Louisiana 08 - While Passion Sleeps

by Shirlee Busbee

  She couldn't hide from Nathan the feeling of betrayal his words instilled in her breast, nor could she deny that deep inside she was angry that he had risked her future as well as his own. But Elizabeth had been taught to accept with equanimity if not pleasure the ills that often came into one's life, and she was above all things more inclined to accept what came her way than to battle against an unkind fate.

  Her decision to remain with her husband was not an easy one, nor was it arrived at overnight. It had been a shock, what Nathan had told her, and for several days their relationship was strained and uneasy. They attempted to act as if everything was normal, continuing their exploration of New Orleans and dining in several of the many restaurants to be found there, but always the memory of what had been said that night hung over them like an ominous cloud. There were no more attempts to consummate their marriage, Elizabeth finding that she now dreaded the thought of Nathan's caresses where once she had longed for them.

  It was something she was certain in time she would overcome, and she tried not to dwell on it more than necessary. They both must strive together to make their marriage a success, and while she was still slightly numbed by what had happened, she was looking toward the future optimistically. Time, she thought confidently, time would resolve their problems, and in a few years from now they would look back on this period of life and smile at their foolishness.

  Nathan was greatly relieved at Elizabeth's decision not to leave him, and he too agreed, perhaps a little too readily, that for the present they would allow the consummation to wait. Ashamed by his own inability to function as he should, he was perfectly willing to put the incident behind him and, like Elizabeth, to hope that in time it would simply go away and they would live normally.

  They were still a bit wary in each other's presence, and yet in another way their problem had brought them closer together. Nathan felt further indebted to Elizabeth simply because she had chosen to stand by him, and Elizabeth found it in her gentle heart to view his affliction with compassion.

  It was decided that they were not to remain many more days in New Orleans, and Elizabeth wasn't certain whether the idea pleased her or depressed her. In a way she would be thankful when at last they would arrive in Natchez and she and Nathan could truly begin to work at making their marriage a success. But on the other hand, she made up her mind to enjoy however many more days they would be here to the fullest. She was not going to brood. Time would solve everything.

  The French Market, off Decatur Street near the banks of the Mississippi River, seemed to make the greatest impression on Elizabeth during her excursions with Nathan. Never having been allowed to take a hand with the domestic details of Three Elms, she found the noisy marketplace was a whole new world. On one particular warm muggy morning, and accompanied only by Mary, Elizabeth, with a wide-eyed expression of amazement on her face, watched with keen interest the ever changes

  ing kaleidoscope of movement and color, while her ears were assaulted by an incredible variety of sounds.

  A dozen different languages were being shouted on every side—French, Spanish, English, Negroes crying out in their French patois and the "gombo," and various Indian dialects rising and falling in the warm air. Vivid parrots in small wooden cages screamed almost continually; monkeys offered by itinerant vendors jabbered incessantly; geese, chickens, and ducks added their clucks and gobbles; and over all there was occasionaly the clear carrying song of tiny yellow canaries.

  Indian squaws, wrapped in bright, gaudily designed blankets, had rows of baskets, ppttery, and gaily colored beads for sale. An old Negro woman wearing a blue calico dress dispensed cups of freshly made coffee from a little street stand, chanting, ''Cafe noir!" and 'Vafe au lait!'' as she did so. Farther down, a fat Choctaw Indian squaw sat stoically at the curb offering gumbo fil6, and other herbs and roots. A tall Negress, her skin gleaming like ebony, draped in a starched white apron, her head wrapped in a garish tignon, sold cakes and molasses. Along an arcade of heavy pillars, Elizabeth and Mary inspected fish with gray-blue bodies glistening in the sun, wriggling crawfish, crabs with clicking claws, and heaps of fresh brown eggs, wrapped in silvery green moss. Next came the fruit-and-vegetable section, and both women were astonished by the variety to be found—strawberries, bananas, prickly pineapples, luscious Japanese plums, okra, corn, thin-skinned onions, and strange exotic vegetables that Elizabeth had never seen before, all lying side by side in tempting haphazard rows. Flower dealers seemed to be everywhere, and here and there were stalls offering cheap jewelry and singing mockingbirds. In astonishment and curiosity, Elizabeth stared at a trussed-up alligator offered for sale. Whatever, she thought, would one do with it?

