by L. C. Son
“Why, of course, Chartreuse. We are sisters. That is what one does for her sister. Besides no one deserves it more than you.”
“While that may be—and believe me when I say I appreciate it—this must stop.” The words choke out of my mouth and I almost hate to utter such things. But I have no choice.
“What are you talking about, sister?”
“I am talking about Claudius DeVeaux, sister!” My tone is more brash than I intended, but as Chalmette jolts back in her seat, I know I’ve hit my point dead on.
“Claudius? What does any of this have to do with him? Why are you bringing him up?” Chalmette lashes back, her eyes pooling with tears.
“I do so, sister because you never did. Why did I never learn of your affection for him? Or him for you? Why did I see you in such a disconsolate state after Monroe denied his proposal?”
Quickly rising from her seat with enough force to push the seat back to the wall, Chalmette’s face grows stark red and her eyes singe with fury. Her breathing heaves as she opens her mouth to speak. “Why? You dare ask, why! Now? Oh, sister, you have some nerve!”
“Yes, my nerve is diffident sister! That I know! Now tell me! Do you care for Claudius?”
“What does it matter? And what care you if I should have affection for him?”
“I care because you are my sister, Chalmette. Whatever is important to you is equally—if not more, important to me.”
At my words, Chalmette’s posture softens as she stares at me and a stream of tears trail her perfectly round face. “It doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, clasping her own wrists and looking up at the ceiling trying to force away her tears.
“It matters to me,” I whisper back, turning her chin to meet my face.
“Yes, I do—or I did care for him, sister,” she cries.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because telling you meant you stirring another fight for me with Monroe and Mother. I knew had I told you, there would be no stopping you in getting me from under the house rules of Monroe. You would sacrifice yourself for me—once again. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Is that what you think I would’ve done?”
“It is what you would do, Chartreuse. It is what you did when Monroe tried to take me.”
She is right. Had I known, I would have worked to get her to Claudius sooner.
“When DeLuca heard what Monroe tried to do, he convinced Claudius to make an appeal. Of course, I never thought it would work. But for a moment, I had hope—then it was ripped away from me yet again.”
“So DeLuca knew?”
Exhaling, Chalmette plops back down into her seat and blows out enough air to send her curls flying away from her face. “It wasn’t on purpose, sister. He caught us together—not in that kind of way—but he saw Claudius bring me a flower. I asked him not to tell you. Please do not be upset with DeLuca. It was all me.”
Drawing my face into a hard line, I force a smile knowing that if anyone other than me was looking after my sister’s interests, I am thankful it was DeLuca. Although, I do feel slightly cast off, I understand her concern.
“Well, I suppose you were right about one thing. Yes, I will never stop fighting for you, my dear sister. Never forget that,” I answer.
Chalmette smiles wide and wipes the remaining tears from her face. “That is good to know,” she laughs.
“And now, dear sister, I must ask you this. How do you feel about Claudius?”
“I don’t see what difference it matters now, sister. Surely, Monroe has brought my name to ruin. There is no way Corbin will allow his son to be with me.”
“What if there is a way, sister? What if all were not lost? Would you want to be his wife?”
Chalmette frowns as she searches my face once more. I can’t tell whether she’s upset with me or if she thinks I’m teetering her emotions.
“Well, sister?” I question Chalmette again.
“Of course, I suppose but I don’t see what difference—”
“Lord Marchand said he would see it done if it be your choice, that is,” I force my reply before she has a chance to protest further.
“Why would he do that for me? What about you? Please don’t tell me you’ll return to Mother and Monroe. Or worse—do you fancy Lord Marchand?”
“Heavens no!” I shout back.
“Not that I would blame you, sister. He is quite fetching. But I am certain partnering with a negro, no matter his wealth or status would be quite difficult if—”
“There is no if, sister. Yes, Lord Marchand is indeed a catch. But he doesn’t think of me that way. Actually, he wants me to—um work for him.”
“Work for him? Doing what, might I ask?”
“Certainly, nothing in my former employ. Actually, he would like me to serve as an apprentice to aid in his art collections. Being a man of color, he figures it’s far better to let me be the face of some of his dealings and work with his clients. That is, of course until people stop their plantation privilege.”
It’s a lie. But it is the best story I can come up with that she would understand. I doubt she is ready to hear the truth, nor can I bear to tell it.
“That sounds promising, sister!” Chalmette responds, her face full of hope.
“It involves a great deal of travel, so that’s why I wanted to know where your desires lie. Whether it be schooling, marriage or both. I wanted to know what you would like to do. No pressure either way.”
“Well, I don’t understand how Lord Marchand can see to it that Corbin allows his son to see me.”
“He knows him well. He has also agreed to tell him the truth. That you were not ruined, and your virtue is still intact. Lord Marchand can be very persuasive.”
“Ah, I see,” Chalmette says, exhaling hard once again as she runs her hands down the seam of her dress.
“Again, sister, there is no pressure from me. If this is not what you want—”
“But it is!” She immediately counters, her wide smile filling her face. “It’s just I never thought this day would come to pass. Ever since I saw Victoria married, there was nothing I longed for more. I’ve only ever wanted to be married. And babies—lots of those!” Chalmette exclaims, her joy evident.
