by Debra Dunbar
And his face, now chiseled in the light, spoke of a square jaw and high cheekbones.
It was his eyes that surprised her, and frightened her. They were no longer dark, but light and clear and held a luminescent sheen to them.
"Don't fear me, Solange. You of all the people in this world should fear me the least."
"You're not…you're not the same."
"No." He put his hands on her shoulders and his hair fell forward. She could see the nice clothing beneath the cloak now. Cotton shirt, embroidered waistcoat and trousers. "I am not."
"Why didn't you come home? Please tell me, Robert. Why didn't you let us know you still lived?" She searched his face. "I cried myself to sleep so many nights."
"I know you did," he said and gently moved an icy thumb over her cheek to wipe away a new tear. "I could hear you. As absurd as that sounds, I have always felt you there, still thinking of me." He licked his lips. "Gallagher was right. We were attacked. The ship was lost and there were few survivors. He was one of them. So was I. The ship that sunk us was indeed a pirate ship, Solange. And I was taken in by the Captain. That story is a hard one to tell, and too long, but it was her perception of me that prevented my death that day, and every day since."
"The captain was a woman?"
"Aye. Beautiful. And deadly. But she could see you in my heart and knew I would never betray my love for you. So she gave me a gift, Solange, so that I could one day punish the ones that tried to kill me, and I could be with you again."
"Where is she?" came Catherine's voice from below. "I told her to stay right there!"
Robert's body tensed at the sound of his sister's voice and he moved them back from the roof's edge. "I must leave you, Solange. But only for a short time."
"No…Robert!" She kept her voice quiet but he was pulling from her. Walking backward across the roof to the other side.
"Keep me in your thoughts, Solange. Trust me. And God. And no one else. You understand? Trust no one else." He stepped to the edge and looked down. She gasped when the clouds broke above him and the full moon presented herself full and bright. "Do you love me, Solange?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to be with me?"
"Oh yes!"
"Then ask Catherine who Jacqueline Ferrar is. And don't be surprised by her reaction, or by what comes next. And tell her," he smiled at her and his eyes flashed. "Tell her you saw me. She's always known about us, Solange so if you tell her I'm alive, she will believe it." And then he was gone.
He's simply stepped back and disappeared over the side.
"No!" she screamed and ran to the other side. Solange teetered on the edge before she looked down where she thought she'd find her lover, dead on the ground below. But there was no one.
Nothing.
"Solange? Are you up there?"
Pulling her own cloak around her and remembering his lips on hers, Solange found a door and a staircase down. She stepped into the street toward Catherine where she stood beside Uncle George. He was watching her, smiling.
"What were you doing?" Catherine spat, her hands on her hips. "The driver is coming back to take us home."
But Solange didn't answer. She kept her head bowed and thought about Robert. And about the name her lover had given her.
Jacqueline Ferrar.
And she wondered how this name would make it possible for her to understand why he had abandoned her and his family for three years. She didn't notice her Mistress's glances from her servant to the top of the building before them. Or the narrowing of her Mistress's eyes.
Catherine wasted no time interrogating Solange once they arrived at La Colina. Solange obeyed as she was escorted into the parlor and told to wait until her Mistress joined her. Nearly a half hour passed before Catherine stepped into the room, ushered her other servants out and locked the door. With her eyes on Solange, she strode to Solange, the swish of her skirts the only sound in the room, and stopped inches from her.
Solange stood where she was, her head down. She wasn't sure what else to do. She felt as if she were in for punishment, but wasn't sure what the crime had been.
"What were you doing on that roof?"
"Ma'am I wasn't—"
She didn't expect the slap. She heard it before she felt it. The pain burned and the impact had turned her head to her right shoulder. She put a shaking hand to her face and looked up at her Mistress. Catherine didn't look like herself. Her eyes were wild, her pupils dilated in the low light of the room. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her cheeks and neck. Her breathing was erratic and her mouth was set in a thin, harsh line. "Don't lie to me, Solange. Why were you on that roof? And who were you with?"
