Ashes and Ecstasy

by Catherine Hart

  If Jean’s self-indulgence was obvious anywhere, it was in the private gardens behind his house. There, between carefully tended flowers and hedges, was the most fantastic collection of statues to be found anywhere. All were representations of sea gods and goddesses, and Kathleen had been thoroughly enchanted with them from the first moment she had set eyes upon them. Now she was at leisure once more to study them to her heart’s content, and when she tired of that, there was the rest of the entrancing island to fill her senses with its soothing balm.

  Once Kathleen was accustomed to the idea of being Jean’s guest, she relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Jean was propriety itself, the perfect model of the gracious host. In no way did he attempt to take advantage of the close proximity of their living arrangements, or his position of absolute power on the island. Unobtrusively, he saw to it that all Kathleen’s needs were met, her slightest wish anticipated, but otherwise he assumed an attitude of watchful, hopeful waiting.

  The third day of their much-deserved indolence was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of a special courier. They were just sitting down to the midday meal when the lookouts sounded the alarm, sending a message that two British warships were anchored just outside the mouth of Barataria Bay. A dinghy with a lone messenger was on his way into the Bay at this moment.

  Everyone was instantly alert, but Jean had an idea what the courier would have to say. “I have been approached twice before by the British,” he told Kathleen. “They wish to form an alliance with me and my men against the Americans. If they can enlist my aid, their way will be clear to attack New Orleans and close off the Mississippi River completely to all trade. From there they could control the western front all along the Mississippi, from New Orleans practically to Canada.”

  “What have you told them, Jean?” Kathleen inquired curiously.

  “So far, we have been playing a game of cat and mouse, both sides very cautious. I have tried to warn Governor Claiborne of the imminent threat of British attack, but the stubborn jackass will not take anything I tell him under serious advisement. Meanwhile, I continue to entertain the British envoys, hoping they will relax their guard enough to reveal some of their plans and provide us with time to defend New Orleans against them.”

  The messenger arrived with a request that Jean receive two naval officers of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Jean wrote a note of reply, granting the interview and inviting the gentlemen to dine with him later that evening.

  “Let them cool their heels for a few hours,” he said cheerfully. “After all, they are here to ask favors of me, and it is never wise to appear too eager to please.”

  “Your policies of negotiation intrigue me, Jean. I get the distinct impression there is much I could learn from you,” Kathleen responded, her eyes bright with admiration and approval.

  “Someday I would love to teach you all I know, cherie,” he answered, watching her blush as she absorbed the dual meaning of his words.

  “Shall we dress for dinner?” Isabel inserted into the awkward silence.

  Jean’s attention never wavered from Kathleen’s face. “No. I should like to see their reactions when they find themselves confronted with two bold and beauteous female pirates. That should shock them to the soles of their very proper English boots, don’t you agree?”

  Kathleen’s eyes sparkled in answering deviltry. “Shall I dredge up my convincing British accent while I am about it?” she suggested, her nose tilted into the air.

  “Quite so, my dear,” Jean laughed, aping her accent.

  Kathleen and Jean were standing at the open veranda doors when the British officers arrived. A servant showed the two men into Jean’s spacious salon. As Jean left her side, the guests took note of her presence for the first time, and stopped stock-still in a momentary lapse of protocol. Forgetting their manners, and apparently stunned speechless, they stared openly, taking in the astounding sight before them.

  Kathleen stood proudly before their avid inspection, the bold piratess Emerald in all her glory. She laughed inwardly as their disbelieving eyes took in her brief green vest, the front lacings creating enticing shadows in the cleft between her breasts. The matching breeches barely covered her bottom, revealing long shapely legs encased in high black boots. Her rapier hung ready at her side, suspended by a wide sash tied about her hips. At length, their eyes retraced their route, taking in the gleaming black mane streaming in abundant waves to her waist, the huge golden earrings resting near each sunkissed cheek, the perfection of her delicate features. Finally their gaze met her tip-tilted emerald eyes, sparkling with haughty daring. One fine dark eyebrow arched in wordless challenge as she raised her wine glass in a saucy salute.

