by Madison Kent
"As you have mine."
He looked at her with such affection that she reached across the table and squeezed his hand, to which he gave her an endearing smile. Sometimes, at moments like this, she wondered if perhaps a day in the near future she might be able to love again. Possibly, she was nearer to that prospect than she openly admitted, even to herself.
"We should have a bit to eat before Mario gets here."
"Should I just bring something from one of the vendors? We don't have that much time left before his expected arrival."
"Yes, that would be fine. Anything besides gumbo will do, and perhaps some pralines. I will freshen up while you are gone."
"All right. I will return as quickly as possible."
Chapter Sixteen
Mario
After their light lunch, she felt revived and ready to meet Mario.
"I am curious to see what he has to say," she said.
"You will not have to wait much longer. I see he is arriving," said Hugh as he stepped back from the balcony.
"Should we meet him in the lobby?" asked Hugh.
"No, I think it would be better that he sees we do have a room here. I also don't want to give him the impression that we are anxious to meet with him."
"Yes, of course. I suppose I am a little too eager to see what this boy is about. His criminal behavior still surprises me. I cannot help but think that Vinnie had a strong influence in bringing his brother into this unsavory life."
"The people we love and admire have the power to manipulate us without us even realizing that we have given into their way of thinking."
She moved so that her view of the door was visible, and she could view Mario as he walked in.
"Mr. Scott, Miss Donovan, it is good to see you," said Mario.
His right eye was puffy, and his lip had a prominent cut across the bottom, which oozed some liquid from it. He had a handkerchief in his hand that he dabbed across it. He said bluntly, "Please excuse my appearance. The boys and I had a little fisticuffs last night. Did I tell you I attempt to box a little? I was sparring yesterday with some of my friends. Sometimes they are a little more aggressive than others, and I regret to say they got the better of me."
She watched his face as he spoke. So fluent and precise were his words that she felt her pulse racing at his unique ability to lie without a glimmer of detection. Thinking she could sense when someone was lying, she now had to rethink that premise.
"I'm sure the next time, you will be the one to have the advantage," said Hugh, while slapping him lightly on the back.
"I hope so, but I am somewhat late. Are you ready to go?" Mario asked.
Filled with cannons, and other artifacts from the war, the building housed a unique perspective of the historic battle between the North and the South. Most of the museum, however, seemed to be looking through the eyes of the Confederacy. Like all other things in New Orleans, it was amazing in its beauty.
"What do you think?" said Mario.
"I am a Yankee, so I believe I'm on the outside looking in," said Madeline.
"It is interesting to see the machinery of war. It gives one pause to remember those poor souls taken from us too soon," said Hugh.
"I find it all fascinating. It's been open only a few months, but I have been here many times," said Mario as he lingered over a cabinet filled with guns.
"War is everywhere, isn't it? We have a war going on right now in this city," he continued.
Madeline took his arm to walk with him and said, "Tell me what you mean?"
She steered him away from Hugh, hoping he would feel comfortable to speak openly in her presence.
"Madeline, there is something about you...a loveliness. I know I can trust you. Can I speak plainly?" asked Mario.
"Please...go on."
"My brother...you don't know him, but he is a powerful man in this town. His shadow falls on me so that I think I cannot breathe. He expects things of me, sometimes things that make me question what I am doing with my life."
"Mario, you are a young, handsome man and can find your way. You need not follow in your brother's footsteps. I have heard rumors that the path he has chosen may not be entirely legal."
"Don't let anyone ever hear you say that—it's dangerous to even speak of him. There are things you just couldn't possibly understand about the workings of our clan. We do much good. We help the Sicilian families who are poor and need our help and protection."
"You're right, I don't understand that the way to achieve it is through violence."
"What do you mean?"
She looked at him, as if incredulous that he could even ask.
"You know what I mean. Did you get that eye in a boxing match?"
"I did. I mean, well, I don't know what I mean. I suppose I've said too much. My brother always said my tongue will cause me more harm than any fist could.
"Would you like to go for dinner somewhere?" Mario asked.
"I am rather tired. My cousin and I have plans to see a little more of the city before we return to Chicago. Perhaps we shall see you again another day."
"I will make a point of it. Being with you and your cousin, I feel at peace."
She shook his hand, and they agreed they would meet again soon.
They returned to the Dauphine. Madeline sat upon the divan, waving her fan vigorously; she said, "I am in need of a bath, some food, and a long, luxurious nap. Our days have been so filled with activity and tension my forehead feels like it has a permanent knot in it."
"Did you find out anything interesting from Mario?"
"Nothing more than the obvious, that he is in the Mafia in some way. I feel he is about to come around. Perhaps another meeting or two, and he may confide something more substantial."
"As beautiful as this suite is, I am ready to return to Belle Magnolia. I am anxious to know how everyone is faring, especially Miss Hannah."
"Yes, I wish to see Father. I hope he has taken our advice to rest. Perhaps we can bring them all some pralines and cake."
