Liberty searched his face, knowing he treasured the bust more than anything he possessed, outside Briar Oaks itself. "I know you loved that statue, Papa. You are just saying that to make me feel better."
He placed his cheek next to hers. "Things are not important, Liberty—people are important. As far as I am concerned, that old bust isn't worth one of your precious tears."
Liberty threw her arms around her father. He was the kindest man she had ever known. He had demonstrated how much he loved her tonight by not making her feel guilty. Fresh tears wet her eyes, and she mumbled against his shoulder.
"I hope if I ever have children of my own, I will remember the example you set for me tonight, Papa."
"What example is that, my dearest daughter?"
She smiled through her tears. "That people are more important than things. I do not believe I shall ever spank a child of mine, no matter what he or she may break."
Her father was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was in a trembling voice. "I cannot tell you what it means for you to say that to me, Liberty. You are my only child, and I love you more than anything else in the world. My father was a cruel, unloving man. I swore that I would be a better father to my children than he was to me. I hope I have at least succeeded in that. It seems that I have failed in everything else."
"Oh, no, Papa, you are not a failure. No one ever had a kinder, more loving father than you. I count myself very fortunate."
Louis took his daughter by the shoulders and led her to the window. "Look out there, ma chere. Briar Oaks will one day belong to you." He smiled down at her sadly. "If I can manage to save it for you, this will pass to you as a trust for your children. My hope is, that along with the land, I can pass love through you to future generations. This is the legacy I will leave you. That bust of a French king was not worth one handful of Briar Oak's bottom land, Liberty—always remember that."
Father and daughter stood together, silently surveying the land they both loved. "I will probably never marry, Papa. You will never have grandchildren, except through Bandera."
He laughed softly. "You will marry, ma chere. Soon your beauty will bloom, and you will have your choice of young gentlemen to select from. Choose well, and do not allow blind pride to rob you of love."
Liberty glanced up at her father, but his thoughts seemed far away. She got the impression he was remembering some lady out of his past, and she did not think it was her mother.
Glancing down at her upturned face, he smiled. "I understand you have met Judah Slaughter."
"Oui, Papa."
"What do you think of him?"
"I ... he is wonderful."
His eyes twinkled beneath arched brows. "Is he?"
"I think so."
"I knew his mother many years ago. I thought she was wonderful." Louis Boudreaux placed a soft kiss on his daughter's cheek and walked her to the door. "Go to bed, Liberty, and allow nothing to trouble your dreams. Weave dreams of love and happiness."
She paused with her hand on the door. "Papa, about the bust-"
"It is all but forgotten."
She turned away and slowly walked up the stairs. When she reached her room, she undressed and climbed into bed. Tonight her father had taught her a valuable lesson about love. Liberty swore that she would never disappoint anyone in her family again—especially not her father, hopefully not her mother.
7
Liberty moved along the garden path which sloped toward the Mississippi River. From her vantage point she could see the opulent farmlands, the soil in hues of gray, black, and red. The rich land was suited to a multitude of different crops, but it was a constant fight to keep the ever-moving undergrowth from reclaiming it.
Liberty had kept the promise she made to herself. Each day she tried to improve her manners and her appearance. But no matter how she tried, she decided she could never turn herself into a beauty. No matter how much she brushed her hair, the damp climate made the unruly curls spiral around her face and down her back, and she could do nothing about the straw color of her hair. When she looked into the mirror, she saw the face of a child staring back at her. She had tried applying color from Bandera's rouge pot, but that merely made her look like a little girl playing at being a grownup. If her mother and sister noticed a change in Liberty's appearance, neither of them commented on it. Liberty would like to have talked to her mother about the unsettling feelings she was experiencing. But her mother neither solicitated Liberty's confidence, nor gave any indication she was interested in her troubles. Indeed, Ursula took no notice that Liberty had problems; only Zippora held out a helping hand to the lonely, confused girl who was on the brink of womanhood.
Deeply breathing in the magnolia-scented air, Liberty moved toward the house, hoping to have breakfast with her father. When she entered the small family dining room, she was surprised to find not only her father, but her mother and sister as well. After a hasty good morning, Liberty slipped into her chair.
She gasped in surprise when she saw the white rose beside her plate. Catching her father's eye, she watched a smile spread over his face. "Thank you, Papa," she said, raising the delicate blossom to her nose.
Bandera slammed her fork against her plate, venting her displeasure, until her mother's hand closed over hers, stilling any angry outburst she might have made. Louis looked down the table, studying each face carefully. He still felt guilty because he had waited so long to do anything about Liberty's plight. Today he would take the first steps to help her find her way.
"I am leaving at the end of the week," he said, dipping his spoon into thick cream and fishing out a plump blueberry.
"Must you go?" Liberty asked, already feeling alone and isolated due to his impending absence.
"Yes, I fear I must. I am going to Natchez for three weeks. I have to see about a loan, and I want to learn more about growing sugar cane."
"I am going with your father," Ursula announced to the surprise of both girls. "While we are away, Oralee will see to your needs."
"What about the ball at Bend of the River next week?" Bandera wanted to know. "Who will make certain I am properly clothed?"
