The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (26 page)

The closer we came to the claustrophobic little room, the more my tension mounted. It was all coming back to me in full force. The glittering object half buried in faded silk. That ghastly masked form, arm upraised, the stiff, inhuman grin of the voodoo mask. Eyes burning with the silver gleam of madness as the black club came crashing down—Nicholas’s eyes?

Nicholas was standing near the charred piece of wood which had been the cause of my injury. It looked huge and menacing. The very sight of it made my head throb with unpleasant remembrance.

“When you first began talking about voodoo masks and the like, I thought you were hallucinating,” he confessed. “But when I came down here later that night, I discovered that the blow you received could not possibly have been caused by a falling beam.” He pointed upward. “See how the ceiling slopes? If that chunk of wood had fallen from up there, it would have landed in the opposite direction.”

He was watching me now, his dark eyes penetrating my thoughts. “Louise, you kept repeating something about sapphires—glittering blue sapphires.”

I had to trust him! I took a deep breath. “It was in there,” I said, pointing to the old trunk in the corner. “After Christine locked me in, I wandered about the room for a while. Then I noticed the trunk. I was curious, so I opened it up and looked inside. I saw a shiny object partially concealed within the lining. It looked like a fine piece of jewelry. It was blue, and it sparkled. Nick, do you think it could have been the missing sapphire necklace?”

I did not know whether or not he had even heard my question. He had stepped over to the old trunk and was already beginning to pry at the lid. A cloud of dust filled the room as, with a heavy moan, the rusty hinges parted.

I stepped forward to peer into the trunk with him. “The necklace, or whatever it was, was in here,” I reached a finger into the rotted satin of the lining where the glittering object had been, grasping emptiness. I raised my eyes to Nicholas’s in surprise. The pendant was gone. The trunk was empty.

Chapter Eighteen

When
we returned to the kitchen, Christine was waiting. The ribbons in her long hair ruffled behind her as she rushed over to me, taking both of my hands in hers. “Oh, Louise! You don’t know how I’ve suffered!” She lowered her eyes dramatically. “It was dreadful of me to leave you in that awful old cellar room, even for a moment. Can you ever forgive me?”

Standing there in pristine white dress, her unruly tangle of hair caught up in a huge white bow, she seemed the picture of innocence. She looked so forlorn and repentant that I felt my heart go out to her. No matter how thoughtless her cruel trick of leaving me alone in that ghastly room had been, I did not hold her to blame for what had happened next. “Let’s forget it ever happened.”

“Oh, Louise! Could we?” she cried out in genuine relief. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Truly.” She reached out to hug me tightly.

“You should thank your lucky stars Louise has such a forgiving nature. I’m sure I would not be so easy on you.”

Christine turned to face Nicholas, focusing her charm upon him. “Nick!” she preened, tossing back her mass of chestnut curls. “You’ve taken such good care of our Louise!”

His teeth flashed white against the darkness of his tanned skin, his anger vanishing. “It was my pleasure,” he replied, lost by Christine’s winning smile.

I stole a glance upstairs. “I’ll just go gather up my belongings—”

“Everything’s right here,” Christine said. “Cassa showed me up to your room and I threw it all into this bag.”

“Then we should be going.”

Reluctantly, Christine agreed. “I guess so. I’ve left Nathan out there with the horses a long time.”

Nicholas walked with us out to the waiting carriage. He lifted me up inside, his hand lingering against my waist. His lips brushed ever so softly against mine. I remembered the safety from the fear and blinding pain I had found in his arms. He pressed his hand into mine.  “Take care, Louise,” he whispered before he moved away.

If Christine had noticed the moment of closeness between us, she made no comment. Her mind seemed to be occupied with other matters.

“Things have been terrible since you’ve been gone. Just terrible!” Christine moaned as the carriage started moving toward Royal Oaks. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.” Almost in the same breath, she added, “But something good has happened, too. I’ve found the perfect costumes for us, and now we won’t have to waste our time sewing.”

I frowned slightly. “Costumes?”

