by L A Morgan
Many expressions passed across Maria’s face without her knowing it. Nothing was lost on the keen observation of Steve DuPont.
He eyed the woman coolly for a moment, and then said, “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
Maria mutely followed him up the long, curving stairway. She cast furtive glances around her, attempting to memorize every detail for the bittersweet memories she knew would pursue her long after she was gone.
The man led her down a long, rose-carpeted hallway at the top of the stairs. One side was railed off from a sweeping view of the entry hall. They passed several closed doors, painted white with gold-filigreed scrollwork. Steve stopped before one of these to open the door.
With a flourish of his hand, he indicated the interior of the room and said, “Voilà. Ton salon à coucher.”
“You speak French?” Maria asked in surprise.
“You might have noticed before. I come from a French family and live in a bilingual area. What about you?”
“No,” Maria was forced to concede.
“What a pity. Well, it’s no matter. Tienne can teach you if he likes.”
To avoid further discussion, Maria stepped into the room. It was even more beautiful than she had expected. This was the bedroom of a fairytale princess.
All dressed out in shades of mauve and white, the room was appointed with less elegance than the formal downstairs rooms, but nothing was spared to bring it comfort and luxury. The canopied bed had a shining satin quilt with matching pillows. The dainty Louis XIV armchair, desk, and vanity table revealed that the chamber was meant for a lady.
Maria turned to Steve and said, “I didn’t know that Tienne had a brother before you told me. Do you have any other siblings?”
“No. It’s just Tienne and me. My brother had this room specially decorated just for you when he got back from Paris. As you must remember, the weddin’ plans were never discussed in detail. Your lack of curiosity always disturbed me, but my brother didn’t seem to mind. He planned for you to stay here after he gave you your engagement ring. By the way, in case you’re interested, the date of your marriage has been set for one week from today.”
Steve paused to note Maria’s reaction. The sudden whiteness of her features told him all he wanted to know.
“Don’t even consider makin’ any changes,” he softly warned. “Tienne has gone to a great deal of effort and expense to make this day perfect for you in every way. I wouldn’t be a good brother if I allowed you to change any of his plans. He wouldn’t be happy if you disappointed him.”
Maria managed to smile weakly in his direction as she replied, “I’m sure everything will work out to your satisfaction after I get to see your brother.”
Then, on a second thought, she added, “What about your parents? Do they live here?”
“They have a townhouse in New Orleans now. For a girl who’s engaged to marry my brother, you know surprisin’ly little about the family.”
“I guess I was too swept away by romance to ask.”
“Undoubtedly.”
A possible plan of escape occurred to Maria. What she dared not tell the brother, she might more easily explain to the parents.
“Will you introduce me to them?” she asked.
“I’ll leave that for Tienne to do after they get back.”
“Get back?” Maria repeated as she felt her last hope dwindling away.
“Yes. After my father retired from the business, he and my mother have always spent the winter in their home on the Riviera after New Year’s Day.”
That explained why Marla had not met Tienne’s parents when she was in France. It did nothing to relieve her sense of frustration.
“Will they be coming back before the wedding?” she asked with no hope of receiving a satisfactory response.
“The day before. Don’t worry. Tienne will introduce you to them,”
“Shouldn’t I meet them before then?”
“You seem to place great stock in meeting your future in-laws, and I suppose that’s natural. You don’t have to concern yourself over it. My mother is a very gracious lady and my father is as enthralled by beauty as my brother appears to be.”
“How convenient for you,” was her dry response.
“Come on,” said Steve. “You haven’t seen everything yet.”
Maria resigned herself to following him as he walked over to the lacily curtained French doors that led out onto the balcony. Steve opened them as one with both hands and then stepped outside.
With a heavily laden heart, Maria joined him on the balcony. Her eyes first went to Steve’s face which held a certain glint of suppressed diversion. He was obviously reveling in her discomfort.
Maria looked away to focus on the view beyond the railing. Her misgivings fell away.
For this, she would marry Tienne DuPont, if he could be as deceived by her pretense as his brother. It was the final fulfillment of her dreams.
There, before her, beneath a high embankment, stretched a lazily drifting arm of the Mississippi River. The early f1owers of springtime gave the scene a sweetly aromatic, heavenly sense of unreality. Now the picture was complete.
Maria might feel herself to be in a prison, but she could no longer deny the fact that she would be a willing captive.
CHAPTER 4
As soon as Maria was left alone in her room, she looked around for a telephone. Her need to speak with her roommate had grown more imperative. She had promised to call her that day with news about the situation there. Marla would be worried if she did not hear from her.
There was no phone in the bedroom. Maria hesitated to ask Steve if she could make a call for fear he would deny her the privilege. It was better to live with the uncertainty than to know she was completely cut off from any outside communication. She would have to search the house secretly when no one was about.
