Though This Be Madness

by Penny Richards

  They were stopped from more interaction when two men entered the room. Cassandra’s husband was a good head taller than Henri, and his hair was dark and glistening with pomade. Unlike the doctor, Preston boasted a neatly trimmed mustache. Both men carried themselves in a manner that seemed to say “Look at me. I’m a cut above the rest of you.”

  Preston’s dark gaze homed in on his pretty wife, whose face had drained of animation. Wearing a charming smile, he crossed to her and placed his hands on her shoulders and a kiss on her forehead. “How are you feeling, my dear?” he asked, all husbandly concern.

  “Much better now, Preston,” she said, attempting a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

  “Are you ill, dearest?” her great-grandmother asked from the doorway. The concern on her face could not be missed. And why wouldn’t she be concerned that something was amiss? Unusual things were happening to each of her family members, one by one.

  Henri looked puzzled.

  “No, Grand-mère,” Cassandra said, widening her smile the slightest bit. “Not really.”

  The smile looked forced to Lilly, who noticed that it didn’t reach Cassandra’s eyes.

  Preston laughed, a hearty sound. Draping an arm around his wife’s shoulders and facing the others, he said, “We’d hoped to make our announcement at the party tomorrow, but since the subject has come up, we may as well tell you our news.” He drew Cassandra closer to his side. “My beautiful wife is with child.”

  After a round of well wishes from Henri and Cassandra’s grandmother, they were all seated and Lilly served the meal. She was prevented from overhearing much of the luncheon conversation since Mrs. Fontenot announced that if they wanted more of the simple fare, they could get it from the sideboard themselves.

  She smiled at Lilly. “We are not helpless, and I’m sure Lamartine can use you in the kitchen with all the party preparations.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Lilly said with a slight nod.

  Mrs. Fontenot looked at her great-granddaughter. “Cassandra, would you like Brona to pour you another glass of lemonade before she goes? I know it’s your favorite.”

  “No, thank you, Grand-mère. Preston doesn’t want me getting fat.”

  If Lilly expected the handsome attorney to deny the statement, she was disappointed.

  “I refuse to be wed to a cow just because she’s having a baby.”

  Lilly did not miss the annoyed look Mrs. Fontenot shot his way, but it was gone in an instant. She smiled and quipped, “Now, Preston, you know she is eating for two. There’s nothing more beautiful than a woman expecting a baby who is all pretty and plump.” Her gaze shifted to the doctor. “Isn’t that right, Henri? How many times did I hear you say that Patricia seemed to glow when she was enceinte?”

  Henri, who had appeared so self-possessed the night before seemed far less so with the younger man in the room. He actually looked dismayed at being drawn in to the conversation between the older woman and Preston.

  To Lilly’s surprise, he said, “Grand-mère is right. Some weight gain is normal, even desired.”

  Preston regarded the two for a moment and then laughed. He leaned toward his wife and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “I hope you know I’m teasing, my dear. You know that I’d love you no matter how you look.”

  Cassandra, who still looked uncomfortable, tried to smile. “Thank you, Preston. I hope so.”

  As if just realizing that Lilly had heard the exchange, Mrs. Fontenot turned to her and said, “That will be all, Brona. Please tell Lamartine that she outdid herself.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will.”

  As Lilly picked up Cassandra’s dishes, she heard Mrs. Fontenot say, “Come, my dear. If you’ve finished, we can leave the gentlemen with their coffee and we’ll go outside and take a look at the preparations for the circus.”

  “Circus?”

  Mrs. Fontenot offered her great-granddaughter a mocking smile. “Henri’s party.”

  Lilly turned and backed through the swinging door to the kitchen, which afforded her a pretty good look at the murderous expression in the doctor’s eyes before the door swished shut behind her.

  It was as if there were a pecking order in the family. Henri was cock of the walk until Preston came. Or was it simply her own biased imaginings once more, the part of her that assumed every man who crossed her path was a scoundrel—or worse? Something she could thank Timothy Warner for.

