Fire on the Ramparts (Sugar Hill Book 2)

by M. L. Bullock

  Fire on the Ramparts

  Book Two

  Sugar Hill Series

  By M.L. Bullock

  Text copyright © 2017 Monica L. Bullock

  All rights reserved

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my children who allowed me to practice my storytelling skills every night at bedtime.

  Shh! Did you hear footsteps in the hallway?

  He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?

  He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

  I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,

  And went with half my life about my ways.

  A. E. Houseman

  1859-1936

  Prologue – Susanna Serene Dufresne

  The Ramparts 1821

  My legs wobbled beneath me, but I couldn’t stop now. Shawntee’s heavy footsteps stomped behind me, and I imagined I could feel his breathing. It was hard and heavy, like his fists. Hoping to lose him in the crowded streets and twisting alleyways of the Ramparts, I turned and turned again. I did not dare look behind me—I did not want to see his ferocious snarl. The dark-skinned man’s eyes were like a wolf’s—narrow and green and absent of any humanity or compassion. All of Etienne’s daughters knew that when Shawntee turned those eyes upon you, you were doomed. Flower knew this.

  And Genevieve. Poor Genevieve.

  How many of Etienne’s “daughters” had he demanded favors from? How many had suffered his wrath when they refused? For all her careful words about the importance of virtue, Etienne failed to protect us from her own brother.

  Oh God, don’t let him kill me.

  It rained hard tonight, and the stones were slick and cold under my feet—I could feel the sliminess beneath my shoes. These shoes were meant for indoor activities, not running through the Ramparts. I tripped through a pile of refuse that littered Poor Man’s Lane, but I could not stop! I would run through hell itself if I had to! I sobbed as I struggled to stay on my weak legs.

  How had this happened to me? I was the wife of Chase Dufresne! I had received no papers of divorce, and no solicitor had come to notify me that Chase and I were no longer married. I would not take Etienne’s word alone. I would see my husband myself, and then I would know the truth. Yes, then I would know what to do. If he wanted to divorce me, he must tell me so himself.

  Please, Chase. Please help me!

  Despite his abandonment these many months, I could not make myself believe he had cast me off forever. I had been a fool, but surely I had paid for my sins.

  Shawntee growled my name. Susanna!

  His deep voice rang menacingly through the alleyway, and no one was there to help me. I looked left and then right, wiping the rain from my face. I felt the blood on the insides of my legs, but there was nothing I could do about that now. I had to escape!

  Etienne had stolen my baby—and left me to die! I had to believe my daughter lived—yes, she must live because Etienne needed her. She would need to recoup the losses she imagined I had caused her. I had not been allowed to see my daughter’s face, yet I imagined it. I had cried and begged Etienne before I passed out to allow me to hold the baby just once, but when I awoke to my cold, empty room, both she and my baby were gone.

  She had what she wanted—her payment for my marriage. I had cried and screamed, but no one came. Sulli’s warning had echoed in my ears, reminding me of what would happen to me if I remained here. I had managed to dress myself and slowly creep down the stairs. Surprisingly, no one was downstairs either.

  Was it Sunday? Yes, it was, and all the house was at Mass for a little while. I knew it was my chance—probably my only chance!

  What of the curse? What of Sulli’s charm? I did not want to believe that Sulli’s charm would unintentionally work against my baby or me, but I knew her magic was strong. Had it ever missed its mark? I’d been laboring for two days, and there’d been no sign of Sulli. Etienne must have forbidden her entrance. Why else would she, my true mother, not help me?

  I’ve lost my mother and my daughter!

  “Stop, Susanna! Stop right now!” The voice did not sound like Shawntee’s, but I dared not answer it.

  I scrambled in front of a carriage, waving my hands frantically trying to force the driver to stop, but he did not. I briefly tripped over my skirts but got up again. If I stayed in the mud, I would stay down forever. This was the moment, the moment that counted. I would look back on this moment one day and say, “Yes, everything changed then. Right then.” I had no tears, my voice was gone and I was emotionally and physically spent, but I would fight on. I got back on my feet and looked for a way to escape. And which way should I go? How much farther could I run?

