“Madame LeBlanc. How do you do?” His thick accent had always been heavier than Madame LeBlanc’s and more guttural. She had once said he had grown up rougher than most.
“Sir,” she said, carefully. “How are you this fine day?”
His gaze shifted to Diane, and his scowl sharpened, as if he resented seeing her in the fine dress and with her dark curls arranged around her face.
Diane drew closer to Madame LeBlanc, grateful that he was not staying in their cabin.
“I trust everything is well,” Madame LeBlanc said.
“It is.” He bowed slightly as he looked at Diane. “You look pretty. Quite grown-up.”
Madame LeBlanc stepped in front of Diane, blocking Pierre’s view of her. “Have a good day.”
“Of course,” Pierre said.
Madame LeBlanc hurried Diane down the hallway and the staircase leading to their deck in the middle. When she closed the door, she quickly locked it. “I shall have to have a talk with Pierre. He’s quite forward.”
“Can you really speak to the dead?” Diane asked.
“What?” She cast a glance toward the door and then looked at her. “Of course, child. It’s the gift the Lord above has given me.”
“Can you speak to my mama?” Diane asked.
Madame LeBlanc sat in front of her dressing table and studied Diane as she removed her pins from her hat. “Perhaps I could.”
Diane took the hat and set it on the bureau. “I need to talk to her.”
“Why is that?” She removed her rings and reached for a jar of lotion.
“I want to know if she loves me.”
Madame LeBlanc carefully worked the lotion into her long, elegant hands. She was silent for a moment and then turned, extending her hands to Diane.
The girl rushed to the porthole and closed the curtains and then returned to Madame LeBlanc and laid her hand over Madame LeBlanc’s. The woman drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Addie.”
“Addie is a lovely name.” She was silent for a moment and then began to hum.
As questions for her mother rushed around in Diane’s head, she waited for a knocking sound or a sign that she was there. But she heard only the silence and the sound of her heart beating in her chest.
All the questions for her mama that had been swirling like a funnel cloud for three years bubbled to the surface. Did she miss her? Where was she? Would Diane ever see home again? How were her sisters and brothers?
Madame LeBlanc took Diane’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Child, she loved you very much.”
Tears she’d not allowed since her mother’s death welled in Diane’s eyes. Her anger melted away as her mind, starved for affection, replayed Madame LeBlanc’s words over in her head.
Madame LeBlanc smiled and released her hand. Gently, she wiped the girl’s tears. “You were very lucky to have such a lovely mother.”
Diane sniffed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, child. Go and lie down. I want you to come with me to dinner tonight. There is another woman who wishes to speak with the departed. You put Mrs. Howard at ease, and I think you will do the same for this woman. With those violet eyes of yours, I think you will be my lucky charm.”
Diane nodded. “Could I have hot chocolate?”
“Yes, of course.”
The next week fell into a predictable pattern. Diane accompanied Madame LeBlanc to meetings in the private cabins, and she helped the lonely living speak to their dead. She always received payment either in coin or sometimes jewelry such as rings, pendants, or bracelets. Diane didn’t know what happened to the items, as Madame LeBlanc was careful to keep them well hidden.
Diane was always on the lookout for Pierre, but he never approached them in the hallway again. A couple of times she saw him across a crowded room, staring at her in a way that made her skin prickle and her belly tighten with fear.
Madame LeBlanc continued to teach French to Diane and almost never spoke to her again in English. The sounds soon rolled off the girl’s own lips as if they were her natural tongue, and there were nights when she dreamed in French. Claire and her family, even her old mama’s memory, faded as the ship gained more distance from the American shores.
CHAPTER NINE
Diane
Wednesday, September 23, 1903
Le Havre, France
When land was sighted, Diane welcomed the news. She had grown tired of the rocking ship and the late nights listening to Madame LeBlanc speak to the departed.
