by Jane Archer
"No! No, Giles. Take me back. I don't want you to touch me. You've said yourself that I was given something that night."
"Only something to bring out your natural inclinations," Giles said as he undid Alexandra's gown. Then, releasing her hands, he let it slide down her body to fall in a heap on the gazebo's floor.
The cool damp air touched Alexandra's body. She shivered but proudly did not try to cover her nakedness with her hands. "Well, Giles, you once again seem to have what you want," she said coldly. "But my response will be not so warm this time."
He was deaf to her words, greedily drinking in the beauty of her lush body. He grabbed her to him, and she tried to stay stiff, cold in his arms, under his demanding caresses. But she was no match for him, and her body melted into his as they sank to the floor of the gazebo....
"Alexandra, Alexandra," he moaned against her soft hair, "why can't you love me? I've loved you since the first instant I saw you. Why must you make me hurt you?"
But his words were so soft that Alexandra was hardly aware of their meaning. All she could think of was the pain, the humiliation, and the hatred inside her that spawned a burning desire for revenge.
Chapter 15
Alexandra sat by the bed, a frown puckering her forehead as she watched Eleanor struggle to breathe, wracked almost continually by coughs now. The weather had become warmer and muggier as April had turned into May so that as she sat there, hoping for more breeze, or perhaps a cooling rain, she constantly wiped the sweat that seemed to always be trickling down her body. What a place to live, she thought unhappily. How had Eleanor stood it? She now understood the reason for the slow Southern speech and movements—there was no other choice in this type of climate.
Had two weeks really passed since that dreadful night in the gazebo with Giles? She'd given him no further chance to molest her, but he was constantly there—watching her with his knowing black Creole eyes. She wanted desperately to be rid of him, but she could not in good conscience leave Eleanor. When she was not working with Ebba, she was in the room with Eleanor. She even slept there now for she didn't want to leave the failing woman alone. So Giles had not approached her again, although his dark, watchful eyes saw everything.
A few days after Alexandra had arrived, Eleanor had become worse and a doctor had been sent for. He had shaken his head, mumbled under his breath, and said that there was no hope. They could only make her comfortable and happy in her last days. There was nothing the doctor could do. Alexandra had become desperate, insisting that she would take Eleanor back to New York to finer, younger doctors. But the old doctor had merely shaken his head, saying that he had seen the illness before. There was no cure. The lungs simply gave out. A trip to New York would only be painful for the sick woman and would probably cause a quicker death. Alexandra had had no choice but to believe him and had kept Eleanor in bed ever since, watching her become weaker, thinner, and less aware. She had come to love Eleanor and her pain was Alexandra's pain. Death walked with them every day and they could only await for it to finally claim Eleanor.
Another thing had also affected Alexandra strongly—the sudden and definite decline of Mister Jarmon. It had begun soon after the doctor had been to visit Eleanor and had become worse until now he never left his room. He looked bad, his color was pale and his appetite was almost nonexistent. Alexandra had argued with him that the doctor must be sent for again, but the old man said that the doctor had more important cases to handle and that he would only waste the man's time. And as Alexandra fought to save his life, she gained a new respect for the old Southerner for he never complained, but only waited, as if he would welcome his release from life.
It finally came down to Alexandra running the plantation, or what was left of it. She had risen to the responsibility, surprising even herself. Giles came and went, hardly letting the death and decay touch him. His mind was set on another path and the life around him was no longer a part of him.
As she sat there watching the fitfully Sleeping Eleanor, Alexandra was suddenly shaken by loud voices downstairs. She jumped up, alarmed, and ran out of the room to the landing above the foyer. Looking down, she saw several burly men walking around, their dirty, booted feet marking the worn, imported carpet.
She rushed down the stairs, completely unaware of her disheveled appearance—golden-red curls escaping around her face, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and her gown unbuttoned to reveal the valley of her breasts. "What are you men doing in here? Leave this house at once!" she shouted.
When she reached their level, she had to look up at the men for they towered above her, grinning at the unexpected pleasure before them. "Get out of here immediately!"