While I am happy for her, the mention of Victoria churns my stomach into knots. “Good, then I will let Dalcour know. He will send word to Corbin. I am sure Claudius will be glad to hear of it,” I say with muted breath.
“What, sister? Your face is fallen. Do you not wish for me to marry? Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Of course I never want to be apart from you, dear one but there is something you must know.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, sister, it is difficult for me to say as I do not wish to sully your desires but—”
“Is this about Victoria?” Chalmette’s flat tone slices through whatever colorful manner I intended to paint. Her eyes narrow as she looks at me and I slowly begin to understand my young sister is not as young hearted as I’d have myself believe.
Nodding in affirmation, she sighs and pushes the small curls hanging at her sides away from her face. “Yes, I know he hits her.”
“How? When did you see this?”
“Her birthday. We missed it by a few days, and I had Marius pick up a basket of cookies that I could take her. You were out picking fabrics with Corrine. Mother and Monroe were busy getting the roof patched after the storm. Anyway, Claudius went with me to take her the basket and when we arrived, we saw it. What was worse was when I protested, demanded that she return with me, she flew off at me, nearly throwing me from her porch.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this then?”
“I didn’t have an opportunity. Monroe had me working with Crawley on songs as soon as I returned, and you were actually in a happy mood with all your dressings. I didn’t want to dampen the moment. Later, as I thought about how Victoria treated me, I decided she deserve
d her fate!”
“No, sister! She doesn’t deserve that! No woman does! Do you understand me? She is our sister—no matter what. Do you understand!” Again, my words spit like a fire and I see a looming fear grow behind Chalmette’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Chalmette,” I say, pulling her into my embrace.
Her sobs send her tears pedaling down my neck as she repents of her wayward thoughts of Victoria in the cavity of my hold. Although our sister’s actions toward us may be infuriating, she is still our sister.
“This is what I mean, dear sister. Marriage can be challenging but I want you to know no matter what, you always have me. Always and forever. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Chartreuse. I understand,” Chalmette sniffles, wiping her tears once more. “I suppose you’ll be happy to hear Claudius was quite repulsed by the barbarity of it all.
“As well he should be—and shall he always remain.”
Chalmette’s eyes lock with mine as the seriousness of my tone cements our shared understanding. Yet, without another word, she knows my sentiment is more than a mere threat. A small smile creeps from behind Chalmette’s tense glare and she throws herself into my arms once more.
A loud clapping sound that seems to echo through the mansion breaks us from our embrace as we both turn to find Dalcour beaming behind us.
“Well, well,” he begins, throwing his hands into a tight clasp as he stalks toward us. “I see Young Chalmette has agreed to marry Master DeVeaux! This is such a delight to my ears,” he says with a broad grin, stretching from ear to ear.
Reaching for both Chalmette’s hand and mine, Dalcour’s warm palm firmly locks us in place. “Dear Chalmette, Armando is already making all the necessary arrangements to get your beloved here with haste. After which, your sister will accompany me ---and from there a whole new life begins!”
Dalcour’s words hang between us and while I know there is more implied than he now cares to suggest, I am both excited and tepid to see what this new life means. And I have a feeling it shall be a new beginning for each of us.
Chapter Eleven
New beginnings take on a whole new meaning in the world of Dalcour Marchand.
Not only did we dine both sufficiently and decadently, Dalcour ensured we spent the better part of the next day pampered with beauty treatments fit for royalty. From our skin to our hair and even parts of our bodies requiring only the most delicate attention, both Chalmette and I were regally spoiled.
Although we were grateful for such a gesture, hearing Armando mumble something about getting the stench of the saloon off of us, makes me think this was all Dalcour’s courteous way of making us appear as more presentable ladies of society. Reared as we had been, I am sure our missteps would be easily recognizable to persons of more esteemed pedigree.
And with the way Armando has crammed table etiquette down my sister’s throat in the last twenty-four hours, I am certain Dalcour wants to ensure his deal with Corbin DeVeaux will stand.
Still, it is Chalmette’s enthusiasm that has reined in my growing annoyance that my sister must make herself presentable for another man whether it be in society or a saloon.
I can’t help wondering how Calida would have handled things.
Unfortunately, I will never know.
“What do you think of this one, sister?” Chalmette shouts, standing on the seamstress block. Swaying back and forth as she looks at herself in the mirror and back at me, the sea blue gown flows like a small tide against the oak floor.
“It’s your third one in less than half an hour, sister. Please pick one. Both this one and the lavender gown make your eyes sparkle. I am sure Claudius will find you adoring in either.”
“Oh you are no fun, Chartreuse!”
“And you are running out of time, dear Chalmette. Your betrothed will arrive any minute. Are you planning to see him in nothing save your knickers, dear?”
“Of course not!” She quips, looking over her shoulder one last time in the mirror before turning back to me. “I’ll take both. This one for now and the other for later.” Chalmette’s girlish squeak would almost be annoying if I weren’t just as excited as she. Although I would like nothing more than to share in her merriment, my mind is focused on what shall soon become of me.
