The Exiles

by Gilbert, Morris

  “She’ll be all right now that she’s with you.”

  Chantel suddenly reached out and touched Neville’s arm. “What would I have done without you?”

  Neville stood very still, and suddenly Chantel blushed and moved her hand. “How long do you think it will take us to get to New Orleans?”

  “Not long,” he said. He called to Veronique, lifted her up into the seat, then helped Chantel up. Climbing up into his own seat, he slapped the lines on the horses and got them to a sprightly trot. “Now, see if you can handle these, sweetheart.”

  The trip back to New Orleans had been trying, but Chantel didn’t mind. She spent the hours getting acquainted with Veronique. The youngster was very quiet at first, but as Chantel told her stories about her own life then about things the two of them would do together, she became more talkative. Neville was a help with this, for he was gifted with young people, and kept Veronique entertained with humorous stories from his own life.

  Finally they arrived at the town house, and as Neville helped Chantel down, he said, “I’m going to leave you here. I’ve got a lot of work to do. We’re going to have to make sure that things go well legally.”

  “Will you come back and tell me as soon as you find out?”

  “Yes, of course.” Turning, he stooped down to say to Veronique, “Don’t forget me now. When I come back, we can go downtown and see some of the sights. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Good. You take care of your sister now. She’s a big girl, but she’s apt to get into trouble.” He was rewarded by a slight smile on Veronique’s face.

  When he had left, Chantel said, “Come inside. I want you to meet my stepmother and our brother.”

  “A real brother?”

  “Well, he’s what you call a half-brother. His father is our father, but his mother is different. Come along.”

  They entered the house, and as soon as the servant shut the door, Collette came to stand before them. “Chantel,” she said, “where have you been?”

  “I have a lot of things to tell you, Mama, but first I want you to meet Veronique. Veronique, this is Madame Fontaine.” She had not known exactly how to introduce her. The idea of introducing a third mother would confuse the child even more. Now she saw the shock run across Collette’s face and felt Veronique stiffen beside her.

  “Come inside. Will you want a special room for the child?”

  “Oh, no, we can share my room.”

  Collette said, “Well, you take her there, then come back and we’ll talk.”

  “Yes, that would be best.”

  Collette watched as the two went up, and her lips grew together in a tight line. She shook her head and murmured, “What foolishness!” then turned and walked rapidly away.

  “I don’t think that lady likes me, Chantel,” Veronique said when the two were inside the room.

  Chantel had seen the same dislike, but she said, “Of course she does. Now, don’t you worry about anything. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go down and see her for a few moments, and when I come back, you and I will go out and see some of New Orleans. Maybe we’ll go by Neville’s office and see him there, and we can all go out and eat somewhere. Would you like that?”

  “Yes. But will you be gone long?”

  Chantel sensed her fear. “You just look out the window there. And I have some books you might like to look through.”

  “Can’t read, me.”

  “Well, you can look at the pictures then.” She gave Veronique several books with pictures in them and went downstairs, where she found Collette in the study.

  Collette was abrupt. “You should not have brought that child here. She’s a stranger.”

  Chantel instinctively knew that the situation was hopeless, so she did not waste time arguing. She simply said, “She’s my sister, Collette.”

  The use of her first name was not lost on her stepmother. Collette drew herself up but said nothing.

  “We’ll be leaving tomorrow to go to the plantation,” Chantel said, “so she won’t be in your way. Now, I must go. I don’t like to leave her alone.”

  She turned and went back with a heavy heart. She had hoped for better things from Collette, but it didn’t really matter. A fierce sense of possession came over her. She’s my sister. I don’t care what Collette says. And I’ll protect her.

  She did not want to leave the girl in the house, so they went out at once. They did go by Neville’s office, but he was not there. They spent the afternoon shopping and stayed out late enough so that they would not have to encounter Collette.

  They had just gotten home when Neville suddenly appeared, asking for her. Veronique was already in bed looking at picture books, so Chantel drew him into the library.

  “How is Veronique?” he asked quickly.

  “Oh, she’s frightened at all the changes. But she’s young and very quick.” Chantel smiled warmly. “I can teach her, Neville. She’s going to be fine.”

  Neville nodded, but then his face grew serious.

  Neville was relieved to hear that Veronique was adjusting so well and felt it was the Lord’s doing. He then paused and said, “I’ve got something to tell you. It may change things.”

  “Oh, Neville, don’t tell me we’re going to have trouble getting her.”

  “No, we won’t have that trouble,” he said grimly. He shook his head and said, “Simon Tubberville was killed resisting arrest.”

  “Oh, how awful!”

  “He wouldn’t have it any other way. I got a telegram from Sheriff Prewitt. He talked to the man’s wife, and there’ll be no challenge over Veronique.”

  “Whatever will I tell her?”

  “I think eventually you should tell her the truth, but maybe not yet. She’s had too many shocks.”

  “I’m not sure. She worries about her father coming after her.”

  “Well, then perhaps you had better tell her.”

  “Yes, but I will wait to do it when we are at the plantation.”

  Neville looked at her questioningly.

  “I won’t be staying in this house. Collette was not happy when I brought her home.”

