As Liberty made her way back to her own bedroom she felt a coldness around her heart. Could her mother not see the games Bandera always played? Today Liberty had turned fifteen, but no one seemed to remember or care. In the past she had always made excuses for her mother and Bandera, but the truth of the situation had finally hit her full-force. Neither of them cared about her. She was nothing but a troublesome child to them. It was a heartbreaking lesson for Liberty. With bitter disappointment, she realized her only friends and allies were her father and Oralee. Of course, today she had found a new friend in Zippora.
Dressed in a hand-me-down yellow empire-waist gown that Bandera had discarded, Liberty descended the stairs. While the bright yellow gown had been lovely on her sister, she knew its color made her look pale and washed out. Instead of wearing her hair in soft Grecian curls like Bandera, Liberty's hair was shoulder length and pulled back in a yellow ribbon.
Her footsteps quickened as she neared the salon, for she dared not be late for dinner. She was already in enough trouble; she did not need to add more fuel to the flame. Liberty paused at the door, drawing in a deep breath and gathering her courage. On entering the room, she walked slowly toward her mother. Ursula Boudreaux offered her younger daughter her cheek and smiled stiffly. Liberty gave her a quick kiss, then moved past her sister, barely noticing her. Knowing it was expected of her, she made a quick curtsy in front of Sebastian Montesquieu.
"Good evening, Monsieur. I trust your uncle is in good health."
Sebastian smiled down at her. "The truth of the matter is he is not quite himself lately, Mademoiselle. He sends his regards and his regrets that he cannot be with us tonight. He always asks about you."
Liberty felt her mother's eyes on her, warning her not to make a mistake. "I find your uncle a very enlightened conversationalist, Monsieur."
Sebastian's eyes moved across Liberty's face, then lowered to her high-cut neckline. Something about him repulsed her. "You are one of the few people my uncle consents to talk to, Mademoiselle. For some reason he seems to find you fascinating."
Liberty had never liked Sebastian. He was what she termed a dandy. Even so, his lineage was impeccable, for his father was of the old French aristocracy. Sebastian's short-clipped black hair was disheveled, a la Titus as was the fashion. He wore sage green, tight-fitted trousers, and his elaborately tied neck cloth was complimented by an upright collar. He was clean-shaven, but wore side-whiskers. For some reason his features did not seem to go together. His square-cut jaw seemed out of proportion with his aquiline nose. His blue eyes were dull, and he had the annoying habit of never looking into the eyes of the person he was addressing.
Bandera's laughter rang out as she slipped her arm through Sebastian's. "La, but our little mouse has pretty manners tonight, does she not, Sebastian?"
At last Liberty turned to her sister, knowing she could no longer ignore her. As usual, Bandera wore a lovely gown, smelled of some sweet, exotic scent, and looked beautiful. No one but Bandera could have worn the deep purple and carried it off so well. Beside her, Liberty indeed felt like a homely little mouse.
A deep French voice spoke up from the other side of the room. "Ma petite, is not a mouse. She will show us all one day how the bud turns into the rose."
Liberty's father had just entered the room, and her eyes lit up when she saw his encouraging smile. Evidently he had just returned from New Orleans, because he wasn't dressed for dinner, and he still wore mud-splattered riding boots. Louis Boudreaux was a handsome man of forty-five. His sandy hair held no hint of gray and his blue eyes twinkled as he held a hand out to Liberty, who raced across the polished cypress floor, and threw herself into his comforting arms.
"I am so glad you came home tonight," she whispered against his ear, feeling like a condemned felon who has just been handed a reprieve.
"Did you think I would miss your fifteenth birthday?" he said, so only she could hear. "We will speak of it later," he added in a soft voice. "I see your mother is feeling neglected."
Taking Liberty by the arm, Louis strode to his wife. Reaching for Ursula's hand, he raised it to his lips. "You are lovely tonight, ma chere," he said with warmth.
Ursula blushed with maidenly delight as her husband gave her a tender look. That she loved him was apparent to everyone in the room. Not to be left out of the family circle, Bandera elbowed her way forward to receive a kiss and a hug.
