a jolt, yanking the sheet up over his legs.

Lucy Franklin, a thin lipped busy-body, was standing behind Paula gawking at them.

“Oh!” cried Paula, putting a hanky to her face. “Oh, how could you, D’anton?” She dashed from the room and down the stairs with Lucy behind her.

“Oh, Mon Dieu!” exclaimed D’anton, jumping out of bed and grabbing his trousers. “I must stop them, or we are ruined.”

Madly pulling on clothes, Tristan ran out after him and down the stairs too.

Neither one of them remembered to take Cuthbert Saint-Yves’ ledgers.

*                    *                   *

When Sydnee arrived home, Marie was crying. “They pushed past me, Mademoiselle. I could not stop them!”

Grabbing Marie by the arms, Sydnee demanded, “Who? Who came in?”

“Monsieur Delacroix’s wife and another woman. They went upstairs, and then I heard shouts. The women ran out and then the men after them. I rushed down to market, hoping to find you.”

Sydnee covered her face with her hands and moaned. “It has happened,” she mumbled. “It has finally happened. Oh, Marie, I know who is behind this.”

News of the discovery was all over the city in a matter of hours. Pedestrians were walking past Sydnee’s town house, pointing and shaking their heads.

Well after sunset, Sydnee went to see Tristan and Isabel. Atlantis came with her. After telling the dog to wait on the step, Sydnee was shown into the parlor by the Saint-Yveses’ house slave.

Tristan gave Sydnee a weak smile when he walked into the room. “Delphine is fussy tonight, and Isabel is rocking her to sleep.”

“I understand.”

The fire was dying in the grate, and she noticed Tristan’s hands shaking as he lit candles. When he looked at her, she saw dark rings under his eyes.

“Your father is responsible for this, Tristan. All it took was a simple note to Paula.”

He nodded. “It is the perfect way to discredit me about the orphan sales. No one will believe a sodomite.”

He started for a drink and then, with a jolt, he realized something. “Oh no! Sydnee, in my haste, I left the ledgers at your house!”

Sydnee’s jaw dropped. “Where?”

“In the bedroom on the nightstand.”

Sydnee stood up and took his arm. “I must go immediately, but listen to me. You and Isabel must flee. You need to escape to safety tonight. There is talk of imprisoning you.”

He looked at her glassy-eyed.

“Tristan, they hang people for this!”

Blinking several times, he said, “Y-yes, but where do we go?”

“To Memphis, to Mortimer. The authorities will never pursue you upriver. They will be satisfied that you have left. There is boat at dawn. Take Isabel and Delphine with you.”

Tristan ran his hands through his hair. “But what should I take? My business is here, our lives.”

“That is all you need to take with you, your lives.”

“What about you, Sydnee? Surely you are coming with us,” he said.

She shook her head. “I will leave later. We cannot carry the ledgers and the mask together. I will meet you at the landing in the morning to give you the documents and to say goodbye. Now I must go.”

Squeezing his hand, Sydnee ran out the door and back to her house. Taking the stairs two at a time, she dashed into the bedroom and hastily lit a candle to look for the ledgers. They were not on the nightstand. She flipped the bed linens back, looked under the bed and in the wardrobe. She opened drawers and then ran down to the parlor and the dining room to search. She called to Marie. The young woman had not seen them.

“Did you tell me that you left the house to look for me this afternoon?”

“Yes, Mademoiselle Sydnee. I went to the market.”

Sydnee threw her head back and sighed. The house had been empty. Even Atlantis had been gone. The dog went with her to the landing when she purchased a ticket. Saint-Yves must have been watching the house and entered when no one was home to take the ledgers. She put her head in her hands and moaned.

“I am sorry, Mademoiselle Sydnee,” Marie said.

Sydnee shook her head. “No, Marie. You have done nothing wrong.”

Dismissing her, Sydnee, went to her bed chamber to think. Pacing, she tried to gather her thoughts.
Without the ledgers and the mask together, we are lost. There is absolutely no proof against Saint-Yves, and he has won.
She clenched her fists and growled.
But it cannot be. There must be a way.

Sydnee realized suddenly that she was completely alone. Tristan and D’anton could no longer offer their help. She knew that she must go to Natchez immediately. She must get away from the dangers in this city, and once there, she would tell Fletcher everything. Together they would continue the fight.

The night seemed endless, and Sydnee slept little. Just before dawn she set out with Atlantis for the landing to find Tristan, Isabel and Delphine. The sun had not risen yet, and the streets were still quiet. The sound of her heels on the pavement was deafening and a heaviness was upon her.

