Chapter Sixteen
LOUISA rejoined the Hudson household the morning after the fire and it was only a short time before Simon approached Marshall and Louisa with his suspicions of their affair and his ultimatum. As soon as was decent by his standards, as soon as Louisa seemed cognizant of the events and could confirm what he knew to be true, Simon brought the couple to his study and confronted them.
When they were summoned, Marshall suspected the time had come for his father to admit his suspicions, and to forbid his son's association with Louisa. He anticipated Simon would threaten and eventually withhold the property and money he had been promised, in order to secure his cooperation. He even expected to be coerced into marrying Janna Carson if he wanted to be financially independent. He had resolved that, if necessary, he would follow through with an arranged marriage, but he would not give up Louisa if she chose to continue their affair. He was unprepared for his father's malicious thoroughness.
"You two have managed to keep a tight rein on your emotions―at least, in public," he began, when the couple had seated themselves comfortably across from him. He sat at his massive rosewood desk in the cool, darkened room, leaning back in his chair with obvious assurance, certain of his victory in the matters he would propose. "Louisa, I know you have had a' difficult time recently, and I know, or I think I know, what motivated you to do as you did."
She did not reply, but listened while Simon related essentially what had happened the night of the fire, confessing he knew and regretted why Justin's body was found in her room. "But that sorrow aside, it appears that you murdered your father, Louisa."
"My God, Father!" Marshall protested. "Your accusation is incredible! How can you even raise the question?" Marshall was stunned, and he felt the blood drain from his limbs and a sudden coldness, knowing that despite his careful anticipation of this meeting, he was unprepared for whatever it was Simon had in mind.
Louisa was mute, as she had been in recent days.
And she was numb, not having thought ahead, having lived the last few days from moment to moment, trusting in her love for Marshall to see her through even this phase of her life. Suddenly, the audience with Simon reminded her too closely of the one she and Marshall had had with Henri Vinay in France, some months before, and she suspected the bargaining would be as decisive. She realized for the first time that she had underestimated Simon, having only noticed his charm, having sought his protection in the past, and never suspecting, until now, his sanctuary had its price as well.
"The supposition is not so absurd when you know, and can corroborate, Justin's treatment of Louisa. I'm certain there are others in this parish―on the plantation, even―who know and could be persuaded to reveal what they know."
"For God's sake, Father, why?" demanded Marshall. "Why should you want to destroy us? You may not approve of Louisa, for God knows what absurd reasons―bloodline and all that―I can hear Mother!" He was livid and he felt desperate. "I've even anticipated your demand that I marry Janna Carson. But I'm at a loss as to why you feel the need to raise the cause of Justin's death as an issue. Even so, Louisa only defended herself."
"You forget the codes we live by, Marshall. Justice can be purchased like any other commodity, if you have the means. And I have the means."
"But what of the other codes we say we live by the codes violated by Justin. Surely someone will speak against what Justin did to Louisa all these years, while everyone closed their eyes!"
"Incest is not murder. In the end, a child is property. And his deeds, though unconscionable, will be overlooked."
Marshall was stunned into silence, and Simon paused to watch the two beautiful young people before him, unable to remember any real fondness for anything but money and power. "I've anticipated your acquiescing that you marry Miss Carson, but I also suspect that nothing, short of a separation at great distance, will keep the two of you apart for long. Yours does not strike me as an easily terminated affair. Am I right?"
Neither replied. They were accused, and Marshall would neither deny his feeling for Louisa, nor simply nod his head in agreement. And Louisa felt incredibly cold and ill. She sensed that the war was lost, and if shock had failed to settle over her the night of the fire, it settled over her now. She sat in the beautifully appointed room and knew she would die even if the trial Simon alluded to never materialized, even if there were no sentence passed on her to be executed for murder. As she heard Simon outline his plan, she knew she would die, because her reason for living would be taken away from her if she were separated from Marshall. And, if by some miracle she did not die, she resolved she would take her own life. She stared at Simon, hearing as if from a distance his plans for her move to California. He seemed to think it would be some marvelous adventure, a future to build dreams on, a new country to go to, as if she were some fortune-seeking pioneer. Suddenly she smiled, then laughed gently, amusedly. Soon though, her laughter became hysterical and her tears wild. She accused Simon incoherently, pouring invective on him as she might have on Justin. When would she cease to be something for others to use in whatever design she could accommodate? Didn't anyone care that Marshall meant everything to her, that she could not live without him?
