"Yes, the fire left me unsettled, and your merciless seduction of me from that time on has increased any inclination I may have for insanity, but I am fully sane, have no doubt. I only want you to know I am finished with you forever. I'm going with Marshall. You've no more power over me!" Her ferocity echoed in her ears.
"Marshall, are you prepared to take this madwoman?" Justin sneered. "Let me warn you, insanity is definitely in her blood." He laughed cruelly. "I lived with her mother long enough to testify to that fact." He gave Louisa a hateful glance. "You can have her with my blessing, Marshall. I'm finished with her. She's of no value to me. Precious metal, but tarnished for my purposes." His voice hardened further. "But your blissful plans won't come easily, you know. Your parents, both of them, will oppose a marriage. Emma will object on some high principle," he laughed, "Simon because he wants a political alliance cemented with a proper marriage. He already has his plans in motion, I hear. So, don't count on smooth sailing." He stood up to face them, as if bored by the conversation. "I see little purpose for my journey out here, but I expect the Vinays want to settle some questions of business and I don't want to waste the trip. I'll be returning to Paris tomorrow." A hostile look crossed his face, and he paused to look at the silent young couple. "Welcome to the family, Marshall. You have my blessing, but I suspect it will be the only one your union receives." He gave Marshall a knowing smile. "Enjoy her. She's a born whore."
"You filth!" was Marshall's reply as he leapt at Justin, striking him violently. Justin fell dazedly to the floor.
"No, Marshall," Louisa cried as he struck him again. "Please! Please!" she said, touching him desperately. "No more violence." Reluctantly, Marshall stopped his attack, feeling incredible hatred for Justin, an emotion he had never known before.
In a few minutes Justin collected himself and left the room. "My God, Louisa! What he's done is unnatural. What kind of animal is he?" Marshall asked as he held her, wanting desperately to erase her memories, to protect and love her.
"I assure you he is the lowest sort. There is nothing he would not stoop to, no crime he would not commit," she cried, clinging to him with desperate helplessness. "And it terrifies me that I am his child. Perhaps there is no hope for me. Perhaps I can only contaminate you, too!"
Marshall crushed her fiercely against him. He seemed angry, but not at her. "No, Louisa, it's not possible. His evil can't touch us. We start clean and fresh and new, with no past. I promise you, time begins with us, when we begin."
Chapter Eleven
LOUISA secluded herself in her room, refusing to see anyone but Marshall. Her father's departure the next morning was attended only by M. Vinay, the two men evidently finding mutual interests in spite of their losses. Louisa stood in her dressing gown, and watched from the window as the men bade each other a jovial farewell. She was appalled at how quickly they could set aside the tragedies of their children. "We were nothing but chattel, Stefan," she whispered against the glass. "Dear God, let me be barren!" she wept.
"Louisa, why are you crying? Didn't you sleep well?" Marshall questioned as he approached her from the doorway, watching her peer out the windows, clutching the draperies, using them to support her weight as she leaned into the glass. At the sound of his voice, she whirled around wildly, startled from her sorrow. Her body was tense and her blue eyes filled with a kind of terror. When she saw him, Louisa relaxed slightly, wiping the tears from her face, trying to compose herself. "Marshall, I didn't hear you."
"Obviously. What do you see?" he said, coming to her, slipping an arm around her. She bristled, which surprised him. "Perhaps Dr. Michaelis can give you something to help you calm yourself? I'll send Helena . . ."
"No. No. I'm all right. I was just watching M. Vinay and Justin. How easily they forget us—Stefan and me —and carry on their business. But we were never on their minds in any other way." She colored. "Except for me. My father thought of me . . . in his own special way. God, Marshall!" She gave a sharp laugh, almost a gasp, and shuddered against him as if she hoped to shake off her memories physically.
Marshall held her tightly, not knowing what else he could do or say. He watched Justin's carriage go through the elaborate front gates. "We can leave this afternoon ourselves," he said. "M. Vinay will lend us a carriage and driver until we leave France. You need do nothing. I'll make all the arrangements." He smiled down at Louisa, very worried about the tension he felt in her body. "Remember, we've promised each other a new beginning. Our life starts now."