Last night, Madame LeBlanc had gone out alone and stayed out until dawn. When she returned, her right wrist was bruised, and she didn’t smile with her usual confidence. She was sharp with Diane and suddenly anxious to leave the ship.
When they departed down the gangplank, the docks were crowded with people dressed in drab clothes who had pale, grim faces. There was a man playing a trumpet, his hat at his feet filled with a few small coins. The smell of fried cakes and fish whirled as crowds jostled each other and pushed toward the street, where carriages waited.
On the street beyond the dock, the chaos did not ease up as carriages rumbled by little boys dressed in shabby clothes begging for coins. Girls not much older than Diane wore brightly colored dresses and hats with weather-beaten feathers. Their faces were painted, and none seemed to mind that their sleeves slipped off their shoulders as men approached.
“Is this where Mr. LeBlanc’s cousin lives?” Diane asked.
“No, he lives in the country.” Madame LeBlanc rubbed her bruised wrist, now covered with a white glove. “It’s a boring place, but I think a good one for us to stay at for a while. Pierre would never think to look for us there.”
“Why are you sending him away?”
“Because our cousin would never accept us if we had him.”
“Why?”
“Child, you ask too many questions.”
Diane tightened her hold on Madame LeBlanc’s skirt, hurrying to keep pace. When they reached the street corner, Madame LeBlanc paid a carriage driver to take them to the hotel in Le Havre where they were to wait for her cousin, Gilbert. Madame LeBlanc said he had pledged to escort them home to the Bernard château downriver in the Normandy region.
“If you don’t like the country, then why go there?” Diane said.
“Sometimes situations dictate our actions.”
“Why isn’t Cousin Gilbert here now?” Diane asked.
“It’s harvesttime in the orchards. He’s working in the fields. He shouldn’t be delayed more than a few days.”
The idea of being lost in this chaotic city alone terrified Diane. Until now, her world had been lived in small boxes.
“All will be well,” Madame LeBlanc said to Diane, though it sounded as if she were trying to buoy her own spirits. “It’s not the style to which I am accustomed, but it will have to do.”
When they were settled in a coach, Diane scooted closer to the window and peered out. She started when her gaze locked on Pierre’s. He stood on the street corner, staring at them. He was always sullen, but now he looked furious.
“Is he going to join us now?” Diane asked, unable to hide her fear.
“No, he has his own accommodations. As I said, I have told Pierre he must now take care of himself. We are done with him.”
Diane shrank back against the cushions, glad she would never see Pierre again. “He’ll not like that, I think.” It had been weeks since he had tripped or pushed her, but the memory of the pain lingered.
“That’s too bad for him,” Madame LeBlanc said.
Diane peeked past the velvet curtains covering the window, expecting to see him, but he had vanished as if the chaos and crowds had swallowed him up.
Diane remained overwhelmed by all the sights and smells of this foreign city as they rode through the streets. The houses were made of gray stone and topped with red tile. The doors were slim and narrow. Windows were often decorated with flower boxes filled with l
ate-season greenery. Churches sported tall spires and stained-glass windows that caught the surrounding light. Narrow streets were paved with cobblestones smoothed and rutted by the endless cart traffic.
Their carriage slowed and pulled under a set of stone arches adorned with monsterlike creatures that stared at Diane as if daring her to enter. The wagon’s wheels rumbled over cobblestones and jostled the pair in their seats before it came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. She felt as if history were yanking her back through the centuries.
She’d never seen a building so large and with such thick walls that seemed as ancient as the earth. The driver carried Madame LeBlanc’s trunks up into a first-floor hallway, where a man with narrowly set eyes and thinning black hair greeted them. He opened the door to their rooms and spoke so quickly Diane caught only a few words. Madame LeBlanc gave him and the driver a coin each.
A fire crackled in a tall hearth, light from the gaslit sconces flickered up toward roughly hewn beams crisscrossing a high ceiling, and a ragged red rug did what it could to warm the wide-planked floor. Two doors led off the main sitting area to sleeping chambers and a kitchen outfitted with a sink and a worn, narrow counter.