Finally one of the men recognized the authority in her voice and her haughty manner. "Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but we got orders," he said, thinking that she was one fine filly. But even losing the war and the shirts off their backs hadn't made them come down any—just as uppity as ever. Sure would like to be the one to teach this little honey her place, he thought as his eyes raked her body.
But his thoughts were interrupted by Giles who entered, dressed as meticulously as usual. In one glance he took in the situation and said, "Gentlemen, may I present my fiancee, Miss Alexandra Clarke," as he walked across the foyer to stand closely beside her. Alexandra's eyes opened wide at his words, but she knew better than to speak out now.
"Please continue, gentlemen, while I escort my fiancée upstairs. I'm sure you've frightened her. It's usually so quiet here in the country."
The men looked at Alexandra one final time, then turned reluctantly away.
Giles took a firm hold of Alexandra's arm and forced her back up the stairs. She stumbled along beside him, not knowing what was happening, but worried all the same. She didn't want to go with him, be with him at all. Once they reached the landing, he jerked her into the hall, away from the eyes of the workers below. Pushing her up against the wall, he stuck his face close to hers, his black eyes snapping as he hissed.
"What the hell do you think you're doing downstairs? Do you realize that if I hadn't come in just then, they'd all have jumped on you, raped you, and who knows what else?"
Alexandra blanched. She'd never thought of that. She had been determined to protect the mansion.
"You fool! Do you have any idea of how you look with your dress unbuttoned halfway to your waist. For God's sake, Alexandra, I know it's hot, but those are red-blooded men down there."
Alexandra blushed, then said, "I didn't think. I was surprised to hear them and just went down. What are they doing here, Giles?"
He laughed, a mocking sound that seemed to be wrenched involuntarily from his throat. "They're doing to this home what has been done to many others. They're buying the furniture. It'll bring a fine price in New Orleans and if I don't get it sold now, the government will take it all, including the land for taxes. Do you understand that, my pretty heiress?"
"How, how did you know?" Alexandra gasped.
"I know that you are Alexandra Clarke, a wealthy young heiress, for Eleanor had spoken of your family long ago. What you're doing here working like a servant, or what you were doing in New Orleans acting like a whore is no concern of mine. I am concerned with your money. I have need of it. I would make you a good husband, and so you shall marry me."
"Never!"
Giles went on as if she had not spoken.
"Yes, I plan to marry you and gain your fortune, but I won't sink that fortune in a worthless plantation. The South is gone, Alexandra, and so is that type of life. I'm not fool enough to try and revive what is dead. Grandfather will never admit to his loss, but I did a long time ago. The past is past, but I plan to make a future with you, Alexandra. Now, no more about this. I'll leave enough for us to set up a beautiful, gracious townhouse in New Orleans with part of the family's heirlooms, but the majority will go to buy that house. Houses are going cheap in some sections of New Orleans at the moment so I'll invest well and have the furniture moved there. You see, I plan w
ell, ma chère, and you are part of my plans."
"Never, never!"
"You're going to marry me, Alexandra, whether you want to or not. Now, go back to the sick ones, Alexandra, and stay there. This will take most of the day and I don't want to see you out again. You'll be safe in the room with Eleanor."
Giles stepped back, his dark eyes raking her body quickly before he pushed her away toward Eleanor's room. Alexandra went, glad to be away from him. He was so sure of himself, so determined to have things his own way. Well, she'd never marry him, that was sure.
The long day wore on with the sound of the workmen echoing throughout the mansion. Giles had moved Eleanor to Alexandra's bedroom since he wanted to keep that furniture and sell what was in Eleanor's room, explaining that he was keeping only the very best pieces for their townhouse in New Orleans. But Alexandra didn't care what he did, for as she sat with Eleanor and watched her strength slowly fade, something of herself seemed to die, too. She no longer felt young. She felt as old and tired as the South.
The shadows were growing long when Giles finally came to Alexandra's room again. He walked over to her, looking a little tired and dirty himself. Many of the rooms had not been cleaned in years and he bore the dust of those hopeless years. He stood by Alexandra a moment, looking down at Eleanor, then said, "How is she?"