  “Ahem!" Jean cleared his throat loudly, drawing the men’s attention to himself at last. A smile twitched his lips as he shot Kathleen a quick glance. “I realize Emerald can quite take one’s breath away at first meeting, but I shall be glad to introduce you when you have sufficiently recovered.”

  Stepping forward, he offered his outstretched hand to one of the men. “Captain Percy, it is my pleasure to greet you again.” His glance slid questioningly to the other officer, a stout stern-looking older man.

  Percy hastened to perform his duty. “Mr. Lafitte, may I present Admiral Lowe of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

  Jean chuckled and said dryly, “Ah, the last time we met, you came accompanied by a colonel—this time, an admiral. Should I consider this a compliment or a threat, I wonder? Just how badly do you want my services?”

  “That is what we have come to discuss with you, Lafitte,” the admiral stated gruffly. His gaze cut to Kathleen, watching nearby. “Privately,” he added in a gratingly superior tone, his lips curling in distaste.

  Deliberately, Jean let a silence fall before he spoke quietly and firmly. “Gentlemen, may I present Emerald, one of the finest captains on the sea, and my partner.” (He stressed the word “partner.”) “Anything you wish to discuss with me, you may say to her also.” With these words, Jean set the tone of the evening, leaving no doubt in the admiral’s mind just who was in charge not only on the seas, but in Lafitte’s home.

  “Yes, well, that is certainly your right, Lafitte,” Admiral Lowe backed down reluctantly, “but you needn’t pretend that this—uh—woman is anything more than your doxy.” The man laughed curtly, nostrils distended disdainfully. “Who would actually believe she is a sea captain?”

  “Who, indeed, but half the population of the Caribbean?” Kathleen put in, a sneer curving her lips.

  The admiral stiffened upon being addressed by this outlandish creature. As though she were not present, he continued to Jean, “Tell me, Lafitte, which of your vessels does she command?”

  “None of them,” Jean answered. Before the admiral’s superior “Aha!” could be heard, Jean went on, “She has her own fleet, the most noted of which is the Emerald Enchantress. ”

  Captain Percy’s eyebrows rose at this, and his gaze swung swiftly to meet Kathleen’s.

  “You seem to have heard of me, Captain Percy,” she purred.

  His eyes narrowed as he admitted as much. “Your name is bandied about in every port tavern from here to Barbados. It is you they tout so tirelessly, is it not?” he questioned.

  “The one and only,” came her bold answer.

  Admiral Lowe was frowning. “Word has it you are a pirate,” he accused.

  Kathleen gave him her cat smile. “Word has it correctly,” she tauted silkily.

  Jean laughed. “Gentlemen, you are two of the few to ever face Emerald, the famed and ruthless piratess, who will live to speak of it!”

  Captain Percy was eyeing her speculatively. “Could it be,” he ventured, “that this—er—lady could be responsible for the losses we have been incurring lately in the Gulf?”

  Kathleen met his piercing look unwaveringly. “Why should I bother, Captain Percy?” she countered smoothly. “What would be the profit in attacking a British warship? Shrewd businesswoman that I am, I am well aware that it
is more lucrative to waylay a Spanish vessel bearing gold, or a Portuguese frigate, or even an American cargo ship.” She smiled sweetly. “Surely none of your men have blamed me for their misadventures?”

  “None of the vessels in question have produced a single survivor,” Percy replied grimly.

  “Oh, my!” Kathleen’s eyes widened dramatically. “You certainly have had severe losses then, haven’t you?” she taunted.

  Isabel’s appearance at dinner created another brief stir. “Another pirate captain?” Admiral Lowe jeered, glowering at Isabel’s form-fitting trousers and full-sleeved shirt clinging seductively to her pert breasts.

  “Heavens! I’ll never be a captain!” Isabel exclaimed brightly. “I do not know the first thing about sailing a ship!”

  “The truth at last!” Captain Percy muttered.

  “Isabel is one of my crew, gentlemen,” Kathleen proceeded to enlighten them. “Do not let her small stature fool you. She has taken many a man out of action with her swift sword.”

  “They must have been poor swordsmen then,” Lowe decided aloud.

