“Tell us the name you’ve chosen,” he said to Caro, “and I promise to use it.”
“It must be Beauregard, of course!” Caro cried. “And we can call him Beau for short.”
Thus it was that a new member was introduced to the household that day. And Beauregard, whether he liked it or not, had helped me through the first difficult moments with my father. Now that I had faced him without betraying the thing that must remain hidden from his knowledge, I was that much stronger, that much more ready to take the next step.
It was in just that way—one careful step at a time—that I managed to get through the supper hour and through all the hours of the long week that followed. Outwardly I managed to listen, to smile, to speak when I was spoken to. Inwardly my thoughts darted this way and that like cornered mice and I could find no escape from the trap, no answer to my searching.
In the North I might have overruled my mother’s wishes and become a teacher. But here in the South a northern teacher was not wanted. Nor would the pittance earned have cared for the three of us, even if we had been able to leave Uncle Robert’s house.
From Aunt Natalie’s gentle, happy manner toward me, I knew that Uncle Robert had told her the marriage was settled. But he must have asked her to say nothing as yet to the others—which indicated that he still awaited my agreement. I knew, however, that he would not wait for long. Each morning at breakfast his eyes questioned me coldly, and each morning I looked away from him without giving my answer.
On Sunday afternoon Courtney called to take me for a drive along the lake and I wondered if there would be any chance to speak with him alone. But Mama announced gaily that she needed an outing too and it would be her pleasure to chaperone us. I believe Courtney truly did not want her to go. He was behaving in the most decorous way possible and I had to give him credit for treating me as a young man who was courting a lady should.
Later I remembered that drive chiefly for the sense of discomfort and unhappiness it gave me. The afternoon was sunny, but our parasols shielded us from the hot rays and there was a pleasant breeze blowing in over the water. We drove through the park and along a road that rimmed a section of the lake. The water stretched away, seeming as vast an expanse as the ocean, but I paid little attention to the drive or to my surroundings.
Mama was tantalizing and provocative. She teased Courtney for his sober manner, flirted with him outrageously, until I began to feel that I was the chaperone and she the girl who was being wooed. Courtney did his best to hold out against her. He addressed most of his remarks to me, he tried to keep his eyes away from her face, from her smiling, tempting lips, but her light voice kept up a rain of patter all about us. The fragrance of her lilac scent, her beauty—all were an invitation too close for Courtney to escape.
I saw his eyes stray more than once, and though he was no longer the feckless young man I had first met, who played easy court to every lady, it was plain which of these two ladies attracted him. I had nothing to offer. No gay conversation came lightly to my lips. I sat in moody silence and felt myself plain and dowdy and dull. Nor did I mind being these things. No longer did they matter. But I was angry with my mother and sorry for Courtney, yet helpless to deal with either of them.
By the time we had turned toward home, I had come to one conclusion. My time of grace, I knew, was up. And I had found no solution. Somehow I had hoped against hope that Justin might come unexpectedly into the picture and save me in some unforeseen way. I’d even woven a little fantasy in which he invited himself along on this drive and found a way to settle matters between us. But I’d had no sight, no word of Justin all that week, and now, slowly, relentlessly, I brought myself to an acceptance of what he himself had told me.
There was no place for marrying in Justin’s life. Because I had not wanted to believe that, I had fooled myself for a while, promised myself the moon. But now I must face the fact that Justin had really meant what he said. Perhaps I had interested him briefly, but he had taken care to escape any serious entanglement. Now there was just one door left for me to walk through, the only one. The door my uncle had chosen. If I could not have my love, what did it matter, so long as I saved my father?
But first I must somehow have a private talk with Courtney. I wanted no one else to dream of the threat that had been made against my father. But Courtney must know. If, in the end, I had to marry him, I would not do so without telling him all the truth save one thing—that I loved his brother.
It was something of a relief to choose a course of action. There was still the faint hope that if Courtney and I got together in this matter, we might between us find some means of making Uncle Robert change his mind.
With these thoughts to sustain me, I endured that endless drive and pretended that I did not see my mother’s flirtatious efforts. I knew it would do no good to reproach her, for she would have met any accusation on my part with wide-eyed innocence and astonishment. So I let the game go on and simply endured.
Two days later, when Uncle Robert spoke at breakfast of a visit he must make that afternoon to a bedridden client in the Garden District, I knew I would have my chance.
I waited until my uncle had been gone for a half hour and then slipped downstairs quietly and went to the office door. It stood open, but Courtney was not in sight. I ran up the steps and looked about the anteroom. His pen lay upon a paper on the desk and it had splattered ink that was not yet dry. He could not be far away. A sound reached me from the inner office that was my uncle’s and I stepped to the door and looked in.
The fragrance of my mother’s perfume warned me even before I saw them. They parted just as I stepped into the room. My mother’s eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. She had the look upon her of a woman who had just been rapturously kissed. Yet it was my mother who showed the most presence of mind. She smiled at me as if there were nothing unusual about this meeting, told Courtney a polite “Merci,” as if she had come down for no more than to borrow an envelope, and went unconcernedly past me and out of the office.
