Savage Surrender

by Natasha Peters

  I fingered the velvet curtains at the window. "I'm not sure yet. I have some money. I shall probably buy a little house in town with some of it, and speculate with the rest. Sugar or cotton—something. Jean would be happy to advise me, I'm sure. And when I am very, very rich I shall return to France. 'Oh, Elise,' everyone will say, 'how well you look. You have prospered!' And I shall live in grand style in Paris and entertain only the most important people, like the Emperor and his brothers and advisers, and generals in the army."

  "They'll all think you made your money from whoring, instead of from wise investing," Garth warned, laughing.

  "Let them," I said tartly. "I don't care what they think. And for lovers I shall choose only young men," I said pointedly, "and I shall be very heartless and discard them when I am tired of them." A light breeze was blowing from the river. I could smell the scent of coffee and roses and the intoxicating fragrance of sweet olive blossoms.

  Garth laughed. "Touché! I wouldn't have told you my true age if I'd known you would be put off by it."

  I thought a minute. "It's not your age, Garth. It's your—your coldness. For some reason it wouldn't matter so much if you had a wife if I thought you loved her. That sounds strange, I'm sure. But if you could love anyone, then I might believe that you could even come to care for me in time. If you cared for me," I said softly, more to myself than to him, "I could forgive you anything. But as it is, nothing has changed between us. You are still callous and cruel, and you still take pleasure in hurting me. You haven't learned that a woman has more to offer than a pair of breasts and soft lips and—and a warm place between her legs."

  "Then you still hate me?" Mocking laughter lurked just under his words.

  "Yes," I said fervently. "With all my heart."

  He came over to me and put his arms around me. "Poor Elise. You're homesick for Grand Terre, you're angry with me because I didn't tell you I had a wife, and on top of everything else you've come down with a bad case of l' amour tristesse. Come back to bed—"

  I looked into his eyes. "It's easy enough for you to get me into your bed, Garth, but you would never be able to keep me there for very long. With all your stamina and your skill and your steed-like strength, you're no bigger inside than—than that thing you flaunt like some kind of trophy. You're dead inside. Dead, cold, and hollow, and you'll go to your grave never knowing what it was like truly to love a woman. I am sorry for you. Thank God I knew Lafitte. He was kind and selfless, and he knew how to love. If I thought that all men were like you and Josiah Fowler I would kill myself right now."

  "I wouldn't blame you one bit," he said, kissing me gently.

  "You just don't understand what I've been saying, do you?" I said despairingly.

  "Of course I do. You want me to ask you to be my mistress. Very well then, I'm asking. Shall we be lovers, you and I, dear Elise? Shall I call on you every day and sweep you into bed—like this—and make fierce, passionate love to you—like this?"

  "No, Garth," I whispered, "you can't afford me. The only thing I want from you, you don't have to give."

  "Too bad," he said lightly. "It could have been— rather amusing."

  We ate breakfast together the next morning in the sitting room.

  "What are your plans for the day?" he asked. He sounded bemused and indulgent, like a father asking his child at a fair what he would like to do next.

  I sipped my coffee. "First, I shall look for a house. And then I think I shall go to the Commodities Exchange and buy sugar. Lots of it."

  "Really? Sugar is rather high now. Perhaps you should wait." He helped himself to a brioche and coffee.

  "It will go higher," I said confidently. "The weather has been too dry for us to expect any kind of decent cane crop this year, and with the embargo on West Indian sugar, supplies will be short this winter, I think. Lafitte has a warehouse full, of course, but he won't sell if I ask him not to. By the time spring comes I shall have doubled my money."

  "When did you figure all that out?" he asked, amazed.

  "Last night, while you were making love to me," I said cruelly. "It wasn't hard. Lafitte was rather a pirate on land, too, and I learned a lot about business from him. That much you may give him credit for. More coffee?"

  Garth shook his head. "Most remarkable. Will you permit me to accompany you today, Elise? I think I might learn something."

  I shrugged. "Do as you please. But perhaps you don't want to be seen with me, Garth. It might damage your reputation."