  Shawntee was on the other side of the street now, waiting for the carriages to pass by. His evil glare told me that he would not only catch me but hurt me in crueler ways than I could imagine. “Someone help me!” I screamed at the carriages that rode up and down. To my utter surprise, a black carriage stopped, and I caught my breath. The carriage had a gold “D” painted on the door panel, and I knew whose it was—this was a Dufresne carriage!

  I ran to the door and stood on the side of the carriage. I was sure I looked a sight, but Chase would have mercy on me. He would have to help me—if he ever loved me, he would have to!

  “Please…” I began my plea.

  “Get in,” the figure said from the darkness of the carriage as he flung open the door. Without question, I obeyed and leaned back against the seat with my eyes closed as I tried to catch my breath.

  Yes, Shawntee. Go tell your sister that I have gone home to be with my Chase—we will be free now, free from your grasp.

  We had at last satisfied her evil terms. She had our daughter as payment! And I heard that Arthur Dufresne was dead. What could keep us apart?

  Then, as if Fate intended to answer me, a shaft of moonlight revealed the face of my rescuer. It was not my own dear husband, Chase. My breath stilled as I stared into the face of my betrayer, the one who had wrought all this agony upon me. Ambrose. It was he who had bade me pledge to be his soul mate, not for this life alone but for all the lives after it. He who had seduced me and left me nude and vulnerable on the tiny island in the pond beside Sugar Hill.

  My skin was already freezing, but now my blood ran cold too. A curl of cigarette smoke wafted between us, and he leaned back in the corner of the coach. His elegantly shod foot rested on the seat beside him, his elbow on his knee as he observed me. It was as if he did not know quite what to do with me. As if I were something repugnant he’d discovered on the bottom of his shoe.

  Perhaps he would finally kill me and end the agony of my hopeless life. Perhaps he would. But couldn’t he have done that already? How many times had I seen him walk past the window of my prison? More than a few months. Usually he did not acknowledge me, yet other times he was mockingly polite and raised his hat or cast his wide smile at me. Beyond that, he did not come to see me or offer me any help whatsoever. Now he was here, my soul mate, my torturer, the man who’d brought me to ruin.

  And there was nowhere left to run.

  I heard a loud sound, a rock striking the side of the carriage. I nearly screamed, and Ambrose stared at me, his dark eyes appraising me, his full red lips keeping the cigarette in place. The carriage came to a stop at a street crossing, and the driver let out a yelp of disgust. To my surprise Shawntee ran to the door of the carriage and swung it open. In a gruff voice he commanded, “Get out, Susanna. Come out and leave the nice man alone. You wouldn’t want to get him hurt.”

  At that, Ambrose flicked out his cigarette through the opposite window and without so much as a word kicked Shawntee in the face w
ith the bottom of his black boot, sending the tall man sprawling to the ground. Shawntee screamed like he’d been shot, but his pain didn’t move Ambrose. He reached in his pocket and removed a few coins, tossed them out the window at Shawntee, closed the door and then slapped the side of the carriage. Etienne’s brother did not come after us again. The last glance I had of him, he was picking up the coins and stuffing them in his pockets. He stared at us but did not make any effort to continue his pursuit. I didn’t know what Ambrose might be thinking, but I knew Shawntee well enough to know he’d try again. Eventually.

  Ambrose was elegantly dressed as he always was, but I appeared as if I had been walking the streets of the Ramparts all night. And if Etienne had had her way, I would have been. She had no love in her. No mercy. What a fool I had been all these years to think she cared for me as a mother loved a daughter.

  And still Ambrose said nothing, but at least now those dark eyes were fixed on the countryside and not on me. I began to worry about where he was taking me. This road would not lead us to Sugar Hill; where was I bound?

  “Are you taking me back to Chase? This is not the way to Sugar Hill.”