As she approached the landing she noticed a crowd gathering at the end of the street in front of D’anton’s office. Filthy gossips, she thought, taking pleasure in other’s misfortune. But as she came closer she saw the look of concern on their faces. People were murmuring to each other and pointing.

“What is it?” she asked one of the men.

“The lawyer, Delacroix hanged himself last night.”

Sydnee stood paralyzed, staring at the man.

“Madame?” the stranger said anxiously. “Madame, are you well?”

“H-how do you know?”

“They just brought him out. Someone found him hanging in his office.”

Elbowing her way through the crowd, Sydnee asked a constable, “What’s happened? I am a friend of Monsieur Delacroix.”

He said, “I am sorry for your loss, madam,” and pointed to the door. “They are about to put him in the hearse.”

He helped Sydnee move through the crowd and just as she reached the front, she saw the undertaker reach down and fold back a sheet for Paula Delacroix to see the body.

It was indeed D’anton, his head rolled to one side limply. A sob escaped Sydnee, and she clutched her stomach. Paula said nothing. She just turned and walked away. The undertaker’s assistants put D’anton’s body in the hearse, shut the door and drove off.

Sydnee staggered to a tree and began to retch. Dark spirits swirled around her like a vicious maelstrom. There was ringing in her ears and darkness before her eyes.
I must not let them win. I cannot. This will not happen!

Straightening up and opening her eyes, she saw Atlantis watching her anxiously. “It’s all right, my friend,” she murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Sydnee collected herself. She had to get to Tristan and Isabel before the boat left. Picking up her skirts, she ran toward the landing, clutching her side with Atlantis at her heels. She wanted nothing more than to tear her corset off and run full speed. Nevertheless, as difficult as it was, she reached the paddle wheeler without fainting.

The sun had just broken over the horizon, a blaze of angry red as passengers filed up the landing stage. Sydnee scanned the crowd and found the Saint-Yveses at the end of the line. Tristan was holding Delphine, and Isabel was standing beside him.

When Isabel saw Sydnee, a look of relief spread over her face. Sydnee dashed up and hugged them. “My friends, my dear friends,” she said.

When she looked into Tristan’s face, she knew that she could not tell him about D’anton’s death. In his agony and despair she knew that he would stay in New Orleans to bury his friend, and it was far too dangerous.

“Bon voyage, my friends and be safe,” Sydnee said.

“You will join us shortly?” Isabel asked.

“Indeed I will.”

“Sydnee,” Tristan said. “Did you bring the ledgers?”

She grimaced and hesitated.

“What is it?” he urged anxiously. “Tell me.”

“They’re gone.”

“What!”

“I believe your father came to the house yesterday and took them.”

“Oh,
Mon Dieu
,” he gasped. “Are you certain? Did you look everywhere? I left them on the nightstand.”

Sydnee nodded.

“Then it is over as soon as it starts,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, Sydnee, what now?”

The whistle blew, and she pushed them toward the landing stage. “We will think of something, but you must go. There is too much danger here.”

They moved back into line. Two gentlemen standing next to Tristan were smoking and gossiping. “They found his body at his office,” one of them said.

“How did he do it?” the other man asked, taking a puff of his cigar and adjusting his gloves.

“Hanged.”

“Hanged? What was his name again?”

“Delacroix. You know the one who they were about to arrest for--”

Sydnee looked sharply at Tristan hoping he had not heard, but it was too late.

“W-what did you say?” Tristan asked the men.

“You didn’t hear about it, sir? A lawyer by the name of Delacroix killed himself last night. Just down that street over there.”

“What!” Tristan cried, shaking his head with his mouth open. “No!”

The gentlemen looked at each other and edged away.

Delphine was watching her father, and suddenly burst into tears. She was terrified. Isabel took her immediately.

“It cannot be!” Isabel said. “Our D’anton.”

Wild eyed, Tristan looked at Sydnee for an answer.

She murmured, “It’s true. I just came from there.”

Tristan clutched her arms. “But how do you know? Are you sure?”

“I saw him. I saw his body. He is gone, Tristan.”

Delphine was shrieking, and passengers were turning to look at the uproar.

“I must go,” he said.

“No Tristan!” Isabel exclaimed. “You cannot go back to the city. We must leave here.”

Sydnee grabbed his arm. “There is nothing you can do.”

“Are you mad, Sydnee? I must go to him!”

He yanked away, but Sydnee held her ground. “You will not go back,” she ordered.