“Tom!” Her spirits leapt. “He’s returned.”
He walked toward the house in broad daylight with Captain O’Malley at his side. The sight of that upright man gladdened her. He would help her find the missing document. He would bring her to New Orleans. He would help her sort out what she must do.
She turned back to the housekeeper. “Quick!” She shoved the rag at Aurelia. “To my bedroom. You must make certain my hair and gown are presentable.”
Aurelia tucked the dust rag in her apron pocket and led the way. Within moments, her deft fingers captured any stray locks of hair. A quick brushing of Catherine’s skirts removed all trace of dust. She was ready to greet her guests.
“If you won’t be needin’ me, miss.” Aurelia drifted out of the room.
“Please receive our guests and tell them I will be there shortly.”
A knock sounded through the house.
“Gibson’ll answer it. I oughta see ta dinner. Massa’ll return hungry.”
Catherine thought quickly. “Bring tea service. It’s early, but I must serve something.”
“Yes, miss.” Aurelia nodded and scurried away.
A second knock rang out. She flew through the butlery and pantry, crossed the main salon, and found the men on the front veranda.
“Tom! Captain O’Malley!” She had never been so pleased to see a familiar face. Rourke would know what to do. “Please join me on the gallery. Aurelia will bring tea.”
“Thank you, and may I say you look well,” Rourke said as she led them to the table.
“A bit tired, I’m afraid, but generally well.”
She glanced at Tom, who had been silently observing her. After helping her into her usual chair, he took the seat across the table from her. Rourke then claimed the head of the table.
“I did not expect to see you here, Captain O’Malley,” she began, knowing it was her duty to start the conversation. As eager as she was to ask for help locating the document, she could not begin the visit with a request.
“I told you that the captain was here,” Tom interjected. “The James Patrick is nearby.”
“Yes, of course.” She felt her cheeks heat. “You did tell me that, as well as finding your father’s ship. Is it in good condition?”
Tom sat on the edge of his chair, clearly anxious. “It’s much the same as the last time I saw it. It is painted black, though, doubtless so it can sail at night unseen.”
Catherine glanced toward the salon doors. No sign of DeMornay yet, but he could arrive at any moment. “The James Patrick has a black hull too. Is that so it can sail unseen?”
Rourke roared with laughter. “She got you on that one,” he said. “But we are not here to discuss ships. We want to know how you are faring.”
Catherine gave Rourke a grateful smile. “Well, thank you. I’m honored that you paid me a call. How were Elizabeth and the children when you left them?”
“Quite well, though Jamie is a bit too much like his father. He already wants to sail and put up a fuss when I would not bring him along.”
“At such a tender age,” she exclaimed. “He will be five soon, won’t he?”
“December second.”
They exchanged further details of life in Key West, and a strange longing tugged at her heart. Though she had spent but one month in that tropical port, it had become home for her. Would Black Oak ever fill that void?
“DeMornay isn’t here?” Tom interjected, pulling her from much more pleasant thoughts.
“He rode out this morning to instruct the field workers.” Was this the time to ask for help?
“I understand it’s harvesttime.” Rourke’s calm contrasted with Tom’s obvious impatience.
“Yes. He says they are cutting the farthest fields and will work their way toward the river.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Tom said, that scowl still in place. “Why not cut the cane closest to the road so wagons can haul it to market?”
Rourke looked like he was trying to stifle a grin. “The sugarhouse is likely located centrally or at the farthest reaches of the plantation. I assume they boil the cane there.”
Catherine realized how little she knew of the plantation’s workings. “I believe so. Mr. DeMornay did mention that they were cutting near the sugarhouse.”
“The midday meal isn’t far away. You must expect him soon.” Tom looked left and right.
“True.” She wiped her damp palms on her napkin.
Rourke glanced at Tom. “We shouldn’t stay long. I have a ship and crew waiting for orders. Tom wanted to bring you news—and an offer.”
