The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (7 page)

The carriage now moved rapidly away from the ruin of Evangeline, crushing through root and tangled vine. We crossed another wooden bridge, even more worn and shaky than the first had been. The narrow black ribbon of water below was thick with shadows.

Nicholas sat brooding and silent beside me, paying sharp attention to the horses. It was no matter, for the enthusiasm to chatter had left me. The sight of the charred, broken ruin of a house had left me speechless.

We moved on through a tangled web of trees. Soon the land cleared, the fields took on a tamer, more cultivated look. Moments later, a rooftop sprang suddenly into view from behind a host of bowing cypress. “Royal Oaks,” Nicholas explained.

I blinked, almost unwilling to trust my eyes. But what stood before me was no mirage, no illusion. Edward’s large, white-columned house was almost a perfect replica of Evangeline! As we moved in closer, I saw that a few modern touches had been added here and there in place of some of the useless, yet terribly impressive ornamentations that the older house had once boasted. Toward the bayou I could still make out the charred ruin of Evangeline, a silent, watchful ghost that cast a wary shadow from where it stood at the water’s edge. I shivered. Though Edward’s Royal Oaks was no small house, it appeared somehow dwarfed by the ominous, skeletal remains of its sister.

A short while later, I followed Nicholas up the wide steps of the lower gallery, which someone was still in the process of painting. Rough, splintered boards showed through near the doorway where the painter still had not reached. A trail of glowing white led to a brush and several empty buckets off to the side, but the workman was nowhere in sight.

Nicholas stepped forward and pounded upon the massive oak door. As it swung open, I caught sight of a pale, slender woman. Her wide green eyes seemed to grow even larger as her gaze swept from me to Nicholas.

“This is Lydia Dereux, Edward’s wife. Lydia, Miss Louise Moreland,” Nick introduced me, undaunted by her reaction. She was still staring at him, her face drained of color, as if she had just seen a ghost.

“So pleased to meet you.” The startled eyes showed no such pleasure as she reached out a hand that was as soft and delicate as a sparrow’s wing. Her complexion, too, was lily-white, making the deep green of her eyes all the more vivid. Perfectly styled, red-bronze curls capped the delicate chiseled marble of her fine features to fall in waves over the rose pattern of her high-waisted silk dress. I tried to conceal my surprise. Why, she couldn’t be much over thirty. I had not expected Edward’s wife to be so young.

“Please—come into the parlor,” she said in a breathless voice, her eyes once more drifting from me back to Nicholas. As she spoke, she leaned momentarily against the carved doorframe as if her frail body needed its support. I wondered if she were suffering from some malady. The pale lips trembled as she said, “I’ll go find Edward.”

A short time later she returned. At her side walked a stout and sturdy man who I would have recognized, with no introduction, as my uncle Edward. A golden watch chain dangled from the pocket of his waistcoat, catching the light as he stepped over to take my hand in a firm, strong grip. He was just as my mother had described him; a striking man, rather than handsome. His brown hair was barely touched with silver at the temples. Sharp, steely-gray eyes raked over Nicholas. Then he turned to me, studying me unblinkingly, as if the sight of me both pleased and disturbed him.

I watched thin lips beneath the pencil mustache pull into an oddly familiar smile. A sad, haunting sensation tugged at my heart. Just for a moment, I saw something of my mother in this stranger’s face. “Louise. We’ve been so worried about you.”

“Then you did receive my wire?”

“
Yes.
We sent one of our men out after you last night, but he couldn’t get past the bridge. He had to travel miles out of his way. By the time he got to the dock, you were gone.” His hand still held mine in a tight grip.

“‘Nicholas came to my rescue soon after the storm began,” I explained.

Edward’s brow raised. He eyed Nicholas with suspicion. “Then where—”

“No need for you to worry, Edward.” Nicholas’s laugh was dry and cold. “Louise spent the night with Cassa, in her cabin.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—“ Edward faltered, turning his attention back to me.

“I’ve been anxious to meet you and the rest of Mother’s family,” I said, hastily changing the subject. I glanced over at Lydia, who still stood silently at Edward’s side. An unlikely pair, those two, I could not help thinking. Lydia was still a young woman, while Edward, for all his strength and vitality, was old enough to be her father.

