"And I think a wood rocker, like Marshall has, would please me."
"Like Marshall's?"
"Yes. And he has a toy cannon. I think I'll need one, too."
"What about dolls, Louisa?"
"I have my baby," she said firmly.
"The one from the fire? She's a dreadful mess. We'll have to replace her. In fact, didn't Emma give you an elegant doll to start a new collection?"
"She's too prissy to go out with the boys and me."
"I'm afraid you'll miss the boys when we go home again, Louisa. In fact, I'm sure you will." And he wondered what point there was in sending the child home with Claudia. He would be gone soon―the instant it was possible.
By the time the house was barely ready for occupation, the Boyd family moved in, and only Marshall and Andrew regretted their departure from the Hudson household. Justin grew increasingly agitated over Claudia's dependence, and her condition deteriorated to the point where she required nearly constant supervision. Justin was aware that he was consoling himself a little too liberally with alcohol, but he kept drinking and between the three of them, the Boyds began to haunt the new house.
Justin was an interesting man with remarkable good looks. He had both the influence and the appearance to move in whatever circles he chose. By preference he chose the darker ones, but carefully maintained his respectability where he considered it necessary. He traveled the world and partook of its various pleasures and entertainments, taking a wife as it suited his purposes. He had learned early in life that fortunes often were to be made if one chose the right company. And Justin rarely did anything in public that would not in some way enhance his political or economic position.
Yet even from his private point of view, he'd married carefully. He'd chosen a woman thoroughly acquainted with his needs, and one not loath to meet them; and her background, based on manners alone, looked good. She would not have stood up under close scrutiny, it was certain, but few questions were asked when he'd arrived with his blushing bride, convincingly demure and impressed by her new surroundings. He'd had his pleasures with her, and had she kept away from the bottle,' they might have been a life-long match. But no man is a match for alcohol, reflected Justin. He wondered how long she'd last. Or, if he drank enough, would he kill her first?
He felt increasingly tied to the household, disbelieving its frequent moments of sheer madness: between Claudia's hallucinations and Louisa's nightmares, Justin listed darkly. In the past he'd often been charmed by Louisa, as any father might be. Recently, between her bouts of night terror, she'd been an enigma, moody and doelike. Away from the boys, she was definitely more appealing and she hesitantly drew closer to him as Claudia's behavior became even more unnerving in the incomplete, meagerly furnished mansion. They had retreated from the Hudsons before they might have, because of Claudia, and father and daughter came closer to each other as a haven from too-close association with a woman they loved for different and, at times, unfathomable reasons.
At first, Justin sought only to calm his terrified child when she woke from one of her nightmares. "Louisa, Louisa, it's only a dream," he said taking the distraught child from Nanny's arms. But, as he retreated more deeply into alcohol, as his own loneliness overwhelmed him, the blackest side of his nature readily surfaced. Initially, he managed to exert self-control, but years of willful catering to whatever need struck him eventually won out. He was a man of worldly and varied desires, and with his wealth, his pleasures were readily sated. He'd traveled the world and had been unsatisfied by the ordinary splendors, seeking and finding darker revels, tasting everything that surfaced.
Louisa was easy prey as she lay in Justin's darkened room, terrified of her dreams. She clung eagerly to her fascinating, consoling Papa, and he took her soothingly in his arms, slowly easing her terror, slowly seducing her to his own needs. "I can help you feel much better, Louisa," he courted. Louisa trusted this man with her whole being. He was, after all, the source of her very being, her caretaker and provider; her protector from danger in the night. He led her slowly, but unrelentingly along paths she only intuitively knew were forbidden. She followed, betrayed by her own body, but deep within herself she cowered with every caress. Her terrifying dreams of fire ceased under his tutelage, and she learned not to cry out in the night. But it seemed she had only replaced one night terror with another.