"Do you wish to change before we dine?" Ursula asked her husband. "We can hold dinner if you wish."
"No, no. Let us proceed with the meal. I assume there is a party tonight. I feared I wouldn't make it home in time for the festivities."
Ursula looked puzzled for a moment; then she smiled. "No, you have the dates wrong, Louis. Bandera's masquerade party is not until next Saturday. Did you remember to pick up Bandera's gowns from the dressmaker?"
A frown creased Louis's brow, and he caught the sadness in Liberty's eyes. "Oui… the gowns were ready, but-"
"Oh, Papa," Bandera cried excitedly, forgetting to act distingue for Sebastian's benefit. "When can I see them? Do I have to wait until after we have dined?"
Louis turned his soft blue eyes on Liberty. "All in good time, Bandera. First, however, I have a gift for Liberty."
Bandera's lips drooped into a pout when Louis removed a black velvet-covered box from his pocket and held it out to his young daughter. "Happy fifteenth birthday, ma petite"
Silence followed his announcement. Ursula shook her head and reached out to Liberty, distressed that in all the excitement she had forgotten her daughter's birthday. "I . . . happy birthday, Liberty. It seems only yesterday you turned fourteen. Time passes so swiftly," she managed to choke out.
As Liberty felt her mother's cool lips brush her cheek, she noted the momentary sadness reflected in Ursula's dark eyes. Even Bandera had the good grace to look ashamed, but she said nothing.
Sebastian saved the awkward situation by stepping forward and extending his best wishes to Liberty. Your father is right, you are a bud almost ready to bloom." Sebastian's eyes saw past the ill-fitting gown to the girl's delicate bone structure. He did not mistake the future promise of beauty.
"Thank you," Liberty said, thinking this was the third time today she had been compared to a bud about to bloom. She could not stop the blush that tinted her cheeks. She was not accustomed to receiving compliments from gentlemen, even if this one was only from Sebastian.
Bandera, not liking the attention Liberty was receiving, laced her arm through Sebastian's, her lips curling viciously.
Liberty took the velvet box and opened it slowly, savoring the moment. Joy lit her face as she picked up a golden bracelet with a tiny dangling heart. "Oh, Papa, this is lovely. This is the best birthday ever," she said through a mist of tears. Liberty's father hugged her to him, so she did not see the look that passed between her parents. Louis was not at all pleased that no one had remembered his daughter's birthday.
"Is it the best birthday you have ever had, my darling daughter?" he asked, watching his wife. "It seems to take so little to bring you joy." Ursula caught the sarcasm in her husband's voice, and she knew he was displeased with her.
But Bandera was watching Liberty slide the bracelet onto her arm. "A pretty bauble," she said under her breath, while thumping the dangling heart with her finger.
"It will do you no good to covet this, Bandera," Liberty told her. "Papa had it engraved with my name."
Bandera's eyes gleamed with jealousy. "What does it say?" she demanded to know.
"Here," Liberty said, removing the bracelet and handing it to her sister. "Read it for yourself."
Bandera's face reddened and her eyes gleamed spitefully. "To my daughter, Liberty, on her fifteenth birthday," she read aloud, then tossed the bracelet back to Liberty. "Who would want that old thing anyway."
"I do," Liberty said, once more slipping the gift onto her arm. Her eyes moved to her sister's finger where the ring Zippora had given her gleamed in the candlelight. Libert
y wanted the ring back, but she decided it would be unwise to make an issue out of it. Better to let the whole matter drop, she decided.
No one saw the old woman's face pressed against the window as she watched the proceedings. No one could hear Zippora's softly muttered words. "What goes around, comes around. A hurt inflicted will come back tenfold."
As the small party gathered in the dining room, candlelight glistened on the surface of the mahogany table, hiding the shabbiness of the room. Since it was her birthday, Liberty was accorded the honor of sitting to her father's right. She saw her mother watching her, and she knew Ursula was feeling guilty because she had forgotten her birthday. Liberty wished she could assure her mother that it was unimportant. She did not want regret to drive another wedge between the two of them.
