Wanton Splendor

by Bobbi Smith

  Leaving the study, he turned out the lamps and started upstairs. It was only as he reached the top step that he heard the faint but distinct noise at the back of the house. Without a light, he made his way to the kitchen and cautiously opened the door.

  "Come in," he directed as he recognized Dillon.

  After hurrying inside, Dillon and his small group stood silently in the dark room while Christopher closed the shutters. Then after lighting a candle, he turned to face them. Christopher was stunned by the condition of the three runaways.

  The two women were starkly clad in only simple sackcloth shifts. Their bare feet and legs were scratched and bloodied, a testimony to their struggle for freedom. The young man with them had been whipped not long before for his back was a mass of slow-healing scars. He wore only a pair of loose trousers, tied at the waist with a length of rope. And though his legs were covered his feet had suffered the same abuse as the women's.

  "They've been on the move all day and the patrollers are watchin'," Dillon told him.

  "Sit down, rest," Christopher instructed the wary group.

  "Go on," Dillon spoke gruffly to them and they quickly moved to sit at the table.

  "Did they see you?"

  "No. We got past 'em all right. But it was damn close." He was obviously relieved.

  "Do you want a drink?" Christopher offered, his expression worried.

  "No. I've got to be leavin' now and I'll need all my wits about me. Maybe next time," Dillon paused and grinned. "The first time is the worst. Don't worry."

  "It is enough to test a man's mettle," Christopher returned his smile.

  He walked with Dillon to the back road and bid him Godspeed before hurrying back. He was glad to find Joel waiting for him in the shadows of the back gallery.

  "Need help?"

  "Definitely. Can you get them some food while I fix a place for them to sleep downstairs?"

  "Sure." Joel followed Christopher inside.

  The three runaways looked up nervously as they came back in the room. They still found it hard to believe that white men would help them and they watched Christopher's every move with an animal wariness.

  "I'm going to prepare a place for you to sleep. And Joel, here, is going to fix you some food."

  "When we leavin' here?" the man asked boldly.

  "As soon as it's safe."

  They nodded their fearful understanding and began to eat as Joel quickly set out some bread and cheese for them.

  "When they've eaten their fill, bring them down," he told Joel before he went out to make the arrangements.

  It was almost an hour later when Christopher and Joel had the fugitives safely hidden away. Breathing a sigh of relief, they sat in the study sharing a last drink before attempting once more to go to bed.

  "Dillon said the patrollers were thick on the roads."

  "We'll have to be extra careful, then. The patrollers aren't easy men to deal with," Joel advised.

  "You heard or you experienced?"

  "Both. Are you sure that Captain McCarthy is reliable?"

  "He was recommended by some very powerful people when we were in St. Louis. Though he's very closed mouth about his views, he's an ardent abolitionist."

  "How'd you manage to get him a captain's job on a Southern boat?"

  Christopher looked quite pleased with himself. "I bought into the steamship line with Edward Courtois and James Williams over a year ago. Neither of them showed any interest in the management, so I dabbled in it a little." He shrugged. "They trust me. I've never given them any reason to doubt me. And Captain McCarthy is one of the best on the Mississippi."

  "He knows the signal?"

  Christopher nodded, "He stops, picks up our crates and then delivers them downriver to the Adams plantation."

  "It sounds simple."

  "With any luck it will be," he stated and then added. "I hope."

  With the responsibility for the lives of the three people resting heavily upon him, Christopher fell silent. Their next move would be made cautiously and only when he was certain it was safe. Confident that they would succeed, they both retired eager to begin their plan the next day.

  Mark sat with Isaac in the comfort of the Kingsford carriage. He had been surprised by Isaac's invitation to join him for a business meeting this evening. But eager to redeem himself in his own mind and anxious to prove his worth to his uncle, he had immediately accepted.

  "There's someone I want you to meet," Isaac told him as they drew up in front of a small residence on Rampart Street.

  "A business associate?" Mark asked innocently.

  "So to speak." Isaac gave Mark an indulgent look tinged with good humor. "Come."