  “She wouldn’t be. Your father left his estate to be divided among his ‘lawful lineal descendants,’ so Veronique will get one-third of the amount. She doesn’t like to see Perrin’s assets reduced from a half to a third.”

  “I didn’t think she would be that small.” Chantel shook her head sadly. “He could have my share.”

  “No. Your father left it as he wanted. When will you be leaving?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I’ll stay here and get all the legal matters straight.”

  As he rose to leave, Chantel called his name. “Neville—”

  When he turned, she came to him and put her hand out. “I seem to be thanking you a lot, but this would have been impossible without you.”

  “I’m glad we found her,” Neville said simply. He held her hand in his, and for one moment something came into his eyes. Chantel was not experienced with men, but she knew that he wanted to kiss her. She did not move—then suddenly he nodded and left. A strange sense of disappointment came to her.

  Chapter thirty

  Marie Bientot set the heavy pot on the stove, took the lid off, and examined the contents critically. “I hope this gumbo will be as good as it was last time.”

  Clarice, who was chopping up vegetables, looked up and said, “Why would it not be good? I always make good gumbo.”

  “Yes, you do.” Marie came over and sat down beside Clarice. “Where has the child gone today?”

  “She is out riding with Miss Chantel.” Clarice finished slicing the carrots into thin coins, wiped the knife on her apron, and smiled. “That child, she has brought a new life to this place.”

  “Yes. It is amazing how she has changed in a little less than a month. When she first came, I thought she was the saddest looking girl I ever saw.”

  Marie shook her head, but smiled. “She a
te like a little savage, remember?”

  “Yes, but she’s learned very quickly.”

  “Yes, and she should have! Miss Chantel has spent almost every moment with her. The hours those two have spent shopping!” Marie smiled at the thought, then added, “The child has good taste in clothes.”

  “She’s learning to read so quickly. Have you noticed how often she laughs now? She didn’t smile for a long time when she first came.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be sad? Being yanked up from the only home she knew.”

  “It wasn’t much of a home, from what I hear. Does she ever speak of it to you?”

  “Never. And Miss Chantel says she only mentions the woman she called her mother. She had Miss Chantel write her a letter, but there is no answer yet.”

  Marie picked up a carrot slice and ate it. “It is amazing how much she looks like her own mother. She will be just like her when she is grown.”

  “It is a wonderful thing for the child that she was found.”

  “It’s a wonderful thing for both of them. You know, Chantel never really believed that child was dead. I think the good God must have put it in her heart to have faith that she would be found.”

  Chantel was riding Bravo, and she had assigned Lady, her first horse, to Veronique. Lady was getting somewhat old and Chantel’s weight was too much for her, but Chantel loved the horse still. When she gave the horse to Veronique, she said, “Papa gave the horse to me, and now he gives her to you because I give her to you.”

  The girl knew little about riding, but she fell in love with the horse, and the two sisters rode over the plantation daily. One afternoon they traveled down the road that led to New Orleans. They came to a river spanned by a bridge, and Chantel pulled up Bravo abruptly. He snorted and threw himself sideways, insulted at her rough treatment.

  “What’s wrong, Chantel?” Veronique said. “Don’t we want to cross the bridge?”

  “I—I don’t really like to cross it.”

  Veronique touched Lady, and the mare moved forward obediently so that she was even with the big stallion.

  For a moment Chantel hesitated, and then she said, “This is where our mother died, Veronique. I was on the other side, and she was crossing the bridge holding you in her arms. I saw the bridge break, and the carriage went into the river, and you were carried away in the flood. Ever since that day I’ve hated to cross this bridge.”

  Veronique stared at the river, which was now placid and slow moving. She reached out suddenly and took Chantel’s arm. “But we’re together now, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, we are, my sister.” Chantel made herself smile. And truly, the river did not seem so ominous and formidable. She had dreamed about it many times, but now somehow she felt that time was over. “Come, we’d better go home.”

  They rode homeward in silence until Veronique asked, “Doesn’t Mr. Neville ever come to see you?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “But he hasn’t been here since I came but one time, and then he didn’t stay long. All he did was let you sign some papers, and then he went away.”

  “I think he’s been very busy.”

  “I like him a lot. I wish he’d come back.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  Veronique was not the only one who had noticed Neville’s absence. It had been a month and, as her sister said, he had come only the one time. And even then he had behaved strangely. Chantel had been so happy to see him, but he had smiled only briefly and refused to stay the night.

  “I wish he’d come back. We could go riding in the buggy, and he could let me drive again.”

  Chantel said abruptly, “There is a ball at the Taylors’ next week. We’re invited.”

  “Me too?”

  “Yes, of course you, too! I’ll write Neville and ask him to take us.”

  “But can’t dance, me!”

  “You will by the time the ball comes. I’ll teach you. We’ll get new dresses, and we’ll be the prettiest girls at the whole ball.”

  “And Neville. Do you think he’ll come?”

  “I hope so. I’ll write him today.”

  As they made their way homeward, Chantel thought, not for the first time, of how much she missed him. And with a start she realized she had thought only briefly of Yves. He came into my life like a whirlwind, and I was carried away with him. He was not the man for me. I see that now.