And then she collapsed. When she woke some hours later, it was to see Marshall sitting beside her on the bed, as he had done in Paris. And because she was calm, and because she did not dare interrupt the sound of his voice, she listened to him tell her what lay ahead for them, in spite of their wants and needs, and, unbelievably, in spite of her faith in their love for each other.
And then Louisa withdrew into herself. It was as if she had at last gone into mourning, or so it seemed to those who felt they must explain her behavior. At first, she listened to Marshall and tried to take in the plans that were in motion. Within three months, they would be bidding each other good-bye for the last time, and while the prospects were very unreal, the truth could not be denied forever. It became clear that Simon's greatest concern was that Marshall's marriage to the Carson girl be untroubled by extramarital affairs, at least, not by one of the intensity that existed in the relationship between Marshall and Louisa. Simon's political schemes, unknown to anyone other than his partners in conspiracy, demanded that Franklin Carson, Janna's father, and Simon have a permanent, unquestionably secure connection, something a marriage between their children would help insure.
At first, Louisa clung to Marshall refusing to believe their fate, and when she heard the facts, really heard them, she retreated from the unbearable. One day, she looked into the mirror and saw her mother's face and followed her for a time down the same narrow tunnel, reaching for the same solace, the same pale, refreshing, mind-distorting liquid. It cheered her, and dulled her pain, even blacked out the horror―for a while. But soon the reflection in the mirror became blurred. Some days she saw Claudia who often gave her a wicked, hateful grin, whose voice taunted her, reminding her that her fate was only what she deserved. Sometimes Louisa saw the little girl she was so many years ago, free one minute, terrified the next. And occasionally, she saw the beautiful woman Marshall was so in love with. And whenever she could, she held him in her embrace, desperate for his touch, blind to everything but the consolation his touch could bring her.
Everyone in the Hudson household worried about Louisa; even Simon grew anxious. His plans would be difficult to carry out with Louisa in her precarious emotional state. Emma could only think of Claudia, worrying that Louisa might have to be confined. But soon the most frightening aspects of Louisa's behavior —her nightmares, her agitation—disappeared. Her swings into deep depression vanished, and what had concerned the doctors as possibly long-term instability was dismissed thankfully as a delayed, but deep grieving response—to the tragic events of the fire and the loss of her father, of course.
For a time, Louisa continued to consume more alcohol than solid food, but her outward behavior leveled off. She resumed her place in society, smiling for the world to take notice of her beauty, accepting,
even looking forward to her new life in California. Only Marshall knew, in the now infrequent moments they shared, the agony that still overwhelmed her. She desperately sought his comfort as it was offered. And usually he was incredibly strong. But when he broke down, she found she had no reserves, no solace to give him. At times, he was moody and as needy as she was. Occasionally, he even seemed a stranger to her, and her pain was so unbearable she was certain she would not survive the loss of him.
Then, one day about a month before her departure, something snapped inside of her and she was truly calm. Some time ago, Henri Vinay had recognized the quality within her, and now she saw it, too. It was her strong instinct for survival. No matter how her mind and heart denied she could live without Marshall, her spirit pushed her forward into the new but frightening day. Suddenly it was as if new life filled her and new blood flowed through her veins, and she woke to accept unpleasant reality. Louisa was sure Simon would carry out his threats to destroy them if they did not consent to his plans, and she wondered if there were any room in the universe for love as intense as what she felt for Marshall? She had no sign that it was so, and for the remaining few weeks, and the remaining few hours they could steal with each other, Marshall and Louisa loved each other, knowing for certain the day the world would come to an end.
Chapter Seventeen
THE months at sea, followed by the months on the isolated, almost vacant, California coast had helped heal Louisa. The continuing process had been torturous, and lonely, but not only had she survived her separation from Marshall, she had eventually come to feel confident of her ability to make a happy life for herself and her child. As the new life within her made itself apparent to the eye, and even more apparent to the increasingly self-aware young woman, Louisa's life took on new meaning and new hope. When she came to term, she was only as apprehensive of the process of birth as any novice would be, but even more eager to have her baby safely in her arms, hoping she would not expect too much from the helpless infant, that she would not ask the child to fill her empty heart too fully.
And just when she thought she had accomplished as much as anyone had a right to expect of her, she had been plunged back into terrifyingly familiar and dark waters. Memories stood before her as large as life. Faces she had abandoned, even in her dreams, loomed before her, and more incredibly, a certain face was filled with life, and was attached to a responsive body, which approached her, wanting a great deal from her that was not so easily forgotten.
Now, Louisa sat in what had been her room until last night's fire left it singed and water-soaked. She stared, not really seeing the room where she huddled, rocking slowly in a chair salvaged from earlier fires.