"Yes, let's go now—today. This instant is all right with me. Luggage or no!"
Marshall stayed with her and they talked quietly of their happier past and of their hopes for the future. Soon she slept in his arms as they sat in the quiet gray morning, but she seemed tense even in sleep as he lifted her into her bed and covered her with a soft comforter.
"Helena," he called to the woman as she unobtrusively packed their trunks in the morning's stillness.
"Go for some sleeping powders. I don't like Miss Louisa's condition."
"Yes, sir. She was up half the night pacing like a caged animal. She's wild for lack of sleep, if nothing else."
"Frankly, Helena, I'm worried about her," Marshall confided with a frown. "I think she might feel better in Paris. How soon can you be ready?"
"After dinner, sir."
"I'll plan on it."
When they were alone, Marshall watched Louisa carefully. She seemed to sleep deeply, but was often disturbed by unsettling dreams. She thrashed and muttered and cried out, waking fitfully. She felt feverish and clung to Marshall when he went to her. "You haven't changed much, Louisa. You used to wake the whole house. Remember?" he whispered, stroking her flushed damp face.
"Oh, yes! I remember! I never thought my dreams could be worse than they were. But, unbelievably, they are!" She pulled him to her tightly. "Marshall, why is my life filled with such horror? I've never hurt anyone. Am I so wicked? Why are my eyes filled with sights that should be only nightmares; not memory!"
"We can do nothing about the past, Louisa. We can only live our future, and try not to let the past haunt us."
"But, Marshall, it does haunt! The past haunts my nights and my days too!" she cried, pushing away from him, leaning into the pillows again. "The voices I hear, the faces I see—my mother, my father, Stefan—they're so filled with loathing. And I feel so small and helpless. They do whatever they want with me. I feel them near me, touching me, hurting me." Louisa closed her eyes, rolled over, and buried her face in the pillows, covering her ears, stiffening her body, sobbing, clenching her fists. She began to moan, the pitch of her voice rising until it became a tortured scream, unheard beyond the room as she burrowed more deeply into the down-filled cushions.
Marshall let her go, sensing into the core of his being the pain that filled her. He touched and stroked her, murmuring her name between her racking sobs. And when her terror abated and she was quiet again, he held her until she fell asleep. "Ah, Louisa;" he prayed, his fears only intensified by the long morning. "Let me love you. Leave your dreams behind, and come with me."
Chapter Twelve
THEIR departure from the Vinay family household was quiet with no formality. Only Henri disturbed himself to bid them good-bye. He offered no apology, but did congratulate Marshall on his behavior. "Glad to see you kept your head, Hudson. You understand my position."
"Perfectly," he replied as he supervised the loading of the carriage.
"Elijah will assist you, until you board ship." Henri turned to follow Marshall's gaze. Louisa was descending the steps, assisted by Helena. She looked frail, enveloped in a blue cape and hood. Her beauty was marred by the gray and green discolorations in her face, and the fading, but unhealed scar curving along her eyebrow.
She barely acknowledged Henri with a sharp glance when he spoke to her. As she boarded the carriage, she turned her head to look out the opposite window, waiting for Helena to settle herself and for Marshall to join them.
She had c
onsented to take a sleeping powder for the trip to Paris, and watched the countryside roll slowly by, mesmerized by the all-too-familiar scenery. When they passed the thicket where Stefan and she had struggled so brutally, she did not turn away, but merely leaned back against the carriage's soft velvetcushioned interior and stared out silently.
Marshall sat across from her. She had been strangely silent since the episode of violent crying earlier that day. They had dined on the terrace outside her room, with no words exchanged and only the rustling wind in the trees and the calling of the birds to accompany them. He had watched her gradually withdraw more deeply into herself as they prepared to leave the house, and he saw her slip even further away from him as they traveled along the road.
Helena watched both of them anxiously, wondering what to do if Louisa became ill. She understood Louisa had broken with her father, and the more she saw, the more uncertain she felt about Louisa's health. Louisa dozed quietly for most of the five hours the carriage rattled and swayed on the road to Paris, finally arriving there about dusk.