“Certainly not to our standards,” Madame LeBlanc said. “But we will manage until Cousin Gilbert can come to our aid.”
“When will he be here?” Diane asked.
Madame LeBlanc appeared nervous, as if she expected trouble. “Soon. In the meantime, let us go to the café for a brief repast.”
“Do you think Pierre will find us?” Diane asked.
The older woman shook her head. “No. He has been paid well, and he has known for weeks that we would have to go our separate ways.”
Madame LeBlanc turned from the room, locked the door behind them, and hurried down the stairs. Diane rushed to keep up with her through the building and along the cobblestone sidewalk. They settled in the bistro on the corner.
Madame LeBlanc relaxed back in her chair and ordered a pair of coffees and two macarons. Conversations mingled with the rattle of cups and the hiss of a kettle.
When their order arrived, Diane stared at the glistening cookies, her stomach grumbling. However, she waited with her hands in her lap as Madame LeBlanc had instructed. Finally, Madame LeBlanc nodded and told her she could have her coffee, but not the macaron. The cookies sat between them untouched.
“You must become accustomed to not eating,” Madame LeBlanc said. “I know it sounds harsh, but it is not seemly for a woman to eat too much, and when you reach my age, you will thank me.”
The woman sipped her coffee, chatting about Cousin Gilbert and his fine château nestled near the cliffs overlooking the ocean. She had never been to the house, but her dear late husband had often spoken of it as a prosperous and rich estate.
“I have told Cousin Gilbert about you,” Madame LeBlanc said. “He is anxious to meet you.”
Her coffee gone, Diane’s thoughts drifted back to the cookies. “Why?”
“Gilbert is a man who values family. It is why he helped his dear uncle, Mr. LeBlanc, from time to time. I have suggested that you are Gilbert’s family as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your eyes reminded Mr. LeBlanc of his first wife. He said many times you could have been their dearly departed daughter, Eva.”
Diane traced the edge of her saucer as her stomach grumbled. “I’m not her daughter.”
“But it might be kinder to let Cousin Gilbert believe that you are.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter? I want you to let me do all the talking, but if Gilbert is to ask you about your dear mama, say that you do not remember her.”
“But I do.”
Madame LeBlanc’s eyes hardened as her patience thinned. “If you want to eat, then you will have to be flexible with the truth.”
Madame LeBlanc dug several coins from her purse and put them on the white tablecloth beside the untouched cookies. The two rose, but Diane left her gloves behind on the table. “It is time we returned to the apartment,” Madame LeBlanc said. “I am tired.”
She beckoned Diane to follow. As Madame LeBlanc summoned a carriage, Diane said quickly, “My gloves. I left them on the table.”
Annoyance flickered. “Hurry. I’ll not buy you another pair.”
Diane hurried back to the table, and as she scooped up her gloves, she grabbed the two cookies and tucked them in her pocket.
Madame LeBlanc approached a carriage and haggled about the price with the driver, and when they could not come to an agreement, she took Diane by the hand, and the two strolled down the street. Several people openly stared at them, and one woman even reached out and tried to touch Diane’s coat sleeve.
“I do not like this place,” Diane said.
“Neither do I. That is why it is important that Gilbert believe you are his cousin—so that he gives us an allowance.”
Thunderclouds rumbled overhead, and when they reached their building, Diane saw Pierre step from the shadows. Diane gasped and drew closer to Madame LeBlanc as he strolled toward them. He had purchased a fine dark suit, a blue silk cravat that wrapped around his neck and then tucked into a fitted vest, and a top hat.
Pierre glanced at Diane, grinned at her surprise, just as he did after he tripped her. “It took a little tracking and a few coins to find you, Madame LeBlanc.”
