“Out searching for Gwen. My man had a lead to Michael’s cabin. We’ve narrowed it down to a certain section of the Bayou.”
“She is here, you idiot, and you got some serious courting to do before she talks to her father. Michael, like the perfect gentleman, has left the choice of filing the license to her.” He held up the paper. “She gave it to Tillman, not one hour ago, with instructions to take it to the parish clerk.”
“Impossible.” Grabbing the paper, Lance ripped it into two. “I won’t let it happen.”
“That’s a spirit. Now go in there and talk some sense into that girl.”
***
Searching through the house, Lance found Gwen bending over the washboard with her sleeves rolled up. Why on earth was she washing laundry but some common servant? “What did that bastard do to you?
He went over to her, taking her hands into his own. “I am so happy you are home. Gwen, darling, let’s wait no longer for our dreams to come true. I’m taking you to the Reverend so he can wed us this instant.”
“I am sorry, Lance. I can’t. I’m already married.”
Joy, he’d expected, and possibly surprise, but never her pity. “You are not,” He snapped. “Michael never filed the papers.”
“Michael lift it up to me. I want to be married to him, Lance.”
She seemed suddenly a stranger, so proud and willful inner peasants clothing. Good of like nothing better than to turn on a heel and leave her there staring after him, but that wouldn’t get him the Willows. “You poor, naïve fool,” he lashed out. “He didn’t file the license because he’s using you, keeping the little princess happy while he tries to bleed money from her poor, dying father. I tell you, Gwen, if anything kills John, it will be that ransom note.”
“Ransom note?” She shook her head.
“We all need money, but only a true gentleman finds a gentler means of obtaining it. Only his kind resort to crime.”
To Lance’s surprise, her eyes flashed with fire. “What would you know about his kind? You have no idea what Michael has had to endure.”
“Indeed? And what do you know?”
“Only that he’s a true gentleman. In your place, he wouldn’t be pestering a married woman. You would be proposing to my cousin instead.”
“Michael, marry Edith?”
“I am talking about you married her, Lance. You’ve got her in trouble. Don’t you think you should do something about it?”
“Trouble?” As the implication sank in, Lance panicked. Dear God, his mother would positively murder him if he got the wrong woman pregnant. “What lies has the girl been spreading? Don’t you believe her, Gwen,” he pleaded, grabbing for her hand. “You know she’s always tried to come between us.”
Disgusted, she yanked her hand free. “There is no us to come between. I am married, Lance. I made a vow, until death do us part. And to seal that vow, I gave myself to Michael in every sense of the word.”
Lance recoiled in shock. “You let him seduce you?”
She faced him squarely. “On the contrary, I seduced him, get it through your head, Lance. He is my husband and I love him, and I expect you to leave us alone.”
As she walked off, a white-hot rage exploded inside him. She could destroy everything-his dreams-his life-simply by being her spoiled, and stubborn self. Dammit, he’d have to show her, once and for all,
who was the man in her life.
And when he was done, see if Queen Gwen didn’t come crawling on her knees, begging him to take her back.
Until death do them part, indeed.
***
Gwen hurried down the drive, calling for the children. She been restless and edgy all afternoon, waiting for her father to wake. After the conversation with Lance, she had a sudden overwhelming need to make certain the boys were safe.
An imaginary clock ticked off the minutes in her mind, a mountain of them since she had last seen the cabin. Her brain might know that Patrick and Jude could take care of himself, yet she couldn’t shake the sense of impending danger. If her father didn’t soon wake, it would be dark by the time they can make their way back home.
“Peter, Paul, Christopher, where are you?”
It do not help of the clouds were fast overtaking the sun, that the rapidly shifting sky charge that air with a sense of urgency. Driving through the swamp night would be hard enough; rain will make it impossible.
She was almost to the rose garden when she spied the boys at the dock, deep in conversation with Lance. When she called for them to come to the house, Lance smiled pleasantly and went on his way. There was nothing sinister in his talking to the children, she told herself, yet she had the mounting sensation that something was wrong.
“Gwen?”
She couldn’t stop the tiny whimper of alarm as her uncle touched her shoulder. “Uncle, my heavens, I had no idea you were behind me.”
“I had not meant to frighten you. I saw you out strolling, and realized it’s been far too long since I had a chat with my niece.”
He was trying to be nice, Gwen suppose, but in her present mood, it struck a false note. “I am rather busy, uncle.”
“I’m sorry if I was a bit mean earlier, but this business with your father has been hard for all of us. You must see that you are not making things easier.”
“If this is about me marrying Lance-“
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “I reckon you must have your reasons for giving up.”
“Uncle”
“The thing is, I fear I’m partly to blame for your ordeal. It might seem terribly romantic, him chasing after you and caring you off, but the sad truth is honestly, Michael was merely taking his revenge on us.”
“I doubt that. We have talked about it.”
“Did he mention why your father chased his family from the Willows?”
About sick of plain that he never let her finish a sense, Gwen became instantly attentive.