  “Yes, they were, actually,” Isabel agreed with an impish smile, her dark eyes twinkling.

  I thought the same of many of my own opponents,” Kathleen admitted, recalling some of the bumbling Britons she had faced.

  The meal concluded, the officers presented their offer, again attempting to get Jean to agree to their proposition.

  “You and your men would be an invaluable asset to us, as you must know," Lowe said.

  “We figured that out by ourselves,” Pierre inserted.

  “Your knowledge of the bayous and backwater ways would aid the British cause a good deal," Percy added.

  “Without which, you and your men could flounder forever in the swamps,” Isabel pointed out serenely.

  “If the gators, snakes, and swamp fever didn’t finish you off—not to mention the quicksand.” Dominique added with a wicked grin.

  “Your point is taken,” Lowe replied coolly. “We would like to enlist your aid; for which you will be amply rewarded, Mr. Lafitte.” He directed his words to Jean.

  Jean silently lit a cheroot. “Ahem—yes.” Admiral Lowe cleared his throat loudly. “Well, now, I have been instructed to inform you, that should you agree to fight with us against these upstart Americans, we are prepared to offer you the governorship of the Louisiana territory, including New Orleans and the surrounding area.”

  “Oh, Lord!” Kathleen hooted before she could stop herself. “Wouldn’t old Claiborne have an apoplectic fit if he could hear this!”

  Jean chuckled indulgently at her humor. “Emerald, you are a very wicked petite chatte.” His admonishment sounded curiously like a caress.

  “How is that?” Lowe inquired.

  “A little cat—a kitten,” Pierre translated with a broad grin, “with sharp claws and eyes that see in the dark.”

  The two men stayed late, and Jean plied them with liquor and fine cigars in an effort to loosen their tongues. Kathleen and Isabel did their best to get the stiff British officers to relax and let down their guard a bit. By the evening’s end, despite themselves, the Englishmen had revealed a good deal of information about the size and whereabouts of their ships though nothing as specific as the privateers would have wished. For his part, Jean agreed to consider their offer, telling them he would require more time to think about it.

  When the British had returned to their ship, Jean turned to his brothers and the two women. “It is time we return to New Orleans and try once again to convince our mule-headed governor that a British attack is inevitable. I can only hope he is ready to listen to reason this time!”

  Chapter 15

  While Kathleen and Isabel visited Eleonore again, the Lafitte brothers went to see Governor Claiborne. As in the past, the governor scoffed at their warnings, Claiborne loudly proclaiming them all worthless pirates, and again threatening to have them all arrested at the slightest provocation. The Lafittes left his office shaking their heads in dismay. If Claiborne did not relent soon, New Orleans would not have sufficient time to prepare for the attack. The city would fall like a ripe peach into the hands of the British.

  At this time, a visitor to New Orleans would never have guessed there was a war in progress. The city vibrated with excitement and gaiety in preparation for the annual Mardi Gras Celebration. It took a bit of persuasion to convince Kathleen to remain for the festivities. Her mind kept going back to the times she and Reed had donned costumes for Savannah’s annual St. Patrick’s Day fete and their New Year’s Eve balls.

  “The holidays are the worst,” she confided to Eleonore. “Each month seems to hold some significant date that stabs at my heart like a lance, reminding me that Reed shared these times with me.” Tears coursed slowly down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes to stem the flow, burying her face despondently in her hands.

  “The first year is bound to be the worst,” Eleonore agreed, ‘‘but it will soon be past. Next Christmas, and those thereafter, you will build new memories of times with your children, and it will hurt less with each passing year.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but my memories are so precious, so sweet, that I do not really know if I want them to fade. At times, I can barely stand the pain, but along with the heartache comes the remembrance of a love so wonderful that I cling fiercely to it, as if to experience it all again and have Reed close to me, if only in my heart.”

  “It is only natural, Kathleen, but someday you must put aside your old dreams and reach out for new ones. To waste yourself on faded memories is a shame, when a new love stands waiting in the shadow of your pain—waiting for you to turn and recognize him, to accept the love he offers.”

  “Jean,” Kathleen sighed tearfully.

