Though This Be Madness

by Penny Richards

  Mrs. Fontenot and Cassandra moved through the crowd, trying to say a few words to everyone, well-bred hostesses through and through. At the moment, they stood with the priest beneath an ancient live oak, engaged in what looked to be a serious conversation, while Henri and Armand DeMille, the attorney who had contacted the Pinkerton agency, stood away from the general gathering, as if their conversation was private.

  The short, stout attorney with the gray mustache and balding head was listening to his host intently, but even from where Lilly stood, it was clear to see that the lawyer was irritated by something Henri was saying. He bore no resemblance to the comfortable, smiling man she’d seen visiting with the priest and Mrs. Fontenot just moments before. Lilly would have given anything to be a bird in the tree above them.

  Just before noon, Neecie brought out a bowl of red-dyed Easter eggs, the final contribution to the splendid array of culinary offerings they’d been laboring over for the past couple of days. Since eggs were forbidden during Lent, they were often served on Easter, with the red symbolizing the joy and germinating life of spring.

  Neecie make a wide berth around Preston, Henri, and a middle-aged blond fellow with a drooping mustache. Though he looked preoccupied with whatever his companion was saying, Preston’s gaze followed Neecie both as she deposited the eggs and as she went back to the kitchen bearing a tray of dirty glasses.

  Moments later, Preston left his companions and sauntered to the table, plucking an egg from the bowl. He cracked it against the table and began to peel it, tossing the shell carelessly onto the lawn, uncaring that one of the servants would have to clean it up.

  Lilly cast a glance at Cassandra, whose eyes were dark with embarrassment. The look on Mrs. Fontenot’s face gave away nothing of her thoughts. The expression on the faces of Henri and the other man would have been comical if they had not looked so horrified. Henri took a step forward, his hand outstretched.

  “Preston . . .”

  The plea was too late. Preston had already lifted the egg to his mouth and taken a large bite. Lilly’s eyes widened at the blatant breach of etiquette, and a collective gasp rose from the guests. Henri actually looked as if he were in pain as he made a beeline for the younger man.

  A wave of murmured comments began to undulate through the crowd. Clearly, Preston had made a blunder far greater than eating before a prayer of thanksgiving had been offered. A quick glance at the priest’s shocked expression was further evidence that an imaginary line had been crossed. Blissfully unaware that he’d done anything wrong, Preston finished off the egg and snatched up a glass of champagne to wash it down.

  Henri took his arm and ushered him away from the table while the priest excused himself from the small group and made his way toward them.

  “Is there something amiss, Henri?” Preston asked, with barely concealed irritation. He made no attempt to lower his voice. “Have I done something wrong again?”

  “Of course you’ve done something wrong. What in heaven’s name were you thinking?” Henri blurted in a low voice. It was clear that while he might not have “a religious bone in his body,” he’d lived in the Fontenot home long enough to pick up on the religious traditions.

  “I was thinking that Lamartine was extremely slow and that I was hungry,” Preston quipped before returning his attention to the priest, who mimicked Henri’s gesture, taking Preston’s arm and turning him away from the curious onlookers. Though he spoke softly, Lilly, who was still pretending to arrange the table, heard every word.

  “You should not have eaten anything until I blessed the food. To do so means that you’ll be punished by God.”

  “What?” Preston managed to look both surprised and amused. In fact, he laughed, a sound that carried well beyond the confines of the tent. “I’m not Catholic, Father,” he explained, making no attempt to lower his voice. “How was I to know?”

  “Ignorance is no excuse, I’m afraid,” the priest said.

  Preston gave the clergyman a dismissive pat on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, Father. You don’t worry about it, and I’ll deal with God. He’s been overlooking my trespasses for years now, so I don’t think he’ll punish me for eating an egg. Now,” he said, his tone taking on a hard edge. “Will you please bless the food so that we can get the meal under way?”

  Though he looked both troubled and offended, the priest did as he was asked. When he finished, a collective breath seemed to sough from the gathering as the guests began to breathe once again. Cautiously.