They went immediately to Marshall's apartments, startling the housekeeper. "M. Hudson, I did not expect you! You have guests?"
"Good evening, Mme. Braque. Miss Boyd and her companion will be my guests over the next few weeks. Please, make them comfortable. And a light supper for us, in an hour,"
"Oui, monsieur."
He then turned to Louisa, smiling at her. "Come, let's go for a walk. Some exercise will do us both good. We've been confined for days. It's not like you to sit still for so long,"
They began slowly, then quickened their pace. Louisa's eyes Shone; ease and laughter crept back into her voice. When they started out, they moved separately, but in a few minutes they were arm in arm, enjoying each other's warmth, looking like lovers.
When they returned to Marshall's they dined quietly and cheerfully, and Marshall began to relax, hoping Louisa would be all right now that she was in Paris. "I'm glad we didn't stay any longer. It's wonderful how much happier you are here." He offered her a liqueur, and she drank it slowly, nestled against him as they sat on the window seat, overlooking the park below.
"I know I'll feel even better when we sail for America. How soon can we leave?"
"I'm certain there's a Vanguard ship leaving Tuesday of next week. Tomorrow, I'll secure passage for us."
"How nice to have connections!"
"What accommodations do you want, Louisa?"
Unexpectedly, Louisa sat up sharply, nearly spilling her drink. "Choose whatever you like, Marshall. The decision is yours."
"Not really, Louisa. And what's wrong? Why are you suddenly so upset?"
"I'm tired." She forced a smile, trying to relax again. "I should go upstairs. Do you have any more sleeping medicine?"
"Helena has whatever you need." He rose to go with her up the stairs, puzzling over her abrupt change of attitude. He took her into his arms at her door and she was unresponsive, barely returning his embrace. "What's wrong? Have I done or said something to offend you?"
"Why no, Marshall. I'm just exhausted. I'll be all right by morning."
But Marshall wondered that night if morning would ever come. Louisa took her drug and slept peacefully for several hours. Then, suddenly, the whole house seemed to reverberate with her screams. Marshall, Helena, and Mme. Braque bolted from their beds at the first sound of her voice. By the time Marshall arrived at Louisa's door, Helena was at her bedside attempting to restrain her.
Louisa wept wildly, muttering incomprehensibly. "Oh sir, what is wrong with her?" Helena cried above her mistress's hysteria.
"I don't know." He rushed to take over. ''Louisa! My God! What is it?"
"Justin! Justin was here! Didn't you see him? He's come for me. He says he won't leave without me! Marshall, don't let him take me! Please, never again! Please! Marshall!"
"You've been dreaming!"
"No, I wasn't dreaming! I saw him, Marshall! I saw him, I swear it!" Her eyes were wild with terror.
"Listen to me! Trust me! No one was here!"
Louisa gasped, clutching her head with her hands, slowly succumbing to Marshall's touch, easing into his arms. "I think you can both go back to bed, now," he said to Helena and Mme. Braque, who were still wide-eyed with fright, as they retreated from the room, Helena in tense silence, Marie Braque muttering a serious request for a benevolent deliverance from ghosts and night terrors.
Marshall helped Louisa into bed again and sat next to her, holding her hands. "I'm so glad you're here," she sighed. "Once again, you're helping me sort out my dreams. But I thought my nightmares would be over."
"Maybe, it's a little soon after . . ."
"After Stefan? Perhaps."
"Give yourself a little time." He put her hands to his mouth and kissed them, then held them against his chest as he bent to kiss her mouth. "We'll soon have dreams to erase the others, Louisa," he added, leaning to touch her lips. He was shocked when she turned rigid at his caress.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently. "I thought you wanted us to be together."
Louisa shook uncontrollably. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible. "Don't touch me, please, Marshall. Please understand. I want you, but not yet, not now. Oh, maybe, not ever." The tears slid down the sides of her eyes.