  “Are you all right?” Lamartine asked as Lilly set down the dishes.

  “I’m fine, but Mrs. Fontenot seemed to be pulling the tiger’s tail.”

  Lamartine grinned. “Which tiger?”

  “Both.”

  The cook laughed, a sound as deep and rich as Kentucky bourbon. “She’s a tough old bird,” she said with genuine affection.

  “Have the men come in for lunch yet?”

  “I sent theirs out to them,” Lamartine told her. “Amos said Henri is cracking the whip and there’s no time to stop for a meal. I dished us up a bowlful before I sent the pot out to them.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two women sat down to share their meal. When Lilly took her first bite, she thought she had died and gone to heaven. As she had the gumbo, she loved the spicy, flavorful concoction of meat, rice, and vegetables.

  “Oh, Lamartine!” she said when she’d swallowed. “Mrs. Fontenot said to tell you that you outdid yourself. She’s right. This is delicious.”

  Lamartine smiled. “I knew I was gonna like you the minute I saw you and that handsome man of yours.”

  For a heartbeat Lilly had no idea what the cook was talking about. Cade, she thought. Her man. Ha!

  “There’s just something about the two of you that seems down to earth. And that boy!” She laughed. “That boy is a caution, but that’s just fine. Most boys are at that age, and there’d be something wrong with him if he wasn’t.”

  * * *

  At that moment, “that boy” was sitting next to Bernard, scraping the last bit of jambalaya from his bowl with a hunk of crusty bread. Like his mentor, he was always watching, always alert. He saw Henri and Preston saunter around the corner of the house, glasses of wine in hand as they strolled along, taking in the workers’ progress.

  He and Bernard had cut the grass earlier in the day, taking turns with the fancy mower that an Indiana man had invented several years before. Amos declared it a marvel, far easier than using a scythe. Robbie agreed for the first few minutes, then, with sweat pouring off his face, he acknowledged that it “weren’t no tea party.” McShane told him to buck up, that work would make him stronger, and that no one got ahead in life without putting some effort into it. One look at the muscles in the older man’s forearms had made a believer of Robbie, and he’d done his fair share and more.

  Around eleven, the Easterlings had arrived from River Run, and now, Robbie was surprised to see another wagon pulling up in front of the stables.

  “Who’s that?”

  Bernard looked up from his own bowl of jambalaya. “They work for Miz Cassie and Mr. Preston. They’ve come to give us a hand. This party would be way too much for just us. Wait until you see this place tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll be up at the crack of dawn, carryin’ out rugs, chairs, and sofas from inside the house.” He gave an all-encompassing wave. “All these tables will be covered with cloths.” He shook his close-cropped head. “You won’t believe how much food Mama, Vena, and Neecie will cook.”

  “Who are Vena and Neecie?”

  Bernard pointed to a tall black woman who was being helped down from the wagon by a dark-skinned man who looked as if he’d done his fair share of work. The woman was expecting a baby.

  “That’s Neecie and her husband, Rollo. She’s my cousin. The short one is Tante Vena, Neecie’s mama and my mama’s sister. She cooks at River Run. We’ll meet the rest of them later.”

  Robbie stood there thinking hard about everything that was going on. He couldn’t imagine brin
ging fancy indoor furniture outside just for a party. Rich folks were a bit odd from what he’d observed. Always hungry, what really interested him was what they’d have to eat.

  “What kind of food will we have?”

  “It’ll be cold stuff. Sandwiches, meats, shrimp, and salads—do you like lobster salad?”

  “I don’t know,” Robbie said. “Can’t say as I’ve had any.”

  Bernard smiled, and his whole face lit up. “We’ll probably have that, and jellies, ices in paper cups, and cakes and lots of fruit, plus lemonade and punch.”

  “Hey!” Amos called. “If you two are finished eating, stop jawing and come give us a hand with the tent.”

  Henri had rented a large tent, and the food tables would be set up beneath it. Robbie put down his bowl and was in the process of wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when his gaze drifted back to the two city men. Henri was standing with his hands on his hips, looking around at the men’s progress with blatant satisfaction.