Bandera was caught up in trying to impress Sebastian, and for the moment she was ignoring her family. As the desert was served, Louis leaned back in his chair to survey his family. For too long he had ignored the treatment Liberty had been receiving from her mother and stepsister. He intended to see that the child was never neglected again. His eyes were cold as they rested on his wife.
Feeling the tension in the air, Liberty tried to lighten the atmosphere. "What news from Paris, Papa?" she asked, since news from France was always welcome dinner conversation.
Louis smiled at his young daughter. "It is not easy to gain information from Paris these days, with the hostilities between the United States and France." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Let me see now ... I did hear one interesting bit of news. It is said that Napoleon despairs at the flimsy gowns women are wearing, and he has had the fireplaces at Tuileries bricked up so that women will be forced to dress more warmly."
Liberty giggled behind her hand. "I doubt that even that will work. Women seem to be beyond good judgment when it comes to fashion, Papa."
"Little you would know about fashion," Bandera snarled. "You are certainly not an authority on how a woman should dress."
Louis leaned toward his wife and whispered in her ear. "Put an end to your daughter's insults, Madame. I will not tolerate her cruelty any longer." Ursula merely lowered her head, saying nothing, for fear Sebastian would realize something was amiss.
Bandera saw that she had displeased Louis, so she smiled prettily at him. "Of course, I could teach Liberty style if she were to show an interest in learning."
"Tell us more news from France, Papa," Liberty urged, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.
"I was told a funny story that came out of England," he said thoughtfully. "Again this has to do with women's fashions. It seems that a Russian army officer was visiting London. On a cold day he strolled down Bond Street and spied a fashionably dressed lady walking by. He was accustomed to judging a woman's circumstances by the warmth of her clothing, rather than the stylishness of mode. Seeing the woman's flimsy gown, he presumed she was a pauper, and out of sympathy, offered her money to buy a proper coat. The woman was a duke's daughter, and incensed to say the least."
Delighted laughter bubbled from Liberty's lips, and Sebastian joined in. By the time dinner was over they all moved to the salon, where a lighter mood ensued.
"I have a bit of unexpected news," Sebastian stated, as he took the glass of wine Louis offered him. Taking a sip, he then balanced the glass on his knee. "My uncle has just learned that my cousin is to return home."
Ursula's brow furrowed as she stared at her husband. She had heard talk that at one time Louis had been in love with Gabrielle Montesquieu. "Can you be speaking of Monsieur Montesquieu's daughter?" she inquired.
"Oui" Sebastian answered, studying the amber-colored liquid in his glass. "I have not seen her in years. Of course, she is some ten years older than I."
Louis seemed to tense. "I know very little about Gabrielle’s life since she left Bend of the River. Is she still married, Sebastian?"
"No, her husband died several years ago. She has a son ... I suppose he would be my second cousin. My uncle assumes she will bring his grandson with her."
Bandera's eyes narrowed in speculation. The Montesquieu fortune was so near her grasp. Could this grandson be a threat to Sebastian's future? She did not want to see her dreams shattered by some long-forgotten family member. "I never knew your uncle had a daughter or a grandson," she stated guardedly. "I always assumed you and your mother were Monsieur Montesquieu's only living relative."
"There is no reason you should have heard about Gabrielle and her son. When my cousin married the American, my uncle disowned her and never acknowledged the birth of her son. My mother and I are surprised he has done so now."
"Can this mean that your uncle has forgiven his daughter?" Bandera wanted to know.
Sebastian shrugged his padded shoulders. "Who can say? I can assure you, I am not looking forward to meeting my American cousin."
"We are all Americans in this room," Liberty reminded Sebastian.
He gave her a half-smile. "Some of us are more American than others."
"My father believes it is a good thing to be a part of America. He hopes Orleans Territory will one day become a state," Liberty declared.
Sebastian seemed not to hear. He stared into Bandera's eyes and said softly. "It seems I now have a rival for my uncle's affection."