“And then there’s the matter of my inheritance to settle. I’ve seen Evangeline,” I confessed, struggling not to let my bitter disappointment show.

“Oh, no! Nicholas didn’t—” Edward seemed at a loss for words. “I had planned to take you out there myself. I did try to prepare you in my last letter, once I knew for sure that you were coming. I hope you weren’t too disappointed.”

“Of course not” I managed softly.

“The girl had great plans for the house, I’m afraid.” Nicholas contradicted boldly. My eyes met his, silently imploring him to keep my secret, the secret of my grand and foolish dreams. But he continued. “Did you know that she had intended to fix the place up, to make it her home? I think it was damned cruel of you not to tell her about the fire!”

Edward’s arm went about my shoulder in a consoling manner. “I am truly sorry. I had no idea you were so interested in the old house,” he said, drawing me further into the parlor and away from Nicholas. “It’s only the land, you see, that’s of any real value. I had hoped to have this all settled before you came. That’s why I made you the offer by mail. To spare you al! of this.”

“I just don’t understand why Grandfather willed me that—that monstrosity!”

“Do you think it was some kind of jest on his part?” His gray-blue eyes searched my face. “I hope not. You must not think too unkindly of the old man, Louise. He was old and in his dotage. He had lost everything dear to him. His poor mind could never quite accept the destruction of Evangeline. In his mind’s eye, Evangeline remained the glowing symbol of power and wealth that it had always been. He thought—he thought he was giving you a gift of great value.”

As I listened, trying to understand, I realized how much my mother must have been like Raymond Dereux. Evangeline had never died for her, either. It had been indestructible, thriving and flourishing upon her dreams and fantasies. “I may have been disappointed in the house,” I said finally, “but that does not mean I’m sorry that I came. I do want to become acquainted with my mother’s family. My father had no living relatives and ... I’ve been very much alone.”

“Say no more! Family is the most important treasure there is!” I was amazed to see a sentimental tear moistening Edward’s eyes as he took both of my hands in his. “Your mother was dear to me. I hated the thought of you going through the funeral alone like that. Lydia and I would have come to St. Louis if your grandfather hadn’t been so ill. I want you to feel most welcome to stay here with us. And don’t worry about Evangeline. I’ll be more than happy to take it off your hands. I can always use more land.”

Edward turned to collect wineglasses from the tall cabinet nearby. “Why don’t we all have some sherry?” he called to Nicholas, who stood pacing near the doorway. “Nicholas? Won’t you join us?”

Nicholas took the glass that Edward offered, but did not sit down with the rest of us.

“The land around Evangeline seems as wild and neglected as the rest of the swamps,” I said. A vision of abandoned fields overgrown with weeds filled my disenchanted mind. “I wouldn’t want you to give me more than it’s worth.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work,” Edward agreed. “But I am always interested in expanding. What I’d like to do is tear the old house down, put in some wild rice or indigo.”

I glanced over at Nicholas. Something dark and unreadable glittered in his eyes. “You will not tear the house down!”

“Now see here, Nicholas.” The room was awkwardly silent. I could tell by the way his hand tightened around the glass that Edward was growing upset. Before he could say any more, the outside door flew open.

A rather plain young girl bounced in, closely followed by a husky, curly-haired youth of around sixteen. “This is Christine,” Edward introduced. “The daughter of my only son, Racine.” Sadness, deep and heavy, darkened his eyes. “I lost my dear son in the war, you know.”

“Yes, Mother told me. I’m so sorry.”

“And this is Nathan,” the girl announced in a bold, breathless manner, for Edward had pointedly ignored the shy, rather shabbily dressed young man who stood awkwardly by her side. “My fiancé,” Christine boasted, her eyes challenging Edward.

Edward’s gaze narrowed as he regarded the young man. Nathan’s clothes were faded and worn, the breeches splattered with white. “Where the devil have you been? Out riding? I’m paying you to whitewash the patio, not make cow’s eyes at my daughter,” Edward scolded.

The boy looked down, stammering something I could not quite understand—the same strange Cajun dialect that Cassa had spoken.

