Forbidden to Love: An Historical Romance

by Patricia Hagan

  Suddenly struck by curiosity, Raymond asked, "Why do you never refer to him as your father?"

  Coldly she replied, "Because he isn't."

  "That's absurd. Both he and Twyla raised you like their own daughter. You were even treated better than Anjele, and you know it."

  Claudia bristled in defense, "They promised your parents you could marry their firstborn daughter, and if they'd thought of me that way, I wouldn't have had to chase after you, would I? And the truth is"—she walked over to tower above him, so he could feel her wrath as she glared down at him—"you'd still be pining for her now, if I hadn't told you the truth about what a whore she is. You'd never have married me, would you?"

  He saw no reason to lie. Perhaps once upon a time he would have. In those early days, when he'd been so angry to learn of Anjele's immoral behavior he'd allowed himself to be manipulated into marrying Claudia, he would have prevaricated to spare her feelings. But he'd quickly realized the mistake he'd made and discovered she was even a bigger bitch than he'd ever dreamed possible. His had been a miserable existence ever since, and if the truth be known, at the time he'd gone into battle, he really hadn't cared whether he lived or died. "No," he said finally, firmly, matching her contemptuous gaze with one of his own, "I damn sure wouldn't."

  In a flash, she snatched the glass from his hand and threw the whiskey in his face. "Bastard! I hate you! Stay here and rot, for all I care."

  She fled from the room and ran down the hall, down the curving stairway and all the way into the study where she was surprised to find Elton.

  He was leaning back in his chair, staring out the window, lost within himself.

  "I'm surprised you aren't at the mausoleum. In fact," she added sarcastically, "I'm surprised you haven't moved in there with her coffin."

  Elton ignored her.

  Suddenly, she could take no more and slammed her palms down on the desk and unleashed the fury she'd been holding inside, "Listen to me! You've got to stop feeling sorry for yourself. People die. Life goes on. And you've got to come out of this and start helping me look after things around here. New Orleans is falling, and you need to go see whoever is in charge of the Union army and let them know BelleClair stands with them."

  He remained silent.

  "You don't care, do you?" she accused incredulously. "When Twyla died, you gave up. You don't care about BelleClair, and you don't care about me."

  He glanced up at her then, frowning. She was a mean and selfish girl. He'd not seen her shed one tear over Twyla's passing. He felt sorry for Raymond for having married her, and he cursed himself for being so weak as to allow her to move back into the house.

  Still, he said nothing.

  "Maybe I need to ask Dr. Duval to send you away to an asylum," she threatened coolly. "Maybe you belong in one of those places where they put crazy people, because I think you've lost your mind."

  At that, he was driven to defend himself, "I am quite sane, Claudia, but if you want to be close to the Yankees, why don't you move back to New Orleans—if Ida Duval will let you live with her," he added tartly.

  "Oh, I'm not going anywhere." She gave her head an insolent toss. "This is my home, whether you like it or not, and I won't see it destroyed because of your weakness."

  "There is nothing to be done. What will be, will be. My slaves know they're free to go whenever they choose. They choose to stay, because they know here they'll be fed and clothed and have a roof over their heads. When the Yankees come, I'll assure them we offer no resistance. Now get out of here." He waved her away in disgust. "Go back to New Orleans, or somewhere, but get out of my sight. You're a disgrace to your mother's memory, the way you're treating me."

  Claudia breezed out, head held high, waiting till she was in the hallway before calling back, "She wasn't my mother, and you aren't my father!"

  Elton wasn't stung by her words and hoped she remembered them after he was gone, so that when the will he had rewritten after Twyla's death was read, Claudia would know why he'd left everything to Anjele.

  Anjele.

  His heart ached at the thought of the daughter he loved and missed so much. The decision for her to remain in Europe had not come easily. He needed her with him now, more than ever. Never had he felt so alone. But it was best she stay where she was. The future of BelleClair, and Louisiana, and of all the South, for that matter, was unknown.