  They climbed down from the vehicle and entered the house without knocking.

  "Cherie? I'm home," Isaac called out.

  A young fair-haired boy not much older than twelve seemed to come out of nowhere and jumped into Isaac's arms.

  "Papa!" he exclaimed delightedly. "We've missed you so!"

  Then seeing Mark, the youngster drew away from Isaac and with a grace admirable for one his age, turned to greet him.

  "Monsieur. I am Denis Delabarre, at your service," he bowed formally to Mark.

  Mark, dumbfounded by what he'd just discovered, could only stare in mute surprise at the youth who bore such a resemblance to Isaac. Turning questioning eyes to his uncle, he couldn't stop the question.

  "Isaac? You have a son?"

  Isaac chuckled at Mark's very apparent shock, but as he started to explain, Cherie Delabarre swept into the entry foyer.

  "Ah, mon coeur! You have returned to me at last," the slender, petite woman of color embraced Isaac warmly, with the ease of long familiarity.

  Isaac returned her enthusiasm and then, keeping an arm about her waist, turned her to Mark.

  "Cherie," he introduced. "This is young Mark, whom I've told you so much about. Mark, this is Cherie Delabarre."

  Mark had presence of mind enough to acknowledge her graciously, but an indignant anger flared to life deep within him. How could Isaac do this to Suzanne? Suzanne, who loved her husband devotedly, and was even now suffering untold anguish over her indiscretion with him.

  "Mark, it's wonderful to finally meet you. Isaac has told us all about you and your sister, Katie. Come in and I'll arrange for some refreshments,"

  The visit seemed to drag on interminably for Mark who was studiously polite to Cherie, but refused to warm to her friendly overtures. He was too outraged by Isaac's behavior. Isaac considered himself a gentleman and yet, he was openly keeping a quadroon mistress and she had borne him a son!

  Mark's heart ached for Suzanne and he prayed in his desire to protect her that she would never learn of her husband's unfaithfulness.

  Later as they were leaving, Cherie drew Isaac aside for a few moments of privacy. Her usually sparkling eyes were clouded with worry.

  "Isaac, I fear Mark has been offended," she confided.

  "Really?" Isaac had been so enjoying his time with Denis that he'd paid scant attention to Mark's reaction.

  Cherie nodded solemnly, "He seemed so distant. Is he so innocent in the ways of the world?"

  Isaac pondered her question. "It's quite possible, my love. Do not worry. I'll speak with him. I'm sure he will come to love you, too."

  "I do not want his love," Cherie teased, a small smile curving her full, sensuous lips.

  Isaac stared at Cherie, delighting in her gentle beauty. He had fallen in love with her at a Quadroon Ball when he was thirty-six. And as soon as the arrangements were completed, he had set her up in this house. They had been together for over twenty years now... Their relationship forged through the test of time, physical intimacy, and genuine friendship.

  Isaac had often wished that a marriage between them would have been acceptable. But society dictated strict rules on the relationships between the races and Isaac and Cherie were caught in the maze of hate and prejudice.

  Denis, Isaac was sure, would fare fa
r better. The boy easily passed for white and Isaac planned to send him North for his schooling so he could break free from the restraining condemnation of the South.

  "You're radiant," he remarked with great wonder. "And you are as lovely now as you were that first night I met you."

  Cherie went into his arms and kissed him hungrily, "If only you could be with me always." Her voice broke as she spoke her most fervent wish.

  "Easy," he held her gently. "Suzanne is returning to Kingsford House tomorrow."

  "Only Suzanne?" her eyes brightened with hope.

  "Only Suzanne," Isaac's mouth sought hers, sealing his promise. "I'll be with you for the next week."

  "Oh, Isaac," she sighed contentedly. "Hurry back."

  "I will," he told Cherie.

  Walking back with her to rejoin Mark and Denis, his heart was already counting the hours until he could stay the night with her once more.

  Joel met with the mud clerk on Greenwood's landing.

  "You just got these three crates?"

  "Yes, suh," Joel answered respectfully. "My master says that they're to go to the Adams Plantation."

