He threw her ahead of him and then grasped her around the throat. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Her heart pounded. Her knees quaked. Every nerve cried out. He had murdered before. Mammy. Perhaps more.
“Don’t,” she whispered, a desperate plea.
His cruel laugh echoed through the cold rooms.
It took longer than Tom would have liked to get the documents that would allow Catherine to bring Aurelia and her children into Key West. Then he had to wait while Judge Graham spoke to the sheriff in the hall. Tom impatiently paced the judge’s office.
At last the men entered the room, and the judge issued the search warrant.
The sheriff looked it over. “It seems in order. You realize DeMornay can retaliate if you’re wrong.”
“I don’t believe we are.” The judge stood. “Ready, Tom?”
“I was ready hours ago.” He itched to finger the blade, small as it was, tucked in his belt. “I hope we’re not too late.”
The sheriff’s eyebrows rose. “You think he’s hidden all evidence?”
“I’m worried about Catherine. I should never have left her alone with him.”
The sheriff looked confused, but the judge indicated Tom had an attachment to her.
Attachment? That didn’t come close to the feelings bubbling inside him.
“If he hurts her . . .” Tom clenched his fists.
“Leave that to me, son,” the sheriff said.
Judge Graham grabbed his top hat. “Come, let’s go. I expect the soiree will be ending soon. The missus won’t be sorry to have missed it.”
Tom preceded him to the door. “Did DeMornay give any reason for the party?”
“To welcome Miss Haynes home.” The judge patted his coat until he located an envelope. “Here, read for yourself.”
Tom opened the envelope and withdrew the ivory cardstock. It took little time to read. “‘To welcome home the daughter of Lisette Lafreniere.’”
“So it says.”
“You don’t believe it either.”
The judge shook his head. “I wish I could, but there hasn’t been a party at Black Oak since Lisette left for her grand tour.”
Tom absorbed that information while the judge opened the door. Tom went ahead, and the judge and sheriff followed. “How did Lisette’s parents react?”
“They retreated into mourning. Perhaps the additional grant to her in their will was made as an enticement to bring her home.”
“But it didn’t.”
“And her parents died not that long afterward, leaving Henri in control.”
“With DeMornay. Is that when the plantation began to change?”
The judge glanced at the sheriff before answering. “It is.”
Tom got into the carriage, and the judge followed.
“To Black Oak,” the judge instructed the driver.
The horses nickered as if in protest. Tom couldn’t blame them. That place made him uneasy too.
“Even with the sheriff along, you’re taking a great risk,” the judge remarked after they were on the main road. “DeMornay won’t easily let Catherine go.”
“I know. But I can’t leave her there.”
The judge turned to the sheriff. “We ought to bring reinforcements.”
“I don’t know a man here willing to set foot in Black Oak at this hour.”
The blunt assessment made Tom cringe. “DeMornay wouldn’t dare harm an officer of the law. But if we need more men, I could look for Captain O’Malley and the crew of the James Patrick. I’m not sure where they’re moored, though.”
“Can you spot them from shore in the dark?” the sheriff asked.
“If they’re in the area and there’s enough light.”
“Very well. I know someone with a boat large enough to take you there and bring back a healthy contingent.”
“But that could take too long.” Tom feared what DeMornay might do to Catherine. “We need to arrive before the guests have left.”
Then there would be witnesses. Then DeMornay couldn’t touch her.
The master bedroom had always been locked. Tonight, the door stood wide open until DeMornay shut and locked it behind Catherine. He then pocketed the key and proceeded to pour yet another glass of spirits from a full decanter on the dressing table.
A massive canopied bed dominated the room. The gauzy bed curtains had been drawn to the sides and tied back with white ribbons. Pillows, bolsters, and a lush brocade counterpane covered the bed. A ponderous armoire and dressing table with mirror took up the bulk of the room, with twin chairs on either side of the bed. Their rich tapestry might have delighted her on another occasion. Tonight, every item filled her with terror.
She summoned her courage in a last bold stand. “What do you mean by this? No gentleman would dare to treat a lady in such a manner.” She even gave him the imperious gaze she’d seen acquaintances back home employ when an unwelcome gentleman paid a call.
It did not work.
He smirked. “You do not hold a title, and few would call me a gentleman.” He grabbed her arms and forced a kiss on her. “Come, dearest. Surrender, and the world will be yours.”
Had not Satan used a similar temptation on Jesus? The Lord had responded with Scripture that sent the devil fleeing. Yet she could not recall the precise verse.
Bold proclamation would have to do. “I surrender only to God.”
He slapped her.
She stumbled and used the advantage to move toward the door.
He caught her by the wrist. “Not so fast. We have just begun.”
“If you touch me now, I will not speak the vows.”
“You will when you are with child.”
Oh, the horror of that man. She cowered beneath his touch. Strength. She needed strength, but where could she find it?
The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped.
The fear dissipated a little.
He tightened his grip. “Don’t you know that marriage is sealed when the intent to marry is made public and is then consummated? Vows only satisfy those who insist on the church’s recognition.”