"Not well, Giles. I don't know how much longer she will be with us. She's not been really aware all afternoon."
He nodded. "They've taken everything. They'll store it in New Orleans until I can get the highest bid. It's a better time to sell now than just after the war when the others sold to the Yankees. I should get a good price. I've kept the best pieces for our home. You'll like it in New Orleans, Alexandra. I'll show you a different side than you saw before."
Alexandra didn't answer him. She didn't care. They would never share a home.
Presently he left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Alexandra breathed easier knowing the men were gone and that Giles would not bother her for a while. Soon Ebba would bring the trays with dinner. She would have helped, but she didn't want to leave Eleanor in case she needed anything.
A little later when the last rays of sunlight had faded, Ebba knocked hesitantly on the door. Alexandra quickly got up to let her in. The black woman looked tired and strained. They were all affected. The end for many things was in sight.
Looking at Alexandra, Ebba shook her head, saying, "Child, you need more rest. You're plum tuckered out. Better get some sleep. I can sit with Miss Eleanor."
"Thank you, Ebba, but I want to be with her."
"I understand, sugar, but you'd better eat something now. That'll make you feel better."
"I don't feel very hungry, Ebba, but thank you."
Ebba moved slowly, tiredly across the room and set the tray down, then walked back toward the door, saying, "It's a sad day, child, sad. I'm just glad that Eleanor and Mister Jarmon can't see what's happening to their home. Now, I'll just take Mister Jarmon's tray to him and see if he'll eat. Mister Giles is eating in the dining room. When I'm done, I'll come back to you."
"I'll try to get Eleanor to eat."
"You do that, sugar, you just do that," Ebba said softly as she shut the door behind her.
Alexandra sighed as she stood up and went to Eleanor's side. She whispered her name several times then spoke more loudly, but Eleanor slept on. Alexandra did not want to disturb her since it was the first time she'd not been kept awake with the dreadful coughs. Walking away, she went over to the tray. She picked up the bowl of thick soup and a piece of cornbread, and forced herself to eat.
Suddenly a horrible scream tore through the mansion. Alexandra jumped up, setting her bowl of soup down quickly. She had recognized Ebba's voice coming from the direction of Mister Jarmon's bedroom. She tried to still her suspicions about Ebba's scream as she leaned over Eleanor. She slept on. Alexandra ran out of the room, meeting Giles in the hall, a look of surprise and worry on his handsome face. Together they hurried to the old man's bedroom.
Ebba was sitting in a rocker by his bed, wailing softly to herself. The spilled tray was all over the floor where she'd dropped it.
Mister Jarmon lay in bed, his face white and pinched, dead.
Alexandra sank down into the nearest chair, and watched Giles walk across the room to his grandfather.
Giles was speaking to her.
She realized it from far away. How long had she been sitting there? She didn't know. Nothing seemed quite real anymore. Ebba still sat rocking, crooning to herself.
"Alexandra."
She looked up. Giles was standing beside her. He no longer looked tired. He smiled, triumph written in every line of his handsome face. His eyes were hard points of light piercing into her.
"He's dead, Alexandra. We'll bury him tomorrow. We can't wait any longer in this heat and humidity. Anyway, there are no friends or relatives to invite. They're all dead. He was the last to hold out, but he was mortal, too, in the end. We're free at last. I'm free."
Alexandra looked closely at Giles, puzzled. Free? Had Giles thought himself trapped on a plantation that he disliked by a grandfather he felt nothing for? Perhaps Giles was a Southerner who would survive because he felt no reverence, no desire for what the South had been. Perhaps only those who clung to the past died with it. She did not know. It was a way of life and thinking that she could not understand, and did not want to. She had done all she could for Mister Jarmon. They would bury him, as they had the South, and it would be over. There would be no traces left, nothing to ever really define the essence of a way of life and the people who had created it.
"You can't know what it was like to be stuck out here, waiting to begin your life. There was nothing left for me, but I couldn't leave until it was all mine. It's done now, all over. Ebba can get him ready. We'll bury him tomorrow in the family plot. I'll dig the graves in the morning."