With trembling fingers, she unpacked her bags and thought about what Marla would say if she knew what had happened. She would undoubtedly be surprised that Maria had not yet made any contact with Tienne. Knowing the model as she did, the librarian expected Marla would be outraged when she heard about her fiancé’s absence. She, herself, would never have tolerated such treatment whether there was a substantial reason for it or not.
As Maria thought more deeply on the subject, she realized that her friend would probably insist on her staying there until her task had been completed, regardless of Maria’s personal discomfort. It was true that the wedding plans had been made, and they did need to be cancelled. While Marla might resent her roommate’s masquerading in her persona, she would have to admit that it would be best to continue with the impersonation until she spoke with Tienne DuPont.
There was always the chance he would call the house and ask to speak to her. If that happened, she would have to make her explanations on the phone. It would be impossible to disguise her voice. That would be good in a way. The truth would be out and she would not have to face the disappointed suitor. Of course, there would be no way to avoid his brother, but that was a trial she would face when she came to it.
In the same vein of thought, Marla would probably try to get a hold of her when she did not call. Maria bit her lip in fearful anxiety when it occurred to her that the model would ask at the hotel for Maria Jones and identify herself as Maria Fontaine. What would the desk clerk think? Would he be at liberty to pass on the DuPonts’ home phone number? What a problem that could present!
Maria could have saved herself all of this dreadful anticipation regarding her roommate. An hour after she had left for New Orleans, Maria Fontaine had boarded a flight to Rio de Janeiro to enjoy Carnival with her current boyfriend. She never had any intention of waiting around for this situation to explode. It was something she would find to be too stressful.
Instead of telling Maria her plans, she had allowed her friend to think that she had a firm ally back at home. This made Marla feel somewhat guilty, so she had devised a plan to deceive herself into believing she was a c
aring person. While Maria was at Mardi Gras, she would enjoy its Brazilian equivalent, telling herself that this made them closer in spirit. Marla might not have appreciated the fine reasoning behind this willful self-deception if she had known what was occurring in New Orleans.
The sunset dinner cruise Steve had mentioned earlier had not been brought up again. Their relationship had altered radically since that last romantic encounter on the levee. Maria wondered if she would be permitted to leave the house at all before she spoke with Tienne DuPont. There was no longer any reason for her to wear her Mardi Gras gown, so she changed into a casual blouse and slacks.
After that, there was nothing to do except to wait for someone to suggest something. She did not want to invite further abuse from Steve by making her presence evident in the house, so she went out on the balcony and sat on one of the chairs just outside the door.
The tranquil atmosphere soothed her troubled mind. No other house was in sight for as far as she could see. Maria was alone, but she could not feel lonely while she had such beauty surrounding her.
She watched the birds singing sweetly in the trees. Some of them were of species she had never seen. Others were winter visitors from the North that she would not expect to see in Illinois for a few months. Before she knew what was happening, her eyelids lowered and she slept.
A voice intruded on her dreams, whispering, “Maria.”
It was a voice she had come to know. Its deep resonance made her drifting mind think of a happier occasion during which she had responded to it.
In a barely audible voice, she replied, “Steve,” in a tone that indicated her fondness for the speaker.
“Yes. I’ve brought you a drink.”
This last statement did not fit into the pattern of Maria’s dreams. Her eyelids fluttered open as her consciousness returned. The Mississippi still drifted along before her, but something about the atmosphere had changed.
As Maria turned her head to the side, she quickly took in her breath when she saw Steve sitting in a chair beside her, observing her with an enigmatic look on his face.
“And I thought you were upset,” he said in a teasing voice. “But here I find you nappin’ away as though you don’t have a care in the world.”
Maria hastily shifted her position into a more rigid posture and said, “Don’t you believe in knocking before you enter a lady’s room?”
Steve regarded her coolly as he folded his hands over his waistline.
“Three comments spring to mind,” he replied.
Maria stared at him as if she thought he might pounce on her if she lowered her guard.
“First,” the man went on, “I did knock on your door, but you didn’t answer. Second, you are not sittin’ in your room. In case you didn’t notice, this balcony connects all of the rooms on the second floor.”
When he paused and gave no indication that he was going to go on, Maria said, “And the third?”
“It has something to do with your reference to a lady, but I don’t think you really want to hear it.”
“How dare you!” Maria responded with flaming cheeks.
“Oh, believe me, I dare. This is my house, and I’ll say anything I please while I’m in it.”
“You have no regard for anything, Steve DuPont!”
“Come now, you know that’s not true. If I wasn’t a gentleman, I would have explained my last comment.”
“You said enough. Your implication was obvious and uncalled for.”
“I could go into this further, Maria, but the afternoon is so pleasant, and I don’t want it spoiled by your indignation.”
“Why didn’t you just say righteous indignation and admit that you’re an arrogant ass.”
“Well, well. The butterfly has claws.”
“That’s right, and you’d better remember it before you make any mistakes about approaching me any closer. I noticed there’s no lock on my door.”