"Gabrielle," Louis said softly. "So she is coming home after all these years. I wonder if she is much changed?"
Ursula felt jealousy tug at her heart. If this Gabrielle was a widow, would she try to win Louis away from her? No, Louis would never love anyone but her. Still she felt a prickle of uneasiness. Louis had been displeased with her quite frequently of late. Did he think she had deliberately ignored their daughter's birthday? she wondered. Good lord, Liberty was her daughter, as she was his. Did he not know that she loved the child?
The night was still, and not a breath of wind stirred the trees outside the plantation house. Darkness covered the land as ominous clouds moved across the moon.
Bandera tossed and turned on her bed, moaning in her sleep. She dreamed that she was running through the swamp, trying to escape from something horrible. Cold sweat popped out on her brow, and she felt herself falling . . . falling . . . falling.
Finally, she landed with a plop, only to find to her dismay that she was in quicksand and sinking fast. Whimpering and whining, she tried to save herself, but each time she struggled, she sank deeper and deeper in the mire. Finally, she saw a shadowy creature standing on the slope, and she reached out her hand for help.
A scream issued from Bandera's lips when she recognized the old voodoo woman, Zippora. Fear encased her mind, and she was unable to move when the old woman grabbed her hand. But instead of saving her, Zippora brandished a knife and cut off Bandera's finger!
Sitting up in bed, Bandera made little whimpering sounds. The nightmare had been so real that it took her moments to realize she was safe. She felt her finger, and was relieved to find it still intact.
Bandera leaped from her bed, and raced down the hallway to Liberty's bedroom. She jerked the ring from her finger, trying to still the tremors of fear that shook her body. Liberty raised up and sleepily wondered why Bandera was in her bedroom in the middle of the night.
"Take your old ring!" Bandera cried, pressing it into Liberty's hand. "I don't want it!"
Liberty slipped the ring on her finger and turned over, already reclaimed by the comforting arms of the sleep that comes only to the innocent. Bandera was not as fortunate as her sister, for it took a good hour before she was brave enough to, again, close her eyes in sleep.
The moon came out from behind the cloud, and a sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves of the magnolia tree that grew beside the riverbank. A dark figure slipped into a boat and paddled toward the swamps, her crackling laughter carried away by the heightening wind.
4
Judah glanced over the iron balcony of his second-floor room at the Royale Inn. Nothing his mother had told him about New Orleans had prepared him for the picturesque sight that me
t his eyes. Across the street an unlatched grillwork doorway led to a courtyard where banana plants, palm trees, and exotic flowers enhanced a colorful garden. In the distance he could see the tall steeple of the magnificent old Saint Louis Cathedral, its inspiring presence looming, like a sentinel, over the city.
A tall black woman, her hair wrapped in a white turban, balanced a basket of oranges on her head, calling out her chant. "Oranges for mam'zelle, oranges for m'sieu, oranges to ward off the sickness."
Judah's eyes moved down the banquettes on which ladies and gentlemen of fashion strolled leisurely, stopping occasionally to peer in a shop window. This newly acquired territory did not seem to fit the view he had of the American territories. New Orleans would never be molded to resemble her sister cities of America. She was alive with old traditions that she would cling to jealously.
Judah had the oddest feeling that he was no stranger to this land. Perhaps it was because his mother had always talked of New Orleans with such love that he felt akin to this place. Yes, the feeling was strong—he felt as if he had come home. This was where he belonged.
Trying to shake other feelings he did not understand or welcome, he turned his head upward to let the golden sunlight warm his face. Even the air he breathed was heady, as were the many aromas that filled his nostrils. Vivid colors—yellows, pinks, and reds —blended as if they had been painted by a master painter.
Judah felt a hand close over his, and he glanced down at his mother. "Did you have a nice visit with your friend, Minette?"
"Yes, it was lovely. You impressed her very much when you came to tea yesterday. She says my son is very handsome, and she believes you will turn the heads of all the young ladies of New Orleans."
His mouth eased into a smile. "You aren't going to promote a romance between me and your friend, are you?"
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 5