“Pierre.” Madame LeBlanc’s expression tensed, but she squared her shoulders as she faced him. “I can see you’ve spent most of the coins I gave you.”
“About time I looked like a man destined for better things,” he said.
“If you are looking for more money, I have none.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That is not my concern.”
He shook his head, a hardness settling in his angled jaw. “I won’t have you toss me away to be replaced by a girl.”
“You knew our arrangement wasn’t forever,” Madame LeBlanc said.
The two began to speak so quickly to each other in French Diane struggled to keep up. Though some of the words escaped her, the tone grew harsher by the moment. Finally Madame LeBlanc pushed him away and told him to leave or she would summon the authorities.
Pierre speared Diane with his gaze. “I will not be tossed aside for you.”
As a uniformed officer approached, Pierre took a step back, turned, and vanished down a dark alley. Madame LeBlanc smiled toward the officer, took Diane by the hand, and together they hurried back to their room.
“Why is Pierre so angry?” Diane asked. “I thought he liked you.”
“He has grown into a greedy young man. He was well taken care of. I taught him many things, but now it’s time for him to get on with his life.”
“Is he going away?” Diane looked over her shoulder toward the alley where he’d vanished like a spider into a crack.
“Yes.”
“What if he returns?” Diane rubbed her arm, remembering the last fall down the stairs. If he came back into their lives, she was certain he would harm her again. “He looked so angry.”
Madame LeBlanc’s grip tightened on her hand, and she pulled Diane along. “Do not worry. I’ll always be able to handle Pierre.”
CHAPTER TEN
Megan
Monday, March 5, 2018
Cape Hudson, Virginia
6:30 p.m.
When Rick parked in front of Spring House, Megan noticed furniture had been moved onto the lawn and the dumpster filled with molded curtains, water-soaked magazines, and old towels. She checked her watch, realizing they’d been gone more than two hours.
“Looks like Natasha and Lucy got a lot done,” Rick said.
“God, I hope they didn’t throw out anything valuable,” she said.
“Don’t go rummaging in the dumpster, okay?” Rick asked.
Megan shrugged just as Natasha had earlier that day. “I just might.”
“Lucy’s under orders to call if you get carried away.”
“Fu
nny.”
“Not kidding. Do you have it from here?” Rick asked.
“I do. Thanks for the lift. And thanks for the tip on the table.”
As he turned, he paused. “What do you think the odds are that Mr. Crawford will call you before he leaves town?”
“Eighty percent,” she said.
“That’s downright cocky, Ms. Buchanan.”
“Not really. He’s packed and ready to take an extended trip. He strikes me as a man who has no patience for haggling.”
“I’d forgotten how well you could dig in your heels.”
She smiled, remembering how his eyes had flared when they had taken opposite sides of that long-ago political debate. He’d pushed, chided a little, but she’d stood toe to toe with him. “Well, I look forward to seeing what comes of it.”
Megan slid out of the truck feeling more energized than she had when they’d left to inspect the table. As Rick drove off, Megan spotted Lucy wearing a coconut-bikini top and grass skirt over her work clothes and doing the hula with a big grin. Natasha stood beside her, looking just a little mortified.
“Am I missing a party?” Megan asked, climbing the stairs. Dolly rose up from a blanket where she’d been chewing on a rawhide bone.
Lucy took an armload of debris straight to the dumpster. “Looks like Samuel had a leaky pipe or roof, probably both at some point. A corner of his office is soaked, and it’s all going to have to be tossed. But in the digging, we found a trunk full of costumes.”
“Explains the mildew smell.” Too much of history was lost to fire, flood, and neglect, so she supposed she should be grateful they were saving as much as they were. “Let me start grabbing trash.”
“It was super moldy,” Lucy said. “I dropped it all in the dumpster, and I’ve opened the windows.”
Megan walked to the dumpster and peered over the edge.
“I promise nothing valuable was tossed.” Lucy followed a few steps behind.
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