“Do you honestly think you need one?”
“Considering your presumption, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“That nap did wonders in restoring your confidence. You should nap more often.”
“So you like it better when I stand up against you,” Maria replied with a hint of a question in her tone.
“I like spirit in my women.”
“I’m not one of your women!”
“As long as you’re in my house you are.”
“This is your brother’s house, too.”
“Tienne, as you might have noticed, isn’t here.”
“Are you saying that you would . . .?”
Maria was forced to break off her sentence for its implication was too fantastic for her to speak.
“I would do anything I pleased, my dear. You’re not in the North here. It is an old, ingrained custom in the South for a man to be lord and master of his own household. And while I like spirit in women, I wouldn’t press the point too strongly if I were you.”
Maria jumped out of her seat to face her antagonist from a stronger standpoint.
“Well, I’m not you! You’re not my lord and master!” she said in a fervent voice. “This is the 21st century, Mr. DuPont, and women are no longer treated as chattel, in case you didn’t notice.”
The man smiled as he clapped his hands in mocking applause of her performance.
“Very well done,” he said in a voice that nearly made Maria choke with fury. “For a minute there, you almost had me believin’ that you’re as bold as you pretend to be.”
Maria’s defiance nearly folded as she realized how close Steve had come to the truth. It was not like her at all to express her opinions so strongly. This man had uncovered unknown depths within her with his constant prodding.
The energy once again surged through her as she realized that she could be a more aggressive person. Steve forced her to find strength she never knew she possessed. Well, she knew that now, and she would use it.’
“This is no pretense, Mr. DuPont,” she said in a confident voice, as she placed her hands on her hips. “If you have any intentions concerning me, I want to hear about them right now.”
The man’s expression was indifferent, but there was ice in his tone when he said, “Are you suggestin’ that I would force you to submit to my lust?”
For an instant, Maria’s new-found sense of self-assurance was undermined by his bluntness. It took a few seconds for her to regain her bravado.
In a less belligerent voice, she replied, “If that’s what you’re planning, I want you to know that I will not hesitate to bring legal action against you.”
“Oh, sit down, Maria,” the man responded, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand. “Even if I did want you, I would not resort to such barbaric tactics with my brother’s fiancée. I don’t need to and I don’t want to.”
His air of finality deflated Maria’s sense of moral indignation. His words humiliated her. It was appalling to think she was so insignificant that he did not even want her. Maria sat back down in her chair and looked away from him.
“Here,” said Steve, as he pressed a tall glass in her direction. “Drink some of this. It might cool you off.”
Unwillingly, Maria looked back to see what he offered.
“What is that?” she asked.
Before he could reply, she reached over to remove the glass from his outstretched hand It chilled her fingers as she held it before her.
“It’s a mint julep,” Steve finally responded to her question. “Have you ever had one before?”
“No. Is there alcohol in it?”
“Not enough to do you any damage. Try it.”
Maria brought the glass to her lips. The refreshing scent of mint allayed her fears of the drink’s alcoholic content. She took a small sip.
“What do you think?” the man asked.
“Not bad.”
“Have some more.”
Against her will, she followed Steve’s suggestion. The mint julep was tasty, and it did cool her anger as it slid smooth
ly down her throat. She took a few more sips.
“A Southern tradition,” the man said in a confidential tone.
“I thought hospitality was a Southern tradition,” Maria retorted.
“It is. Do you have any problems with your accommodations?”
“Well, no. I could really like this place if I didn’t feel like a prisoner here.”
“You’re a prisoner of love, Maria,” Steve sensuously replied.
“We’ll see about that.”
Maria took a few more sips of her drink. The alcohol in it had already begun to relax her. It had been several hours since she had eaten anything, and this made the effect more immediate.
There was a smile in Steve’s eyes as he watched her. He drank some of his own mint julep.
Unexpectedly, he asked, “What do you think of Louisiana?”
Maria sat back in her chair and replied, “It’s everything I thought it would be.”
“And what was that?”
“Nothing really specific. I’ve read books, seen movies . . .”
Maria let her sentence dwindle off.
“How would you compare it to the North?”
“It’s warmer here. I like the river and New Orleans.”
“What about my house?”
Maria took a few more sips, and then rested her head back against the chair’s cushion before answering.
“It’s beautiful . . . like a dream setting I imagined.”
“You’ve dreamed about livin’ here?”
Steve’s voice was a husky drone that made Maria’s sense of relaxation deepen even further. The drink had made her feel light-headed. Her host thought that this might happen since he had made the drinks double strength.
“Oh, yes,” Maria airily replied, “in a big, old house on the Mississippi.”
“All by yourself?”
“Don’t be silly. Do you think girls dream about living alone?”
“What was your fantasy man like?”
“I told you that already.”
“You did, but I can’t picture some desert sheik carrying you away to his tent in Louisiana.”