She opened her mouth to answer, then stopped when she saw Catherine's hand come up again. She didn't strike Solange, but the threat was there. Solange cleared her throat. Truth? Robert had told her to tell Catherine she'd seen him. If she said Jaqueline Ferrar—would her Mistress strike her again? Robert had said not to be surprised by the reaction. Who did she trust more? Robert, or Catherine? "Jacqueline Ferrar."
Solange winced, but another hit never came. Instead, Catherine stumbled back, her eyes wider now. Her mouth opened then closed as she careened into the bookshelf behind her and knocked over a bust of Caesar from a shelf. The crash was loud and filled the room.
"M'Lady?" Came the voice of one of the house servants outside the door. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Catherine answered quickly. Firmly. She regained some of her composure but didn't approach again. She stared at Solange. "How…how do you know that name?" Her voice lowered. Nearly a whisper.
Solange swallowed. But Catherine was already straightening up, and talking.
"It was Robert, wasn't it? He was up there. And he told you that name. The bastard really is alive." She wasn't looking at Solange anymore as she looked around the room, her gaze hunting, as if she were afraid Robert, or perhaps this Jacqueline would appear from thin air. "But how is that possible?"
Wanting to ask questions but afraid of saying a word, Solange tried to make herself small. Something tickled on her upper lip and she reached out to feel something wet there. When she brought her fingers back, she saw blood. Her nose was bleeding.
Catherine dove at her this time, grabbing Solange's upper arms and shaking her like a rag doll. "Tell me! Where is he? Why did he tell you that name?"
"Miss—" was all Solange could say before finally wrenched herself free and moved to the opposite wall. She looked for something—anything she could use to defend herself because it was obvious Catherine Guillot had gone mad.
"Wait…stop…." Catherine stepped back, her arms out at her sides. "He didn't tell you who she was, did he?"
Solange slowly shook her head.
"But you did see Robert, didn't you? You spoke to him. Solange…he's the only one who would know that name."
After a few of her own heart beats, Solange nodded. "I…I saw him."
"He was on the roof."
"Y-yes ma'am."
"Are you sure it was him?"
When she hesitated, Catherine laughed. "Of course you would. Of anyone here, you would know for certain. I knew about the two of you, little girl. Sneaking around the estate. Meeting up in the arboretum. I knew he was in love with you and I told father what you were doing. I wanted you both punished." She sneered. "But father would never harm his son, but he jumped at the chance to travel here to this God Forsaken place and start Robert's life over."
Solange had always suspected the surprise trip to Havana had been something arranged to interfere in hers and Robert's love affair. But suspecting something, and now being told she was right, took their toll on her heart. She put her hand to her chest and closed her eyes.
Jacqueline continued. "So he gave you her name, did he?"
Solange opened her eyes and looked at Catherine. Her Mistress smiled but the expression did not touch her eyes. "You were not the first, Solange. Jacqueline Ferrar was the daughter of one of the Merchants in the
East India Trading Company's Fleet and married Hans Ferrar, one of their ship's Captains. It was discovered later that Ferrar was a pirate. Jacqueline was found abandoned in Port Royale, barely alive. She'd been assaulted but wouldn't say by whom.
"Jaqueline's Father had been a friend to our grandfather, and so when his daughter was left alone, he asked our father, Francis Guillot, to take care of her." Catherine paused. "This was all before your time. Jacqueline and Robert also had an affair. Seems my brother has a taste for the forbidden."
"How is that forbidden?" Solange asked, then put her hand to her lips. She hadn't meant to ask that out loud, but she already knew Catherine was comparing Robert's love for Jacqueline to his love for a Creole servant girl.
"She was a woman and he a boy," Catherine nearly spat out the words. Her contempt was as palpable as the Caribbean heat. "When our father discovered this affair, he threatened to have her flogged but she disappeared." Catherine laughed and absently pulled at one of her curls. "They never found her."