She would not bear this insult against everything good and right. She planted a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye. “The Lord is my strength. He will shield me from all evil. He will help me.”
Cool calm flowed into her with surprising strength. Though DeMornay cackled derisively, she saw a desperate man riddled with bitter covetousness. He might touch her body, but he would never have her soul.
“Stop!”
That voice did not come from either of them.
DeMornay spun around and then released her. Catherine fell backward a step and saw in the dressing room doorway a woman wild with purpose. Aurelia held a lantern high, a butcher knife in the other hand. Her eyes burned bright.
“What are you doing, Aurelia?” DeMornay attempted to circle closer.
The housekeeper lifted the blade. “Run, Miz Catherine.”
“But he will harm you.”
“Dere be nothin’ this devil can do to me now. I’m goin’ home to glory. You take my babes. Dey’re waiting.”
Catherine trembled. “The door is locked.”
Neither combatant paid her the slightest attention. DeMornay thought her trapped. Aurelia sought death. But the door was only one avenue of escape. The window opposite the door was opened wide. She could easily crawl through it if DeMornay didn’t stop her.
Aurelia inched toward the door. DeMornay must have figured that she was trying to unlock it for Catherine, but the housekeeper was too smart for that. She was giving Catherine an avenue to escape. All she had to do was run.
“Give me the knife,” DeMornay said in that low, silky voice. “I promise you won’t be harmed.”
“You already hurt me every way a man can. You cain’t have my Angel. You cain’t sell my boys.”
Catherine sucked in her breath. That’s what DeMornay was doing. Selling slaves. Perhap
s even smuggling them into Black Oak from Cuba.
“I would never sell them.”
“Lies!” Aurelia spat at him. “All lies. If I gots to go to de fires of hell, I see my babes safe.”
DeMornay lunged for Aurelia. This was Catherine’s chance. She raced to the window, pulled up her skirts, and crawled through, landing on the veranda. Though she knew she shouldn’t look back, one glance couldn’t hurt. DeMornay had caught Aurelia’s wrist, the one holding the knife. The housekeeper dropped the lantern and it exploded into flame, turning the rich carpets and bed into a blaze that surrounded the dueling pair.
“Aurelia,” Catherine gasped.
For an instant, Aurelia’s eyes met hers. The manic fire had dimmed, replaced by peace. She would give her life for her children. She trusted Catherine to save them. It was up to Catherine to ensure that.
After yanking her gaze from the expanding horror, Catherine ran around the veranda and down the steps. Her feet pounded across the empty yard. The servants were all supposed to be in their quarters, but a large man ran toward her.
She halted, fear squeezing her rib cage tighter than any stays.
Would he stop her? Would he drag her back to the man who intended to lock her inside the plantation house for the rest of her life?
She steeled herself, hands fisted. She must fight, not for herself but for Aurelia’s children.
The man ran past her, waving a hand in the air and calling out in a language she did not understand. He seemed not to see her at all, as if she was not there. Had the Lord veiled her from his sight? Shocked, she turned back just for a moment. Like Lot’s wife, she froze.
The house was ablaze, flames leaping into the sky. No one could escape that inferno. That’s what Aurelia had intended. She would make sure DeMornay never hurt anyone again. The enormity of her sacrifice weakened Catherine’s knees. Would she have been so bold?
Forgive her, Lord, for she acted from love and desperation.
Catherine stumbled away from the house. Soon the rest of the servants would arrive and attempt to put out the blaze.
She could not dwell in the past. To make Aurelia’s sacrifice matter, she must save her children. Where would Aurelia hide them? Her quarters? Too close to the other workers. The kitchen? Someone might be there. The sugarcane? Impossible to find. No, Aurelia would choose the first place she would expect Catherine to go. The pigeonnier.
Tom.
Catherine raced to the small wooden building. She pounded on the door. “Tom! Angel, Gibson, Hunt!”
What if Tom was still locked inside? She tugged on the door, banged on it again.
No answer.
Where were the children? She must find them, but that meant leaving Tom behind.
She felt a tug on her skirts and looked down. Angel.
She lifted the small girl in her arms and hugged her close. How would she explain that they must leave and their mama wouldn’t be coming with them?
“He ain’t there,” Gibson said at her elbow.
“He’s gone?” Her heart buoyed. “Where?”
“Don’t know, but Mama said we’s supposed to go with you.”
“Yes.” But her throat narrowed as three scared faces looked to her. “We must leave this place together. Stay close to me.”
They hurried away. In the confusion and tumult of the fire, no one noticed one woman and three children. They walked past the cane fields and onto the road that paralleled the river. Where she would go next she couldn’t say. Somehow, with no money, no carriage, and no help, she must bring three children to safety.
26
Tom didn’t have to borrow a boat to search for Rourke. The captain had already arrived at the landing along with most of the crew. They gathered in force, lanterns in hand.
“I’m sure glad to see you.” Tom forgot his subordinate position and clapped Rourke on the back.
Rourke looked surprised at first and then returned the gesture. “And I, you. We’ve been searching for you for days.” He turned Tom toward the west. “Then tonight we saw the sky light up.”
