Several hours later, she trudged back home to eat dinner and check on Maurice. He was resting comfortably in bed. But he was perspiring, and Emilie knew that was a bad sign. Usually a broken fever was a sign of improvement, but she wasn’t so sure in the case of consumption. She wished the doctor would come. She ran downstairs and brought Maurice some tea and crackers and suggested he see the doctor in the morning.
“I’ll be fine,” he said.
“But you haven’t eaten a thing.”
“I have no appetite.” His face looked wan and tired.
Emilie frowned. “What did Da Rosette say?”
“She doesn’t know. I came in through the back door.”
Emilie sat down beside him. “Maurice, I think you have to go to the hospital.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine by morning.”
Emilie locked eyes with him. “You were coughing up blood today. You need a hospital. You’re wasting away. . .”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Maurice. “I feel better already.”
Emilie forced herself to smile; she didn’t want to break his spirit. She left her brother to eat dinner and think the matter over. Life was becoming more complicated by the minute. She couldn’t imagine losing Maurice. Without her brother, she was all alone in the world.
Later, as she sat at her vanity table brushing her hair, Da Rosette stuck her head in to announce that Lucien Monplaisir had come to pay an unexpected visit.
Emilie spun around. “Lucien is here? Tell him I’m busy.”
Da Rosette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “He misses you very much. He say, ‘Tell Mam’selle Emilie I wish to speak to her.’ He say you are his only doudou and he loves you very much.”
Emilie eyed her shrewdly. “He said no such thing.”
“He said it with his eyes,” said Da Rosette coyly.
“Tell him to go away. I have nothing more to say to him.” Emilie began brushing her hair again, confident the old woman would do her bidding, but Da Rosette dug in her heels. She moved in closer and placed one of her shriveled claws on Emilie’s shoulder. “Quick! Do not delay, cocotte. Do not keep your man waiting. He say he will make you the happiest bride in all Madinina.”
“Stop lying to me!” said Emilie.
Da Rosette dug her claws in her shoulder. “Hush! Do you want to end up marrying a zombie? Lucien is your doudou!”
Emilie peeled off the woman’s fingers. “That’s enough of that voodoo nonsense. I don’t believe any of it. You’re just trying to scare me!”
“Don’t be haughty or you will invite trouble. Now go and see your doudou. Do not be too proud, or the devil will tempt you. He will send a zombie to put a spell on you. I’ve seen it happen many times. Some women spend their whole lives married to a devil! You don’t want to end up like them, do you?”
Something in the old woman’s eyes spooked Emilie. She hated when the old woman used superstition and irrational fears to manipulate her and scare her. Stupid old woman! Emilie applied some rouge with furious strokes, but inside she was haunted by the old woman’s words. Zombies, curses, voodoo. . .her mind raced. Somehow she had to find a way to get rid of Lucien for good.
Tramping downstairs, Emilie found Lucien in the salon with his boots on the coffee table. He was smoking a cigarette and flicking the ashes in her mother’s favorite porcelain vase. She could smell the alcohol on his breath from several feet away.
She gave him an obligatory peck on the cheek and poured two glasses of rum punch. Then she settled on the sofa beside him and forced herself to chat, but her stomach was in knots. She had to find a way to get rid of Lucien for good, a way that wouldn’t ruin her family’s social standing and brand her an outcast. After a while Lucien brought out what he’d come to show her. In his arms he cradled a gleaming Browning M1900 pistol with a mother-of-pearl grip that he lovingly referred to as his “pistolet Browning.” He turned it this way and that, explaining how it worked. She eyed it cautiously, wondering how he would react if she told him she was leaving him.
She cleared her throat. “Lucien, I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” he said, taking a deep draw of his cigarette.
“I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking lately, and I’ve come to realize that I’m not ready for marriage. I think we should cancel the wedding.”
“Have you gone insane?” he said. “You don’t expect me to take you seriously, do you?”
“I don’t think we’re suited to each other,” she said. “We have nothing in common. I think you’d be happier with someone else.”
“Who put these ridiculous notions in your head?” he said, scrutinizing her. “Was it that old nurse of yours?”
“No, I can think for myself,” she said.
“Then stop talking such nonsense. You were made for me. You suit me just fine.”
“It seems many women suit you.”
Lucien’s face reddened. “What are you talking about? Stop it right now! You don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t come here to be attacked.”
“I’m not attacking you,” she said. “I just think we should call off our wedding.”
“That’s out of the question. Do you realize how crazy you sound? Stop it right now.”
“I’ve heard rumors about you.”
Lucien got up and started pacing the room. “Nonsense! I’ve heard enough of this. Every day you sound more and more irrational. There’s no truth to anything you’re saying. There are no other women.”
Emilie was stunned. She stared at Lucien and felt her blood turn cold.
“My cook says you have a woman in Le Carbet.”
“That’s a filthy lie!” he said, his face turning colors. “If I see that cook of yours, I’ll give her such a slap, she’ll think twice next time. I forbid you to listen to such gossip!” He shook Emilie so hard she thought her neck would snap. She struggled to free herself, but Lucien held her with an iron grip.