"We shall go at once. I have taken the room for a week so we can leave our things here."
Belle Magnolia looked serene to her today, not shrouded in the shadows of death. A myriad of flowers graced the acreage, and with no breeze to speak of, they stood straight and tall, reaching for the sun.
Samuel was scrubbing the veranda, with a welcoming smile and a wave of his hand to greet them.
"It makes one feel better when things are in order, don't you think, Miss?" asked Samuel.
"Yes, I do, Samuel. Despite the limited staff, the place has not lost its beauty," replied Madeline.
"Mrs. Brown is in the kitchen, I smell something wonderful," said Hugh.
"Is that my daughter I hear?" asked Father as he moved readily down the staircase.
Impulsively, Madeline ran to him and embraced him as if she had not seen him for a long while.
"What's this then?" he asked.
"You are looking better, and I am relieved. How are Belle and Hannah?"
"As you can imagine, Belle is overjoyed that her beloved daughter has returned, but Hannah seems to be here in body only. It is difficult to speak with her about anything. She avoids conversation and retreats to her room. She has asked to be left alone, and, of course, that hurts and concerns Belle."
"I feel I must speak to her about Andrew."
"You can try. I don't know if she will let you through the door."
"As you said, Father, I can try. But first I hope we shall all have dinner together."
"Walter and Jonathan have taken the horses and gone for a ride around the grounds."
"Good. It is a beautiful day, and when they return, they will feel refreshed."
Hugh, who had been standing near them, said, "I think I should like to join them if there is time before our meal."
"We shall dine at seven. There is nearly two hours time left, do go," said Father.
Tapping lightly on Hannah's door, she waited for a response. Hannah d
id not respond, but she persisted.
"Hannah, I have seen Andrew...please, may I speak with you?"
"You've seen him?" she heard her respond.
Waiting another minute, she could hear Hannah walking toward the door.
"Come in then. You must forgive me, I am in a state of mind I do not recognize. It is something more than grieving—it is an unknown feeling to me. The world no longer belongs to me, and I no longer feel a part of it. Details...absurd details of funerals and burial plots, and murder, those thoughts swirl around my head and stop me from feeling anything.
"Did you know they are finally releasing my Wesley? I believe they said an arrest is imminent. He will be buried here on the estate. Mother has seen to everything. I am so grateful to her."
Of everything Hannah had said, the words that struck Madeline was that the police were planning to arrest someone for Wesley's murder.
"Did they inform you of who that might be?"
"No, just that the person was in the Mafia."
"When I saw Andrew, he told me he still loved you."
"Dear God...that is impossible. Those letters I did write them. I searched through the attic, and I found several letters that I had never given to him. They were in an old memento trunk; I hadn't even realized that I kept them. The one thing I noticed was that none of them were dated. Andrew could have easily added the recent dates to the letters.
"Wesley never confronted me about it, but then he wouldn't. A man like him, even if he believed it to be true, he would have forgiven me.
"You must do something for me. Go back to the cabin. I have left my wedding rings there."
"You did! Why?"
"I can't explain it. After you had found me, I had this overwhelmingly sense of guilt that I was undeserving of Wesley's love. I felt so ashamed at his seeing those letters and that silly photograph taken in my immature youth. I wrapped them in a handkerchief and left them, placing them in the lavender vase on the shelf.
"They may be gone. I know people enter there sometime. They get in somehow through that rickety window."
She hugged her, saying only, "I will go at once."
"Mrs. Brown, I cannot find Father."
"I believe he may have taken a walk."
"I have an important errand to run for Hannah. Will you please tell everyone I will be back in time for dinner?"
Taking the last horse remaining in the barn, Madeline made her way back to town, plodding through the dense area to where the cabin was. She felt comfortable that she would be able to make her way back there because of the markers they had left behind.
It was almost dusk and shadows began to fall across the area, giving her a momentary shiver. The area looked untouched by human hands. With the exception of a few rudimentary cabins all but hidden from view, there were only animals and foliage. The strange deep croaking coming from the alligators made her conscious of the predators lingering in the area.
The creaking of the heavy wooden door as she entered gave way to even more nervousness on her part. She straightened herself, taking several deep breaths, then chided herself for her squeamishness. There were several candles placed on the small eating table, and she lit them all. Someone had boarded up the only window in the place. With no sunlight able to reach the cabin, even with the candles, the cabin remained rather dark.
She had wanted to return here, to see if she could find any evidence that Andrew may have been here. Thinking the lavender vase would be in plain sight, she took the candle and raised it to the few shelves against the wall. Relieved, she saw it on the lower shelf. Turning it over, she found Hannah's rings. Running her hand along the walls, she looked for any gaps or holes that might hide small items.