  "Oh, Lydia Arceneaux has already seen to that, I expect. Besides," he grinned impudently, "these scandalous romantic escapades only serve to enhance my reputation rather than to damage it. I'll meet you back here at eleven. You know, Elise, it has just occurred to me that there's a house you might like on Rue St. Charles. I believe the owners perished in a boating accident and that there are no heirs."

  I looked at him suspiciously. "What are you trying to do, Garth?"

  He looked genuinely hurt. "Nothing, my dear. It was merely a thought. You don't even have to look at it if you don't want to. God knows, I don't want to interfere with your plans."

  I was somewhat mollified. "All right, I'll look at it," I said. "Thank you for remembering it."

  "Not at all." He tossed down his napkin and stood up. "Until eleven, then?"

  The house was perfect. Two stories high, set far back from the muddy avenue with shaded gardens and a wide veranda. And it was completely and tastefully furnished with everything I could possibly need. I fell in love with it at once.

  "It's simply charming," I said to Monsieur Perrault, the estate agent for the deceased owners. "How much are you asking?"

  "Well, Madame, you understand we need to settle the estate as quickly as possible. There are so many legal complications after an unfortunate happening like this that it is best if we can liquidate everything as soon as possible."

  "Yes, yes," I said impatiently, "but how much are you asking?"

  Perrault lifted his shoulders. "The market is very bad this time of year, Madame. And the house is completely furnished; of course, you don't have to take the furnishings, but if you do," he paused to pull down his waistcoat. I could hardly contain myself. "The price for everything is two thousand dollars."

  "Two thousand!" I exclaimed. "But Monsieur Perrault, that is very reasonable indeed. I shall take it. House, furnishings, everything."

  He bowed. "Excellent, Madame."

  "I shall see my lawyers this very afternoon. Good day, Monsieur." Garth and I walked back to our carriage. "Oh, Garth," I said excitedly, "it's exactly what I wanted. Small, but lovely, and convenient, and—oh, thank you so much for telling me about it. How fortunate, how delightful! I can hardly wait to move in!"

  "It was a bargain," Garth admitted, "although you could probably have persuaded him to take less. He seemed very eager to sell."

  "No," I said firmly, "I am quite satisfied with my purchase. It's truly charming," I raved as we rode to the lawyer's office. "And comfortable. The woman had taste, you can tell. This must be my lucky day. Jean would be pleased, I know he would."

  "Will you invite him to visit?" Garth asked.

  "Of course! I shall have parties and soirees, and perhaps I shall become renowned throughout Louisiana for my wit and hospitality. I shall have a salon, I think, and all the great minds in the country will call on me and admire me. Artists shall paint my portrait, musicians will write songs to me, and poets will do whatever it is poets do—oh, yes, they'll compose sonnets and ballads."

  "And you'll have lots of lovers," Garth said slyly.

  "Lots? Yes, indeed," I laughed, "but only one at a time! And servants. What shall I do about servants? A couple will do. I wonder if Savannah would like to come with me? I must buy her, do you think? I certainly won't own slaves. I shall buy her and set her free. We French must set an example for you crude barbarians. I wonder how much one ought to pay a maid and a butler these days? Running a house can't be that costly, can it? Jean has promised me a shar
e of some goods that he has not yet sold. I'm sure I can manage until the spring. I must."

  I chattered on happily while Garth sat silently at my side, wearing that bemused expression on his face. He came with me to the lawyer's office and made several valuable suggestions about the best way to transfer funds and how best to expedite the purchase of the house. I was grateful for his presence, for there were times when I felt that the whole business was beyond my comprehension. Afterwards we had lunch at an elegant little tearoom not far from the St. Louis Cathedral.

  He ordered champagne to celebrate. "Tell me," he said, "will you invite me to your house once you are settled?"

  I swallowed some champagne. "I shall certainly invite you to my first big party, Garth, but after that—I'm afraid it won't be possible for me to receive you. You—you understand, don't you?"

  "Certainly, knowing the way you feel about me. It's a great pity, though. You'll never find a man who understands you as I do."

  I bridled. "What arrogance! You think you understand me, do you?"

  "Where it counts, Elise. In bed."