  The market was alive with color and movement as elegant Creole ladies in vivid silks and laces, escorted by their husbands, wandered throughout, and young Creole gentlemen, their dark handsomeness intensified by their pristine, snowy white linen shirts and gaily

  embroidered waistcoats, strolled with languid grace through the shifting, constantly moving mass. A comely quadroon strode proudly by, trailed by a single servant, while a huge woman with numerous keys dangling from her belt and attended by a cadaverous black slave haggled loudly with a small, coffee-tinted freeman of color over his wares.

  Bemused, feeling as if she had stumbled into some exotic place found usually only in imagination, Elizabeth slowly made her way through the various sections, unaware of the fact that she herself possessed the ability to spark more than one gentleman's imagination. She was dressed this morning in a gown of soft rose silk that emphasized the tiny waist and fell in graceful folds to her flat-heeled slippers. Carrying a parasol of India muslin embroidered with a beautiful feather-stitched border, her small hands clothed in rose-colored gloves, she presented a delicate and entrancing appearance. Between the parasol and the Cabriolet bonnet of white silk gauze straw she was wearing, it was extremely hard to see her face, but that didn't stop several gentlemen from making discreet maneuvers to attempt to do just that. The reward was worth the effort—breathtakingly lovely violet eyes stared innocently out from an enchanting face framed by several unruly silvery curls.

  Completely oblivious of the languishing glances sent her way by many an eager young Creole gentleman, Elizabeth was examining a rather finely wrought cameo brooch when a startling familiar voice rang out.

  "Beth! Beth Selby, is that you, honey?"

  At the sound of that dear voice, Elizabeth whirled around, the soft coral mouth curving into a genuinely happy smile. "Stella! Oh, do tell me I am not dreaming this! How simply grand to see you, but what ever are you doing here?" she cried with pleasure, the violet eyes sparkling vividly.

  "I might ask you the same! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you just now," Stella returned, as she swept up to where Elizabeth stood.

  Stella hadn't changed very much, Elizabeth observed affectionately as she stared at her friend from the days

  of Mrs. Finche's Seminary for Young Ladies. Tall, with a commanding presence and dark eyes that danced from under finely arched eyebrows, Stella Valdez was just as Elizabeth remembered. It was true she was no longer dressed in the dreadful school uniform, but the warm smile on the generous mouth was the same and the husky voice with its slight, slow drawl was dearly familiar. Silently they openly assessed each other, Elizabeth still in awe of Stella's vibrant personality. That vibrancy showed in the fashionably styled bonnet of jonquil yellow silk that sat rakishly on the thick, shining black hair and in the vividness of the tur-quoise-and-yellow-figured gowB she wore. It was an eyecatching combination, but then Stella had always liked color and had detested a fashion that insisted only pale, insipid shades be worn, Elizabeth thought with a smile.

  Stella was a handsome young woman rather than a pretty one—her mouth was a trifle too wide, her nose bordered on the masculine, and she had a surprisingly square jawline. But she possessed something far more enduring than a chocolate-box beauty—a loyal and caring nature and a strong sense of friendship as we
ll as a spirited, outgoing personality. Stella was also inclined toward intui-tiveness and, as the two of them stood talking, eagerly exchanging anecdotes, she noted the faint shadows in the violet-blue eyes and the slight hint of reserve when Elizabeth spoke of her marriage and her husband.

  Realizing that the French Market area was no place to hold the private conversation she wished, Stella deftly dismissed Mary and whisked Elizabeth away to an elegant house on Esplanade Avenue where she was visiting relatives. Some minutes later they were seated in a charming flagstone courtyard, a fountain gurgling merrily in the center and a Negro servant quietly serving them freshly dripped strong black coffee in delicate china cups.

  The servant departed and Stella allowed Elizabeth time to swallow a few sips of the chicory-flavored brew before she asked casually, "My dear, are you truly happy? I do not mean to pry, but, when I remember my

  own honeymoon just a year ago, you do not radiate the happiness I would expect."