Louis stared at Bandera for a moment. "You must assume that your mother knows where her priorities lie. When we return, many things around here are going to change."
"That's right," his wife agreed. "Your father and I have been talking, and we have decided that we are going to become a closer family. Each of us must put forth more effort."
Louis turned to his youngest daughter and gave her his brightest smile. How alone and vulnerable she looked at the moment. "I have a surprise that I believe you will like, Liberty," he said, hoping to make her smile.
Before she could answer, Bandera spoke up. "You always have a surprise for Liberty. You never seem to know I am alive, Papa."
Louis gave Bandera a hard glance. "I believe we are all aware that you are alive, Bandera. I have given you a home as well as my name. I have loved you like a daughter, and in so doing, I sometimes neglected Liberty. It is my intention to right any mistakes I may have made in the past. Besides, you would be bored this afternoon. I am taking Liberty to meet an old friend of mine at Bend of the River."
Liberty did not notice the jealousy that gleamed in her mother's eyes. "You haven't asked me to go along with you, Louis."
"No, not this time, Ursula. This is just for Liberty."
"You are taking her to meet Gabrielle Slaughter," Ursula said, a pout on her lips. "Don't try to deny it. I know you are."
"I do not deny it. I believe Liberty and Gabrielle are very much of a kind, and will take an instant liking to one another." His eyes narrowed. "I believe knowing Gabrielle will be good for Liberty."
Liberty stared from her mother to her father. There had been very little love between them for years. She could not remember the two of them ever going away together. Her heart ached as her mother lowered her head in defeat. Liberty did not know what the trouble was. She realized that her parents were maki
ng this trip together to try to recapture some of the love they had lost. Her father must have insisted on it.
Liberty sat beside her father, watching the scenery fly by. It was a lovely clear day, and she was excited about going to Bend of the River to meet Judah's mother. However, she couldn't help but hope that Judah would not be there. Liberty had not seen Judah since the day she had made a fool of herself, and she was still too embarrassed to face him. She knew that Bandera was frequently in Judah's company. It was obvious that her sister had begun playing Judah against Sebastian; that way, no mater who inherited Bend of the River, Bandera would have the heir in the palm of her hand.
Several times a week, Liberty had visited Zippora, and the old woman had instructed her on how a properly brought-up young lady would act. Always in the back of Liberty's mind was the vision of Judah Slaughter. Someday he would look at her and think she was pretty—he had to.
The one thing that bothered Liberty was the fear that Judah would leave Bend of the River and sail back to Boston. She knew that he had not already departed because Bandera kept him dangling. Even if Liberty could not have him, she hoped he would not fall in love with her sister. He deserved so much better than Bandera.
Gabrielle Slaughter was in deep thought as she walked in the garden. How wonderful it was to be home. She had not realized how much she had missed Bend of the River until she had returned. The only thing that marred her happiness was knowing that her son was restless, eager to leave. Since that first day, her father had ignored Judah. Each day she feared a summons would come from her father, and the two stubborn men, so much alike, would lock horns, and Judah would be driven away forever. '
Gabrielle was often left in the company of Sebastian's mother, Alicia. She did not care much for her aunt, because the woman was always so sullen and complaining. Apparently Alicia was lazy and spent her days lying abed or lounging in the morning room, eating chocolates. Gabrielle had very little patience with anyone who constantly bemoaned their lot in life as Alicia did. Gabrielle had always been the eternal optimist, and she expected no less from others. But Sebastian was always pleasant, and Gabrielle found him charming, even though Judah did not like him overmuch and was suspicious of his motives.
Stopping beneath a flowering dogwood tree, Gabrielle was overcome with a feeling of nostalgia. So much of her life had been spent here at Bend of the River. She remembered a scene that had been played out beneath this very tree —a scene that had broken her heart when she'd been a young girl.
Her mind was spinning backward to the year of her eighteenth birthday. Bittersweet memories now wrapped her in dreams of days gone by. How well she remembered the feeling of devastation when the young man she loved stood in the spot where she was now standing and told her he was going away. She still had the image of him in her mind, of his pain-filled blue eyes, begging her to understand why he had to leave.
"Why, Louis?" she had begged to know that day. "Why are you turning your back on me? I thought you loved me?"
"Try to understand, Gabrielle. I cannot marry you until I have the money. I will not have people saying I married you for your fortune. Briar Oaks has fallen on hard times, and my father has borrowed heavily against it."
"Louis, do not do this to us. Everyone knows we have loved each other since childhood. No one will believe that you are marrying me for any reason except love. My father approves of the match, why cannot you?"
"If I loved you less, I would take you for my wife, and the world be damned. But my pride will not allow me to live on your father's money."
"We will not take money from my father, if you do not want to. I will live anywhere with you. We can get a small place in New Orleans."
"My father has ordered me to leave Briar Oaks, Gabrielle. There is no way I can support you at this time, and I cannot ask you to wait for me. I will not ask you to give up everything you are accustomed to and live in poverty with me."
