Pandora paled suddenly and began trembling violently. Dr. Pinel ordered, “Quickly, Madame Celeste, a glass of brandy!”
The fiery liquid burned her mouth and throat, but stilled Pandora’s shaking enough so that she could speak. “How could that happen, Doctor? How could I go back so far, against your specific instructions?”
Dr. Pinel shook his gray head. “I don’t know. I simply have no answers for you. In all my years as a physician, nothing like this has ever happened before. Apparently, you have been practicing autohypnosis as I suspected. Once I put you under, you took over the reins, telling me whatever you wished, making it up as you went along.”
“It all sounds outlandish!” Pandora was still reeling from the shock. She looked up at the doctor, pleading with her eyes. “Can’t you give me more detail?”
Dr. Pinel suddenly withdrew from her. The afternoon had tired him.
“Please, Doctor,” Pandora begged gently. Obviously, he did not believe a word of what she’d said. The name, Nicolette, gave Pandora an odd, uneasy feeling. She suspected there was more to this memory of hers than simple fantasy. “You can’t imagine how strange all this makes me feel. Tell me as much as you can, won’t you? It’s frightening!”
He nodded, but his frown remained. With a weary sigh, he said, “You told me you were better known as Madame Boss among your husband’s friends and followers.” Her face remained blank and impassive; the name meant nothing. “You said you were Madame Jean Laffite.”
Pandora, who had braced herself for any kind of shock, found that she was unprepared for this. The name seemed to echo through her head, through the stillness in the room. Waves of dizziness passed over her. Bits of visions flitted through her brain—a red hammock, a great golden bed, a man with a scarred body that could arouse her own flesh like no other on earth.
“Jean,” she murmured softly, unconscious of having spoken.
Dr. Pinel adjusted his spectacles, then squinted hard at her. “Yes, Jean Laffite was the man in your dream.” His tone held a hint of derision.
“You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “It was never a dream at all. You see, I’ve always had a passion for stories about Laffite. Now I think I understand why. I suppose I spoke of Maison Rouge?”
Dr. Pinel nodded. “You did. You said it was your home.”
“It was Jean Laffite’s home. The ruins of the house are still on Galveston Island. It was one of my favorite hiding places when I was a child. I still find myself drawn there often. I still feel like I belong there.”
Dr. Pinel stood up abruptly as if to signal an end to their session. “The whole story can be attributed to your vivid imagination. Madame Jean Laffite, indeed!”
“Please, Doctor,” Pandora begged, “don’t be upset with me. I came here for your help. Don’t send me away. I have nowhere else to turn.”
He waited so long to reply that she was afraid he would tell her never to darken his door again. Instead, he said, “Well, perhaps we’ll have more luck next time. That is, if you’re willing to try again in a few days.”
She smiled and gripped his hand. “Of course I’m willing. I’m surprised you want me to come back after I wasted your entire afternoon.”
“Nothing that happens in this office is ever a total waste, Pandora. Come back on Monday afternoon at one.”
“Yes, Doctor, and thank you for everything!”
On the long ride back to her hotel, Pandora mulled over everything that had happened that afternoon. Her ramblings about Laffite and his wife meant nothing to Dr. Pinel. She realized now that Jean and Nicolette were the couple who had haunted her dreams these past months. Now she understood why she seemed obsessed with the pair. At last she knew who the green-eyed man and his ebony-haired lover were. Perhaps now that she had that information, she would see them no more. She smiled at her own reaction to that thought: She would miss their tender moments together and the warm feeling they left with her.
Soon she and Jacob would share their own tender moments. She would not have to rely on a pair of phantoms to make her feel that special tingling. What a relief it was to know that now she could go to Jacob with no apprehension. If nothing else, the certain knowledge that her virginity was still intact made her afternoon with Dr. Pinel a success. How she had worried over that! But now she could go to her wedding bed free of guilt.
Cassie was waiting anxiously when she returned. She hurried to take Pandora’s coat. “Where in the world have you been? I was worried sick that something had happened to you in this wicked city. Why, it’s dark already!”
“It was a long session, Cass. But it went fairly well. I like Dr. Pinel. His assistant is something out of a waxwork chamber of horrors…”
The moment Pandora spoke those words, a strange dizziness came over her. It passed in an instant, but left her feeling weak and shaken.
“Are you all right, Miss Pan?” Cassie quickly felt her forehead.
“I’m fine. Just tired and hungry. I think I’ll have a long, hot soak in the tub and then we can go down to dinner.”
“Mercy, I almost forgot!” Cass cried excitedly. “You got mail today from Galveston, and there’s something from New York, too, from Mr. Gabriel.”
Pandora took the letters and settled quickly on the sofa, ripping first into the envelope with Jacob’s neat handwriting on the front.
October 10, 1893
Galveston Island
My Dearest Pandora,
You’ve been gone less than a month, but already it feels like a lifetime. You will never know, my dear, how often I think of you. But I know that this separation is in your best interest. Dr. Pinel will help you. And after we are married, we will both rejoice that you took this time to visit him in Paris.
