The Emma H. sailed and called on several ports in France. They bid Helena good-bye when they finally reached England, delayed on the usual route by poor weather. At first Louisa slept badly, not yet accustomed to the pitch and roll of the ship, nor to the creaking of its timbers. The wind howled in the rigging and Louisa could barely control her agony in the dark as the voices in the wind seemed to cry out to her. "Lou―i―sa, child, you are damned. I warned you, but you did not listen," the voice whispered in a gust of air in the passageway.
" Lou―i―sa; my beau―tiful, Lou―i―sa. Let me ho―ld you. Swe―et Louisa. Pa―pa loves you. Come, let me love you."
"Ahh, Lou―i―sa."
Night after night, the wind in the darkness called to her, as she lay frozen with fear until the wind died down and she was overcome with exhaustion. She reassured herself that at least she knew the voices were her imagination, but nevertheless, she was tortured, and though the bruises disappeared and the cuts healed, Louisa's face was marred by lines of tension and fatigue.
"Enjoy her. She's a born whore. Enjoy ... Enjoy... Enjoy ..." And the laughter echoed in the wind.
Louisa leapt from her bunk and tried to open the porthole. "I must have some air," she cried. Finally, her struggles opened the porthole, bringing a blast of wind and rain to douse her and blowout her only lantern. In her terror, she was caught in total blackness, listening to a raging gust of wind as it touched her body with its wetness and its chill.
" Lou―i―sa, swe―et little whore." She slammed the porthole closed. "Lis―ten to me ... You are damned, Lou―i―sa. Damned, Lou―i―sa."
Louisa frantically found her way to her cabin door, unlatching it, hastily leaping into the passageway where it was bitterly cold, but at least dimly lit by a lantern. She lunged toward Marshall's cabin, pounding furiously on the door. In an instant it was opened, and she was in his arms, begging, yielding to his comfort.
"I can't bear to be alone anymore. I can't bear listening to the voices," and she uttered their cries for Marshall to hear. "I know they're my imagination, but they terrify me!" She shivered and snuggled against him.
"I've some brandy," he said, turning up the lamp, offering her a glass, pouring some for himself as well. She downed the drink quickly. "Please, let me sleep with you tonight!"
He smiled. "My pleasure."
Louisa flinched, but smiled.
"I want you desperately, Louisa. But I can wait until you're ready," he said, offering her more brandy, watching as she gulped a second glass, obviously debating where she would be most comfortable―with him, or alone in the darkness with her voices.
When he finished his brandy he decided not to prolong their misery. He lowered the lamp and led her quietly to his bunk where, night after night, she slept peacefully and safely against him, knowing at last someone loved her enough to take only what she could freely, lovingly give.
Chapter Fourteen
"ALL hands ahoy. All hands ahoy," shouted the first mate late one afternoon as the Emma H. skirted the coast, heading for open sea. The weather was good for a change, and the sudden frantic activity of the crew drove passengers on deck.
"Passengers, go below," ordered the captain. "We can't be stumbling over you. We've got an unidentified schooner in our wake. She's armed and flies no colors. We're running on the wind and will likely elude her, but you best get out of the way! Now, go below!" And he waved them out of sight.
Marshall was with the captain when the schooner was first observed. He knew piracy was not unheard of along this coast, especially lately. And Vanguard ships had suffered more than their share of mishaps. Clippers like the Emma H. fared best on the open ocean, but, along the coast, a confrontation with a well-handled schooner could be quite a contest. Marshall remained on deck and his presence was acknowledged by Captain Sebastian. "She's going to give us a bit of a. run for our money. Looks as if she's got a sharp crew, and she's heavily armed. If we can get to open water without serious challenge, though, we'll leave her astern quickly enough."
Throughout the remainder of the day, the full crew stayed on deck, and the passengers waited nervously below. Tension built for everyone aboard as the two ships parried with increasing intensity. When night fell, the Emma H. had the advantage. The absence of a moon covered them with total blackness and increased their hopes for escape. All light aboard ship was forbidden and the ship's course was altered a few degrees every hour. The night passed slowly, the sounds of the sea nearly deafening to those who lay awake, poised and listening.