Soon Justin grew bored with the seduction of his child, and he left the plantation to his overseer, his wife to her nurse, and Louisa to her nanny. Emma Hudson visited occasionally and Louisa stayed at the Hudson place often. The Hudsons had retained a new tutor, and it seemed appropriate for Louisa to take advantage of his skills as well. She began to spend less and less time in her own home, seeking the company, if not the protection, of the Hudson household.
The rare occasions Louisa and Momma came in contact were unpleasant. It was clear Claudia was not herself. Her coloring was grayish, and even her most expensive perfumes failed to cover a sickly sweetish odor that seemed to surround her. She would sometimes provoke ugly scenes with Louisa, accusing her darkly before the servants. Claudia now trembled continuously, and when she confronted Louisa, her quaking was exaggerated. "Do you miss your Papa, child? Little wonder to me―you fast became his favorite girl." Her loathing was barely concealed in her sarcastic accusations. "How odd. You barely resemble a woman, yet. No decent curves or fullness that I can see. But you are seductive in your way, I suppose, depending on one's taste. And Justin surely is a man of varied tastes." She smiled inappropriately at her child. "You are damned, you know, Louisa" Louisa felt guilty and mortified, and began to dread all contact with the woman.
One morning shortly after Justin's departure, Claudia was found on the stair landing below her room. She was very battered from the fall, but conscious when discovered. She accused Louisa of pushing her, and raved maniacally for a short time. Fortunately, no one believed her and Claudia died the same night.
Solemn services were held. They were brief and the mourners' faces were dutifully long, but Louisa suspected few felt any lasting grief. She knew she did not. Her Papa was not present and would not learn of Momma's death for some time. "Will he mourn?" she wondered.
At that point, Justin's properties were managed by the overseer, who answered to Simon Hudson, and Louisa formally entered the Hudson household. Normally, Louisa would have loved this, but there were some changes in the making that disappointed her immensely. First, at thirteen, Marshall, accompanied by Emma Hudson, was sent to travel and study in Europe, something Emma regarded as essential to his development, and Andrew was put aboard one of Simon Hudson's ships to earn his way.
The boys were four years her senior, and Louisa knew she had no right to expect them to spend their lives chaperoning her, but she would have liked them to do just that, and she would miss them. From one lonely house to another, she thought. Now she imagined she understood the term "low-born" as Momma had applied it to Andrew. It meant he didn't have the means to a gentleman's education, like Marshall. Andrew's knowledge of the world would not come from books and museums, as would Marshall's. It would come by his wits, the sweat of his body, and the strain of his muscles.
But Andrew didn't regard his fate as misfortune. He regarded it as an opportunity. He didn't see much future for himself as the son of an indentured white housekeeper. "Just think, Louisa. I'll be sailing all over the world. I've always thought about it, and Mr. Hudson's ships are the fastest in the world. I know I'll have some great adventures." Louisa frowned, viewing his fate much differently, and while she regarded him as much wiser than she, she was struck by his blond childish appearance when they said goodbye.
"Who will slice your frogs for you, Louisa, now that we're both going away?"
"I guess I'll give them up till you come back. You'll come back, won't you, Andrew?"
"I don't know. I suppose."
Louisa cried.
"Yes, I'll come back," Andrew promised, trying one last time to comfort her. "And we'll
roast frogs again someday, I promise."
Then a few days later, in spite of Louisa's effort to deny the day would come, they left her, all on the same day and on the same ship, some consolation for them, she supposed, but none for her. Their parting brought her grief she'd never known before.
Chapter Seven
JUSTIN'S return to Louisiana was not hurried, nor was his grief overwhelming. He took Louisa into the house again, and into his bed for as long as he stayed. Louisa loved Papa, and her reluctance was overcome by her need to be loved in any way. For now, her feelings of being unclean were put aside. Only loneliness and isolation felt worse.
Soon she began to see herself as mistress of the household. Papa brought her extravagant gifts, silks, and even jewels. "Eventually, I'll take you with me to Europe, Louisa. There are so many things for you to see. And one day soon, you will be something for everyone to feast their eyes on."