  His face tightened as he thought of the hidden plates that would be quite valuable to the Confederacy. All he had to do was wait till things calmed down a bit after the takeover of New Orleans, and he'd find a way to get the plates to the proper people.

  Soon, he mused, templing his fingers and staring through them, he could make his move.

  Claudia slumped into a wicker rocker on the front porch. Maybe she should go into New Orleans herself and pledge BelleClair's loyalty. She would have to wait awhile, of course, till things settled down and the Union authorities took complete control.

  Long ago she'd decided she really didn't care who won the war, so long as BelleClair survived. If the North won, the slaves would, no doubt, be freed, but they'd have to find work somewhere. She could give them their precious freedom on paper, but if they didn't want to starve, if they wanted a roof over their heads, they'd work for whatever she offered to pay. BelleClair was prosperous. She could afford it.

  She had also decided to take over, little by little, even before Elton died. And that, she mused with evil satisfaction, wouldn't tie long, the way he was withering away in his grief and misery.

  As for Raymond, she vowed he would soon learn his place. No matter she'd realized he was a weakling, she wasn't ready to let him go. For a time, when they had begun to have fights and drift apart, she'd feared he would leave her. But as time passed, it became obvious he was clinging to her for security, because his parents weren't at all happy over the marriage and had let him know he was on his own financially.

  They'd moved in with the Duvals after their marriage, but within a week Claudia had insisted they find somewhere else to live. She couldn't stand Ida, and the feeling was mutual.

  Twyla wouldn't hear of her moving back home, saying Raymond had made it quite clear he wanted to live in the city, and she should obey her husband's wishes. So she had moved into a hotel and rented an entire floor and charged the bill to his father. Raymond then had to start selling off his valuable horses to support them, and Claudia worried about what would happen when the money ran out. Fortunately, Twyla solved the problem by dying, and Claudia began making plans to move back into the mansion before Twyla was even cold. And now, by God, she swore with gritted teeth, nobody was going to make her leave—even the Yankees, because she intended to make her peace with them as soon as possible.

  The sound of horses approaching brought her to her feet. Shielding her eyes with her hand against the glaring late-afternoon sun, she groaned when she recognized Ida Duval's buggy, moving fast. It was obvious something was wrong, and Claudia went back into the house long enough to call to Kesia to go and tell Master Raymond his mother was coming.

  Ben, the Duvals' driver, reined the horses to a stop and leaped down to assist his mistress in alighting. With Ida was her personal maid, Flossie, who began handing bags to Ben.

  Claudia stiffened with the realization that it looked as though Ida was moving in. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Yankees!" Ida raced up the stairs, calling for Raymond.

  Claudia was right behind her. Who did think she was, showing up this way, uninvited, commanding her servants to bring in her luggage. "Of all the nerve...."

  But Ida didn't hear her. Raymond and Elton both appeared at the same time—Elton running from his study, and Raymond hobbling clown the stairs with his cane.

  "Mother, what is it?" He held her at arm's length, searching her face.

  "Yankees!" She repeated and tore from his embrace to breeze into the parlor adjacent to the foyer. Making herself at home by flopping on the sofa, she brusquely ordered Kesia, hovering
nearby, to bring her a cool lemonade, and only then did she share her dreadful news. "All over the city. Moving in. Taking over houses. Throwing people out on the streets. Terrible. It's just terrible." She began to fan herself frantically with her lace handkerchief.

  Raymond attempted to soothe her, "Mother, we knew this was going to happen. You've got to get hold of yourself."

  "I didn't think they'd be throwing people out of their homes," she wailed, leaning back and closing her eyes and moving her lips as though in frenzied prayer, then glanced about wildly and cried, "As I was leaving, I actually saw them raising their flag over City Hall. Can you imagine? And the whole town is in an uproar. Total bedlam. No one knows what's going to happen next. I knew I had to get out of there."

  At that, Claudia cried, "Why did you come here? We certainly have enough problems of our own without your adding to them."

  Raymond winced and whispered, "Claudia, please..." Then he limped over to sit beside Ida and ask, "Where's Daddy? Why didn't he come with you?"

