Though Maribel had not been used to such fineries while at St. Mary of the Island, she certainly recalled the conveyances her grandfather used back in Spain. In comparison to those carriages with their plush interiors and the Cordoba crest on the doors, this one was certainly no match.
Either Abuelo’s fortunes were no longer what they once were, or the luxuries he enjoyed back in the old country were not available here. In either case, Maribel gave thanks that she had any means of transportation at all.
For as much as she disliked trudging through the filth on the docks, the mud that filled the streets of the city was even worse. Between the droppings left behind by the animals that pulled the carts and carriages and the heat of the Louisiana sun, the smell was abhorrent.
How could Mama and Abuelo possibly be happy here?
Then it came to her. They were only here for her. And they had endured this for years in anticipation of her arrival.
Mr. Lopez-Gonzales helped her into the carriage and then joined her. “Would you like me to tell you about the buildings we will see along the way?”
“Yes, please,” she said, as much to learn about this city as to have something to discuss that would keep the silence from falling between them.
Silence gave her time to think, but discussion about buildings such as the Place d’Armes, the Director’s House, and the Ursuline convent kept her occupied until the moment the carriage lurched to a stop in front of an elegant home built of brick and plaster with a broad porch across the front and four gables across the second-floor roof.
The older man leaned forward to nod toward a rather large building with a two-story towerlike structure next to it. “As you can see, your grandfather’s home is just across Dumaine Street from the observatory and the governor’s house.”
“The observatory is the tall building?”
“It is, yes,” he said. “Its owner, Mr. Baron, designed those terraces on the second floor so as to be able to make scientific observations with his telescope. You see, he is a scientist of some renown who—”
The imposing front door opened, interrupting the older man’s speech. Expecting a dour servant to step outside and greet them, Maribel was stunned when a lovely woman of middle age and great beauty appeared in the doorway.
“Mama!”
Maribel couldn’t get out of the carriage fast enough. When she reached her mother, time fell away as they embraced. The years had been kind to Mama, adding only the slightest touch of silver at her temples and lines at the corners of her eyes.
But those lines meant she had smiled. At least that is what Mother Superior always said.
“My baby,” Mama repeated over and over until Maribel knew she would never tire of hearing the words. Their tears fell, and laughter sounded.
The reunion she dreaded had become one she did not want to end.
Gradually Maribel became aware of someone else nearby. She looked up to see her grandfather standing in the doorway.
The years had been less kind to Abuelo than they had to Mama, but he still wore that same smile and had the same gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. He still had the posture of a soldier and the presence of a man used to getting his way.
Mama released her and offered Abuelo a smile as she swiped at her tears. “Look, Don Pablo,” she said. “You have succeeded in bringing our girl home.”
“My Maribel,” he said, his voice quivering with the same emotion that caused a tear to slide down his wrinkled cheek. “Is it really you?”
“It is me, Abuelo,” she said as she fell into his arms. “And I am home.”
“Come inside,” he said when she would allow him out of her embrace. “We have much to discuss.”
“Don Pablo,” Mama said. “Don’t you think you need to rest first? Normally at this time you are—”
He waved away the remainder of Mama’s statement with a sweep of his hand. “Nonsense,” he said. “Normally at this time I am wondering where my precious grandchild is and asking the Lord to bring her home. He has answered my prayers, so I have no need of praying them again.” He winked at Maribel. “You only thought I was taking my morning nap.”
Maribel giggled and followed her grandfather through a beautifully decorated foyer and into a parlor that faced the front of the home. Here and there were pieces that must have been brought from the family home in Spain, but they had been mixed with other furnishings that Maribel did not recognize.
Abuelo took a seat in a chair nearest the window and then indicated that she should join him. Choosing the settee for its proximity to her grandfather, Maribel settled on one end and waited for her mother to seat herself on the other.
A uniformed servant hurried in with refreshments, but Abuelo waved them away. “Nothing for me,” he said. “But my granddaughter will likely not feel the same. She’s been on an ocean voyage, you know.”
“Several of them,” Mama said softly as she reached across the distance on the settee to grasp Maribel’s hand. “My sweetheart, I cannot believe you are actually sitting here. So many years I hoped and prayed and waited. …” She shook her head. “And so many times I wished I hadn’t allowed Antonio to make a fool of me.”
Her grandfather leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “What did your father tell you about us?”
Recalling the conversation as if it had happened just yesterday, Maribel took a deep breath and let it out slowly before responding. “That you were dead,” she managed. “He said you and Mama had been in an accident and neither of you survived.”
Silence fell. Outside on the street, a wagon rolled by with two plodding horses pulling it.
“This is my fault,” Abuelo finally said. “If only I had not decided my son would be better off sent to Cuba. He was given a nice placement in the colonial office, you know. I thought I had done well by him.”
“You had, Don Pablo,” Mama said. “But he did not do well by us.”
“No, he did not.” Her grandfather turned to Maribel. “I do not wish to stir up unpleasantness, but some say my son drowned. Others claim he was murdered. I hope you did not see him meet his demise, but if you have knowledge of this matter, I wish to hear it.”