A crash just inside the house brought Catherine to her feet. “The tea service!” She hurried through the doors to the salon to find Angel sobbing and picking at the pieces of broken china.
“No, no. Don’t cut yourself.” Catherine guided the girl away from the mess.
Angel recoiled, her hands up to shield her face. “Don’t hit me!”
Shocked, Catherine stepped back. “I would never strike you. It was an accident, that’s all. This tray is too heavy for someone your age to carry. Where’s your mother?”
“Mama! Mama!” the little girl wailed.
Aurelia ran into the room and picked up her daughter. “Hush now. Hush, less yo’ papa hear.”
Angel’s father. DeMornay. “He’s here?”
“Ride up jess now.”
Catherine felt ill. She looked back and saw that Tom and Rourke had followed her into the salon. DeMornay did not like Tom and certainly did not trust him. What would he do if he saw Rourke and Tom here with her? She couldn’t forget the way he’d gone after Tom at the pigeonnier last night.
“You must go,” she urged the men. “Now.” She tugged on Tom’s arm and motioned to the front steps, hoping Rourke would take the hint.
Instead, both men stood rooted to the spot, staring past Catherine.
20
DeMornay stood in the doorway between the butlery and the salon.
Aurelia had frozen at her daughter’s side, her expression hard as stone. Catherine tried to take it all in even while panic knotted her stomach. DeMornay had returned, and he was not pleased.
The plantation manager’s boots clattered across the salon. “What happened here?”
Catherine secretly motioned for Tom to leave.
He did not move.
Angel began to sob again, and Aurelia buried her daughter’s face against her shoulder. She backed away, still holding Angel. “Gots to get de food on de table.”
Fear clearly gripped Aurelia just as it did her daughter.
“Who broke my teapot?” DeMornay demanded.
“Your teapot?” The arrogance set off Catherine’s temper. Her response also gave Aurelia time to hurry her daughter from the room. “It is more mine than yours. I am a Lafreniere. You are not.”
She saw the corner of Tom’s mouth inch upward, and confidence rushed in. She was much more an owner than DeMornay ever would be. He was only a servant.
DeMornay scowled briefly before recovering that calm facade. “A matter of semantics. I am looking out for your best interests, dear Catherine.”
The emphasis infuriated her. “I can look out for my own interests. This was an accident.” She waved at the broken tea service.
DeMornay tugged off his leather gloves. “Are you going to introduce me to your other friend?”
The smile might lead a stranger to believe he was genuinely interested in meeting Rourke, but Catherine could sense an undercurrent of anger beneath the placid surface. DeMornay did not welcome uninvited guests.
She took a deep breath, hoping to still her racing heart. “This is Captain Rourke O’Malley from Key West.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” The handshake appeared firm. “You are here to bring Mr. Worthington home.”
Not a question. A statement.
“If he wishes to leave,” Rourke replied without the slightest indication he was ill at ease.
Catherine glanced a
t Tom’s rigid expression. Her heart leapt. He was here for her. They both were. Tom had asked her to go with him last night. She had refused at the time, but now she would gladly accept transport to the city. Then she could settle the matter of inheritance once and for all.
“Tom is in my employ,” Rourke was saying, “but he will make his own decisions.”
Tom glared at DeMornay, as if by doing so he could force the man to admit he had stolen Tom’s father’s ship. He must have known how impossible that was. DeMornay was as closed as a secure safe.
“You may leave now,” DeMornay said in a low voice.
“No.” Catherine addressed all of them at once. “Rourke and Tom are my guests. We will dine on the gallery.” She cast a triumphant smirk at DeMornay. “Let no visitor say Black Oak plantation treated them without the utmost courtesy. Gentlemen, you may join me while Mr. DeMornay changes into something fresher.”