  With a scathing glance at Claudia, Ida responded to Raymond, "You know your father. He's going to stay in his office, in case he's needed, and goodness knows, he already is. I stopped by to tell him I was leaving to come out here, and he was going mad, treating everyone from looters being shot by storekeepers to women fainting." She looked at Elton, remembering, "He said to tell you if you need him later, you know where he'll be."

  Elton knew what Vinson meant, and he had no intention of going to St. Louis cemetery for their clandestine meeting. Not now. Not ever.

  Ida talked on about the nightmare situation, and when she was spent, asked Elton, "Which rooms shall I take?"

  Before he could respond, Claudia gasped, "Surely you don't think we can allow you to move in here. Why, this isn't a hotel, for heaven's sake. If word gets out we took you-all in, next thing you know, it'll be said BelleClair is offering shelter to those running from the Yankees, and I won't have that. You'll have to leave."

  "Why, she'll do nothing of the kind," Raymond was quick to protest, turning to Elton for support. "Don't you agree, sir? Families need to be together at a time like this."

  Elton shrugged. It made no difference to him what any of them did. "I've got to go make my rounds." He walked out, head down, shoulders slumped.

  "He hasn't made his rounds in weeks," Claudia sneered. "And if it weren't for the overseers, even unfit as they are, nothing would get done, and who's keeping an eye on them? Certainly not you," she accused Raymond.

  He spread his hands in a helpless gesture and said, "I'm no planter, Claudia. You know that." He struggled to stand, leaning on his cane for support. "I'm going to show Mother to her room now."

  "I told you, I don't want her here," Claudia frostily repeated. "We aren't taking in fugitives."

  Ida wailed in protest. "I'm not a fugitive. I just want to be with my son. What's wrong with that?" Tears began streaming down her cheeks and she hated herself for it. The last thing she wanted was for this hateful, spiteful girl to know she had the power to make her cry.

  Raymond was getting madder by the minute. "Claudia, you've no right to act this way. And I'll remind you this is now my home, too, and my mother is welcome here."

  Claudia lifted her chin in contempt. "I didn't feel welcome in hers. That's why I left."

  "That was your decision. She didn't ask you to leave."

  "Didn't ask me to stay, either."

  Ida knew she could stand no more. It was bad enough, being in the midst of a war, sharing the grief of friends whose sons had already been killed in battle.

  Witnessing the fall of her beloved New Orleans had been heartbreaking. But now, to be treated so rudely by her daughter-in-law was more than she could bear. She forced her trembling legs to stand. "I think I will be getting back...." she began, but Raymond wouldn't hear of it.

  "You're staying. And if Daddy doesn't come tonight, I'll ride in tomorrow and see how he is. Now come along. I want you to lie down and rest till supper and stop worrying. Everything is going to be all right. I'll take care of you."

  Claudia muttered to hell with both of them and went to the study, closing and locking the door behind her. She knew Elton hadn't gone to make any rounds. He'd headed straight for the mausoleum again, to sit next to Twyla's casket and talk to her as if she could hear him. She had followed him once and stood outside to listen. It had been like hearing the mutterings of a man gone insane, which made her all the more determined to prepare herself to take over BelleClair. He certainly was no longer capable, and this was the only time she was able to go through the journals.

  She had not been there long when Raymond pounded on the door, infuriated over how she'd treated his mother and wanting to discuss it. "Go away," she snapped. "I don't care what either one of you do. Just leave me alone. Why don't you go have another drink?" she added tauntingly.

  He stood there a moment, then went to do just that.

  It was late when Elton finally returned to the house. Reluctantly, and only because Raymond insisted, Ida had come downstairs for supper, and when she saw Elton shuffle through the foyer and continue up the stairs, she nudged Raymond and urged, "Do go try and get him to join us. The man is going to grieve himself to death."

  Raymond obliged, but Claudia huffily declared it wouldn't do any good. "You're only coddling him, which is the worst thing you can do. He's only trying to get attention, anyway. Leave him alone, and when he gets hungry, he'll eat."