Robert had talked about his first love to her on many occasions. Had confided he had feared her more than loved her, but he had never spoken her name. He never said what happened to her.
"So I find it interesting that he would give you her name. I wonder why." Catherine's smile was cold, and cruel.
"What…what really happened to Jacqueline Ferrar?"
"It could be Robert found out." She pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. "That would explain him not coming home when he survived the pirate attack. Now I really do wonder…" She sat down, pulled out paper and quill and began writing.
Solange took a step closer to the desk. "What are you doing?"
"I'm writing a letter for my brother. And you will give it to him."
"But Mistress—"
"He knows you are here. And he knows you are the quickest way to me. You will take this and you will go to the Blacksmith's shop and wait." She continued scribbling and Solange felt her chest tightening. She was so tired. It was so late in the night, close to morning, and she hadn't slept.
When Catherine finished, she folded the paper, gave it a wax seal with the Guillot family crest and handed it to Solange. "I will have one of my more trusted servants follow you so I will know when my brother reads this letter. And I will know what his action will be."
All day Solange and Brant, the young man Catherine sent with her, waited in the Blacksmith's shop. She dozed now and then and woke when there were loud noises outside. Because everyone knew the Blacksmith was dead, there was no business, so no one disturbed them.
Catherine arrived mid-afternoon and scowled at the two of them before ordering them to remain there till morning and they would not be fed until Robert showed up. Brant stoked the fire as Solange huddled in a corner. The note lay on the straw strewn floor beside her. She was cold, and hungry and worried Robert had been just a dream. Surely if Catherine were right, and he was watching her to get to Catherine, he would have come to them by now. And when he did, Solange was going to demand answers.
She couldn't remember when she fell asleep, only that something woke her up. A scent, maybe? The smell of the ocean filled the room, drowning out the smells of the forge. There was more light and she saw the lantern beside her had been lit.
And sitting beside her was Robert. He was close to her, his hand on hers. And in his other hand was Catherine's note. He was steady. Still. Calm. And when she moved he turned to look at her and she was again taken by his beauty. In the light he seemed a normal color, but his skin was flawless, as were his beautiful lips and green eyes.
When he smiled at her, he didn't show his teeth. "Are you unharmed?" he gently asked.
But she was coming off the floor and barreling into him, wrapping her arms around him. And he wrapped his own around her. She sobbed into his chest, again amazed at how hard he was against her. But not as cold. He was warm now. And real. And solid and she was in his arms.
"Sshh. It's okay my darling," Robert said.
"Robert," she pushed back and looked up into his face. "She told me about Jacqueline. That she was a woman who seduced you—"
"Yes. But I was a willing participant, Solange. This you must know."
"Was she…the one you said you were afraid of?"
"Yes. But not for the reasons I later learned my fears were founded on." He laughed softly when she frowned. "I learned Jacqueline was a much more formidable woman than I first believed. Now, as to this letter," he scooped it off the floor. "Do you know what it says?"
"No."
Robert nodded. "It says I am to meet her to discuss the estate terms. She wants it all, Solange. In exchange for you."
"Exchange?"
"She will have her man execute you if I don't agree to them and give her our family fortune." He shook his head and then looked around. "Well, I see no man of hers. Do you?"
Solange looked over to where Brant had been, but he wasn't there. Then she looked around the room. They were alone. "Where is he?"
"Gone. Never to be heard from again." Robert stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Come with me, Solange, and I will show you what became of Robert Gulliot and how Gandris was born."
"But your sister—"
"Is of no consequence to me at this moment. You are all I hold dear, my love." He leaned in kissed her lips, pressing his to hers. "My Solange."