"What's going to happen, Marshall?" Louisa asked anxiously.
"I don't know. Piracy is always a risk, but tonight the sky is in our favor, and Captain Tomas is the very best."
"Our trip certainly hasn't been very smooth, and we've hardly begun," Louisa sighed, only slightly reassured by Marshall's calmness. "I'm wishing we were still in Paris."
"I'm not. For one, I doubt you'd be in my bed if we were in Paris."
"One never knows," she laughed, and hugged him warmly.
It was not the first intimacy she'd shown him in their bed, for on other nights, they lay together talking, touching. But tonight he turned against her slowly, kissing her throat, caressing her. She felt stiff, but seemed willing as he pursued her gently. He stroked and petted, easing her into his embrace. He touched her breasts through her gown, then opened the deep neckline of her negligee, slowly kissing the length of her torso. Her tension shifted to uncertainty and then to eagerness at his persistent loving 'touch, and Louisa found herself released and unburdened in his arms. She cried out for joy as warmth surged through her limbs.
Soon they were naked, exploring and filling each other with delicious sensations. Marshall coaxed her slowly but relentlessly until she begged him to penetrate deep inside where her spasms of rapture led him swiftly to the same ecstatic peak.
Then they lay contentedly with knowledge of each other, their tension from the previous nights of denial subdued. They laughed and caressed and planned their future. And they were oblivious to the dangers of the night voyage while the Emma H. hauled cautiously toward morning.
At daybreak, the unidentified schooner was nowhere to be seen. The ship's course was corrected and she sped along to the freedom and safety of open water. No one could catch her now.
Louisa now reveled in the voyage. She felt as if her spirit soared alongside the graceful clipper. Suddenly she had no feeling of confinement within the woodenhulled ship as it flew over the seemingly endless ocean. Louisa was whole again, as free as the wind that filled the sails, no longer a captive of its whistling voices. She was its equal, no longer its prisoner. She was filled with strength, at last no one's slave, able to give herself freely with love to Marshall. And when she offered her body, Marshall knew that, for her, it was the ultimate expression of love for him. And they made their plans and dreamed their dreams as only lovers can.
Chapter Fifteen
MARSHALL and Louisa's return to Louisiana was not heralded with great enthusiasm by Simon or Emma Hudson. They were appalled by the story of Louisa's encounter with death, and only grudgingly approved Marshall's accompanying Louisa home, after commenting it would have been better had Justin done so. Their cautious, but unmistakably disapproving response to the couple confirmed Marshall's suspicions that they would vehemently oppose a formal union, and he resolved to conceal his love for Louisa.
"I'm sorry I can't tell everyone how much I love you," he said one afternoon shortly after they had returned. "We'll just have to bide our time, until we're free to do whatever we want."
Louisa willingly accepted Marshall's decision to postpone announcement of their plans. She accepted his love for her as it was given, as something of a miracle. She assumed his presence was providential, as was his love for her, given freely after all the ugly truth was uttered out loud. She would trust whatever he felt was the best for them, unable to question his wisdom, believing only in his merciful love for her, dreaming their love could somehow shield the
m from the wickedness of others; that it could protect them from grief and tragedy.
Louisa returned to her former home, settling herself uneasily in its still haunting, still vacant rooms. Not expecting to see Justin for several months, she had the place to herself, and closed most of the few previously occupied rooms, discarding or storing furniture and possessions at will. For herself, she chose a room that needed finishing and proceeded to arrange for its completion, painstakingly decorating it to her taste. When she was done, her new room was as feminine and elegant as she was, untarnished by memory, made holy by the love that filled its space on nights when Marshall and she joined joyously, promising to share every moment of their lives.