“It pains me to tell you this, but I reckon you are old enough to know now the truth. Your father liked Michael’s mother. The only reason he kept leasing the land to them, was so John could keep that woman under his thumb.”
“No,” he protested. “He loved it mother.”
“That he did, but he’d been raised to be the Lord of the Manor, and saw no reason why he couldn’t have both, his lady and his mistress. Only his mother would not comply. Even with her husband dead, she refused to give into John, until he was angry enough to evict her. I was there the day he was ordered her off. Young as he was, Michael stared your father straight in the eye and swore to get revenge.”
Poor Michael, she thought. How like him to say nothing of her father’s cruelty. Unlike Lance, he’d never been one for carrying on tales.
“Is partly John’s fault that you were kidnapped,” he went on, “but I’m too to blame as well. I still think Michael cheated, but he so smooth at playing cards, I never could prove it. All I know for certain is I woke up one morning owing him a large amount of money. I think it is the same amount he asked for in the ransom note.”
“Did you pay it?”
“There is no need. Not now that you’ve come home to us.”
In made her furious, that he’d never meant part with a penny to spare her life, yet he could stand and pretend family devotion. “I did not come home for you,” she snapped. “I’m here to get the money Michael needs.”
“Now wait-“
“No, you wait. You made a good profit with that tournament, part of which should be mine. I suggest you pay my husband the money you him, before help people discover just how much you owe to everyone.”
His eyes narrowed. “Lance is right. You have changed.”
He meant it as an insult, but Gwen took it as a compliment. “I hope so. I’m not a little girl anymore, to be bullied into be lied to, and I will not tolerate either you or Lance disrespecting my husband again. If you can keep that in mind, you are welcome to stay at the Willows, but if not, perhaps it is time you found a ho
me elsewhere.”
He bristled, looking down his nose at her. “You need to be married. You need a man to put you in your place, a husband who knows how to curb your willfulness.”
His arrogance made her so angry she shook. “I already have a husband, a man who knows quite well how to deal with me, and had to handle men like you. I can tell you right now, uncle, you’d better practice up on dealing with us both in a more respectful manner, or in the long run, you will wish you had.”
She turned then, still trembling with anger, missing the dark lower her uncle gave her back.
***
Jervis watched Gwen walk off, frustrating and loafing building in his chest. He thought Lance had conjure stubbornness, but he could see now that there would be no convincing the girl she’d made a mistake. If Gwen would demand money for that worthless Michael, then she wasn’t about to wed Lance while the man was still alive.
As of three boys darted past, he grown in frustration. Couldn’t Lance do anything right? He had told them to ask the little one-Christopher-for the location of Michael’s house. He thought he would be most likely to reveal the information since he was so young.
Whispering an oath, Jervis himself went after the boys to get the information. Hattie his father insisted that he get anything done correctly, you must do it right yourself? Gazing up at the house, aware of how little time his brother had left, Jervis new he was left with far too few options. Gwen had to be freed to marry Lance, and soon, or his plans would explode in his face.
Look like tonight they would be taking a trip to the swamp.
Chapter 22
Gwen stepped quietly into her father’s room. She thought herself prepared, but it still came to a shocked to see him so with her. This couldn’t be her real father. It was as if someone had taken out all of this stuffing, and let the remains of this scarecrow of the man.
Throat tightening as she approached, Gwen felt the same dread she had as a child, knowing nothing she could do would justify her actions to him. She could help but wish that just once before he died, her father would judge her and not find her lacking.
It hurt how little time she had. Death had become far more than some abstract concept; it was a thief, lurking in the shadows, waiting to take her father away. His labored breathing, each line of pain etched into his face, made it clear that he had it much longer, then this could be the last chance they had to understand each other.
He lay immobile, and inaccessible, with his head turned away. “Hello, daddy,” he said, stopping beside his head. “It’s me, Gwen. I’ve come home to see you.”
He turned, his eyes taking her in, but his expression gave nothing away. She wanted-needed-some physical contact, but he his hands crossed at his chess, buried beneath the covers. “Don’t you take pity on me, girl,” he rasped.
“I’m not,” she said quickly, but, of course, she was. It must be awful for him, and having so little control over what life you had left.
“I neither want nor deserve sympathy,” he went on, typically ignoring her. “I lived hard and now I’m going to die hard.” He nodded at envelope on the bedside table, propped against a glass. “That says pretty much all there needs to be said, but I want you to wait until after I’m gone to read it.”
He looked away, holding his body rigid. “Never been good with words. Most likely lost me your mother. That and my own conceit.”
Thinking back, she saw that mother had been proud, too. How many of the problems could have been avoided, if they just kept talking to each other? Gwen had a sudden strong urge to be with Michael, to hold himm and straighten out their own misunderstandings, but heard father seem so small and lost on the huge white pillow, and she knew she must talk to him first.
“One thing I need to tell you now,” he said is suddenly. “I will be leaving the Willows to your cousin.”