Robert had a coach waiting outside and asked her to sit next to him as they rode the short distance to the docks. He gave her wine and she slept almost instantly. When she awoke, she felt the familiar rocking of a ship, took in the scent of salt sea air and heard the laughter of men. She sat up, finding herself on a lavish bed, tucked into a wall of burnished wood. Across from her a series of windows exposed the night and the stars. And when she slipped out of bed, barefoot, and tiptoed to those windows, past a desk covered in maps, a quill and compass, she saw the distant shore of Havana.
What…what had happened? Had she been whisked away aboard a ship, or had she been sold? No. She turned and looked again at the dimly lit cabin. It was grand by her own standards, with rugs from the orient, wood paneling and on the left, beside the alcove where the bed sat, hung a portrait. As she neared it, she recognized the young man standing there. It was Robert, but as he had been when he and Solange first met. And beside him stood another woman. Older. Handsome. Dressed as a man in breeches and long coat, with a sword and a three-pointed hat.
"That is Jacqueline Ferrar," came Robert's voice behind her.
She made a noise as she stepped back and would have fallen if he hadn't of caught her. She looked up into his eyes and was again enchanted by their brightness. By their beauty. She hadn't heard him step into the room.
Two young women came in, each carrying a platter. And on those platters were all manner of incredible smelling delicacies.
"Come," Robert said as he pulled her to his desk. The women cleaned everything off in a neat and tidy way, then placed a gold plate, silverware, a goblet and the large platters of food beside it. "Sit, Solange. I had the cook make your favorites."
She marveled at the sight, and inhaled deeply at the cajun spices. She recognized the butter burnt fish fillet, the braised potatoes and spicy boiled crawfish. Looking at him, and seeing him nod, she sat down and dug in. Solange couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten like this. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Had it been a day ago? Two?
But when it looked as if Robert wasn't going to join her, she stopped and wiped her lips with a linen napkin. "Are you not hungry?"
"I no longer…no, I'm not hungry," he said with a smile. "But I wanted you to have those things you love while I tell you what happened. Will you indulge me in this?"
"Of course." And she went back to eating, but slower. Remembering to try and act like a lady. "So…you did have an affair with Jaqueline Ferrar."
"Ah, Catherine's been telling her tale. Good." Robert's smile remained, but his eyes were sad. "If I know my sister, she told you about my father taking Jacquline
in when her husband was found to be a pirate?"
Solange nodded.
"And then she told you about my affair with her?"
Again, a nod.
"Did she tell you about how Jacqueline saved my life?"
With a frown, Solange shook her head.
"Of course. There is truth that Jacqueline and I were lovers. But it was frowned upon, because she was much older. Double standard, isn't it? That a man may take a love half his age but a woman?" He shook his head. "She was not cruel, but kind. And she was very protective of me. Mostly when it came to the machinations of my sister."
"Machinations?"
"My father's wealth wasn't originally his. It was my grandfather's and it was earned because of good investments and treating people by God's grace. It was my grandfather's wish that his eldest son would inherit."
Solange tried the wine Robert poured her. It was sweet and warm, and spiced with something tangy, almost metallic. "So your Uncle George didn't inherit anything? I always assumed that he has his share. He's worked hard to keep the business after you and…well, after you were believed dead."
"He has done an admirable job."
"Why would your father only give to one son?"
It surprised her when he shrugged. "I have never understood this decision, other than it has been the family rule of inheritance for three generations. But it was only with my grandfather where a true amount of assets were acquired. But please, listen carefully to me. Jacqueline was never forced upon me, nor did she force herself. She warned me, repeatedly, that my life was in danger."
Solange pursed her lips and drank more of the wine and sampled more potatoes.
"There was an accident when I was fifteen. Horse riding. I fell and broke my neck."
She put her hand to her mouth. "That's….that's not possible. You're here. You're alive."
"I lay unable to move, or to even cry out. I hadn't understood what happened. Jacqueline got to me first and put her hand on my face. I will never forget what she told me. She said, 'You must never tell anyone what I am about to do.'"