  I dropped my fork with a clatter. The other diners looked around. "How dare you say such a thing to me! I—I appreciate the help you've given me today. Garth, but for you to assume such a grossly possessive manner—"

  "I am merely amused by the vision you have of yourself as patroness of the arts, Elise," he said. "That sort of thing is all right for flat-chested, horse-faced women like De Staël who have been endowed with more brains than they need to compensate for their lack of beauty, but we both know where your talents lie."

  "I am furious with you," I said under my breath. "I'm glad you decided to pick a fight because it will make bidding you good riddance that much easier. Thank you, I can pay for my own lunch." I dug into my purse. "I don't want to owe you anything, Monsieur."

  We rose to go. "Don't be an idiot, Elise," he said. "Next you'll insist that I present you with the hotel bill after you move out of the Marengo."

  "Perhaps I'll do that," I said coldly.

  "Don't let it get around that you're distributing your favors for nothing," he said, "or you'll have to beat the swains away from your door with a stick. Tell me, if one of them offered you a diamond necklace, would you take it?"

  "I would accept it gladly," I told him, "but I won't take anything from you. Not that you would ever consider giving me anything: obviously you consider your body the most precious gift a woman can receive from you. But I don't want to feel that I am in your debt, Garth. I don't want to give you that—that advantage."

  He bowed me into the carriage and told the driver to take us to the Commodities Exchange. "I won't argue with you, Elise. A woman who doesn't ask for things is as rare as snow in these parts. Now let us see if you can conquer the world of commerce."

  I was the only woman on the floor of the Exchange. Trading actually stopped for a few minutes as all the men turned their heads to stare at me. Amused, I stared back boldly and unselfconsciously. I caught sight of Lafitte's agent, Pierre Montague. He saw my wave and came over.

  "Monsieur Montague, I want you to help me corner the market."

  The man laughed. "We would all like to do that, Mademoiselle! My guess is the only person who has even a remote chance of succeeding is Lafitte. The embargo hasn't affected him one bit. His warehouses are bulging while half the stores in New Orleans are short of goods. This war is going to make him rich."

  "If you are going to accuse Jean of profiteering," I said, "then you must accuse me of the same. This war is going to make me rich, too. Is today a good day to buy?"

  Montague smiled at Garth over my head. "Any day is a good day to buy, Mademoiselle Lesconflair, if you have the money."

  "Good. Then I want you to act as my agent." I explained my plan. "I shall write to Jean at once, telling him everything. Your share of this venture will make you rich, too, Monsieur Montague. Au revoir."

  "Are you sure Lafitte will cooperate?" Garth asked when Montague had moved away. "If his warehouses are bulging, he might be rather anxious to sell, just to open up space."

  "He will do better if he hangs on to his goods," I said wisely. "Suppose the British decide to blockade the river? No, the situation will not improve in the very near future, and I shall tell him so."

  Garth looked impressed. "You terrify me, Elise," he said solemnly. "I should make you my business manager if I don't want to be a pauper."

  "Garth, how are you!"

  A young man of about twenty-five had called out the greeting as he approached us. He was tall and slender, elegantly dressed in a dark gray coat, pearl-colored trousers that fit to perfection, and a black silk waistcoat. His hair was dark brown with gold highlights, and he had fine black eyes that glowed warmly when he looked at me.

  "Hello, Jacques. Elise, may I present Jacques Fournier? Jacques, Mademoiselle Lesconflair."

  Jacques bowed low over my hand. "You won't remember me, Mademoiselle," he said with a rueful smile, "but I competed for your hand at Madame Arceneaux's ball last spring."

  I did not remember him, but I said, "I thought I recognized you, Monsieur Fournier." His face lit up and I was glad I had told him that little lie.

  "Mademoiselle is moving to town, Jacques," Garth said conversationally.

  "I am glad to hear it! We New Orleanians have long been envious of Jean Lafitte for monopolizing your company, Mademoiselle," Fournier said gallantly. We chatted amiably for a few minutes. At length he said, "Perhaps I may be permitted to call upon you—"

  "I would be delighted to receive you, Monsieur."