Courtney looked at me with dark, unhappy eyes and he, at least, made no attempt to dissemble.
“I’m sorry, Skye,” he said miserably. “I am truly sorry.”
Here was the opportunity I had wanted to talk to him. But now that I had it, I could not speak. Anger against my mother left me shaken and with no heart for a quiet talk with Courtney Law. I said nothing at all, but turned and followed my mother upstairs.
The time had come when I must open the dam I had held against the words I longed to say to her. Somehow she must be halted on this foolish course she was taking with Courtney. For one thing, I had to know if she fancied herself in love with him, if she had turned away from my father. Or was this a repetition of past behavior and no more than a game to her?
I found her in her room sorting through a heap of dresses she had flung across her bed. There too, tossed carelessly to the floor, was the fern-green hat, of which she had grown tired by now. Her lower lip was caught prettily between white teeth as she studied the garments with an air of concentration. I tapped at the open door and she bade me enter without troubling to look up.
“Natalie’s seamstress is to see what can be done to bring these things up to date, Skye. Which frock do you think becomes me best? When the saison des visites commences I must look presentable.”
Her audacity took my breath away. A moment ago she had been in Courtney’s arms. Yet now she spoke of her wardrobe as though the matter of how she dressed this fall was all she had to concern her. Did she think me blind, stupid? I was neither!
“Mama,” I said, “I want to talk to you, but not about dresses.”
She flicked my words aside with a wave of her fingers. “Not now, chérie, if you please. The woman is coming this afternoon. I must have these things ready for her.”
The impetus of my purpose carried me along. “We’ll talk now,” I said. “You must let Courtney alone!”
She look at me questioningly. “That poor boy! He is
sweet, but rather foolish, I’m afraid.”
As always she made judgment difficult with her air of innocence. But the time had come to be blunt and direct.
“You’ve made him fall in love with you,” I told her. “Or at least you’ve bewitched him into thinking he is in love with you. You’re injuring not only Courtney, but Papa too. Do you no longer love my father?”
Her eyes widened in astonishment and she looked convincingly shocked. “Chérie, what are you saying? What madness has overcome you?”
I was far more shaken by this interview than she.
“I’m not mad. I know very well what I’m saying. You were always ready to charm away the young men who came to see me. How can you have forgotten that day in the orchard when—when Tom—” I broke off because I knew my lips would tremble if I tried to go on.
She came to me sweetly and put her hands upon my arms, looking up at me from her diminutive height. “How you must have suffered believing such wicked thoughts. I was no more than an older woman with whom your Tom found comfort in talking. Your father was wrong to send him away. How foolish that you should think—”
I moved from the touch of her hands. “It’s you who must see the truth before it’s too late. You never rest until you have every young man at your feet. You took Tom away from me. Now you’re trying to charm Courtney. Do you think I don’t know that he was kissing you just now?”
All the color had drained from her face and she looked at me with displeasure. “I see. It is jealousy that moves you to say such things. This foolish notion of Robert’s that you and Courtney are to marry has apparently gone to your head. Please leave my room, Skye. I will not listen to these evil words.”
I blocked her doorway, but I did not step through it. “You might as well know that I have decided to marry Courtney. And I will not have you making love to him.”
She gasped softly and I knew that I had reached her.
“Have you stopped loving my father?” I repeated. “Have you forgotten how much he needs you?”
“Needs me!” She laughed in my face and the sound had a bitter, unhappy ring. “He needs me not at all. He will not talk to me, or listen to me. He no longer wants me in his room. And I am lonely, lonely, lonely! In this house where my brother hates me and my daughter is jealous of me, I have no friends. It is as it was when I was a child after my parents died.”
She covered her face with her hands. I heard her small, broken sobs, but I remained unmoved, waiting in silence. After a moment she looked at me, her cheeks flushed and tear-stained.
“Courtney has been no more than kind and sympathetic. He has given me a little brotherly affection and I am starved for affection. But the rest of what you say is false. What could I hope for with Courtney? I am a married woman and far older than he. I am tied and there is no escape possible. But I can have this little thing he gives me, this small affection to comfort me in my loneliness.”
A trembling had begun within me and I knew it grew from my helplessness to deal with her. My mother saw only what she chose to see, so how could she be made to accept the truth of her actions? She would not face that truth. The “little” affection she would take from Courtney could easily turn into a blaze that would ruin him and crush my father, but Louise Cameron would stand safe in her own cool innocence, untouched by the flames she had lighted, protected by the defenses she put up in her own mind. It was possible to deal with one who would look honestly at herself. But how could I deal with a woman who did not know the truth from the lie? And she had not answered my question as to whether she loved my father.
“This evening,” I said quietly, “I shall tell Uncle Robert that I am willing to marry Courtney.”
Then I bent and picked up the little green hat, took it away with me to my room. I would have that to keep, at least. One bright small memory of my love for Justin Law.