  "I know the place. We'll have them there late today."

  "Thank you, suh."

  Joel watched as two roustabouts loaded the heavy crates none-too-gently onto Captain McCarthy's steamer the Magnolia Queen. Then with a final whistle, the boat backed out to midstream and began the final leg of her journey to New Orleans. When she was out of sight, Joel walked back to the main house to report to Christopher.

  Dee, who had taken over the housekeeping for Christopher, met him on the gallery.

  "How did it go?"

  "Very smoothly," he confided and, after giving her a jubilant hug, he hurried in to find Christopher.

  Christopher quickly looked up from his paperwork as Joel entered.

  "Well?" he asked nervously.

  "Everything went very smoothly. Our freight should be with Adams later this afternoon."

  Christopher grinned broadly and rose from the desk to clap Joel heartily on the back.

  "Like Dillon said-The first time is the worst! I thought McCarthy was never going to get here!" he said with great relief.

  "Well, we did it!" Joel was excited.

  "We did it!" Christopher remarked solemnly.

  Looking at Joel seriously, they embraced warmly as they both realized what they had accomplished. Their year of dealing and planning and studying up North had paid off. And from here on in, it could only get easier.

  Katie sat in the middle of her bed at Kingsford House rereading Christopher's note yet another time. She had been so excited when they'd returned from the New Orleans trip and his letter had been waiting for her. Obviously not a man given to flowery verse, he had only sent word that he would be attending the ball and anxiously awaited being with her once more. He had signed it only "Christopher" and for that Katie was grateful for Suzanne had insisted upon reading the message.

  Folding the letter and placing it beneath her pillow for safekeeping, Katie wondered how she could possibly last another five days without seeing him again. The weekend had passed quietly, for with Isaac out of town, there had been no social functions to attend. But the rest of the week loomed before her-long, boring days filled only with dress fittings and party preparations. Not that Suzanne would let her help. Suzanne had already made it quite clear that she intended to take care of all the arrangements herself. So, she was left to her own means to entertain herself.

  Katie had tried to interest Mark in riding with her but he had been strangely preoccupied since their return from New Orleans. She had confronted him about his withdrawn mood, but he had dismissed her concern with a sharp word. Never one to pry into anyone's private affairs, Katie held her tongue, but she wasn't quite sure that she liked the changes that were taking place within her brother. Shrugging off the thought as one she could do nothing about, she left the room. Perhaps a ride would lift her spirits and she knew exactly where she wanted to go.

  Katie didn't mind the heat of the early afternoon as she rode up to the front entrance of Greenwood. Dismounting with the help of a servant, Katie turned to find that an attractive black woman had come out on the porch.

  "Good afternoon. Welcome to Greenwood."

  "Good afternoon," Katie said cheerfully as she started up the gallery steps. "I've come to visit Mr. Fletcher. Is he in?"

  "No ma'am. He left fo' New Orleans early dis mornin'," at Katie's crestfallen look, Dee continued. "I'm Dee, his housekeeper. Would you care to leave a message?"

  "No...no," Katie retreated to her horse. "Just tell him Katie came over."

  Dee's expression was suddenly shocked and Katie looked at her quizzically.

  "Is there something wrong?"

  "No ma'am," Dee turned quickly from the white woman to hide her feelings. "Ah'll tell him you was here when he gets back."

  After thanking Dee, Katie rode off. She was confused by the servant's manner but paid it little mind. Right now, all of her thoughts were on Christopher. She was greatly disappointed that he hadn't been in. She missed him and longed to be in his arms. Why, just the memory of his hands upon her body thrilled her... and, at the remembering of his mouth upon her breasts, she felt the now familiar tightening deep within her. Sighing, Katie dragged her thoughts back to the present. The days until the party seemed to stretch out in an endless path before her and the prospect of seeing Christopher on Saturday was all she had to look forward to.

  Mark lay listlessly on his bed. He was confused and angry and worst of all, he had no idea what to do about it. For days now, his temper had been short and though he wanted to get control of his life, he found it impossible.