  “All right, everyone,” Preston said in a loud voice. “Please start the buffet lines.” With the announcement, the stiff, uncomfortable feeling gripping the assemblage began to gradually dissipate.

  Lilly and Neecie spent the next hour replenishing the bowls and platters of food, gathering dirty dishes and cutlery, and keeping a supply of clean dishes and napkins at the ready, all while dealing with guests who were disgruntled over something or other. It was difficult to smile and be pleasant when she wanted to give them a piece of her mind. One man had given her a pat on the behind, and it was all she could do to keep from giving him a hard kick in the shins.

  The last guest was gone by two p.m., and when Lilly started carrying things in, she found Lamartine and Vena already busy washing and drying the stacks of dirty plates.

  “Is it true that Preston ate an Easter egg before Father Stephen blessed the food?” Vena asked, her dark eyes alight with mischief. “And did he tell Preston that God would punish him?”

  “It is,” Lilly told them. “And he did.”

  “Hope he’s right,” Lamartine muttered, tossing the dish rag into the soapy water. “I wish a carriage would run over him or something. For the life of me, I can’t see why Miss Cassie wanted to marry him.”

  Playing devil’s advocate, Lilly said, “Well, he’s a bit brash, but he’s very handsome.”

  Lamartine snorted in disgust. “Handsome is as handsome does.”

  “Me and Sister don’t like the way he’s always tryin’ to make Miss Cassandra feel bad about herself,” Vena offered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s always sayin’ she’s too skinny, too serious, and that she doesn’t laugh enough.”

  “I don’t understand the way men think,” Lilly told them, meaning every word. “She seems to genuinely care for him and she’s very sweet.”

  “Too sweet if you ask me.”

  It was clear that Lamartine disliked both Henri and Preston and was very loyal to the family she worked for, along with her husband and son, for so many years.

  Three hours later, they had washed and put away all the rented dishes and glassware, and the men had loaded everything onto the wagons to be returned the following day.

  When Rollo and Cade came in to take the wooden boxes of dishes to the wagon, Bernard stuck his head inside and said, “Is there anything left to eat? Me and Robbie are starving.”

  All four women groaned.

  CHAPTER 10

  It was almost an hour and a half later when Lilly dried the last dish. With the exception of Mrs. Abelard, who had taken something to nibble on to her room, the staff had all eaten and cleaned up the dishes once again. Then, with the exception of Neecie, who would stay to care for Cassandra’s needs, Rollo, Vena, and the other weary River Run servants began to load up to go back to the plantation, even though it would be very late when they arrived home.

  Initially, the plan had been for them to get up early and head home, but at the last minute Preston announced that he wanted them back at the plantation and everything in readiness when he and Cassandra arrived.

  Though he didn’t say a word, even an untried operative could see that Rollo was not happy with the change of plan. It was evident in the hard set of his lean jaw and the fury in his dark eyes. Yet there was nothing he could say or do.

  With the horses hitched to the wagon and everyone loaded and ready to go, Lilly watched him take Neecie in his arms and hold her close. Everything about him said he didn
’t want to leave her. With their foreheads pressed together, they swayed slowly back and forth, whispering things to each other that no one could hear.

  A feeling, sweet and poignant, filled Lilly’s heart, bringing tears to her eyes. This, then, was love. The real thing. Then Rollo released his wife and the moment passed. Another ache, this one like sorrow settled over Lilly. Would anyone ever hold her that way? Love her that way? she wondered, as she watched everyone climb into the wagon.

  When Rollo clucked to the team, Lilly saw Lamartine brush moisture from her cheeks. “I don’t get to see nearly as much of my sister as I’d like, but then, that’s life, isn’t it?”

  Thinking of how much she missed Pierce and Rose, Lilly understood perfectly. “Yes.”

  Lamartine pinned Cade with a mock ferocious look. “You take this woman of yours and git to bed. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

  They wasted no time doing just that.