SEVENTEEN
Uncle Robert accepted my agreement to his wishes as calmly as though he had known all along that I must capitulate. He was very charming and kind to me that evening in his study, but I could not ever again feel toward him as I had in the beginning.
His mood was so excellent that he decided we must celebrate with a small dinner away from the house. At Antoine’s perhaps. Of course Creole ladies did not as a rule dine in public restaurants, but he would take a private room and secure us proper seclusion.
“Just ourselves, my dear, and Courtney’s family. It is a pity your father cannot join us. But we will invite Courtney’s mother, and perhaps even the brother.”
I looked at him, startled, but he was paying no attention to me. The ivory paper knife was in his long fingers and he studied the carving with concentrated interest.
“Yes—I believe we shall invite the brother to our little party. It will be most appropriate.”
“Please, Uncle Robert,” I said, “don’t ask Justin Law.”
“And why should I not invite him?” he asked, giving me a sharp, keen look.
I knew I had gone too far. Opposition was sure to strengthen my uncle’s determination. But I could imagine nothing worse than a supposedly gay engagement party, with Justin looking sardonically on and my heart breaking within me.
“You have said yourself that he is a criminal,” I pointed out. “Why should you wish the ladies in your family to associate with such a man?”
“Your association with him, I assure you,” said Uncle Robert, tapping the bit of ivory against a fingernail, “will be inconsequential. This is not altogether a personal matter. It is also a business matter. Until I am ready to settle with this fellow, it is best to remain on amiable terms.”
They had not been on amiable terms the other times I had seen them together. Indeed, I had sensed an almost sinister hostility between them. So it seemed all the more strange that my uncle should make this gesture now.
There was no use in arguing with him, however. My one hope was that Justin would refuse to come.
“If that’s all, may I go?” I asked my uncle in the dutiful manner he approved.
“One moment, Skye.” With a sudden gesture he reached out and took the silver warming cover from the grooved table, revealing the chessboard beneath. I saw that once more the ebony and ivory men had been set up for a game. But this time with a difference. The white king had been replaced on the board.
“I thought you played with only one king,” I said dryly.
If he heard the faint gibe in my voice, he did not show it. “That was before the boy knocked the chessmen from the board,” he said. “Perhaps he did me a favor. In reestablishing the game, I thought my gambit through again and this time my attack is far stronger than before. You say you know the game of chess? Tell me then what you see, ma petite.”
Reluctantly, I studied the board and found that the position of Black was very strong. The white queen stood helpless and of little use. The enemy advanced upon the white king and he would soon be in check. I could see no countermoves for White. In a few plays he would be done.
“Black should win in four moves,” I said, studying the board. “Unless White is a very clever player.”
“What do you mean?” Uncle Robert asked curtly. “There is no way out for him.”
“There’s no way out that I can see,” I agreed. “But one should never underestimate an opponent.”
Uncle Robert replaced the silver cover and that sharp bright look I had learned to know as a prelude to anger came into his eyes.
“What does it matter?” I said. “It’s only a game.”
He stared at me for a moment longer and then shrugged. “But of course,” he admitted, and the look of danger went out of his face. “I am more than pleased, Skye, at your wise decision to marry Courtney. I think you will never regret it.”
I rose to leave and he showed me to the door courteously. I went, enormously glad to escape from his presence.
I had begun to suspect why a king was back in the game. If the king who was dead was Harry Law, and the poor helpless little
white queen was Aurore, then the new king was Justin. But the thing I could not perceive was why he should indulge in this fanciful warfare.
Justin could probably take care of himself, but I did not like this secret plotting, this confidence with which my uncle behaved. It seemed to bode well for none of us, and least of all for Justin.
For several days I could not bring myself to tell my father that Courtney and I were to be married. Nor did Mama tell him. To a great extent she avoided Papa’s room these days and left most of his care to Delphine, who nursed him faithfully. When I finally gathered my courage, I took Courtney with me to meet my father, and we did our best to present the outward appearance of a happily engaged couple.
My father took Courtney’s hand, looking up at the man beside his bed for a long, puzzled moment.
“I hope you will both be very happy,” he said gravely.
He was kind to Courtney and I hoped that he liked him. But I did not believe my father was really fooled. He looked at me with a question in his eyes and I knew he wondered about Justin, However, the next time I went to his room he seemed sunk in apathy again and I did not talk about Courtney or my marriage at all.
I dreaded the coming dinner party and still hoped that Justin would refuse the invitation. Once I asked Courtney if his brother planned to attend, but he had no answer for me.
“I have no knowledge of what that one plans. He has been invited, but he says nothing. These days he is involved in buying boats to carry cargoes on the river. Nothing else seems of importance to him.”
“He knows the occasion for the dinner?” I asked.
“I have not told him,” Courtney said. “I see him as little as possible. There is no friendship between us.”
I had to leave it at that. After all, what difference did it make whether Justin had heard of our engagement or not? It was not a public matter as yet and I fancied it would make no difference to him, one way or another.
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