“Oh, Edward. Only a short ride,” the girl placated with a winning smile. Christine was tall, and slender as a reed. She seemed a bright and lively girl. Her little face was thin and rather pointed, her cheeks were flushed, and her long, chestnut-colored hair tousled by the wind and the horse ride. I was a little surprised that Edward allowed her to run about unescorted with the boy, Nathan, for she seemed quite young. Unless she was older than she looked, she must have been around fourteen. I supposed that the rules governing courtship might be more relaxed out here so far from the city.

“And he’s not your beau,” Edward said gruffly, as if he was reading my thoughts. “You’re far too young to even think of a beau.”

To my surprise, she agreed. “Maybe you’re right, Edward.” I saw her bright gaze had fallen upon Nicholas, and a strange, wistful expression filled her eyes. “Why, Nick! I didn’t even see you!” The bold, defiant girl of a moment ago seemed suddenly as shy and awkward as the young boy at her side. “What—what are you doing here?

“I came to bring you your cousin, Louise.”

Christine turned to stare curiously at me. “So that’s who you are. I thought you’d be much older. And not quite as pretty,” she stated bluntly.

“I must be going.”

Nicholas’s words caused her to whirl back around to him.  “Oh, so soon?” I was a little amazed at how swiftly the shyness turned to a beguiling coyness. “Please stay a while,” she begged. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”

Nicholas ignored her pleading eyes. “I’m afraid I must go.” He began to move toward the door.

“Nicholas, wait!” Like an anxious puppy, Christine bounded forward to catch up with him.

“Christine!” Edward’s sharp command drew her back. The girl hesitated. An ugly scowl was beginning to cross her petulant features. But she obediently moved back toward Edward and the rest. I took the opportunity to step forward.

“I’ll see you out, Nicholas,” I said, taking his arm in mine. “And thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

We stood for a moment out on the veranda. “Something tells me you’re not quite the welcome guest in Edward’s home,” I commented, once we were out of hearing range of the others.

A smile lightened his black eyes, making the dark speck dance. “You’re quite perceptive, Miss Moreland,” he agreed. The black eyes began to cloud again, becoming murky, as the surface of a muddy lake becomes when it is disturbed by sudden motion. Something—unpleasant memories?—was stirring their opaque depths. “There’s no love lost between us,” he admitted. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve been here since—” He did not need to finish.

He unexpectedly took my hand in his and held it tightly for a moment. “Louise, promise that you’ll have a word with me before you sign any contracts with Edward. Your inheritance may be worth far more than you realize.”

“Are you saying that my uncle might try to cheat me?”

Laugh lines appeared on either side of his well-sculptured mouth. “Oh, not intentionally. Edward has plans—and you are simply in the way of them. It would be much more convenient for him if you would agree to sell your inheritance so he can put Evangeline out of his sight and mind forever”

“I don’t like it.” I shrugged. “But what else can be done?”

“I thought you intended to restore the house.”

A small ray of hope flickered in my heart. “But you said—you said it was beyond repair!”

The black eyes challenged mine. “Oh, but that was when I wanted you to leave. I had hoped that maybe I could frighten you away. Now that I know you are here to stay, I am prepared to help you.”

“You would help me restore Evangeline?”

“Under one condition.” His eyes had grown dark and solemn again. “The house must remain as it is, undisturbed, until the Mardi Gras.”

“Time is not so important. But, Nicholas, do you think it can be done?”

“The damage looks worse than it is. Only the right wing is in total ruin. The other part of the house is more promising. Of course, it will take time—-and money. You’ll have to come over and see for yourself what needs to be done.” His hand tightened almost possessively upon mine. “Soon.”

“I will.”

I would have my Evangeline, after all. Nicholas would help me! As I watched him walk away toward the carriage, my mind was filled with thoughts and plans. I would have another look at the house. I felt a slight fluttering in my heart, remembering the strong touch of his hand. And yes, I would go soon.

How could I trust him? The dark voice, almost the voice of conscience, thundered like a dark cloud over my bright horizon. Surely he was mad! His insistence that he remain undisturbed in the charred and blackened ruin of a house until after the Mardi Gras was proof of that! How could I favor his advice over the counsel of my own flesh-and-blood uncle? And yet, for the first time since I had arrived in Iberville, I began to feel hope. Hope for Mother’s beloved Evangeline—hope for myself. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my heart.