“Lucien, stop!” she screamed. To her immense relief, he released her.
“Damned, filthy lies!” he said, his face a mask of rage. “You should fire that impudent woman at once. I won’t tolerate such accusations. You’re acting just as crazy as she is. Stop harassing me! I didn’t come here to be attacked.”
Emilie’s mind raced. Lucien always managed to turn the tables and make himself the victim. It was maddening. No matter how rational she was, he always made her question her own sanity with his accusations and denials.
“Perhaps you’d like to have your ring back,” she said as calmly as possible.
Lucien grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t ever say that to me again. Don’t listen to those vile rumormongers. You’re the only woman for me.”
Emilie’s heart was pounding. This was not supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be the happiest bride in all Madinina. Isn’t that what Da Rosette had said? Yet, all she felt was confusion and doubt. Why did she feel like killing herself to make the pain go away?
Lucien slipped his arm over her shoulders. “Enough with that nonsense talk. You’re my fiancée. Don’t you know how much I love you?”
He tried to force his lips on her, but Emilie squirmed out of his grip.
“Lucien, please stop! I’m confused right now. I have a lot on my mind. If we miss the sailing date, we may lose the farm. My father’s very worried.”
“Your father’s a grown man and can take care of himself. If he loses the plantation, it will be because he’s mismanaged it for years.”
Emilie felt as if she’d been slapped. “What are you saying?”
“Face the facts, my darling. Your father made some serious errors along the way, the least of which is most of your equipment is outdated and malfunctioning. And he allowed a great number of trees to die from lack of proper care. For a planter, that’s pure negligence. I run my plantation like a tight ship. Any worker caught shirking his duty is dismissed at once. And we invest in all the latest equipment. That’s
how we grew our plantation into the richest sugar empire in the West Indies. It takes hard work and know-how.”
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating. My father is a respected planter. We’re just having a hard time. I know this year we’ll get out of debt.”
Lucien frowned. “Emilie, when will you wake up? Your father is a terrible businessman. He’s running the plantation into the ground. Everyone knows it. He could have cultivated twice as many acres and increased his output per acre. Now he’s just running to catch up. At some point he’ll have to sell or risk losing everything. It pains me to have to say this, but I think the situation is hopeless.”
Emilie’s neck was burning. “How dare you speak about my father like that! Please either change the subject or leave.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but I speak like a businessman. If your father had handled things properly from the start, your plantation would be in better shape. Earlier in the day, I spied groups of workers lounging around when they should have been working. And there are piles of stray pods left on the ground, a surefire invitation for rats. And he let too many acres run fallow. Mark my words, sooner or later, he will be forced to sell the plantation, and when the time is right, I’m prepared to offer him a fair price, considering how much money I’ll have to invest just to get it running properly.”
“Sell you the plantation?” she said in a voice dripping with contempt. “Never! Domaine Solitude is not for sale.”
“Listen to me,” he said, his eyes blazing. “By combining our two plantations, I can corner the sugar and cocoa markets. It’s the perfect marriage of convenience. But it’s not just about the money. You present a unique challenge to me.”
Emilie was taken aback. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”
Lucien laughed scornfully. “Emilie, don’t you realize how naive you sound? When it comes to turning a profit, it takes more than good intentions. Your father is getting old. It’s time he retired.”
She stood up abruptly. “Lucien, it’s late. I think you’d better go home now.”
He stood up and grabbed his jacket. “As you wish, but I’ll be back in a few days. I hope by then you’ll be calm enough to have a civil conversation.” He leaned over to kiss her, but she proffered only her cheek. In an instant, the smile vanished from his face. “I’m a patient man, but even I have my limits.” He touched her cheek. “I understand if you’re having last-minute jitters, but don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
After Lucien strode out the door, Emilie stood on the balcony watching his carriage roll out of sight. The only sound came from the chirping of the crickets and tree frogs. Down in the valley, lamps flickered in the workers’ cottages like fireflies. She heaved a sigh. For the moment there was peace. But it was an ephemeral sort of peace, like a moth that flutters too near a flame and then disappears in a poof.
Chapter 6
Thursday, April 24
A rooster’s crow broke the early-morning stillness. When Emilie entered the dining room, her parents looked up expectantly. She forced a smile, but she was in no mood for conversation. How could she tell them she had no intention of marrying Lucien? How could she tell them Lucien had deceived her? She poured herself a cup of coffee and kept her eyes averted. She knew that sooner or later, she would have to tell them the truth: that Lucien was a philanderer.
She stirred her coffee thoughtfully, taking great pains to avoid meeting her mother’s gaze while her father pretended to be reading the newspaper.
“So how did things go last night?” said her mother with practiced nonchalance.
Emilie put the spoon down. “Unfortunately, Maman, things did not go very well. I’ve made some painful discoveries about Lucien that have forced me to reconsider whether I can spend the rest of my life with him.”
Her mother’s face drained of color. Her father threw the newspaper aside.
“What are you talking about?” said her father with incredulity.