“I do have knowledge,” she said. “And those who tell you he drowned are correct. There was a fight. My father shot a man in the back.”
Abuelo winced but said nothing further. Maribel continued. “He fought a man on the deck. Their battle sent them over the railing and into the sea. The other man lived, but my father did not.”
She let out a long breath and waited for the tears to come. Not since she was a child had she relived that moment at sea. Other moments, yes, but not that one.
“So the question is answered, then,” he said as he leaned back in the chair. “I am very sorry you saw this, my dear. I would give anything to have spared you of it all.”
Maribel managed a smile. “You know, Abuelo, it was not the childhood any of us expected, but it was a good childhood. I missed you both terribly, but not knowing you were alive and looking for me made the situation easier to bear.”
Mama’s hand fluttered. “When you are ready, I would love to celebrate your return with a proper party. So many of my friends here are aware of your impending return, and they will be asking for introductions. My dear friend Abigail is begging to host a small gathering.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mama. Will they think it odd that I was rescued by privateers and lived among them for nearly two months before spending eleven years at an orphanage in the Caribbean?”
Neither Mama nor her grandfather spoke for a moment. Finally, Mama shook her head. “Maribel, I don’t understand. Mr. Lopez-Gonzales said he found you at an orphanage. He did not indicate anything other than that. Your grandfather and I assumed …” She sat back seemingly unable to continue.
“What your mother is saying, my dear, is if any of that did happen, then we are only just hearing of it. Please tell me about this privateer who rescued you. Is he someone I might know?�
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The thought of her very proper Spanish grandfather knowing someone like Captain Beaumont made her smile. “No, I doubt you know him. He was a kind man, young for the profession he chose, and loyal to his crew. For the time I was on board, I was treated with kindness.”
“I see,” he said. “And his name?”
“Captain Beaumont,” she said.
Her grandfather looked over at Mama, who shook her head. “I wondered if he might be an enemy of Antonio.”
“If he was, I was not told of it,” she said.
“Tell me about the orphanage and how you came to live there,” Mama said. “I want to hear every detail.”
Maribel smiled. This was a topic she could easily discuss at length. And discuss they did until it appeared Abuelo’s eyes were fighting to remain open.
“You see, you stubborn man,” Mama said to him. “You’ve missed your morning rest and now you can barely stay awake to entertain our granddaughter.”
He chuckled but did not disagree. Instead, he looked over at Maribel and smiled. “I will sleep well knowing you are under my roof, child.” He paused. “Although you are no longer a child, are you?”
“I fear not,” she said. “But I am not so old that you should despair of me. I taught the children at the convent for several years now, and if it is possible, I wish to continue teaching. Perhaps the Ursulines are in need of someone with my abilities.”
“Are you considering joining the convent?” Mama asked, concern etching her voice.
“Oh no,” Maribel said with a giggle. “I tried that at St. Mary of the Island and was deemed most unsuitable. Apparently reading adventure novels and climbing trees is not appropriate behavior for a novitiate.”
From the look on her mother’s face, it apparently was not appropriate behavior for a young lady in the Cordoba household either.
“Yes, well,” Mama said. “I can see there have been some lessons on proper social behavior that might have been missed during your time with the nuns.” Her expression brightened. “No need to worry. I am here to see to your continued education, Maribel. And once you are ready for society, then I will allow dear Abigail to throw the grandest welcome-home party this city has ever seen.”
“Wonderful.” Maribel stifled a groan. Gone were the days when she would be allowed to run barefoot across the courtyard or slip off to swim in the ocean. The return of her family had certainly been more wonderful than she expected. It also brought with it a few concerns she had not considered.
“You know, Mary,” Abuelo said as he rose, “I think we could all benefit from some rest. Perhaps a siesta and then later we can discuss evening plans?”
Mama rose and nodded in agreement. “I will have refreshments brought to your room, Maribel. Come, it is right this way.”
Maribel followed her mother down a corridor that led to two rooms. Ushering Maribel into the room on the right, Mama paused in the door to smile.
“I still cannot believe you are home with us,” she said. “I thought you were …”
Tears fell, and Maribel caught them with her handkerchief. “Oh, Mama,” she said when she could manage words. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
“Wouldn’t want you?” She held Maribel at arm’s length. “After all we did to find you, why in the world would you think we wouldn’t want you?”
She shrugged. “I’m not like you. My life, it was different. I thought perhaps that would make me unsuitable.”
“My precious child,” she said softly. “You could never be unsuitable in my eyes.”
“Even if I have climbed a mainmast and acted as lookout for ships on the horizon?”
Mama grinned. “Especially if you have done those things, and do you know why?”
“Why?” she said through happy tears that had Mama dabbing Maribel’s cheeks with her own handkerchief.
“Because now I am extremely jealous and want to know every detail of what that was like.” She pressed her forefinger to Maribel’s lips. “But not now. Rest and have something to eat and drink. Later I will send in a tub for your bath and fresh clothing.” Mama’s gaze swept the length of her. “Tomorrow we will see to a new wardrobe and perhaps pay some calls, but today?” She paused. “Today I am keeping you all to myself.”