Gabrielle knew that Louis's father had married a woman twenty years younger than he. Louis had told her how his stepmother, Anna, had tried to entice him into her bedroom when his father was away. She had been horrified by the woman's wanton behavior. Gabrielle knew that Anna was at the bottom of Louis's troubles. Anna had spent money lavishly, and now Briar Oaks was in financial trouble.
"Anna caused the rift between you and your father, didn't she, Louis?"
"Yes. She has told my father that . . . that I made advances toward her, which we both know is not true. I could not tell him the real truth about her. He would never believe his beloved Anna is nothing but a . . . that is the one who ... I have to go away, do you not see that? I could never hurt my father by telling him the truth."
Gabrielle had grabbed Louis's shirtfront, trying to hold on to him. "You do not mind hurting me, Louis. You are tearing my heart out."
His eyes had misted with tears. "My dearest and only love, no one will ever care for you as deeply as I. But I have nothing to offer you. I will not drag you down with me."
She had clasped his hand tightly, knowing he was slipping away from her. "I ask no more than to be your wife."
"No matter what happens, Gabrielle, you will always be my only true love —will you remember that?"
Gabrielle could feel the pain of that day as if it had been yesterday. She had called after Louis as he turned and walked out of her life, but he did not heed her call. Shortly thereafter, she had left on a tour of France and had met Judah's father. She had loved him deeply, but a woman never quite gets over her first love. The past was as dead as Louis's father and Anna. But Gabrielle had heard that Louis was still paying off debts incurred by his stepmother. She wondered if he ever thought of her. He was married, and she hoped he had found happiness.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she heard footsteps and spun around. Blinded by the sun, she stared at the man walking toward her. Her heart pounded like a young girl's as he reached her side. Softly, his eyes caressed her face, and she reached out to clasp his hand.
"I see tears in your eyes, Gabrielle. The last time I saw you, you were standing here, and there were tears in your eyes then also."
"Yes, I remember, Louis," she answered, feeling his hand tighten about hers.
"Time has been kind to you, and has only enhanced your beauty, Gabby."
She smiled. "You always knew how to make me feel good about myself, Louis."
"I have not yet met your son, Gabrielle."
"He is a fine young man."
He smiled and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, leading her in the direction of the river. "My daughter finds him charming."
She returned his smile. "Which daughter? I hear you have two."
"My wife, Ursula, had a daughter by her first marriage, whom I adopted; but I was speaking of my own little Liberty."
"You named her after your sister. I am so glad. Tell me about her?"
So easily did they fall into conversation, it was as if the years fell away and they had never been parted. After Louis described his daughter to Gabrielle, he allowed his eyes to roam at will over her face. "I wish Liberty had someone with your patience and kindness to guide her. I fear she is left much to her own devices, and knows nothing about a gentle upbringing."
"Your wife?"
"She has been a good wife, but I fear she neglects Liberty in favor of Bandera."
"When can I meet your Liberty?"
"She came with me this morning, and is waiting in the salon. Will you see her now? I was hoping she could spend the day with you. I wanted more than anything for her to get to know you."
Gabrielle nodded, knowing they were both thinking Liberty could have been their daughter. Overcome with tender feelings, she pulled away. Louis caught her hand and raised it to his lips. Naked love was reflected in his soft blue eyes, but Gabrielle knew he would not speak of his feelings; for he was an honorable man. It was enough for her to know he still held her in high regard.
Liberty loosened the lace collar at her throat and kicked her shoes off,
since they were new and pinching her toes. She was very familiar with this room. Before Monsieur Montesquieu became ill, she had often visited him in the afternoon. She was one of the few people Gustave had tolerated. He had confided in her many times that Alicia and Sebastian were both fools. She had agreed with him on that and many other subjects. There had been a time when she had read to Monsieur Montesquieu twice a week. But when his illness kept him confined to his bedroom, her visits had become less frequent. Liberty had missed the grizzly old man, who was not nearly as gruff as he would have everyone believe.
Liberty heard footsteps on the garden steps, and turned to see her father and a woman she knew would be Judah's mother enter the room.
"Gabrielle," Louis said with pride. "This is my Liberty. Liberty, this is an old and very dear friend."
Liberty realized, when the woman looked down at her feet, that her shoes were across the room, under the chair where she had kicked them. There was nothing to do but admit her mistake and hope that Judah's mother would not think her a complete fool.
The lovely vision smiled and took her hand. "I am Louis's friend, but not as old as he claims. I am so delighted to meet you, my dear. You are so lovely. You remind me of another Liberty, who was my dearest childhood friend."
"I . . . my shoes . . . they are new, Madame, and . . ."
Gabrielle laughed softly. "I, too, detest new shoes. We shall ask your father to leave us alone so we can visit, then I may also take off my shoes." Liberty knew this lovely lady would never be caught without her shoes, and was merely trying to put her at ease.
Louis chuckled as he bowed to Gabrielle and winked at his daughter. "I leave you in good hands. I will call for you this afternoon at four."
Liberty could not remember a day when she had been more entertained. She and Gabrielle Slaughter walked in the garden, while the older woman told her many things about her father when he was younger. She spoke of her life in Boston, and her pride in her son, Judah.
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 11