“For the Mardi Gras. Louise, surely you haven’t forgotten! It’s only a few weeks away now. Oh, nothing compares to the Mardi Gras! The feasting and the dancing and the big parade! Of course, Edward’s forbidden me to go,” she confided as we reached the fork in the road. “But I think I’ve found a way to change his mind,” she added, a reckless grin upon her lips.

“I hope so,” Nathan drawled from the driver’s seat. “I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else but you.”

“Don’t worry. If he doesn’t relent, I’ll slip out anyway. You can wait for me down by that big cypress tree as you’ve done before.”

“I’d wait all night for you if I had to,” Nathan said, his lazy voice filled with unabashed adoration.

Christine’s excited chatter combined with the motion of the carriage made me feel dizzy. Nathan wasn’t the best of drivers. Every bump in the road set my head to throbbing again. I was glad when we finally reached sight of the house.

To my surprise, the entire family was gathered in the parlor, awaiting our return. Ian hurried to the door to welcome me back, an anxious look in his amber eyes. “We were so worried about you, Louise,” he exclaimed, taking my arm and leading me toward the stiff-backed sofa. He was just in time, for another slight wave of dizziness suddenly washed over me. “Here, sit down. I’ll have Mrs. Lividais bring you a glass of wine.”

As he hurried off to the kitchen, Edward came over for a moment to stand near the edge of the sofa. “How are you feeling, Louise?” The concern in his voice made a lump rise in my throat. “Christine tells me that you would like to have the old fountain in the garden repaired in memory of Raymond. I thing that’s a grand idea. I’ll have Nathan start working on it right after the Mardi Gras.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Lividais patted me kindly on the shoulder as she handed me my wineglass. I felt suddenly stifled, crowded. Edward had reluctantly moved away to make room for Ian. Christine sat chattering at my left elbow, jealously guarding her role as my caretaker. Ian and Mrs. Lividais had joined her excited talk about the coming Mardi Gras. Only Lydia sat in the corner, silently sipping her wine.

“You look pale, Louise,” Christine observed. “Maybe we should go up to your room now. You can rest while I unpack your things.”

“Yes, that does sound nice. I am a little weary—”

Ignoring Ian’s disappointed look, I moved away toward the stairs. Christine followed close behind me, talking about the fabulous costumes she had found for us.

I sank gratefully into the soft feather bed, watching as Christine scampered from one end of my room to the other, peering into my closets as she unpacked my clothing, sampling the tiny new bottle of cologne before she set it down upon my vanity. “This must be from Ian. He likes you, doesn’t he?” Almost in the same breath, she added, “You will try the dresses with me, won’t you?” She turned toward me, her eyes shining with excitement. “I’ll bring them down from the attic after you’ve rested. You will at least try them with me?”

“Oh, I suppose,” I replied with little enthusiasm. The small amount of wine had made me drowsy. I felt no match for Christine’s energetic company.

“I wish we had some jewelry,” she remarked as she unpacked my hairbrush. “If you’re to be a queen and I a princess, we really do need some pearls. But Lydia won’t let me borrow any of hers and Mrs. Lividais is still angry because I lost her strand of blue beads. It wasn’t really my fault that they broke, and they were only glass beads at that.” She paused, frowning. “Louise? Are you listening? Why are your eyes half closed? You’re not really tired, are you?”

“I’m sorry, Christine. Of course I’m listening. I’m just a little fatigued—”

Christine came to stand near the bed, her dark gray eyes troubled. “Louise, you don’t think I meant for you to get hurt, do you?”

The question caught me by surprise. “I didn’t say so, did I?”

“Well, Edward thinks so. And Lydia, too. That’s why things have been so terrible around here, Louise. And Edward’s still accusing me of hiding his precious voodoo mask. As if I’d even touch the dreadful thing! To be honest with you, Louise, I’m a little bit scared of it!”

I glanced up at her curiously, finding it difficult to imagine Christine afraid of anything. But the shiver that shook her slight frame was all too real. Christine was watching me closely, the large gray eyes misted with tears. “I think maybe Edward’s serious about not letting me go to the Mardi Gras “ she said.

“Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

A dimple appeared upon Christine’s cheek. “Surely he’d relent if you agreed to be my chaperone,” she coaxed.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Her face fell. “Oh, Louise! You just have to say yes or you’ll spoil everything. I’m really sorry I lost my temper and locked you in that old cellar. But I would have let you out. Honest! If the door hadn’t already been open when I came back, I would have unlocked it then and there!”

“The door to the cellar room was open?” I asked in alarm.

She nodded her head, making the chestnut-colored hair swirl. Her eyes were bright and feverish as she added, “I guess the catch must have sprung open. So you see, you weren’t really locked in after all.”

A tingle of apprehension swept over me as I remembered pounding upon that solid oak door. The catch had been wedged into place so tightly that the door would not budge even a fraction of an inch. There was no way that it could have sprung open without help.

That meant either Christine was lying, or someone other than she had opened the panel door. There was no doubt in my mind now that the menacing figure wearing the voodoo mask had been real!

Christine turned back toward me, smiling. “I’ll go now to get those dresses. I can hardly wait until you see them. I’ll be back before you know it!”

I settled back upon the feather bed with a weary sigh, hoping that she wouldn’t hurry. I was in no mood to try on old clothes, though I knew that the coming festivities meant a great deal to Christine. And, as for myself, perhaps a distraction was just what I needed. Something to keep my mind off the questions that kept bothering me.

Who had been behind the voodoo mask? Whoever it was must have seen Christine and me enter the old house to have appeared so quickly. Had he been following us all morning, watching our every move?

It had to have been someone familiar with the house, someone who knew how to work the secret panel. Who besides Christine, Nicholas, or I knew about the hidden room?

Christine’s lively talk had made me restless. I rose from the bed and began to wander about the room. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in my absence. Sitting down upon the chair near the vanity, I began to put away the few items that Christine had neglected. As I opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, my gaze fell upon the black lacquer box that my grandfather had sent. I took it out, opening it to study the gaudy trinkets and bright baubles inside. I sighed. There was no use in being sentimental. The contents in no way reminded me of my mother. Perhaps some of the shiny strings of beads would match Christine’s costumes.

Selecting a few strings of glass beads in crystal, emerald, and pearl, I spread them out across the bed for Christine’s inspection. I was diverted from my task by a light tapping at the door. Setting the jewel box aside, I hurried to answer, marveling that Christine had returned so soon.

But it was Lydia, not Christine, who stood uncertainly outside my door. “Lydia!” I cried out in surprise.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course.” I stepped back to allow her to enter. She moved across the room, a fluttering of bows and silk. Her dress was a pale mauve trimmed in vibrant purple velvet ribbon. The pronounced splash of color about her neck and throat made her face seem drawn and pale. I always thought of poor Lydia in terms of her clothing. Thoughts of her automatically conjured up some silken, sweeping concoction like the gown she displayed now—tasteful, fashionable, expensive, and pathetically out of place here in this secluded bayou land where there were so few to notice and admire.

“I must have a word with you,” she said. Her voice was rushed, breathless. Her eyes darted about the room to settle curiously upon the costume beads spread out upon the bed. An odd look of recognition crossed her face as her gaze settled upon the ebony box that had once been my mother’s.

“It’s about Christine,” she said finally, turning her full attention to me.

I should have known. “What about Christine?”

“I know you are growing fond of her. But, Louise, I am worried! I am afraid that your fondness is blinding you to the truth.”

She leaned nearer to where I stood, her husky voice barely audible. Cruel light from my opened window caught her at an unflattering angle, momentarily illuminating minute flaws, accentuating the tiny crow’s-feet that powder did not quite conceal.

“She’s an orphan, you know. She never knew either of her parents. Racine died in the war, of course. And her mother—poor woman—died in the curse of childbirth!” She added with a strange, faraway look, “It’s little wonder that she is difficult.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Lydia?” I demanded.

Her voice was but a whisper now, as if she were afraid that someone might be lingering just outside the bedroom door, listening to our private conversation. “I believe Christine caused your riding accident.”

“I’m sorry, Lydia. But I just can’t imagine Christine would do a thing like that.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what she might be capable of. She’s always resented me. One time she took a knife and ripped every dress in my closet.”