He study her carefully after shooting the canon blast, no doubt to assess the damage. Ghen was stunned-no denying it-yet the more she got used to the idea, the more she liked it.
“That makes you smile?”
Actually, it did. Better her cousin get the plantation than Jervis. “Edith deserves the Willows. She stayed by you, nurse you, been more like a daughter you and mother wanted.”
He winced. Hard to tell if it was his pain or her words that caused it. “All the hard work, and my own child doesn’t want my plantation?”
Her first thought was to argue, to reassure him that he punished are well with his file gesture, but perhaps it was time she started talking truthfully. “I used to think I couldn’t live without the Willows, that being its princess was the answer to all my dreams. But I have fallen in love, daddy, deeply in love, and because of it, I realized that the Willows was your dream, not mine.”
“Love? You talking about Michael?”
She nodded. “Remember how you used to say I was too stubborn and independent for my own good? Well, now I have a husband just like me. Michael is too proud to walk in the shadow, and the Willows would always come between us. I’m glad Edith will inherited it, because she’ll do right by it, but I need to be free to build my own dream, with Michael.”
He closes eyes. She waited for him to say something, anything, but the quiet built, and the wall between them strengthened. Her hand reached out, aching to touching, to reach them, but he remains stiff and closed to her, so she let it drop uselessly to her side.
“You hold onto that love,” he said in a broken voice. “The hardest part about dying, I’ve found, is dying alone.”
All at once, she could see her father clearly. John was a proud man, whose pride had kept him in prison. Even now, in the last hours of his life, it prevented him from saying what he felt in his heart.
Determined not to make his mistake, Gwen swallow the lot in her throat. “You are not alone,” she told him quickly, again reaching out with her hand. “I am here, daddy. I’ve always been here. I never stopped loving you.”
His eyes stayed close, his body stiff, but a tentative hand still out to cover her own.
The tears slid down her cheek as she gazed at their joint hands, then another as he tightened his grip. Taking his hand in hers, she brought it to her lips. The famous smile passed over his features before his face went slack, in the hand in hers went limp.
Still she stood there, holding his hand, until Homer came to pry her fingers loose. “Let him go, Missy,” the old servant said softly. “Your daddy has gone to your mama.”
***
Jude stared at the cabin door, feeling a spur of hope with every sound, a rush of anger at each disappointment. “It’s getting dark, Patrick,” she said. “She is not coming.” She meant to sound aloof and uncaring, but the words came out spiteful.
Her brother shook his head. “He said to trust her,” he said firmly.
What a fake he was, pretending to carve his wood. Anyone with eyes could see he’d glanced up at much as she did. “You heard Michael. She will get in her big, fancy house, and she will want to stay here. The boys neither. They are not coming back, none of them. She felt hurt, but trade, and she wanted the ugly feeling to go away. Touching the locket that Gwen had said was a link between them, Jude willed this silly old door to open.
***
“Looks like the vat is leaking. This whole sugarhouse is ready to fall down on its ears.”
Nodding at Casper, his field hand, Michael eyed of that in question. Everywhere you turn he found another problem. Was there anything on this plantation that hadn’t fallen into ruin? The sugarhouse near a complete overhaul, but there was neither funds, nor time. Michael only hope was to work day and night, making minimal repairs, and praying he could keep the place functioning throughout the harvest.
Bringing his lantern closer, he leaned down to inspect the league. He knew he should make the repairs at night, since he had a long list of other tasks to do to finish in the morning, but as Michael kept drifting back to the cabin.
All day, he was thinking of his return, half hoping, and hal
f dreading what he’d find when he got there. If Gwen were waiting with the children, and they could talk and iron out the differences between them, but if not, he noted he drilled her off with his doubts and accusations. He had forced her into what he’d been trying so hard to prevent. By demanding she make the choice, he sent her straight into the arms of Lance?
Did it matter? He couldn’t win anyway. Keeping Gwen took money, which meant the voting every walking out to the harvest. This posed a problem, when he also had to be with her to explain himself and make a man’s. It all took time, something he did not have at the moment.
“Come quick,” another servant shouted from the doorway. “That far levee is going to break again.”
Swearing, Michael went running, the decision taken from his hands. That was his life, one crisis after another, all boiling down to a matter of which demanded his attention first.
Like it or not, talking to Gwen would have to wait.
***
Jervis watched the other to survey the cabin. “Are you sure this is the place?” He whispered to Morteau.
“Of course, it’s Michael’s cabin,” Lance whispered back. “Boys describe it right down to the swing on the porch.”
Jervis nodded, still uneasy. Understandable, at this late hour, that the place would be dark and quiet, but somehow, he’d expected Michael the put up more of a fight. It seemed out of character for the man to keep sleeping, oblivious to the danger is the prowled closer. Too easy, too lucky.
Jervis shook off his doubt. He was looking for problems where there were none. From that chimney, still warm from the night’s fire, the aroma of fried fish, it was clear someone was in the cabin. Michael must have gone to bed, expecting Gwen to return in the morning.
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