  Lilly fell into the softness of the mattress. “I think I’ve died and no one will bury me.”

  “I know I haven’t died,” Cade responded, flopping down next to her. “I’m in too much pain to be dead.”

  Stunned by the action, Lilly grew stiff.

  Cade turned his head to look at her. “Calm yourself, colleen. I only want to rest my weary back a bit. Your virtue is safe with me.”

  She believed him; it was her own traitorous heart that concerned her.

  “Tell me about the Easter egg fiasco,” he said, folding his hands across his flat belly and closing his eyes.

  Lilly told him what had happened and what she’d heard both Henri and the priest say to Preston, quoting his line about the Lord overlooking his trespasses almost verbatim.

  “He had absolutely no shame,” Lilly said, finishing her tale.

  “His kind seldom do.”

  “His kind?” She turned toward him and encountered a close look at his strong profile. His short, thick eyelashes looked like dark smudges beneath his eyes.

  “Handsome. Self-absorbed. Looking to marry up.”

  Lilly recalled Simon Linedecker, the struggling young lawyer she’d hired to secure her divorce from Timothy. She remembered well how the other attorneys she’d spoken with—all from well-heeled families—had looked down their aristocratic noses and informed her that they did not handle “those sorts of cases.” Simon Linedecker had not had the advantage of money to help him succeed. She wondered if he’d ever considered “marrying up.”

  “But he’s an attorney. Aren’t they usually from society?”

  Cade smothered a yawn. She’d never before noticed the scars on his knuckles from his years of fighting.

  “Mm. Even so, marrying into another prominent family is a feather in any young man’s cap.”

  It all sounded rather cold-blooded to Lilly.

  “Amos doesn’t trust Henri,” Cade said.

  Lilly rolled to her side and looked at him. “Why?”

  “He thinks he’s a wastrel, and he says Henri has a penchant for gaming.”

  Lilly sat bolt upright. They already knew that Cassandra feared her stepfather would spend them into bankruptcy, but the gambling . . . well, that was new information. Her own brief experience with Timothy had shown her that gamblers could go through an inordinate amount of money in very little time. If she could find out his regular haunts, perhaps she could snoop around and learn something.

  Lilly, still lost in thought, looked Cade’s way. His eyes were open once more, and he was regarding her with an intent expression. “What?”

  “Did you pick up on something?” he asked. “What’s your opinion of him?”

  Once again, Lilly debated on the wisdom of giving him the little information she’d gleaned. Then she realized that he was sharing what he’d heard, and was even asking her opinion. He was doing his part as half of their team. As much as it galled her to admit it, it would be selfish, perhaps even unethical, to withhold anything she found out.

  “Lamartine is not fond of Henri, and that’s putting it mildly. No doubt Amos has told her about his bad habits. Neither she nor Vena give a fig for Preston either, because he doesn’t treat Cassandra right. After the egg incident, Lamartine even said that she wished something would happen to him.”

  “Hmm. Do you think Lamartine’s and Vena’s feelings are based on servant loyalty?”

  “I’m sure of it. I don’t know if you’d heard, but Cassandra is expecting a baby.”

  Cade opened his eyes and looked at her. “Really? How did you find that out?”

  “I was in the dining room when she and Preston arrived yesterday, and he broke the news to Mrs. Fontenot and Henri.”

  Cade looked thoughtful. “I suppose that explains why he wanted Neecie to stay and help.”

  The expression in Lilly’s eyes seemed to ask if he’d lost his mind. “I think it’s all for appearances. I think he’s interested in Neecie.”

  “That’s a pretty bold accusation,” he said, frowning. “What makes you think so?”

  Lilly recalled the way Preston’s gaze seemed to follow Neecie throughout the day. What did it mean? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Pinkertons didn’t deal with hunches. They looked for facts. She gave a shake of her head. “I don’t have a thing to base it on except woman’s intuition.”

  Cade mumbled something beneath his breath. “So what are your impressions overall?”