  When we were alone in our carriage Garth said, "You'll have half the young pups in New Orleans camped on your doorstep, Elise. You won't be able to leave or enter your house without trampling them."

  "I thought he was charming," I said. "His manners were exquisite."

  "Huh. Manners are something beardless boys affect when they have no—"

  "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Garth," I said sharply, "must you be so damnably smug all the time? Anyone who heard you would think you were the only man in Louisiana who knew what to do with a woman, and that the rest were just ignorant babies."

  "That's true enough," he confessed modestly.

  "I suppose you have sired at least a hundred children by now?"

  "Oh, twice that many, but sadly they are all illegitimate," he said cheerfully. "Georgette doesn't care for children."

  "And you don't care for Georgette."

  "Very astute of you, Elise. You're right, I don't care for Georgette—as a bed partner. At other times she is a very lively companion."

  I was surprised at the stab of jealousy I felt. "So are most women, given half a chance," I remarked.

  "Certainly, if you like hearing about their aches and pains, their children's bathroom habits, their servant problems, or how difficult it is to find a decent milliner. Don't laugh, Elise. You have spent the past few years in the company of ruffians and vagabonds, and you have forgotten how really dull women can be. Now I prefer a woman who can converse intelligently about serious matters, like real estate and commerce—"

  "You're making fun of me," I said, bristling.

  Unexpectedly, he reached over and squeezed my hand apologetically. "Yes, I was," he said simply. "I'm sorry, Elise." The carriage pulled up in front of the hotel. "I seem to have left my tobacco pouch in your rooms. Do you mind if I come up for a moment?"

  "Not at all." But when we got upstairs and I searched the two rooms for the tobacco I couldn't find anything. "Perhaps you left it at the lawyer's—"

  "No, here it is." He drew the pouch out of his inner pocket. "Careless of me."

  "If this is some kind of ruse," I began angrily.

  "A venerable old trick that never fails, Elise. You've probably used it yourself."

  "I haven't—"

  "I merely wanted to say my farewells privately, without a curious crowd of onlookers gaping over my shoulder."

  "Your—"

  "I can understand th
e resentment you harbor against me, Elise, and I want you to know I respect your feelings even though I don't approve of them. I'm not a boor, Elise, and I won't inflict myself on you if I am not wanted. I'm leaving for Baton Rouge tomorrow—there's an election coming up and I'm afraid I have rather neglected the voters lately. If you will allow me, I will avail myself of a single visit to you in your new home when I return."

  "Of course," I said weakly, confused by this sudden shift in his strategy.

  He cradled my hand in his and said, "You were right to fight me. I would only have upset your life and made you miserable. We're really no good for each other, I'm afraid." He kissed my hand and then my cheek. "Goodbye, my dear. I wish you all the luck in the world."

  And then he was gone. I gazed after him with a puzzled expression on my face. I felt cheated somehow, and vaguely disappointed. I had thwarted his plans for me, but I didn't feel at all triumphant. I sensed rather that he had won this skirmish after all, although I couldn't explain how, or why, or what he had won.

  Chapter 11

  The Demimondaine

  For the first time in my life I was truly independent. I had my own house, my own servants, my own income.

  "I'm glad you are happy, Elise." Jean Lafitte and I were having tea on the veranda one afternoon about a month after I had moved into the house on Rue St. Charles. "But tell me, where does our friend McClelland come into this?"

  "He doesn't, Jean, that's the whole point." I tried hard to sound nonchalant. "It wouldn't have worked out between us. Too many bad memories, too much resentment. He had no part in this at all—except that he helped me find the house. Isn't it lovely?"

  "Not half so lovely as its owner," Jean said warmly. "You have enough money, Elise?"

  "Oh, more than enough," I assured him. "But are you quite sure that my share of the profits from our last voyage was really that great?"

  "Do you doubt the accuracy of my bookkeeping?" he challenged me.

  "Yes, now that you no longer have me to watch over you," I said.

  "You are as insolent as ever, Elise." Jean bit into one of Savannah's frosted cakes and chewed thoughtfully. "I hear that Garth is seeing that little quadroon, Marie Duplessis. Poor fellow. His wife is very jealous, you know."