"Louisa, Louisa, beautiful Louisa," he said in anguish. "What has he done to you?" He touched her face, unable not to do at least that. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I won't touch you until you want me to, not now, not ever."
She held his hands tightly, her tears running fast, wetting her face and hair. "I'm so afraid. Please, don't leave me."
"I'll stay for as long as you need me."
She smiled, calming herself visibly, then took a deep breath, controlling her tears, closing her eyes, seeming to rest. Marshall sat with her, held fiercely in her grip though she seemed to be asleep. He loved her and he pitied her and he longed for her. And now he wondered if he would ever possess her, ever make love to her. He wondered if what he'd heard of the insanity in her background was true enough to harm them. His mother had spoken of it, and so had Justin. Marshall knew little of insanity, having heard only the common tales of miserable wretches chained, raving in asylums. How would he know?
Louisa seemed to sleep peacefully, yet she held fast to Marshall. If he moved, she gripped him more tightly. He suddenly felt weary from the events of the last few days, but he wanted to be with her, comfort her, if he could. He pondered over Justin and his actions against his child. In all his searching, Marshall could not comprehend what sort of lust would overpower a man to allow him to touch a child sexually.
Marshall had eagerly learned about his own needs, finding an abundance of willing young accomplices, and he had hoped Louisa would come to him with as much enthusiasm, long before a formal marriage. But now as he watched her in the night, he felt even marriage might be more than she could accept.
He agreed with Justin's prediction that his parents would object to matrimony, and probably for the reasons Justin had outlined. But soon he'd be twentythree. On that birthday, he would receive a small fortune as a long-promised gift, and he planned to keep his and Louisa's hopes for a life together secret until he was independent, and could marry with or without approval. But will Louisa be able to marry anyone? he wondered. How awful are your dreams, Louisa?
When she woke again, she saw he was asleep sitting up, holding her as he had been when she drifted off. She smiled softly. I ask a lot from you, too much perhaps, she thought. How can I love you and yet ask you not to touch me? Surely, I'll change. Surely, I'll want you someday. But not now. Please, not now. Please understand.
He had not heard her plea, for she did not speak out loud, but he woke to look into her eyes, "I think I'm all right. You can go back to bed."
"I'll stay as long as you need me," he assured her.
She smiled, deeply touched by his response. "You have the patience to sit by me all night if I ask, don't you?" He nodded, smiling at her in his weariness.
"I love you, Marshall."
"I love you, too, Louisa," he said quietly.
Tears filled her eyes and she reached to touch his wonderful face. "And I believe that is the only hope I have."
Chapter Thirteen
LOUISA slept fitfully throughout the remainder of their stay in Paris, but more quietly than the first night. Marshall arranged passage for the three of them aboard the Emma H. At first he insisted Helena and Louisa share accommodations. But Louisa preferred to be alone. "I'll not be watched. It would only make me worse," she stormed.
When their plans were confirmed, Louisa grew cheerful and some of her spirit seemed to return. She laughed and hugged Marshall warmly whenever he returned to the house, but if he approached her as a man would the woman he loved, seeking even the slightest encouragement, a distance could suddenly be measured between them.
When they settled into their cabins aboard ship, Louisa seemed genuinely happy. "I wonder why Andrew jumped ship," she mused, reflecting on her earlier childish thoughts about escaping her life and becoming a sailor.
"Not all sea duty is as good as it is aboard the ships you've traveled on, Louisa. In fact, some of Vanguard's ships ought to be burned without a second thought," Marshall said with conviction. "I'm afraid our fathers earn some of their fortunes in despicable trade, at the expense of others. Perhaps Andrew saw more than he could take. Though I wonder why he made himself a fugitive." He paused to think about Andrew, and the deep friendship they had shared. "Wouldn't you love to see him again? What a threesome we were!"
Louisa smiled at her memories. "I know it could never be the same, but surely we could be as close again." Her voice grew excited as she thought of the possibility of the three of them coming together again. "I'd give anything to go back and relive it all―oh, not all," she sighed, suddenly touched again by her own misery. But generally, she and Marshall laughed and talked and played cards and seemed a very happy couple.
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