You are much missed by the socialites of the city, who seem involved at the moment in a never-ending round of teas, balls, dinners, and theater parties. Even this poor doctor has been pressed into escort duty.
Pandora bristled at those words, but relaxed when she read on.
It seems since you are away that your little cousin is much in demand at all social functions. Your aunt and uncle, although hesitant to give her free rein at such a tender age, see me as a trustworthy squire for Angelica. Mark my words, in a year or so she will have many a young man panting on the doorstep. She certainly keeps this old fellow on his toes!
My practice is growing daily. The most marvelous thing happened yesterday. I delivered a baby! Although I have assisted at many births in the past, this was my first time to go it alone. I’m proud to announce that young Mrs. Kempner was delivered of a beautiful little girl, her first child. What a miracle!
Someday, my dear, you and I will share this same miracle. What a wonder that will be! You know I want many children. How I have longed for the day when I will take on the responsibilities and the delights of fatherhood. And I could never have found a more suitable mother for them.
I ran into Ward Gabriel on the Strand today. He’s just back from New York. He told me the two of you spent a day together in the city. There was no time to press him for details. I was happy to hear that you were well and accounted for. I must admit, however, to a slight twinge of jealousy. How I would have enjoyed being with you that day!
Pandora clutched the letter to her breast and breathed a long sigh of relief. Thank God, Ward hadn’t told Jacob that he’d spent a night with her as well. In her bedroom!
Well, my dear, it’s quite late and I have a busy schedule ahead of me tomorrow so I must close now and get some sleep.
Yours most sincerely,
Jacob Saenger
Pandora sat for a long time staring at Ward’s envelope before she opened it. His handwriting, unlike Jacob’s neat script, was a bold, dark scrawl. The two men, she mused, were as different as their styles of penmanship. Jacob’s life, like the letters of his words, was predictable, well-ordered, and controlled. Ward,
on the other hand, led a bizarre life—all twisted and turned and confused like his letters—never knowing from one day to the next where he would be or what exactly he might be doing. Granted, he had a successful career. He was a businessman of the first order. There, too, he and Jacob differed.
Slowly, she opened Ward’s letter, with trembling fingers. She realized she was tingling all over with excitement. Whereas Jacob’s letter had contained the expected, any communication from Ward promised the unexpected. His message was scrawled hastily on a sheet of stationery from the Fifth Avenue Hotel. There was no date, no greeting.
I was down on the dock when your ship left an hour ago, Pandora. I wanted to board and say good-bye. But I had a feeling I wouldn’t be welcome. So, here I am, back at your hotel, getting royally drunk for no reason that I can understand. And if I hadn’t had several brandies, I wouldn’t be writing this to you in the first place.
I don’t know what happened to you at the wax museum. All I know is I’ve never been so afraid in my life! If I angered you by staying until you came out of it, I’m truly sorry. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged me out of there before you came around. I just wanted to make sure that you understand that you neither said nor did anything to be ashamed of while I was there. As for me, tempted as I might have been, I am not in the habit of taking advantage of unconscious women. So you can rest easy on that score. As for the kiss, consider it a fond adieu between friends.
I’m not sure why I wound up here at your hotel. The place feels empty and cold now that you’re gone.
It’s back to Galveston for a few days, then I’ll be heading to California, South America, and Cuba for several months. I suppose the next time we meet, you’ll be Mrs. Jacob Saenger.
A few words were scribbled after that, then scratched out. Pandora squinted her eyes, trying to read what Ward had written before he changed his mind. Finally, she made it out: That lucky bastard! She smiled in spite of herself.
I’ll probably miss the wedding of the decade. Just as well, I guess. But you have my best wishes, Pandora, I hope you know that. I wish you only happiness… always! And if anything should ever happen—I don’t know what, just anything—you can always count on me. I hope you know that, too.
Say hello to Paris for me. If I were there, I’d take you to see the can-can dancers. Any woman with nerve enough to go to the Hoffman House must certainly drop in at the Moulin Rouge. More likely you’ll visit the Louvre, to see the real Venus de Milo, after having been forced to endure that hideous fake we saw the other day.
Pandora frowned at Ward’s letter. When had they seen this fake Venus de Milo?
I won’t say good-bye, Pandora. We’ll meet again. Until then, I remain—
Your slightly drunken servant,
Ward Gabriel
“Well, he was right about that!” Pandora said aloud. His handwriting toward the end of the page was barely decipherable. He must have written to her from a table in the tavern while he was drinking. She sniffed the paper. The brown stain at one corner reeked of brandy. How dare he write to her from a bar!
She found, to her surprise, that she wasn’t really angry with him. She was touched. There was something so lost and alone in his words to her.
The weekend weather was miserable. Sheets of cold rain lashed the streets of Paris, making the whole world seem dull and gray. Pandora decided to stay in until the deluge ended. No need risking pneumonia! She had enough problems for Dr. Pinel to deal with as it was.
Pandora had Cassie set up her easel near the window. All she could see was rain, but she could paint sunshine. She closed her eyes, imagining the chestnut trees in full flower lining the Champs-Elysees and the shops along the great boulevard brightly dressed in red and white striped awnings. Yes, springtime in Paris. That was what she would paint.