Louisa was flattered, feeling and looking like a princess. She worried over the latest European fashions, remembering Momma's preoccupations. When Papa went away again, she remained as "mistress," he said. She imagined herself as such, but Nanny actually wielded the power. Louisa whiled away the daytime hours dreaming and playing―perhaps she was the princess in the fairy tale who was only locked up in the tower waiting for a prince to set her free. In spite of her burdens, she would often lapse into normal girlish playing with dolls. Her collection flourished since the fire, but her dearest doll was the baby rescued from the flames. There were days on end that Louisa would refuse to put the doll down, sometimes rocking her for long periods, holding her tenderly, whispering quiet words. She gave more love to the doll than she could ever remember being invested in her, intuitively knowing what babies needed. And in loving her doll, she began to love herself again. From out of her heart poured needs and tenderness she craved and had long ignored. She even called the doll Louisa.
Papa came and went. He stayed at home for brief periods, taking Louisa out into the world as she lost more of her awkward child's appearance. She was pretty and educated, and only needed time and more exposure to the world to make her exceptional. Justin planned carefully for her. His fortune was secure, but political rumblings made him think of protecting his life-style. A beautiful daughter would no doubt have financial advantages, if need be. He even sacrificed his own wanderings to introduce Louisa to polite society.
But unselfishness has its limits, he thought, as he took his pleasure of her young body.
As Louisa grew more beautiful in her appearance, she was indulged in every matter. Yet she retained a remarkable sweetness and certainly didn't lack for spirit. She often thought she'd been forever corrupted by Marshall and Andrew, because, as she grew older, her taste for excitement increased. She rode her horses wherever she could, disdained chaperoning, and was game for any adventure proposed by companions. She feared no one and nothing, not even her dreams, which to her were no more deadly than reality.
Justin felt his efforts were well rewarded. Louisa was a sensation in the households they visited. Of course, not the least of her attributes was his economic standing, he reflected. Her education needed some rounding out, and that would be taken care of in time. More traveling, more introductions would only enhance her possibilities.
Louisa was eager to go abroad. When she had last seen Marshall, he had just returned from Europe more mature and handsome than she expected. He had been away three years, and she could barely believe her eyes. He was no longer a boy, he was a confident young man. He'd become interested in philosophy, particularly in the slavery issue, and spent considerable time trying to interest Louisa in the ideas he found most compelling, but Louisa grew bored. She tried earnestly, but at twelve years of age, she couldn't be serious with Marshall. She longed to re-create their earlier pastimes, yet somehow she realized those times were gone forever. Louisa coaxed Marshall into recreating a frog hunt for old times' sake, but she now found she took greater pleasure in long, exhausting daredevil horseback rides throughout the countryside.
Marshall couldn't help but notice that Louisa was on the brink of becoming something more than just pretty and adventurous. She had beauty and intelligence, and a wild kind of gaiety. She had learned to be flirtatious, coaxing and charmingly seductive. Suddenly, he regretted seeing so little of her. Marshall recognized his strong feeling for her was rooted in their childhood, but he suspected his fondness for her was growing into something else. He felt stirrings he'd just begun to comprehend, and Louisa's blossoming suggested desires for her he could not yet face. He would be traveling again soon, and so would she, and they had little hope of much contact, but Marshall knew she held promise and only hoped he would be the one to see her promise fulfilled.
Not much later, they traveled in the same direction, but along separate paths. Marshall stayed for a while in his own country, and Louisa went to Europe with Justin. She loved the sea voyage, wanting desperately to have the freedom men had, to do as Andrew had done. Where is Andrew now? she wondered. Although a seaman's life was not easy, she imagined life at sea was exciting enough to compensate for the hardships. A life in the open air seemed enough for her, with the wind filling the sails, and a work pace busy enough to keep all thoughts occupied, a blessing she would welcome. She stayed above deck as much as possible, or talked with Captain Tomas whenever she could. He was an efficient master of his ship, stern and respected by his men. He had a young daughter her age, he said, "not as pretty, nor as grand, but a sweet girl, too."