Then Justin returned to the area earlier than the couple had anticipated. At first, both feared he would give them away, but, oddly, he lurked quietly in the background, infrequently stopping at the plantation. Louisa and Justin rarely crossed paths, and whenever he actually set foot in the house, she had either been away, or arranged to leave immediately. He seemed to be content with the arrangement and pursued his own life, and she hers, without comment. But, shortly before his death, whenever they encountered each other at a social gathering, he had looked at her oddly, his physical appearance telling his age, making him look even older than he was, and, to Louisa's eye, quite dissipated. She saw him in the company of people she hardly knew, most frequently it seemed with a William Easton, an odd, intense man she and Marshall had met aboard the Emma H. Justin's companions were rarely ones she would choose.
The night Justin died, Louisa had seen him at the Andersons' ball. She had danced for hours with Marshall when Justin arrived― again in William Easton's company. Justin had stared at Louisa for a very long time, then approached her while she was surrounded by mutual friends.
"Let me take you away from our friends, just for a few minutes, I promise. You can surely spare a dance with your own papa," and he offered what the world thought was a loving paternal smile.
Louisa was not above shaming him, but she could not shame herself before her friends. She politely accepted Justin's request, and, at first, danced with him with grace and cordiality, smiling pleasantly. "I've missed you, beautiful child," he soon began in his most familiar voice. And Louisa stared disbelievingly. "Tell me you've missed me, too." And he murmured words she'd thought she'd forgotten, words that were all too easily remembered.
"Please," she whispered, on the verge of tears, "please leave me alone." She moved with him, as if she were in a trance, held fast in his embrace, her blue eyes wide and fixed intently on his.
Marshall watched her anxiously from the side of the room, singularly aware of her misery. He was about to intercede but someone came up to him, requesting assistance, and when he returned his attention to the dancers, Louisa was not in sight. Marshall could barely control his panic. He looked about the room and immediately saw Justin involved in conversation with others. He searched for Louisa within the ballroom and in the torchlit gardens, finally finding her as he heard his name called in the darkness.
"Marshall, I'd like to go home. I'm not feeling well. I think we can leave now without causing a stir, don't you?"
"Of course. I was about to rescue you from Justin, but you disappeared before I could manage it."
"It doesn't matter. I didn't think I could gracefully refuse to dance with him without creating comment, but now I wish I had. Oh, Marshall, I haven't been afraid of him lately, but there's something about the way he looked at me tonight that makes my skin crawl. Did you notice how old he looks? It's as if he's aged ten years."
"I heard my father say, or, that is, warn him to go a little easy on some of his pastimes, referring to his visits to some of the less respectable establishments in town."
Louisa shivered. "Please, let's just go now. I don't want to talk about him anymore."
They left the Andersons' without comment from anyone, for they were not the first to leave and the hour was already late. Louisa was silent on the trip home. "Would you like to stay with us for the night?" Marshall offered as she nestled against him in the open carriage.
"No, I'll be fine, once I get home," she promised. "Besides, I think I'm about to wear out my welcome in your house. I've seen a worried look on your mother's face whenever she's seen us lately."
"She'll just have to worry, won't she?" he said, kissing her eagerly.
When they arrived at Louisa's, the house was quiet and only Clara was up waiting for her. Clara had been with the house for years and considered Louisa her charge now that Nanny was dead. Louisa kissed the ancient woman in greeting. "You can go to bed now, dear Clara," she said gently. "I promise someday to get home early, so you can go to sleep at a decent hour!"
"Good night, Miss Louisa, Mr. Marshall." Clara padded off to bed, feeling her presence was no longer needed. She alone knew of the extent of Marshall and Louisa's relationship, for she was now the only servant sleeping in the house, and she shared their secret with no one, neither questioning nor damning the young woman she remembered from the day of her birth, and from the years of mysterious night terror. And she suspected the man who was her father of the very crimes he had committed, knowing all too well of the appetites of the man for women in his service. Though she had been well beyond his interest, she had tended a number of used, often mistreated women and very young girls from nights with him.