When she put her brush to the waiting canvas, an entirely different scene emerged. The chestnut blossoms she’d meant to paint became exotic lotus flowers of rose, aqua, scarlet, and gold on a flowing field of heliotrope. Their stems and leaves twisted and twined, forming an endless design that seemed to bloom on forever. Out of the hectic pattern, the full scene sprang to life—a wild, desolate beach with turquoise water beyond the sandy stretch. Three lone trees stood sentinel on the shore and beneath them a man and a woman, she wearing a lotus-flowered skirt and a thin peasant blouse, clung to each other, embracing as if in farewell.
Even though her hand held the brush, Pandora seemed to have no part in painting the picture. Somehow the scene emerged of its own accord, as if it had been there on the blank canvas all along—as if her brush had merely swept away the covering that had hidden it from her eyes. When it was done, she stood back staring at the woman’s flowing skirt. The pattern seemed symbolic to her—love blooming with all the vibrant colors of deep emotion, going on endlessly, uninterrupted.
“Forever,” she whispered, then a chill ran through her.
“Oh, Miss Pan! That’s beautiful!” Cassie enthused. “Why, that’s Laffite’s Grove back home! I never saw it look all lonesome like that.”
“I have,” Pandora answered quietly. And suddenly she realized that she had indeed!
She knew the exact year, the exact moment of the scene. She knew not only the woman’s name, but her pain at having to say good-bye to the man she loved. She closed her eyes, willing the ache in her heart away, but it only intensified as the moment came alive for her.
“I won’t be gone long, darling.”
They had come to the grove to be alone, to make love one last time before he sailed. But their final precious moments together were at an end. Even now, the Pride awaited her captain’s boarding before she set sail.
“Jean, a day, an hour, a minute without you is too long.”
Still holding her in his arms, he bent down and pressed her lips, slowly parting them for one final taste of his love.
“I promise you, darling, I’ll come back safe and sound. Why do you worry so? I’ve lived through battles, duels, every fever known to man, and three other marriages. Nothing’s going to take me away from you for good. Now that I’ve finally found you, you’ll never be rid of me. You have my word on that.”
Somewhere deep down in her heart, she knew that he would come back to her. But during the long, empty days while he was away she would be as good as dead without him.
“Jean, you will be careful?” she demanded for the dozenth time.
He smiled down at her, his green eyes dancing with his urgent longing for adventure. Sometimes she thought it would be easier if he took a mistress. Another woman, she could fight, but his love of the sea and the life with his men on the Pride stirred up deep fires of jealousy in her heart. How could a mere woman fight the passion her man felt for the adventure of the high seas?
“A fast run to the Yucatan, darling,” he told her. “Two weeks, a month at the most. I’ll bring you back a golden trinket.”
The woman gripped his waist, burying her face against the warmth of his bare chest. “Just bring me back my man, Jean Laffite! That’s all I ask!”
“Done, madame!” he said. “You’ll have your man back before you have time to start missing him.”
She looked up into his dear face—boyish with excitement over this new adventure—and tears streaked her cheeks. “I miss him already,” she whispered.
Suddenly, the scene dissolved from Pandora’s mind. She found herself standing before the painting, sobbing her heart out for Jean Laffite.
Chapter Ten
Ward Gabriel stood frowning as he looked out over the glittering crowd. His gaze focused on one particular couple on the dance floor. He wished he had not come. He’d had the perfect excuse. Tomorrow he would leave Galveston by rail for California. Who could be scintillating at a party when his trunks were still to be packed?
His empty suitcases weren’t the cause of his distress at the moment. What he was feeling came astonishin
gly close to jealousy. An odd reaction, he mused. He had no interest in Angelica Sherwood, and what Jacob Saenger did was certainly none of his concern. But it seemed to him that for an engaged man Jacob was holding the lovely young lady entirely too close and that Angelica’s chime-like laughter was too gay, too flirtatious.
His scowl deepened. He had half a mind to write to Pandora and warn her to come home immediately. But, no. It was not his place to interfere. Besides, spreading tales was not his style. Still, he wished that one of the over-bustled, diamond-bedecked wags at the party would take it upon herself to drop Miss Sherwood a line. Surely, they had all noticed what was going on.
Tonight was only the start of Galveston’s holiday festivities—the pre-Thanksgiving Ball. Ward was glad he was leaving town. He didn’t relish the thought of a whole string of these fancy soirees. And seeing Jacob Saenger enjoying himself so thoroughly with his fiancée’s luscious young relation was definitely not to his liking. Pandora deserved better.
A slow, calculating smile spread over his face. His dark eyes narrowed. Perhaps he would have a bit of sport with the pair. After all, Jacob Saenger wasn’t the only man Angelica had flirted with at the party. She had given Ward himself a generous fluttering of eyelashes when they’d said good evening earlier.
With Pandora still in his thoughts, Ward put on his most alluring smile and strode toward the dance floor.
He tapped Jacob’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in, old chap?”
Angelica gripped her partner even tighter, ready to refuse until she glanced up into Ward’s handsome, smiling face.
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