  “Oh, the things you say, Susannah. As if I would be a party to bigamy.” He clucked his tongue at me as if I were the silliest woman he’d ever spoken to.

  “Bigamy? What do you mean? I have married no one else!”

  “Ah, that may be true, or it may not be true, but for sure Chase has married Athena Pelham. And they are expecting a son. He does not wish to see you. You are an adulteress, Susanna Serene. There is no changing that.”

  Despite his rescue of me I lashed out at him, “And I have you to thank for that, with your pretty words! Everything you said was a lie! You tricked me and abandoned me, Ambrose. You left me to face it all on my own.” I was weeping furiously now. “Let me out now! I would rather die than stay in your company. You have brought me nothing but misfortune for all your words.”

  He gripped my wrists, pulled me close to him and whispered in my ear, “Why should I let you go? We made a pledge to one another, Susanna! There is no going back! Did you think there wouldn’t be a price to be paid?” He released my wrists, and I rubbed them to ease the pain. I knew that his rough handling would leave bruises on my skin. “You will remain with me at Thorn Hill.”

  I blinked at him, scarcely believing his words. “I cannot believe you would think I would consent to go anywhere with you. I do not want to be with you. I would never agree to that. So unless you want to force yourself upon me…”

  He tossed back his head and laughed at that. “My dear, in your current state you are hardly a seductive morsel. Far from the Belle of the Quadroon Ball now. Fortunately for you, we have a bond that cannot be broken, dear Susanna Serene. And I don’t think I’ll need to go to those extremes. For all the hate you have for me now, one day you will desire me again. I am confident of that.” He dug in his black and gray suit pocket and found another cigarette.

  I had no words after hearing such a ridiculous declaration, so he continued, “You see the smaller picture. I see the larger picture; I have rid us of an obstacle—the obstacle of your unfortunate and unhappy marriage. Now that you have made peace with that bitch, Etienne, we can move on with our own lives, our own plans.”

  “Plans? What plans? You must be mad! I do not want to be with you, Ambrose. I love Chase—I will always love him! I will make him see this was all a mistake.” Then inspiration struck me. Ambrose could make this all go away if he were only willing to tell my husband the truth. Perhaps he would, if he truly loved me. I reached across the bench and touched his hand. “Show me that you are a man of honor, Ambrose. Tell Chase the truth about us, that you betrayed me to take your vengeance on him!”

  With steely anger, Ambrose banged on the side of the carriage again, opened the door and stepped outside. “Is that what you think? That I wanted vengeance? I told you who we were and what we were. I did not make you do anything you didn’t wish to do, Susanna!” The carriage had stopped on a long, dark road. I blinked at him in the darkness. I did not know where we were, but I was still freezing and now even more frightened. I was sure Ambrose would throw me out of his carriage. Instead he walked to the front and spoke to the driver. In a minute, he came back and spoke less kindly now.

  “Go see for yourself, Susanna Serene. Go to Sugar Hill and see what awaits you there. You are a fool! However, if you do go, know that I will never forgive you. If you reject me now, I will make sure you pay for any affection you receive from me later.” I could hardly understand what he meant by that threat, but his refusal to help me with Chase angered me.

  “I will never have any affection toward you, Ambrose. Let me go!”

  With a dark look he jumped up and stood in the carriage doorway. “Then so be it. And when you are finished making a fool of yourself, my soul mate, come to Thorn Hill. When you do return, never will his name pass your lips—in my presence or out of it!”

  Suddenly, Ambrose kissed me savagely, and then without another word he was gone. This surely must be some kind of cruel trick. What is happening? As always, Ambrose confused me. I poked my head out of the window as we drove away. Ambrose walked in the other direction, presumably toward Thorn Hill, and he’d already lit another cigarette.