She saw Tom’s eyebrows lift in surprise and a flash of admiration cross his face. So, she had impressed him. Catherine smiled to herself as she led Rourke and Tom back to the gallery. She had not commanded such a presence except during her father’s illness. It felt good to be in control again. When DeMornay reluctantly retreated to his quarters, she wanted to shout for joy.
Instead, she directed the men to the table. This time she placed Rourke and Tom on the same side. DeMornay always sat at the head of the table. Today she selected that seat.
“Do you think Aurelia is Elizabeth’s mammy?” Tom whispered to Rourke after they sat.
“No. I knew the woman well. Though ten years can change a person, this woman could not be her. The stature and coloring don’t fit.”
That settled the question niggling Catherine since Key West.
Rourke leaned closer to her. “We don’t have much time. If you want to return to Key West with us, let us know now.”
“Return to Key West?” Though her heart longed for just that, she couldn’t leave until she knew if she owned part of Black Oak.
“But you must,” Tom hissed. “Can’t you see what that man is doing?”
“Of course, but I can’t leave Louisiana yet. I would be grateful if you would take me to the city, though.” She would have to give up on finding the sale document for now.
Rourke looked into her eyes. “When?”
“At your earliest convenience.”
“Then after that you will go home with us.” The hope in Tom’s voice almost broke her heart.
She shook her head. “Not yet. Not until I know if Black Oak is mine.” She lowered her voice as a thought occurred. “But Aurelia and her children . . . perhaps they could go to Key West with you.”
Concern etched deep lines in Rourke’s face. “For an enslaved Negro to set foot on Key West soil, the owner must show proper papers.”
“I could free them.”
“You have that authority?” Tom asked.
“I do.” She hoped.
Rourke shook his head. “No free colored people are allowed ashore.”
Catherine didn’t understand. “Even Anabelle’s husband?”
“He established residence before that law was enforced.” Rourke’s expression betrayed his dismay with the regulation. “Even if that were not the case, we couldn’t get out of New Orleans without the owner and papers aboard. Otherwise we would be accused of slave trading.”
Catherine knew nothing of American laws. “That is not allowed, then?”
“It is not. If caught, the ship would be seized, and we would all face prison.”
Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. Was there no way to help Aurelia and her children? She took a deep breath. It was the only way. “Will you stay until I have those papers?”
Rourke did not answer at once. “I have a business, a wife, and children.”
“I ask too much. Forgive me. There will be another way.”
“I will stay,” Tom said.
Catherine knew where that would lead, yet she had no other choice. “And bring me back here when they have been delivered?”
Tom’s expression grew black. “Back here? Why? Because of him?” He waved toward the back of the house. “Can’t you see who he is?”
“Who am I?” DeMornay glided onto the gallery with clean trousers and frock coat, his hair neatly combed.
Catherine quaked. How much had he overheard?
No one spoke.
DeMornay stared at Catherine just long enough to send a shiver of fear up her spine. Leave while you can, Aurelia had begged her. Everyone echoed that sentiment, yet she could not let go of the hope of resurrecting Maman’s beloved home.
She extended an arm toward the empty side of the table. “Please join us, Mr. DeMornay.”
If menace could be delivered in the scrape of a chair’s legs, every person at that table heard it.
Tom could barely focus on the conversation during the meal. That portrait above the fireplace must be the one Catherine had lugged across the Atlantic. Her mother. It hadn’t been there the last time he was in the parlor. She was settling in. How would he ever convince her to leave?
DeMornay fawned over Catherine and seized control of the conversation as if he owned the plantation. She held her tongue, but he could see the temper building in her fiery eyes. Catherine Haynes now believed that she was the mistress of the house and DeMornay was merely an employee.
In truth she had little real power. She did not understand DeMornay’s capacity for deception. Pa had considered himself a fine judge of character, but he didn’t spot the man’s duplicity. DeMornay had left Pa for dead far out to sea without food or water. Only the grace of God had sent the ship’s boat ashore before Pa perished. What would DeMornay do to Catherine?
Tom fisted his hands beneath the table.