  “Does Mr. Neville have a sweetheart?”

  “Why—I don’t know.” The idea of Neville having a sweetheart was very disturbing. Chantel had taken him for granted, but now the question that Veronique had so innocently asked would not leave her. As soon as she got home, she wrote the note and had Brutus take it to be posted. Then she found Veronique and said, “Come along. We’re going to teach you to dance.”

  Veronique had been staring out the window, waiting for Neville to arrive. She finally turned to Chantel and asked, “Are you sure he’s going to come?”

  “Yes, I’ve told you three times already. He said he’d be here.”

  “But it’s late, and I thought he would come early for us.”

  Chantel had received only a brief note from Neville saying that he would be glad to take them to the ball, and he had signed it: Sincerely, Neville. The note was strangely unsatisfying, but there was nothing for it but to go on.

  The sisters had bought new dresses, and Elise fussed over them and helped them fix their hair. The dresses were made from light green silk. Chantel’s was sleeveless with a dropped neckline, tight bodice, and a long, flowing skirt with two rows of white lace at the bottom. Veronique’s had a high neckline, a tight bodice decorated with tiny white bows down the front, three-quarter length sleeves ending with white lace at the elbows, and a long, full skirt with a large white bow trailing down the back.

  “You look beautiful, Veronique,” Chantel said.

  “It’s the prettiest dress I ever saw!” Veronique did indeed look pretty. She had gained some weight, and the dress had been carefully tailored for her. Now her violet eyes were beaming with excitement. “I wish Neville would come.”

  Five minutes later Marie opened the door. “Mr. Neville is here. Oh, you two look lovely!”

  “Thank you, Marie. Let’s go, Veronique.”

  Neville was wearing evening dress and looked very distinguished. He came forward at once and took Veronique’s hands. “My word! I have never seen such a lovely young lady.”

  “Do you like my new dress?”

  “Very much. As a matter of fact, I claim the first dance with you. And maybe all the rest of them.”

  Chantel waited for him to turn to her, and when he stood, he smiled briefly and said, “You look very nice, Chantel.”

  Chantel felt again a vague sense of disappointment. “Thank you,” she said rather stiffly. “I’m glad you could come.”

  Neville hesitated, then gave a half bow. “I expect we’d better be going.”

  Chantel accompanied him to the carriage. He lifted Veronique in and then gave her his hand. Chantel gave it an extra pressure, but he simply released her and went to take his own seat. Chantel could not understand his attitude. He had been so excited when they had found Veronique, and now it was as if he were a stranger. She bit her lip and wished that she had not thought of asking him to come for the ball.

  The Taylors’ ballroom was not as large as some, but there were at least twenty couples there. There was also a group of young people somewhere close to Veronique’s age, and she was overcome with shyness when she was introduced to them.

  The room itself was beautifully decorated, and five musicians began at once to play the music for the first dance. Neville came and said, “I believe this is our dance, Miss Fontaine.”

  Veronique giggled and said, “I’m not very good.”

  “Well, I’m an excellent dancer. I’ll teach you what you don’t know.”

  Chantel watched as the two went around the floor. Veronique concentrated on her steps, but soon Neville said something that made
her giggle. He’s so good with her, Chantel thought. He can make her smile so easily.

  At that moment she was asked to dance, and for the rest of the evening she had many partners. But to her anguish, Neville danced several times with Veronique but did not come to her.

  At one point she managed to encounter him at the refreshment table.

  “Veronique seems very happy, Chantel. Does she ever talk about her old life?”

  “Not much anymore. Once, after she had been here about a week, she talked for a long time about it. It almost broke my heart.”

  “Well, she’s a beautiful child. She’s going to be a beautiful woman.”

  The conversation floundered. Neville was watching Veronique, and Chantel felt awkward and ill at ease. Finally she cleared her throat and said, “Neville, you haven’t been to visit us lately.”

  Neville gave her a strange look. “I’ve—been rather busy.”

  At that instant a thought that had been dancing around Chantel’s mind since Veronique suggested it found expression as clearly as if it were carved in bronze. He’s found a sweetheart! She looked away blindly, not seeing the dancers. He could at least tell me if he’s found someone he likes.

  At that moment young Donald Mayfield came and pulled her out to the dance floor. She danced with him and others, but was dully aware that Neville was not even watching her.

  The dance ended fairly early, and on the way home Veronique talked more than she ever had. “It was such fun! I hope there’s another ball soon. You’ll come back if there is, won’t you, Neville?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so, Veronique. You’re a fine dancer, but you don’t want to be dancing with an old man like me.”

  Chantel had expected that Neville would stay all night with them, and when they returned home, the servants were waiting. She said, “We might have a little snack. You have something, don’t you, Marie?”

  “Oh, yes, there is plenty.”

  “I’m not really very hungry,” Neville said. “And I’m a little tired. I think I’ll turn in. Would you excuse me?”

  “Certainly. Good night,” Chantel said stiffly. “Are you hungry, Veronique?”

  “Yes, I could eat anything.”