  “Jean,” Eleonore nodded.

  Kathleen looked sadly at her friend. “I don’t want to hurt him, Eleonore.”

  “At this point, he is so taken with you that I suspect he would be satisfied with whatever affection you could spare.”

  “That would not be fair to him,” Kathleen argued.

  Eleonore shrugged. “Who is to say what is fair? Perhaps a love affair with a man like Jean is just what you need to bring you back to life. You might even surprise yourself.”

  In the end, Kathleen succumbed to her friends’ entreaties, and stayed to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans. She told herself she was doing it for them; especially for Isabel, who’d had so little fun and frivolity in recent years.

  There was a hint of spring in the early March air here in this southern port city, and it lent an added air of exuberance to the revelry. The streets were crowded with lively celebrants, all eager for this final outbreak of levity before entering the somber season of Lent. The entire city was awash with color, every hue of the rainbow exhibited in the vivid costumes seen everywhere. Throngs clogged the streets, people jostling one another cheerfully, joyful shouts rising in a cacophony of voices.

  “This is fun! I am glad you talked me into staying,” Kathleen admitted to Jean, her eyes bright in her flushed face as they sat at a table at an outdoor café, watching the passing parade.

  Jean reached across and took her hand in his, pleased beyond measure when she did not retrieve it, but let it lie soft and warm within his. Kathleen let her eyes travel over his outfit. Jean looked extremely handsome in an elaborate pirate costume, chosen to complement hers as Emerald. A plumed hat sat jauntily on his head, below which a black patch covered his left eye. His white silk shirt was open at the neck, a silver medallion gleaming against the mat of hair on his chest. Over the shirt he wore a short green vest which matched the snug trousers tucked into shiny black boots. A waist sash completed his outfit, and secured his rapier at his side.

  For her part, Kathleen wore her usual piratess attire of short green breeches and vest. For propriety’s sake, she had donned a white silk blouse beneath the vest, the full, billowing sleeves fluttering in the breeze. Her sleek midnight tresses stood out in sharp relief against
the white of her blouse, and her eyes glowed. The gold coin Jean had given her hung about her neck, nestling between her breasts, and winking between the lacings of her vest.

  “I believe you chose that pirate costume, not so much as a match to mine, as to torment Governor Claiborne,” Kathleen teased him.

  “Ma petite chatte, my beautiful kitten, you have a naughty mind,” Jean scolded with a laugh. “You are quite correct, however, when you say that our dear governor will disapprove. No doubt, we shall see him tonight at the ball.”

  “And you love to antagonize him, Jean. Admit it,” she urged, wagging a slim finger at him.

  Jean shrugged. “Perhaps I do enjoy adding fuel to the fire from time to time. His superior attitude annoys me, and to take him down a peg or two adds spice to our confrontations.”

  That evening, they attended a ball for the elite of New Orleans society. Eleonore and her escort, René Robinault, had made certain they all gained entrance to this select affair, even Dominique and Pierre. They made quite an impressive group. Eleonore and René had chosen to appear as a courtesan and courtier, resplendent in bejeweled attire. Pierre, because of his short suture, made a very believable Napoleon, his wife Francoise representing his former empress Josephine at his side.

  Much to Kathleen’s surprise, when Dominique had suggested that he and Isabel portray a Spanish don and his lady, Isabel had agreed without protest. Obviously, her painful experiences at her husband’s hands were fading rapidly. Dominique looked splendid in his black jacket and trousers trimmed in silver thread. Isabel resembled a tiny, beautifully dressed doll, her dark hair pulled up and held by a high ornate comb and draped with a delicate lace mantilla. She looked lovely and fragile next to Dominique’s towering bulk.

  If Kathleen was feeling a little guilty at enjoying the evening’s festivities, she quickly buried her reservations. Surely she deserved a bit of frivolity, a touch of happiness amidst her sadness. The evening stretched before her, a brief respite from thoughts of loss and revenge. The atmosphere was jolly, filled with laughter and lighthearted enjoyment. The music was heavenly, the companionship the finest, the dancing divine. Wine flowed in sparkling abundance, and Kathleen’s goblet was never empty.