"Graves?" Alexandra asked, chills running over her body.
"Of course. While I'm at it, I might as well complete the job. Eleanor can't last long."
"Oh, no, Giles. Please don't dig her grave before she's gone. Surely that's tempting fate."
"Hell! I'll dig them both together. It won't be long now."
Alexandra rose unsteadily, not wanting to be with Giles a moment longer. How could he be so cold, so calculating, so unfeeling? He had lost his grandfather and he was relieved. Now he was anxious for Eleanor's death.
She walked away from him and went to stand beside Ebba. "Ebba, I'm going to sit with Eleanor, unless you need my help. She may need me and I can't do any more here."
"That's right, child. Go sit with her. See that she doesn't meet her end too soon."
Alexandra raised her brows. "I don't understand?"
Ebba shook her head and glanced over at Giles who watched them closely. "You go on, child, and try to rest. It's about all over now."
Not wanting to acknowledge the import of Ebba's words, Alexandra pushed everything from her mind as she left the room.
As the night wore slowly on, Alexandra dozed fitfully, waking frequently to hear the strange creakings of the old house and the frequent noise made by Ebba and Giles as they went about their business. But Eleanor slept on, almost the sleep of death, and frequently Alexandra would feel her pulse to see if she still lived. And so the night went on, almost dream-like for Alexandra as she awaited the dawn to make everything better in its clear light and warmth.
But as the dawn came, pink and moist, through the open windows, Alexandra's fears increased, for with the revealing light, the room looked even shabbier and more worn than before and Eleanor's face seemed even whiter and more pinched. And the heat came too, emphasizing the stifling muggi-ness of the day. Alexandra stood up, stretching her stiff limbs and wandered about the room, unable to sit still any longer, feeling as if something was about to happen.
"Alexandra. Alexandra," Eleanor's voice came softly, clearly to her.
She turned and quickly crossed the room to the weak wo
man who watched her with intense, burning eyes in a face almost masklike with its white skin stretched over protruding bones. Alexandra caught the thin, hot hand in hers, and bent forward to catch the barely spoken words.
"Alexandra, I've loved you like a daughter. I've not long left."
"No, Eleanor—"
"Shh. I won't be in this world much longer, Alexandra. I have a request. I know it's a lot to ask."
"Anything, Eleanor. Anything."
"I, I—" she started to say, but succumbed to the wracking coughs that tore through her weak body. Alexandra pressed the heavy cotton handkerchief to her lips. Eleanor was too weak to help herself any longer. When finally it eased, Eleanor leaned back, even whiter than before, and Alexandra hastily hid the blood soaked cloth from her eyes.
"Please, Alexandra, will you go to my son? Go to Jacob in Texas. He's with his uncle, Lamar Jarmon, on the Bar J Ranch in south Texas, some- where close to Corpus Christi." She paused, almost panting, then continued. "I want you two to know each other, and I want you to tell him that my last days were happy ones with you and that I died in peace. You shouldn't be alone, Alexandra. A woman shouldn't live alone. I know that—how I know that. And a man shouldn't either. My son, dear Jacob, shouldn't be alone."
"Oh, Eleanor. I'll go. Of course I'll go to Texas, but I can't promise what will happen."
Eleanor smiled weakly at Alexandra. "I know, my dear, love is such a mystery, but yet I feel that fate has brought you here to me—and to Jacob. Go to him. You will be safe with him and you cannot live alone. It is a hard, harsh world, Alexandra. If it does not work out, I will understand, but go for me and for the two of you." She stopped, closed her eyes tightly as her body shook in spasms of unreleased coughs. Finally, she gained control, sweat beading her forehead. "I want him to know that I loved him as always and that his grandfather did, too. I want him to know that he was never forsaken by his family, and that his Norwegian blood is strong in his veins, perhaps stronger than his Southern heritage."
"I'll go, Eleanor. He'll know all this and if I can help him in any way, I will. I promise you this."