Tom’s jaw dropped at the orange glow in the sky. “Fire.”
“I’d say so,” the sheriff said. “Better get the men together.”
“From that direction, I’d say it’s at Black Oak,” Judge Graham added.
Tom’s innards knotted. “Catherine.”
“It could be the cane or one of the outbuildings,” the judge suggested.
Tom recalled the lanterns placed next to the overgrown yard. Even if the grass had caught fire, it wouldn’t make a blaze large enough to light the sky. The only thing that would . . . “It’s the plantation house.”
Rourke cut through the speculation. “My men will help fight the fire. You have a carriage. Would you bring Tom and myself and as many men as your rig can bear?”
“Of course,” the judge said. “We can take four or five, including myself and the sheriff.”
In the end, they squeezed eight into the carriage. Soon they were lumbering up the road as fast as the horses could manage. At this pace, all of Black Oak would burn to the ground before they arrived.
“I’ll run,” Tom offered. “Slow down and I’ll hop off.”
Rourke held his arm. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“But Catherine—”
“Is already beyond reach. If the house is on fire, she either got out already or has perished.”
Though that offered no consolation, Tom knew Rourke was right. Flames licked above the treetops. No human could have survived such a blaze unless he or she had already left the building.
DeMornay. Tom clenched his fists. That deceiver could die. But what about the servants?
“Aurelia. The children,” he gasped. “What if they’re inside?”
“We must pray for their safety.”
That wasn’t enough. “I need to get there. I can run, and once I’m off the carriage it’ll be a lighter load for the horses.”
Tom edged toward the side, prepared to jump, but Rourke didn’t release him.
“A dead man won’t be able to help them,” Rourke said.
Though Tom understood his caution, the image of Catherine surrounded by flames filled him with terror. He must get to her. He must ensure her safety. With a sharp yank, he pulled free and leapt off the carriage and onto the roadway. The impact sent him to his knees. The dirt was unforgiving. The stones bit into his hands, but nothing was broken.
The carriage slowed. Voices murmured. Rourke called out.
Tom scrambled to his feet and plunged forward into the shadows, at first stumbling and then running. The carriage resumed its course, slowly at first and then at a much more rapid pace. The crunch of wheels and clop of hooves quieted until he was alone.
Still, the dreadful glow of the night sky foretold a tragic end.
Tom struggled to catch his breath and had to slow.
Then out of the darkness, figures began to emerge, all huddled together.
“Who goes there?” Tom called out.
“Tom?” a faint voice asked.
Catherine. It was Catherine.
“They cannot have survived.” Catherine clung to Tom, and he held her just as desperately.
“Who?”
“Aurelia and DeMornay. They were surrounded by fire, struggling for the knife.” The image was burned in her mind. “I didn’t want to leave, but . . .” Catherine drew a breath, hoping it would quiet the sobs that threatened. “She gave her life.”
His hand, which had been rubbing her back in consolation, stilled. “For you.”
“For her children. We must take them to freedom. Somewhere. I will go anywhere that guarantees that.” The urgency pounded away selfish tears. “We must hurry before someone catches us and forces them to stay.”
“No one will force any of you to stay.” Tom broke the embrace, and the resulting distance between them made her shiver.
She pulled the children close. “I can’t believe that. Only when I’m safely awa
y from here will I rest.”
Tom hesitated, and she realized he had no power to bring her anywhere. Captain O’Malley could, but he and his crewmen had raced to the plantation in the carriage.
“Forgive me for overhearing your conversation.” Judge Graham stepped into the patch of moonlight on the road.
Tom started. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I left the carriage when it stopped to lighten the load. A man of my age is not a great deal of help in fighting a fire.” He turned to Catherine. “Mr. Worthington is correct. Papers were drawn this very night confirming your ownership of the plantation’s, uh, property.”
His glance toward the children left no doubt which “property” he meant.
“What if the transfer of ownership—” Even as she spoke, she realized it must have burned with the rest of the plantation house. “It’s gone.”
“If it was in the house.”
“It was. I saw it.”
“Then,” the judge said, “you are majority owner of Black Oak. You might have to compensate your cousins for the loss of, um, property.”
Catherine shuddered. The dream that had glistened before her all those years had become too tarnished to bear. This way of life relied on the oppression of others. She could not live with that. “Let them have the plantation.”
“You are understandably overwrought. Even if the main house burns to the ground, the land has value. I urge you to at least offer it for sale.”
Tom seconded the judge’s recommendation.
“I cannot think on that.” Her mind whirled toward the only thing that mattered. “All I want is to ensure these three children and their mother, if she is . . .” If Aurelia had died, she could not break that news to the children now. “They must be brought to freedom.”
The judge nodded. “I understand.”
“What of the other slaves?” Tom asked.
An answer popped into her mind. “Judge Graham, would you handle the sale of the plantation and use the proceeds to reunite the remaining slaves with their families? I suspect many have been brought here from elsewhere.”
“That is a difficult challenge,” the judge said slowly, “but a worthy one. I will do my best.”
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