Maribel surprised herself by doing as she was told and actually resting rather than reading her book or slipping out to explore her new home. When the maid and her helpers came to prepare her bath, she happily gave over her soiled traveling clothes in exchange for warm, clean water and fragrant soap she remembered from her childhood in Spain.
The dress that appeared in her bedchamber was breathtaking. Like nothing she had ever owned—or seen—during her time at the orphanage, the gown was constructed of a soft floral material and fit Maribel as if it had been made specifically with her in mind.
When she finished dressing, Maribel took up her book and settled onto the chair nearest the window to make the most of the afternoon light. It was there she found herself the next morning, having fallen asleep right where she’d been sitting.
Mama despaired of the wrinkled gown the moment she saw Maribel. “You were exhausted from your voyage. I could not bear to awaken you, even if it meant that your dress would be ruined.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, though. I’ve had the maid prepare another dress for you to wear. Now just go on and let her dress you, and then we will get started on the day’s events.”
“But, Mama, I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“No time,” she said. “Perhaps later. After our visit to the dressmaker.”
Maribel complied and somehow ended up in the carriage dressed in a floral gown and feeling as though she hadn’t eaten in a week. As the carriage turned down Chartres Street, Mama gasped.
“Do put a smile on your face, Maribel,” she said as she nodded toward a carriage coming toward them from the opposite direction. “That is Bienville approaching. He’s the governor of all of the territory of Louisiana and a representative of the king and Versailles here, you know.”
She did not know, but he sounded very important. Maribel did as she was told and offered the older man a smile when his carriage slowed to a stop beside them. The man Mama called Bienville appeared to be a fellow almost as old as Abuelo.
And quite distracted.
“Lovely day, Governor,” Mama said with the languid tone of a woman who hadn’t just indicated her excitement at receiving the governor’s attention.
“It appears your daughter has arrived, Mrs. Cordoba,” he said, moving his attention from Mama to Maribel. “Welcome to New Orleans, young lady. We have prayed for your safe return.”
“Thank you, sir,” she obediently responded.
The governor’s attention had already returned to Mama. In truth, he seemed quite interested in her. “Have you called on my nephew yet? He returns to the city as of today, and I do believe he might be able to help you with that bit of trouble you’re having.”
Mama cut her eyes at Maribel, but her broad smile never wavered. “I have not yet paid him a visit,” she said. “Perhaps next week I will find the time to set an appointment. Do you truly think he can help?”
The older man matched Mama’s smile. “At my word, of course he can.” He made a great show of retrieving his pocket watch and checking the time, and then he returned his attention to Mama. “Please forgive me, but I’m to send my carriage to the docks shortly. I’ll let him know you will be paying him a call next week.”
“Do think of me fondly, Governor, and know my father-in-law always does enjoy your friendly conversation.”
“Then please convey a message to Don Pablo that I wish to engage him in friendly conversation very soon.”
“He will be pleased,” she said as she lifted her fan and instructed the driver to proceed.
“Mama,” Maribel said when the carriage was in motion again. “Do you have a romance or a marriage planned with that man?”
“Oh, dear,” Mama said. “That is not how a woman g
oes about marriage, nor do we plan romance. The proper question is whether I have plans to convince that man he ought to marry me. And the answer to that question is maybe I do and maybe I do not.”
Maribel shook her head. “Because you do not want to admit which it is?”
She shrugged. “Because I do not yet know which it is. Bienville is a busy man and a confirmed bachelor. I’m not certain I wish to be wed to such a man, even one as nice as he.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me what this trouble is that the governor mentioned.” She gave her mother a sideways look. “Is there something wrong?”
Mama waved away the question with a sweep of her hand. “Nothing is wrong, sweet daughter. Just a little wrinkle that needs to be ironed out next week.”
As it turned out, there were other wrinkles to be ironed out. Wrinkles in the silk gown that Mama insisted was properly fitted for the celebration of her homecoming. And wrinkles that appeared at the corners of Mama’s eyes when she grinned at the seamstress and asked her to send the bill to Don Pablo’s home.
Then came the wrinkle of getting from the seamstress’s shop to the carriage without getting wet from the rain that had begun falling during the grueling fitting session. Back on Isla de Santa Maria, Maribel would have ignored the rain to allow her gown a soaking.
Not if she had to teach, of course, but during her own time it was nothing to take a stroll in the rain. But here in New Orleans, it was quickly apparent that a proper lady did not do such things.
Nor did a proper lady complain about paying visits or taking tea. She did not complain about the heat in stiff gowns or the sore feet that came from wearing what Mama called proper lady’s shoes.
And she did not complain when her mother planned the event of the year in her honor.
Even if the last thing she wished to do was to be paraded among the ladies and gentlemen of her adopted city so they could watch closely to be certain she behaved like a proper lady. Because, apparently, being a proper lady was Maribel’s new role.
The Pirate Bride Page 15