  Preston was looking with a great deal of interest toward the servants unloading the wagon from River Run.

  “C’mon, Robbie,” Bernard said. “Let’s start setting up these tables.”

  With no choice but to carry on with his duties, Robbie got back to work.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lilly, Lamartine, Vena, and Neecie toiled over the food preparations for a good portion of the night. Lilly liked the women who’d come from River Run to help. Vena was more of a talker than Lamartine, and they looked nothing alike except for the color of their skin. Lilly would not have known they were sisters if she hadn’t been told. Neecie, who was showing with her first pregnancy, was as tall as her aunt, and just as beautiful, but she didn’t have much to say either. It was almost as if she tried to keep from drawing attention to herself, but then, that’s what shy people did, wasn’t it?

  Just before midnight, Lilly went to Bernard’s room to check on the boys and found them both on their narrow cots, stripped down to their drawers. They looked as if they’d had baths, thank goodness. She’d caught glimpses of them throughout the day and was a little surprised that Robbie was pulling his weight, just as Cade had said he would. She suspected he didn’t want to do anything to annoy anyone and that he was trying to impress Cade. Still, he was just a little boy, and her woman’s heart was moved by the sight of him, so innocent in his sleep. Tiptoeing across the room, she drew a sheet over him and then repeated the gesture with Bernard. Then she went back to work.

  When she finally made her way up the back stairs to the room she and Cade shared, she found him sprawled crossways on the bed, snoring softly. He was fully dressed and was still wearing his work boots. She wondered if the men had finished everything Henri had demanded they do. Like the women, they’d worked late.

  She didn’t have the heart to wake him and ask him to move to the floor, not after the day she knew he’d had. She was bone-tired, too, but her labors hadn’t been nearly as physical as his. She undressed and put on her gown, then grabbed a pillow and blanket and curled up in the large chair by the window. There weren’t that many hours of the night left anyway. Her last thought was to wonder what it was about ornery little boys and irritable men that made them look so innocent in sleep . . . even when you knew they weren’t?

  * * *

  “Lilly.”

  A hand gripped her shoulder and gave it a shake.

  “Go away,” she said, drawing away from the touch.

  “I can’t. Lamartine says you’re to come down and get a bath and iron your uniform while the ladies are at early mass. According to her you have a mountain of work left to do.”

  Lilly rolled to her back and threw her forearm over her face, peeking out at Cade, who once again stood over her, his thumbs tucked into his pockets, frowning. If his unruly dark hair was any indication, he’d had his bath and was dressed in the same manner he’d adopted since taking on the role of Bran Sullivan. He looked ready to face whatever the day brought. How did he do that? she wondered, pushing herself into a sitting position.

  It was only when she saw the blanket on the chair that she realized she was in her bed. Her wide-eyed gaze moved from the chair to Cade.

  “I moved you when I got up,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “You were dead to the world, but you looked really uncomfortable with your head cocked over to the side.”

  There was no hint of anything personal in his statement or his demeanor. Satisfied that his actions were nothing more than him looking out for her well-being, but irritated because she hadn’t even known he was touching her, she said, “I was fine where I was.”

  His smile was tinged with bitterness. “Ever the grateful one,” he quipped, reminding her for an instant of a similar moment when he’d rescued her from the Purcells’ attic. Instead of being grateful that he’d found her, she’d snapped at him. When she looked at him again, that man was gone.

  “Get up, colleen. I don’t have time to come back and check on ya again.”

  Hearing him call her by the hated name, which just happened to be the name of her husband’s tart, sent her eyelids flying upward. She glared at Cade through narrowed brown eyes. His response was the familiar cocky grin that had the maddening way of making her heart stumble. “That’s my girl.”

  Determined to stop any further verbal sparring with him, she threw the covers aside and stood. “Where’s Robbie?”

  Cade started for the door. “The last I saw, he and Bernard were having their breakfast and he was trying his best to pet Lucifer without losing a finger.”