  I curled up in the seat and after a little while fell asleep in the carriage, uncaring about my stained skirts, my unkempt hair, my swollen red eyes and bare, dirty feet. All I wanted was my own dear love, my Chase, my husband! He would have to hear the truth—he would have to know that I loved him still. When I woke up, the carriage had stopped. Through the Spanish-moss-covered oak trees I could see the bright lights of the house that I had once thought of as my prison. Now I wanted nothing more than to go back there. I could endure anything, even a spirit’s taunts, to be with Chase again. Was I dreaming? Could this really be true? After a few seconds of hesitation I reasoned that I could not linger here in the carriage forever.

  My hands and feet were dirty, and one sleeve of my dress was torn. I pinched my cheeks to give my face some much-needed color and rubbed my lips furiously in an attempt to make them look healthy and desirable. My stomach cramped, and I took a deep breath against the pain. I twisted my hair into a loose braid and let it hang over my shoulder. I looked like a strumpet, but I defiantly thought, “Let him see how he’d left me!”

  I stepped out of the carriage and walked up the steps on wobbly legs. It sounded as if there were a party inside, a celebration of some kind. I shouldn’t go in, but what choice did I have? I had to see him—I had dreamed of this moment for so long!

  Still, my inner voice advised caution, and before walking inside I called to the driver, “Do not leave until I’ve dismissed you.” He begrudgingly agreed, and I walked onto the porch and into the house. I did not tap on the door knocker or wait to be announced. I walked in as if I were still mistress at Sugar Hill.

  Iona saw me first. She was walking into the house from the open back door, carrying a tray of boiled shrimp, sliced lemons and salt. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and I thought she would drop her tray, but I raced past the closed dining room door and caught her before she stumbled. “Miss Susanna, you ain’t supposed to be here. I thought you were dead. They told us you were dead! Oh God!”

  “No, Iona. I am not a ghost. It is really me.” I hugged her, but she stiffened under my embrace. No, she was not happy to see me, although I believed she had genuine affection for me. “Let me have the tray. I will take it in.”

  “Oh no! That would never do. He is not alone. His other—I mean to say, he’s not by himself, Miss Susanna.”

  “I have never asked you for anything, Iona. Please let me do this. Let me carry the tray in. He will not punish you. I swear it.” She must have felt pity for me because she agreed, despite her misgivings. And what could she do? Technically I was still Mrs. Dufresne, wasn’t I? Or at least one of them.

  “It’s going to be bad if you go in there, miss. Don’t go in there. He’s not the
same.”

  I touched her face and stared into her frightened eyes. “None of us are. Let me through, Iona.” I tossed my hair behind my back and raised my chin. I wanted to see Chase, and if this was the only way, so be it. I was tired of being his secret sin! He would see me—and so would his friends and his new wife!

  I took a deep breath and walked in with the tray of food. At first, no one addressed me. Chase entertained six couples, men in stiff collars and women dressed in fine silks, just as I used to do. When they broke from their various activities and deigned to notice me, they looked shocked. The golden candelabras were lit on the shiny wooden tables where the couples were playing cards and drinking. A petite woman with red hair and extremely pale skin hovered near Chase. She whispered in his ear and pointed at the cards he held in his hand. It was an intimate moment, and it broke my heart to see it. By the way she kissed his cheek, I gathered this was the new Mrs. Dufresne.

  And yes. She knew me too.

  Then everything stopped. Chase’s light blue eyes fell on me while everyone else watched to see how he would respond to my invasion. Yes, they would know me. Surely they’d heard rumors about me. I could almost hear their whispers.

  That’s Chase Dufresne’s mulatto woman. His sinful indulgence. His forgotten whore.

  Athena touched his shoulder and looked at him questioningly, but he did not answer her. He rose from the table, his face unreadable as he came toward me. Feeling weak now, I nearly dropped the tray. A few boiled shrimp fell off the silver platter and hit the ground. I felt myself fainting, yet I could hear the others whispering behind me.

  “Susanna…”

  “Chase…I…”

  “Susanna, come out here,” he said, but there was no love in his voice. It was an empty, wooden sound. I knew there was no hope for me. And none for my daughter. He would not help us. Chase took the tray from me and placed it on the buffet table. “My friends, please excuse me.”