The house lights still burned brightly, for it was Louisa's habit to let them blaze away until she bid Marshall goodnight. As soon as Clara's weary form disappeared into the recesses of the house, Marshall lifted Louisa into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. On the nights they shared together, the room was lit only by the glow from the flames in the fireplace and by the love that radiated from them. Their passion had only increased with time, the wait until they would be free to acknowledge their love seeming endless. As Justin had predicted, Simon had been favoring a politically useful marriage for Marshall. Marshall had flatly refused the idea, insisting he had no mind for marriage at the moment. But he was certain his father was wise to his involvement with Louisa and, knowing his father, he suspected Simon was merely biding his time before he confronted them with his suspicions.
The occasions the couple spent together locked in each other's arms seemed too infrequent to them. The moments they stole were intense and sweet beyond earthly measure, their recollection of those hours able to send waves of longing through their limbs. Neither believed it would ever be possible to forget the compelling sounds, the sights, the sensations they shared in both body and soul, and once more the night with Marshall beside her passed too quickly. When he left her, Louisa had fallen asleep immediately, yet it seemed she was only asleep for mere seconds when she felt someone in her bed again. At first, she thought she was dreaming, but the hands caressing her were not unfamiliar, and her body cringed even as she struggled to full consciousness. Suddenly her nightmares touched her, only this was no fantasy. Justin's hands were on her, seeking what they had known of her on many occasions in the past.
Within seconds, Louisa was struggling wildly with a man who, though appearing much older than his age, was still incredibly strong. Louisa used every ounce of her strength as she wrestled with him, panting, crying out, begging him to leave her alone. She was wild with fear and horror, the years of abuse, the feelings of shame and ugliness flashing before her.
Justin was determined to have her again, and he tried to soothe her, even as they struggled. "Louisa, you haven't forgotten how good I could make you feel." But Louisa only screamed at him, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" in an endless hysterical chant. She was now uncontrollable, her strength tapped beyond what anyone would have suspected available to her, and they flung each other around the room until together they fell heavily against the floor, Justin's head thundering into the stone hearth. Louisa's crying went unchecked for some minutes until she realized the man beneath her was not moving, and she moved away from him in revulsion, not knowing whether he was
dead or alive.
Later, it would be some time before she could actually recall her next actions, but Simon convinced her of the probable events" and he was surprisingly accurate. She had not for a second hesitated in her motions, swiftly scattering the still burning embers from the fireplace throughout the room, igniting with swift gestures the expensive but quickly flammable draperies and bedding, the canopy, the carpets, the beautifully upholstered furniture, making a torch of a large wooden candlestick. She opened her wardrobes and set her gowns aflame, satisfied the work in the room was done. All of this had taken her only minutes, and she retreated, without looking back, the torch still in her hand.
She passed through other rooms, leaving destruction in her wake, descending the stairs to wind through the house as swiftly, as a night breeze. She was at last calm as she heard the fire turn into an impossible conflagration, undisturbed by the shouts that rang from the would-be rescuers as they poured from the slave quarters. Her only thought now was of Clara who occupied a remote room, and Louisa went there as if she'd wanted to make a simple request of the woman. She entered Clara's room to find the tiny woman still sleeping soundly. "Clara, Clara, come with me," she said gently. "The house is on fire again. It's a shame to wake you, but you must come with me." And she calmly helped the terrified old woman through the front doors as men with buckets and armfuls of furniture and other household possessions rushed past them.
"Miss Boyd, thank God, you're safe!" cried the overseer. "Didn't I see your father go into the house tonight?"
Louisa looked back at him without a hint of knowledge in her peaceful face. "Perhaps, you did," was all she said. And in the days that followed, a strange tranquility filled the young woman. None of the excitement, none of the grief touched her. The destruction of the house and of some of the fields by the spreading fire did not seem to distress her in the least. And news of the discovery of Justin's body left her unmoved. Others explained her response as shock. Very few suspected it was relief and satisfaction they read in her face.
Ford, Jessie Page 8