Am I really about to become a vampire?
As eager as I am, I force myself not to linger on the thought. This moment belongs to Chalmette.
The bell on the porch rings, and I hear Armando grumble something about having to get the door and Chalmette leaps from the seamstress stool so fast she almost yanks the seamstress with her.
The seamstress shrieks a curse in French as she topples to the ground, ripping a hem of fabric as Chalmette rushes to the door to slam it shut.
“Oh no! He’s early! Sister, you can’t let him see me like this!”
“Calm down, Chalmette,” I laugh, grabbing her shoulders, attempting to halt her growing fluster. “I’ll go to see Claudius and check the temperature of things. I will keep him occupied while you freshen up and allow Marinette to finish your gown. That is, if you’ll apologize and help her from the floor.”
Chalmette’s posture relaxes in my hold and she sighs as she glares over my shoulder, watching the seamstress attempt to gather herself.
“I am such a wrecking ball of sorts,” Chalmette responds with a covered laugh. “Thank you, sister.”
“Of course,” I answer. “Now go, help Miss Marinette up from the floor and try not to stick yourself. Take your time as you prepare. If you must make him wait, at least make it worth it.” Kissing her cheek softly, I rush out of the suite and head to the foyer.
Chalmette is right. He is early. I had hoped she would be with me when I saw Claudius again, but at least this gives me some time to discern his true intent with my sister. I’ll not have her fall victim to Victoria’s fate. Though, knowing Dalcour and Claudius’ father Corbin are familiar lessens my angst, I’d like to weigh in on him all my own.
“Madame Chartreuse,” Armando begins as he rounds the corner of the foyer. His tone and expression is surprisingly softer than usual as a tender smile grazes his otherwise stoic face. “Your visitor awaits you in the parlor,” he adds quickly, before vanishing from my view.
He leaves me little time to ask whether Claudius came without his father. Or whether Corbin came without Claudius? Either outcome could prove disastrous for my sister, making me almost thankful she wasn’t with me. If Corbin has once again refused my sister, it’s probably for the best that I give her the news.
Hurriedly, I race to the parlor. If either Corbin or Claudius has come to turn her down, I must get them out of here before she has a chance to get her heart broken. Again.
Dashing into the parlor, I am shocked to find DeLuca standing beside the bookshelf, curiously thumbing through the display.
“DeLuca?” I shout his name, making him jump slightly at the questioning tone of my voice.
“Red!” He yelps back with a broad smile.
“What are you doing here?” I snap, looking around the room, hopeful Dalcour isn’t nearby.
“Wow! That is surely no way to greet a friend!” He nicks back, plunging one hand in his pocket and leaning against the shelving.
“Get off of that!” I snip, yanking him from the bookshelf. “I’ll only ask once more. What are you doing here?”
“Well, it’s good to see you too, Red. Let me see, my trip was uneventful. Glad I made it here safe—”
“And how pray tell did you know where here is? Who told you where to find me?”
“Oh, I see. So you meant for me not to find you. I see. I guess that explains why you didn’t answer me as I screamed your name at your departure. But now I understand, you have no interest in seeing your old pal DeLuca. I should have never come here!”
DeLuca’s words hit me like the wrecking ball my sister recently spoke of. Hazy memories of my last night at the saloon and faintly hearing my name called as we left with Dalcour f
licker through my mind.
“That was you?” I yell, racing beside him, stopping him from exiting the hall.
DeLuca looks up at me, his countenance downcast. “Yes, poppet. It was me. It’s always me.”
The brokenness I see within him, grips my heart, choking tears from me. Throwing my arms around his neck, I can’t help the freefall of water erupting from my eyes.
“I am so sorry, DeLuca. I thought I’d never see you again. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” I cry.
His posture remains stiff longer than I’d like, but I feel his tension ease as he wraps his arms around me, patting my back in consolation. “I know poppet, I know. Now stop crying and tell your old friend DeLuca what in the world is going on.”
Sniffling, I wipe away my tears as I pull out of his hold. DeLuca’s familiar, yet gentle smile warms my heart. I never thought I’d see him again. Wiping my hair from my eyes, he takes my chin in his hand and smiles once more, searching my face.
“So, Red, tell me. What is going on? What are you doing here?” DeLuca whispers his words as he looks around the mansion. His apprehension is apparent, and I wonder what he heard of my departure.
“Well, you first,” I say, taking his hand, walking him to the sofa. “How did you find me?”
“I was with Claudius when the messenger came with news of Chalmette. I can’t believe they are to be married! Scotty told me of how she was rescued before Monroe’s plans had a chance to settle. I am thankful. But he also said your rescuer was Dalcour Marchand. Tell me, Red, is this true?”
“Wow! It sounds like you got all the high parts. I am sorry I didn’t have a chance to bid you farewell. Everything just happened so fast.”
“Yes, well, I can see that. Now here you are with butlers and adjutants.” DeLuca’s censuring tone is not lost on me. I know there is more behind his words and if I know my friend it will not be long before he belts it all out.