  Raymond ignored her and went upstairs.

  Ida stared at her in astonishment.

  Claudia noticed and cried, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  Ida drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. Dear Lord, she knew she should keep her mouth shut, but enough was enough. "How can you speak of your father in such a way? You should be ashamed of yourself, Claudia."

  "He's not my father."

  "He's raised you, taken care of you, loved you..."

  Claudia sneered, "Oh, what do you know, Ida? You hate me, anyway. If you'd had your way, Raymond would've married Anjele, and you'd have liked that, wouldn't you?"

  "Yes." Ida didn't hesitate, now that it was out in the open. "I would have. Anjele is a sweet, sensible girl. She doesn't have a haughty bone in her body."

  Claudia glared at her, resisting the impulse to slap her.

  Raymond came back in, hung his cane on the back of his chair, and sat down. Sensing something was going on, he looked at each of them in turn before wearily asking, "Well, what is it this time?"

  "Your mother was just saying how she wished you'd married Anjele instead of me," Claudia told him, "but it's no secret. I've always known she felt that way."

  Ida shook her head and reached to cover his hand with hers. "It wasn't exactly like that, dear. She asked me, and forgive me if I was wrong to do so, but I told the truth."

  He shook his head and reached for the wine decanter to refill his glass.

  With a sniff of disdain, Claudia admonished, "You drink more than you eat."

  He downed the wine in one swallow, and proceeded to pour another.

  Ida, unable to watch, and wishing she'd stayed in New Orleans despite everything, excused herself and left the table.

  With Elton no doubt in bed for the night, Claudia knew she could spend the time going over the journals and was about to leave herself, when Kesia came running in to announce, "A rider comin' in hard, Master Raymond."

  "Tell me, not him," Claudia snapped, giving the old woman a shove as she got up to rush quickly by her. "He's not in charge here."

  Kesia was used to Miss Claudia's temper and abuse and paid her no mind. Instead, she held out Master Raymond's cane and assisted him to his feet.

  "Want me to find Master Sinclair?"

  "No. I'm sure the overseers heard whoever it is, and they'll be alert to trouble." He hobbled into the foyer and through the front doors Claudia had flung open. He didn't like her standing there, so vulnerable, with trouble all around them and was about to say so, just as he
recognized his father's horse and felt a chill of foreboding. In the dusky twilight, Raymond could see by his face that something was terribly wrong.

  "Daddy, what is it?" he asked fearfully, limping closer to the edge of the porch. "Are the Yankees on their way here? To BelleClair?"

  "Not yet. They've got to secure New Orleans before they start thinking about outlying sugar parishes. That may take weeks, months." He dismounted, tossing the reins to the waiting slave and taking the stairs two at a time, not bothering to tip his hat to Claudia. He despised her and found it quite difficult to be polite even under the best of circumstances, and at a time like this, he wasn't taking the trouble. He put his arm around Raymond's shoulder and urged, "Inside, son. We have to talk. Where's Elton? He needs to hear this, too."

  Claudia was having no secrets kept from her and ran after them. "You two wait a minute. I've a right to know what's going on here."

  "Later, Claudia," Vinson dismissed her, pushing his son gently into the study and slamming the door in her face.

  "Damn you!" she shouted, then, not to be outdone, ran down the hall to the dining room. There was a storage closet for china connecting the two rooms. But once inside, she did not open the door adjoining the study, instead pressed her ear against it to listen.

  And what she heard made her blood run cold.

  "She's back," Vinson was excitedly telling Raymond. "Anjele is back. Someone who knows me recognized her as they were taking her into City Hall and came and told me. I went over there, but they wouldn't let me see her. We've got to get Elton and go back and see what we can do about getting her out."

  "Out?" Raymond echoed, bewildered. "I don't understand."

  Elton hesitated, hating to have to be the bearer of such disturbing news but knew there was no easy way to say it. "Anjele is in jail, son. The Yankees are holding her prisoner."