  The image that stole into her mind made her frown in concern. “I hope he’s careful. That cat is vicious.”

  “Aye, that he is.”

  “Both those boys were exhausted last night.”

  “Did you see him?”

  She nodded. “I checked on him around midnight. He and Bernard were both so tired they didn’t move a muscle when I covered them.”

  “He worked like a man yesterday, I’ll give him that.”

  “He’s trying to impress you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what your relationship is with him, but I do know he adores the ground you walk on, and he’s working so hard because he’s deathly afraid that you’ll send him back to your brother.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m doing what Allan told me to do. Becoming an observer of people. You should have seen Robbie watching you when you went to send your telegrams. You’re his hero, and he’s doing everything he can to make you proud of him.”

  “Believe me, I’m no hero.”

  “You are to him. He doesn’t like me being in the picture because he’s jealous. He’s afraid I’ll take his place with you.”

  “As if that would ever happen.”

  Lilly sucked in a sharp breath as an unexpected pain shot through her heart. She wasn’t sure why the comment hurt. Still, it did.

  Cade scraped a hand through his black hair. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “It’s fine. I understand.” She was pleased to hear that her voice was steady.

  “I doubt it,” he countered. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I’ve no interest in forming a relationship with any woman at the moment, especially not with my partner. I’ve no time for a dalliance, if I wanted one. Which I don’t.”

  Dalliance? Lilly regarded him in disbelief. “Well, for the record, I’m not interested either. I’ve had enough of men for a lifetime, thank you very much.”

  “That’s settled, then, isn’t it?”

  He turned and left her standing near the bed, wondering how a conversation that had started out describing her duties had changed into one so very personal.

  * * *

  The Easter Sunday morning was sunny and bright. Madam Fontenot and Cassandra returned from mass and went outside to check on the final arrangements for the gathering, which would start midmorning. Henri and Preston had not accompanied them to Ea
ster services, which Lamartine had predicted, telling Lilly that neither of the men had a religious bone in his body. Now, the two ladies wandered around the yard, examining the setup with a critical eye, mentally checking to see if everything that needed to be done had been completed.

  As they passed near where Lilly was stacking the plates on the food table, the older woman said, “Mrs. Abelard and the girls have done a wonderful job. I didn’t want this blasted party, but since it is associated with my home and my name, I didn’t want the affair to discredit the family in any way.”

  “I’m sure there’s no way that would ever happen, Grand-mère,” Cassandra consoled.

  “The whole thing is a disgrace, is what it is,” Mrs. Fontenot said as they wandered toward the back door. “Suzannah barely cold in the grave and your dear sweet mama . . .”

  The woman’s voice trailed away and Cassandra put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

  “What must everyone be saying about us behind our back? I just hope Henri doesn’t do something to make himself the laughingstock of the city.” The verve had returned to her voice. “The man has no tact and even less refinement.”

  The rest of the conversation was muted as they stepped out of hearing range. Lilly moved the plates to a better spot. The more she heard, the more certain she became that there was no love lost between the Fontenot matriarch and the doctor. Lilly was anxious to see if the day’s experiences would shed any new light on the troubling situation.

  By ten-thirty, Lamartine announced that she was as ready as she’d ever be, and by noon, if the number of people milling around the lawn was anything to go by, almost everyone had arrived. Most of them seemed to be having a good time and were no doubt happy that Lent had come to an end, so perhaps they were not as put off by the inappropriateness of the gathering as Mrs. Fontenot had feared. Times were changing after all.

  Lilly caught glimpses of the men and the boys from time to time, as they dealt with the arriving carriages and saw that the horses were taken care of.

  Henri had been in his full-fledged, lord of the manor role ever since the guests began to arrive, welcoming them with cheerful greetings and inviting them to refresh themselves with one of the fruit punches or a glass of champagne. Though he was hearty and jovial, it seemed to Lilly that whenever Preston came into his sphere, Henri’s smile dimmed and his animation faded.