Taking one of the wooden chairs to stand on, she reached further up the wall nearest the tiny kitchen. A small piece of jagged, splintered wood pierced her glove, making her wince. Behind it was a small object wrapped in a handkerchief. Pulling it down, she slowly opened the small parchment box. Inside was a golden band, with a diamond set in the center. The monogrammed handkerchief it was wrapped in bore the initials AL. She wondered if these rings were from long past or were they placed there in the hope that once Wesley was gone, Andrew would ask Hannah for her hand in marriage?
Placing it in her satchel, she pulled the derringer from her boot. Something got a hold of her, and she sensed danger. There was someone or something outside of the cabin—she could hear footsteps.
She thought she might have heard the voice of a woman, but she wasn't sure. Securing the derringer in her hand, she went to the door. To her surprise, it was jammed. The wood was old and swollen, and she thought it might just need a greater push. After several attempts, a panic set in on her.
"Hello...help...is someone out there?"
Then, the unthinkable happened; she could smell the scent of smoke. In the back of the cabin, she heard the crackle created by fire. Knowing the dried wood of the cabin would ignite, and it would be ablaze in minutes, she thought of Russell and the children and wondered if now this would be her end too, dying from fire.
She yelled out again for help, certain she could hear voices. But perhaps they were the voices of whoever had secured her in this death trap.
Crouching down for air on the floor, she felt light-headed but continued to push against the door. Hearing some activity on the other side, she heaved all her weight at it.
The door swung open as the cabin began to burn.
"Anastasia...what miracle led you to me?"
"Hurry, we must get clear of the cabin," said the old woman.
Holding onto Madeline, she was surprised to find how weak she was. Her agility had impressed her the last time she saw her, and now she was a frail as a flower.
Resting on a tree near the water, Anastasia slumped to the ground. It was then that Madeline first noticed the blood stain camouflaged by her friend's black dress.
"Anastasia, you saved my life. Who did this to you?"
"It was her. It was always her."
"It was a woman. Was it Madame Clarice?"
"No...let me speak. I don't have much time."
"Don't say that. I will get my father. We will save you."
It was then that Anastasia opened the front of her black robe to reveal the full extent of her injury. She turned, with great difficulty, showing her back. The garment was ripped apart by what must have been a knife of some kind. The wound was severe. Madeline did what she could to stop the bleeding, but knew Anastasia was right.
"I was in the tree-top near the cabin. I often go there to secretly observe the area. I saw you and came down to speak to you. When I got here, I saw the boards propped against the door. I knew you were in trouble. I heard your cries for help and then smelled the smoke coming from the back of the cabin."
"Wedged against the door were two planks of wood, but finally, I managed to make them give way. It was then that I felt the blade go into my back, not once, but twice. I think they would have continued, but I could hear someone in the distance coming through the brush."
"Were you able to see anything at all?"
"Just a slender figure, disguised in a hooded garment, running away like a deer."
"Did they speak?"
"No. It could have been man or woman."
"Why did you say it was her?"
She pulled out a worn photograph from an inside pocket.
"It was for her. For her, that I kept vigil and watched the area. That I listened to Clarice's plans to harm those at Belle Magnolia, and then tried to warn you."
It was of a small, boyish-looking child, not more than five.
"It was for my darling girl," continued Anastasia.
Madeline tore a piece of her dress and wrapped the wound. She tried to stop the bleeding but was having little effect.
"Anastasia, let me go for help."
"No, child, stay with me. I watched Clarice and the others. I knew they meant my Hannah harm."
"You know Hannah?"
"
Yes. She is very dear to me. I know you mean to help the family. Now I have saved you. You must find out who is doing this to my Hannah."
A look of serenity so lovely came over her face as Madeline cradled her dying body in her arms. Anastasia continued speaking but nothing further she said was coherent. She spoke in little snippets of words and of people she assumed were once in her life.
By now, the fire had brought people with buckets of water from the nearby stream. The cabin was lost, but most of the fire had been put out. She called out to the crowd for help, and several men appeared almost immediately.
"My Lord," one of the men said. "What has happened?"
She tried to explain, but no words could come out. She openly wept over Anastasia's lifeless body. Her tears were dropping onto the old lady's face as her blood-stained hands embraced her body.
Chapter Seventeen
Memories From the Past
One of the men left to go for the police while the others stayed behind with Anastasia. As Madeline rode her horse slowly back to the plantation, she felt numb and cold, despite the invasive heat.
She didn't stop at the stream to wash the blood from her hands. Her hands appearing to her as if they belonged to someone else. Who would have wanted that poor creature dead? What secrets did she know or power did she have that someone wanted silenced?
It was late. She knew that her father and her friends would be frantic. This time, their worries were justified.
Samuel saw her first, riding as if she could barely move.
"Miss, Miss, what happened? Are you hurt? Let me help you off that horse."
"It is not my blood, Samuel. I am not hurt, but I escaped perhaps mortal harm because of the person whose blood laces my dress."
Samuel looked confused and only said, "I will get your Father."
"No, wait. May I lean on you. I feel faint."
She took Samuel's arm as he led her into the foyer. She could hear voices in the drawing room when Samuel called out for help; they appeared in minutes.