Louisa wondered about her, and what it was like to be another man's daughter. "But surely she could come with you on these voyages. I would. I would never go ashore!"
"Sometimes I've had my family with me. But sometimes it's better if they stay in port."
"I would never want to leave the ship. I'd insist on becoming a seaman. I could help with the sails. I'm strong. I can do whatever is needed!"
Captain Tomas laughed.
"I could," Louisa insisted, looking her most determined.
"I wouldn't be surprised!"
But her daydreaming was pointless, she knew. Papa had other plans for her.
Louisa wondered whether she could ever be a proper lady. Louisa knew she was at least becoming a beauty, and her spirit was more alluring than so many of the shy and polite girls she'd met along the way. Had Momma been a proper lady? She doubted it.
"Papa, what was Momma like before she was so strange?"
The question caught Justin off balance as they sat alone in the richly appointed salon painstakingly prepared for select passengers aboard the clipper Tempest. "You can't have forgotten her, already?"
"I guess I remember her, but I don't seem to recall more than her being sick all of the time, or when she was preparing for important guests. Is that all mothers do? What are mothers for?"
Justin looked at Louisa. Her life was far from usual, but what did he have for answers to her questions? "Louisa, you have lived differently than most. You are not destined for an ordinary life. Your social position guarantees you'll never have to worry about what mothers do. That's what nannies are for."
What did Papa want for her―a life like Momma's, and eventually a living death? He seemed to want some of the same things for her: beautiful clothes and jewels and the right companions, the right education―a proper finish to his other efforts. Papa was most solicitous of her needs. He did his best to make her feel good, didn't he? Why then, she wondered, did she dream of a life separate from him?
For several months, Justin and Louisa lived in London and were courted by his many friends. Papa was enormously popular, and he often left Louisa to pursue his own interests. He had both business and social obligations to occupy him, and Louisa privately welcomed the relative solitude. A suitable matron was found to oversee her excursions into society. She attended a noted day school, occupied herself with her studies and new friends.
Louisa began to take painting lessons to round out her education. Her painting instructor, M. Ronsard, was please
d with her efforts and soon Louisa was off into her own world of color and imagination. Her talent was extraordinary, and she was encouraged to go her own way. "I am impressed with the life in your portraits, Miss Boyd," said M. Ronsard, and he was awed by the intensity of her work as it progressed. "How can pretty Louisa read so much in people at her age," he wondered. "Who is the extraordinary lady in your portrait?"
"She's my mother, monsieur."
"She must be a remarkable woman. Yes, I see a resemblance."
"She was stunning," Louisa mused. Did M. Ronsard see the same things she saw in her painting? Could he see the frozen heart, the madness that lurked behind the beauty and aloofness she tried to convey? "She's dead now. This is how I remember her."
"I'm sorry, Miss Boyd. It's a pity."
"No, it's not. It's a blessing for us both," Louisa said quietly without malice.
M. Ronsard wondered at the young woman before him. He glanced at her paintings as they stood propped around the small room set aside for her newfound pastime. Could he know her from the growing collection? She obviously loved the two boys she painted on several canvases. Were they as animated and joyful as she said in paint? And was she the frightened child cowering in the rocker, clutching a very worn doll? Surely not, he hoped. Surely such a child has only a very dark future, and the girl before him promised something more.
At fifteen, there was only a hint of her childishness left. Her body had matured, and with her carriage and apparent worldliness, she was unmistakably a woman. By the time she and Justin left for Paris, Louisa was sufficiently immersed in her art and her studies to no longer be' bored. She became more animated and actually started to enjoy herself as she moved into the gaiety of Paris. She was a sensation and was courted earnestly by several young men.
She was happy at last, she thought. Her past receded from memory. Momma became only an unpleasant and even more vague part of her past. Helena, her chaperone, was a good companion, and made an unremarkable, but kindly mother substitute. Papa with his frequent comings and goings became a blur and his interest in her welfare genuine and merely paternal. Louisa felt she might have lived in Paris all of her life.
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