  Since the night he'd met Isaac's "other family," he'd been torn by viciously conflicting emotions. He loved his uncle. Isaac had been very good to him. But on the other hand, he hated Isaac, too, for abusing the trust Suzanne had in him. Mark knew that if he were married to Suzanne, he would never leave her for another woman.

  Rising, he went to the washstand and splashed cold water on his face. He had to take some action. He couldn't stay in this Umbo any longer.

  Isaac had returned from his week in New Orleans with Cherie early that morning and was busily going over the accounts in the plantation office when Mark knocked at the door.

  "Mark! Come in. I must say I've missed your company this past week," Isaac was jovial. He always felt better after spending time in undemanding solitude with Cherie and Denis.

  "Isaac," Mark greeted him, his expression reflecting all of his conflicting emotions.

  "Something's troubling you?" He noticed Mark's discomfort.

  "Frankly, Isaac, there is and you're the only one I can talk to about it."

  "Please, sit down."

  Mark drew up a chair and glanced nervously about the room.

  "Well?" Isaac prompted. "You don't have to be afraid to talk to me, Mark."

  "Isaac," Mark stated bluntly. "I don't understand how you can betray Suzanne this way."

  Isaac looked calmly at his nephew. Ever since Cherie's warning, he had been wanting to speak with Mark, but the opportunity had never arisen.

  "In what way?"

  "By keeping a mistress. Why, you even have a bas-"

  "Son! I have a son," Isaac bellowed cutting Mark off.

  Mark blanched at Isaac's shout.

  "Denis is my son, Mark," he added more slowly. "I think I need to explain my relationship with Cherie to you."

  "Please," Mark's voice was strangled.

  "I have been with Cherie for over twenty years. I love her. She means everything to me, but being a woman of color, we cannot marry."

  Mark nodded, "Do you love Suzanne, too?"

  "Of course. She is a beautiful woman and she graces my life at Kingsford House splendidly."

  "If you love Suzanne, as you say you do, how can you go to another woman? Surely, she is everything you could possibly want."

  "Ah, you have fallen under Suzanne's spell. Th
at is good. She is deserving of your affection, but your worries are not necessary. Suzanne is very aware of my life with Cherie and Denis."

  "She is?" Mark was astounded.

  "She's known for years. She even takes her own amusements on occasion and I see nothing wrong with that as long as she is discreet."

  "Amusements?" he dreaded the explanation.

  "She has taken lovers."

  "And you don't object?"

  "No. I realize that she has needs. But I prefer not to be the one to satisfy those needs. Cherie is all the woman I need."

  "But why did you marry Suzanne?"

  "She was the most attractive woman in the parish. I wanted her and she wanted what I could give her."

  Mark was silent.

  "I hope you don't find all this distasteful."

  "No," he paused, still trying to reason out all he had heard. "Yours is a marriage of convenience, so to speak."

  "Exactly." Isaac was satisfied with his explanation.

  Mark's mind was spinning as he excused himself from his uncle's presence. He had much to think about. Returning to his room, he paced its confines nervously, his anger with Suzanne growing. What was her game? Did she think him a child she could play with and then ignore! All of her conniving had to be for some purpose. Or was she just a wanton creature who constantly searched for new and more thrilling ways to amuse herself? Certainly, seducing her husband's nephew would come under that category.

  His heart grew cold as he remembered her tearful pleading in the carriage. What an accomplished actress! No longer would he feel any guilt about their one night together. She had wanted it...had planned it, probably... and he refused to believe that she regretted it.

  Mark knew he still wanted her. But he had learned enough in the past few weeks to recognize his feelings for what they really were. He did not love Suzanne as he had begun to believe. He lusted after her. Smiling to himself grimly, he decided to start playing a few games of his own.

  Christopher finally returned to Greenwood early Saturday morning. His meetings with his bankers in New Orleans had taken far longer than he had ex pected and he was glad to be back. Or so he thought, until Joel brought him the news that five runaways had shown up alone the night before. That in itself wasn't bad, but Captain McCarthy had just passed on his way north and he wouldn't be returning before Tuesday.