“Lucien is not a good man,” said Emilie. “I cannot go through with this wedding.”
“That’s preposterous!” said her father.
“You can’t be serious,” said her mother.
“Unfortunately, I’m very serious,” said Emilie. “He’s been unfaithful, and when I confronted him about it, he insinuated that I was crazy. He denied everything.”
“Well, it does sound crazy,” said her mother.
“That’s exactly what I expected you to say, Maman,” said Emilie. “All you care about is money and status. It doesn’t bother you one bit that Lucien has no morals. I could never be happy with him. I want to love the man I marry.”
The room went silent.
Her mother blinked a few times. “Where did you get these silly notions about marriage? You know nothing about men. Love is something that grows after marriage.”
“You do realize the trouble this will cause us once word gets out,” said her father, wagging his finger at her. “People will talk. That’s how rumors get started. You’d better do an about-face and apologize immediately if you don’t want this matter to escalate.”
“How did he take it?” said her mother.
“He laughed in my face,” said Emilie with derision. “Lucien never takes anything I say seriously. There’s something unsettling about him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Georges.
“It means he’s an insufferable boor. He orders his servants around like they’re his personal slaves and refers to the striking workers as scum and all women as flirts. He’s insufferable. I won’t marry him!”
Her father looked as if he was going to explode. Her mother laid down her fork and looked at her with petulant eyes. Emilie heard a pattering of footsteps as the servants retreated to the outside kitchen.
“I’ve heard enough,” said Georges, turning red. “We’re under a great deal of financial pressure in case you didn’t realize.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t even have enough money to pay the servants their wages this month. Do you realize we’re in danger of losing the farm? I was counting on this marriage to ease our money problems.”
“Emilie, darling,” said her mother, “you must count your blessings. Lucien is a rich man. He can have any woman he wants, and he chose you. He comes from a good family, and he has a good name. You’ll lack for nothing. Don’t be foolish!”
Emilie felt her neck turning hot. “If you think Lucien is going to help us financially, you’re dead wrong. He has a scheme to buy our plantation for a fraction of what it’s worth so he can corner the cocoa and sugar markets. If you ask me, he’s a ruthless scoundrel who wants to put all the smaller planters out of business. He puts ambition ahead of common decency. And this is the man you want for a son-in-law?”
Georges looked as if he’d been slapped. Her mother’s jaw dropped.
“I don’t believe it,” said Mme Dujon, covering her mouth in shock. “Lucien is a decent, honorable man. He would never do such a thing.”
“The Monplaisir family is fabulously rich. They can put out of business anyone they choose,” said her father with a grimness that shocked Emilie. “But that’s beside the point. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. It’s too late to cancel the wedding now. Do you want our names in the gossip columns?”
“Yes, think about the gossip,” said her mother in a pleading tone. “You don’t want to put us through that ordeal, do you?”
“Of course not,” said Emilie. “But what choice do I have?”
“You have to compromise. You’ve always been so willful and headstrong, but now you have to think of others. Put away this silly notion and patch things up.”
Emilie felt the bile rise up to her throat. What her mother was asking was impossible.
“Maman, I can’t . . .” Suddenly her mouth went dry.
Her father stood up abruptly. “I’ve heard enough. As far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed. I want you to apologize to Lucien and act as if nothing happened.”
“Don’t argue with me. Just do as I say. I have your best interests at heart. Look how upset you’ve made your mother. Don’t make things harder on us.”
All at once Emilie felt cold shackles pressing on her limbs.
“You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said,” said Emilie, her eyes blazing.
She jumped up from the table and ran out to the stable. Blinking back tears, she saddled up Balthazar, mounted, and galloped down the dirt road that led out of the plantation. She needed time to think. Time to clear her head. Time to make sense of her life. But most of all, she needed time to figure a way out of this mess. She knew they would never listen to her objections regarding Lucien. In their minds, the die was cast. As usual, she had to be smarter. She had to think her way out of this mess.
She headed up a nearby hill and gazed down at the sparkling blue ocean. In the distance she spied a tall sailing ship heading across the Dominica Channel, its white sails fluttering in the wind. Seagulls soared overhead, uttering lonely, piercing cries, and somewhere in the distance, a donkey brayed and a dog barked. Hummingbirds droned around a hibiscus bush, and a dragonfly sailed past her head. She patted Balthazar’s neck. At least she still had her beloved horse.
She meandered through the tall guinea grass until her ire cooled and she began to feel strong again. Emilie was sure she would find a way out of this mess. Then, in the midst of her meditations, she began to smell something ominous. It was the same rotten egg scent as before, only stronger. It seemed to be drifting down from Le Prêcheur, the small fishing village to the north. She looked up at Mount Pelée and spotted a terrifying sight: an enormous black cloud was shooting out of the crater. It billowed outward like the ink of a squid, plunging the northern half of the island into darkness.
A thunderous roar filled the air. Balthazar whinnied and reared. Emilie grasped the animal’s neck for dear life and tried to calm him down. In the midst of her ordeal, a great cry rose up that sent a shiver of fear through her. The field workers were shouting in terror.
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