  What did she think? She hadn’t had time to really consider the scant information she’d gleaned. “I think that Henri married up as you say, and that he’s very proud of himself and enjoying living high on the hog. He likes being the center of things, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I get the feeling that Preston makes him uneasy.”

  “Uneasy.” Cade propped up on his elbow. “Uneasy as in nervous, or uneasy as in fearful?”

  “Fearful? No, I don’t think he’s afraid of him, but something about Preston makes Henri anxious. His distress over the egg incident seemed genuine. He tried to stop Preston when he saw what he was about to do, but he was too late. Preston paid no more mind to what Henri or the priest had to say than he would have if I’d chastised him. They were both appalled.”

  “Preston is arrogant, then?”

  She gave a lift of her russet eyebrows. “Arrogant? Oh, very. He even seemed to ruffle Mr. DeMille’s feathers when I saw them speaking together.”

  “Well,” Cade said, “it’s easy to see how DeMille would take unkindly to anything coming from the man who took the position he’d held for so many years.”

  “Good point,” she said thoughtfully. “So we’re agreed that Preston may be a scoundrel.”

  “We are.”

  “There’s no law against that.”

  “Unfortunately. Henri is the one Mrs. Fontenot feels is guilty, so regardless what Easterling may be or may not be doing, we should concentrate on the doctor.”

  He was right. As disgusting as the notion was that Preston might be interested in the hired help, they were not in New Orleans to keep tabs on his marriage or his morals. Rose was always saying that a man’s sins would find him out. Lilly believed that. Whatever Preston’s transgressions, they would catch up with him someday.

  “I agree,” she told him. “Have you had a chance to speak to Robbie?”

  “Not alone, no.”

  “So what does your gut say?” she asked. “Do you believe anything untoward has happened here?” she asked.

  “I think it’s an unhappy household, but I’ve seen nothing to make me think Ducharme put his wife away for some nefarious reason. Still,” he said, sitting up, “it’s early days yet. What do you suggest we do tomorrow while we’re off?”

  “Mrs. Abelard informed me that we would have to help put things to rights tomorrow. We’ll have Tuesday off.”

  Cade heaved a huge sigh. “Fine, then.”

  “One more thing,” she said, recalling something else. “It’s really nothing, but I do believe there’s some truth to it.” When he looked at her
questioningly, she continued. “Lamartine says Mrs. Abelard is sweet on the doctor, and after watching her around him, I believe she’s right.”

  “Hmm,” Cade mused. “If Henri is interested in someone else, that could be a reason for wanting to rid himself of his wife. It’s a situation worth keeping our eyes on.”

  “That’s what I thought. I suppose on Tuesday we can look through some records. Perhaps we can find out something at the courthouse. And what about questioning Father Stephen?”

  “We can’t question anyone, wife,” Cade said, his use of the word a subtle reminder of their status. “This isn’t Vandalia, where you were a Pinkerton agent free to quiz everyone to try to find a loose thread. Pretending to be a couple of servants who know nothing about anything going on here ties our hands in a lot of ways.”

  Though there was no reproof in his voice or condemnation in what he said, Lilly felt the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks. In her eagerness to find out something significant, she’d let that small, but important, fact escape her. William was right. She still had much to learn.

  “I can ask Amos about Henri’s gambling and perhaps even find out his usual haunts,” he said. “We can check on those Tuesday.”

  “What if I pretend some illness and visit Henri’s offices?” Lilly asked. “I can see where he went to medical school, and we can see if there’s anything unsavory in his past.”

  “Good idea,” he told her with a nod. “Very good, in fact.”

  * * *

  On Tuesday morning, Lilly and Cade were just pulling away from the stable at the back of the house when Robbie came running up to the wagon Amos used to run errands in town. There was no way he’d have let them take the new coach out for the day.

  “Where ya off to, McShane?” the boy asked, planting his hands on his narrow hips.

  “We’re going to check out a few places and see what we can find out about the doctor and his gambling habits.”