  "Oh, Stell! Trust you to put your finger on the very problem!" Elizabeth exclaimed ruefully. "You always did know when something was preying on my mind."

  Her dark eyes kind and encouraging, Stella prompted, "Well, then, honey, tell me about it."

  "I can't! It isn't that I don't want to," Elizabeth confessed helplessly.

  Regarding the troubled young features across from her, Stella said thoughtfully, "Sometimes the first few months are difficult, I understand. Especially if you didn't know each other very well before you married." Smiling, she added, "I've known Juan Rodriguez all my life, and I've known for almost that long that I wanted to marry him. That might be why during our first months of marriage we had so few adjustments to make. Perhaps as you get to know your Nathan better you'll find him not so much of a stranger."

  Blinking back a sudden surprising rush of tears to her eyes, Elizabeth said with a sad little catch in her throat, "My marriage is nothing like J expected. Nathan and I can't..." She stopped abruptly, very embarrassed and genuinely not wishing to ^pill her troubles to the first friendly ear—even if the friendly ear belonged to her dear Stella!

  But Stella gave her no time to have second thoughts and prompted gently, "You and Nathan can't what, honey? Don't you think you ought to really tell me the truth? Now, suppose you just relax back in that chair and drink your coff^ee and tell Madre Stella all about it, hmmm?"

  Elizabeth hesitated, wanting to pour out the entire story and yet desperately wishing not to betray Nathan. Stella, she was certain, would understand, but would Nathan, if he ever discovered she had discussed such an intimate detail of their marriage? She rather thought not, and, knowing how she would feel if he were to talk about it with someone else, she decided it would be best not to unburden her problems to Stella.

  Stella was a difficult person to fob off with lame excuses, and it was only when Elizabeth almost des-

  perately mentioned the trust her father had set up and how mortified Nathan had been that Stella's probing stopped. "So that's it!" Stella said triumphantly. "You silly little goose! That's nothing to be worried about! Your father was probably only protecting your interests, and, while I'm certain that your husband was displeased by it, what man wouldn't be? I'm positive that in time his resentment will fade and neither of you will give it any thought." An unwelcome idea suddenly occurred to Stella and she asked anxiously, "Nathan does not hold it against you, does he? I mean, he is not ugly to you about it?"

  "Oh, no!" Elizabeth exclaipied in honest astonishment. "He is all that is kind to me. Nathan has never even mentioned it to me."

  "Well then, my dear, you stop worrying and settle down and enjoy being married."

  After that the conversation became desultory until Elizabeth said gaily, "But enough of that nonsense! Tell me, how long are you to be here in New Orleans?"

  Stella pulled a face. "Unfortunately we leave day after tomorrow for Santa Fe. But don't look so sad, my dear, I intend to spend as much time as possible with you until we do leave. If only we had met earlier or we had known the other was going to be here—just think of the cozy chats we could have had!"

  "Oh, no! To think we will have such a short time together!" Elizabeth cried with real regret.

  "We have all this afternoon, as well as tomorrow. And remember... at least we are on the same continent! I am certain we can arrange to meet now and then either in Natchez or Santa Fe." A twinkle in her eye, Stella added, "I would much prefer it to be Natchez. I have heard it is a wickedly exciting city—especially ^Under the Hill.'"

  "You probably know more about it than I do. Nathan doesn't speak of it very often, and I haven't been able to discover much myself Don't you like Santa Fe?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

  "Of course I do! But Santa Fe is little better than a frontier town—Comanches still raid on our doorstep, and the only excitement is in the spring when the car-

  avans of traders arrive. We do have a great many attractions, but I am sure that they cannot compare with Natchez."

  "I see," Elizabeth said slowly, privately thinking it would be far more thrilling to be in a frontier town than a cosmopolitan city like Natchez.

  ''No, you don't, honey," Stella contradicted gently. "You are still as romantic and full of dreams as you were at Mrs. Finche's. I can see that you think the frontier would be an adventure beyond belief. Believe me, it isn't! And the first time you came face to face with a war party of Comanches, you would wish you had never left the safety of the civilized world. I am used to it, despite those three years in England. I grew up out there and I know it—but you, you, my sweet, make it into a dream world."