Even if she succeeded in claiming Black Oak and sent DeMornay away, Tom faced an intolerable separation. He could not stay. She would not leave. That fact clawed at his heart.
“We are making fine progress in the harvest,” DeMornay said, his gaze fixed on Catherine. “If the weather holds, we should finish in two weeks’ time.”
Though DeMornay spoke calmly, his eyes betrayed the storm within. He was angry, furious, and someone would pay. For a second Tom feared for Catherine, but DeMornay wouldn’t risk alienating her. Not until he was absolutely secure. No, someone else would pay. A servant, most likely.
A boy of perhaps ten brought the meal to the table. Aurelia never appeared.
While the others exchanged polite conversation about the harvest and the weather, Tom considered his dilemma. Could he stand to be a river pilot? Would anyone hire him?
Finally the inevitable question was posed.
“To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Mr. Worthington?” DeMornay reclined in his seat, running his finger around the rim of his bloodred wineglass. “I thought you left for Key West, yet here you are.”
Catherine looked stricken.
Tom stuck to the bare facts. “I saw Captain O’Malley in New Orleans before I secured passage. Since he is heading back that way, there was no reason to seek passage elsewhere.”
DeMornay knew he wasn’t telling him everything.
“Then, Captain, you sail soon for Key West?” DeMornay shifted his focus to Rourke.
“As soon as my business here is finished,” Rourke said smoothly, his expression so calm and confident that it appeared to shake DeMornay. “My wife would never forgive me if I didn’t pay a call on Miss Haynes.”
“Of course.” DeMornay took a deep draft of his wine. He then lifted the bottle. “Are you certain you wouldn’t care for some?”
“I don’t drink spirits any longer,” Rourke stated.
Tom echoed his words when DeMornay gave him the same offer.
DeMornay didn’t ask Catherine. He simply filled a glass and set it before her. She ignored it in favor of tea. By the end of the meal, her glass remained untouched.
“A pleasant repast, gentlemen.” DeMornay rose, signaling the end of the visit. “I h
ave the accounts to manage. Catherine asked to learn, so I am planning to instruct her.” He cast a proprietary look her way.
Her smile seemed forced and fluttered away the moment he wasn’t looking. Something was very wrong.
Tom could not bear to leave her, yet he must. If she’d wanted to go with them, she could have done so. He and Rourke would have protected her with their lives. Instead, she gave a weak smile and waved farewell as they left.
Tom held his tongue until he and Rourke reached the river road. “Do you see what I mean?”
Rourke was frowning. “Something is wrong there. I could feel it.”
“Evil.”
Rourke nodded. “Perhaps. Certainly the man is hiding something.”
“Did you see the way the housekeeper acted? The child’s fear? The way everyone tiptoed around DeMornay? I must get Catherine away from him.”
Rourke gave him a long look. “Even if you have to give up your father’s ship?”
Tom choked on that thought. “Why should I have to give up the ship? Once I prove ownership, it’s mine, and I’ll sail it out of here.”
“If this DeMornay is the one who stole it, do you think he will sit idly by?”
Tom knew he wouldn’t.
“And if he was willing to cut your father adrift without food or water, wouldn’t he use whatever or whoever is at his disposal to defeat your claim?”
“Catherine.” The certainty sank into his soul. “That’s why he clings to her, why he’s trying to gain her trust.”
Rourke sighed. “Never underestimate the enemy.”
Tom had. But he couldn’t give up justice for his father.
“I will get both. There has to be a way.”
Catherine could feel DeMornay’s calm mask dissolve the moment Tom and Captain O’Malley disappeared down the long carriage drive.
“How dare you.”
The cold edge to his voice made her step away.
He grabbed her arm. “You aren’t going anywhere.” He yanked her into the house.
She pulled against him, but his grip only tightened until she cried out. “You’re hurting me.”
He didn’t loosen his grip. “You hurt me by assuming my place.”
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