  Guiltily Elizabeth acknowledged it, and the conversation wandered onto other subjects. It was the most pleasurable afternoon Elizabeth had spent in weeks, and both women were so busy bringing the other up to date that neither noticed the lengthening shadows. Elizabeth didn't have a great deal to say about herself, but Stella certainly did! And so she rattled happily on, unaware that her stories of life in the old Spanish province of Nuevo Mejico, or New Mexico as it was now called, fired up Elizabeth's vivid romantic imagination and instilled in her a burning desire to one day see for herself this wild untamed land. Some of the terrifying stories of raiding Comanches struck an oddly responsive chord within Elizabeth, almost as if she herself had actually lived through such an experience, and she was for a brief moment reminded of those strange lifelike dreams that had plagued her on the journey to New Orleans.

  It was only when Stella's husband Juan strolled out into the courtyard that the reminiscences were stemmed. Under the cover of the introductions, Elizabeth quietly summed him up, and she could see exactly how the slim, quiet, reserved Spaniard would appeal to the more vivacious Stella.

  Unlike Stella, who was only half Spanish herself, Juan was pure Castilian Spanish, from the thick dark

  hair to the formal bow he gave Elizabeth. He was not much taller than his wife, nor at first glance did he appear an unusually handsome man. It was only when one happened to look into the lustrous black eyes and caught the flicker of amusement that danced there, or noticed the handsome curve of his mouth and the aquiline shape of his nose, that his very real attractiveness was apparent. There was an easy warm familiarity between him and his wife, and Elizabeth was left in little doubt that here were a man and woman who were deeply in love. It pleased her and intensified her sudden wish that she and Nathan could share the same kind of relationship.

  Juan knew all about Stella's schoolgirl friendship with Elizabeth Selby, and h6 greeted her warmly and with sincere pleasure. At first Elizabeth was slightly in awe of this polished, courteous stranger, but under Juan's subtle charm she found herself relaxing, and in a very few minutes she was chatting away with him as if he were an old acquaintance. The conversation was general until Juan asked with more than mere politeness, "Is it possible for you and your husband to dine with us this evening? I realize that it is an impromptu invitation, but our time here is so short, and I know Stella will want to spend practically every waking mom
ent with you until we leave." A twinkle in the black eyes, he added, ''And I myself have no objection to having another lovely lady to grace my table."

  Stella eagerly chimed in with her own invitation, and it was only after Elizabeth had consented to send a note back to the hotel to inquire if Nathan would be agreeable that Stella clapped her hands over her mouth and said with dismay, "The Costa soiree is this evening, have you forgotten?"

  Smilingly, Juan shook his head. "No, querida, I have not forgotten, but a note of explanation to our hostess will, I am sure, elicit an invitation for the Ridgeways to attend with us."

  "Oh, no!" Elizabeth murmured, "I could not force myself on strangers that way. It would be horridly impolite."

  "Nonsense!" Stella contradicted. "Margarita Costa 50

  would like nothing better than to meet an old friend of mine. She is not the least haughty. In fact, she is the most amiable person I know of—she is too lazy to be otherwise!. Her husband is exactly the same, and they would never forgive us if we did not see that they knew you were here. Come now, do say you will dine with us and attend the ball afterward. Do!''

  "But won't the people you are staying with mind?" Elizabeth hedged.

  Juan laughed. "Hardly. My uncle and aunt are out of the city until tomorrow, and the house is ours to do with as we like tonight. And even if they were here, they would be delighted to finally meet Stella's 'Beth.' Your fame has preceded you, you know."

  What else could she do but accept? And so with little more persuasion she wrote a brief note to Nathan, informing him of the invitation to dine and that they were to attend a soiree later in the evening. With the same servant that was to deliver Elizabeth's missive to Nathan, Stella sent off her note to Dona Margarita. Not a half hour later, the servant returned with the two replies—Dona Margarita eagerly demanding that Stella definitely bring along her guests, and Nathan's regretful reply that he had already made other plans for the evening but had no objection to Elizabeth spending the evening with her friends. The thought of attending a soiree without him almost caused her to refuse, but Stella would have none of it.