To Aaron, who stood in the doorway watching her for some minutes, she almost seemed to be in a trance. Once again, he congratulated himself on his luck. She's not proved too difficult. And God knows, she feels good, he thought, closing the door behind him. And so deep were her thoughts, Louisa did not notice. He stood over her before she felt his presence, and was startled when he reached for her.
Aaron was struck by the coldness of her body despite the intense warmth of the day. She felt stiff and brittle as he pulled her against him, and she willed the numbness of mind to leave her, her body quickening to Aaron's desire as she came alive in his arms. How good it was to recognize him, to be utterly free from doubt, for this was no ghost, no desperate fantasy. This man was alive, so alive, taking from her what he wanted, yet intuitively she felt he gave something precious of himself in his embrace.
For now, Louisa would accept Aaron as he came, taking whatever of himself he offered. At this moment, she only wanted to renew her memories of passion, and for whatever unknown time they had, build even a tenuous web of warmth and love. "Love me, Aaron," she whispered. "Make love to me, Aaron. Make me forget everything, everyone I've ever known. Can you do that?" she challenged as she lay on top of him, kissing him as deeply as he kissed her.
"What have I got to live up to, señora?" he laughed, helping her undress.
"You have your work cut out for you," she only half teased. Her body was a pleasure for him to touch and see, but no more than he was a pleasure for her. He inhaled her fragrance, and she gratefully breathed in his scent. Louisa wasn't satisfied until he was naked as she, and she could take pleasure in every inch of him touching her. How different Aaron felt in her arms from the man whose face his resembled. Or did she only imagine the difference? No, this man to whom she so eagerly responded was more finely tuned, more taut, more arrogant, more of what she now wanted. What use was there to wait for love when it could so easily be taken from one's grasp? Louisa vowed she would be like the Phoenix, and rise from the ashes. She would make life and love come to her terms. She would take what she could, and give what she could as well.
They made love in the rising temperature of the late morning, never noticing the heat until they were quiet again. They dressed slowly, nearly deciding against rising as they slipped eagerly into each other's arms again.
Then, abruptly, Aaron was totally composed. His voice became harsh and commanding. "Louisa, we have plans to make. We're leaving here, soon. No. No questions, yet," he ordered at her look of obvious surprise. "Isn't that Rachel squalling? Go after her, before Carmen comes for us. When you're finished come looking for me. I'll be in one of the sheds."
"Aaron, I hardly need instructions from you on looking after my child," she said, taken aback by his sudden change of attitude, annoyed by his orders.
"Perhaps not. But you'll have to get used to doing what I say. You and I must get down to other business," he said, pushing his fingers into her blond hair at her temples, holding her head in his hands, kissing her deeply but roughly.
Louisa struggled in his powerful grip, glaring at him when he released her. "Go on," he ordered, his eyes utterly cold. She turned quickly away, looking defiantly at him over her shoulder, the circumstances giving her no choice but to do as he said. She slammed the door in his face, feeling dismissed from the room like a chastised child. Perhaps she'd underestimated his arrogance. Could she live under his terms for very long, she wondered. Dutifully she looked after her child, for the first time resentful of her obligation, quickly handing over Rachel to Carmen when she was done.
"I'm going riding, Carmen. I'll be back at the usual hour."
"Si, señora."
"Have Manuel get Coffee for me," she ordered crossly. So, it's contagious, she thought as she went back to her own room, where she tied her hair tightly at the nape of her neck with a bright yellow scarf that matched her dress. "He can't order me about, I'm not his servant," she fumed. "Perhaps I'll return to my room. He can't force me to occupy his bed. I'll not snap to attention at every command." Louisa hastily discarded her shoes, preferring to ride barefooted, and skirts tucked under her, she lifted herself astride the horse. She took nothing to cover her head, wanting the sun to streak her hair and color her skin.
Louisa made no attempt to find Aaron, and, as was her habit, she took Coffee's reins from Manuel, silently walking the horse to the beach. The heat of the sun was pleasantly dispelled by the crisp breezes from the ocean, and Coffee, seeming to know the trail by heart, slowly approached the surf, to walk at the water's edge on the hard-packed sand. The water lapped at her legs, and soon horse and rider were playing a summer's game, splashing eagerly in the waves, carelessly and joyfully pursuing each foaming crest.
Meanwhile, Aaron expected Louisa to come to him at the shed. After some delay, he went back to the house looking for her. "Carmen, where's the señora?" he inquired impatiently.
"Why, she's riding, as usual, señor."
Aaron glowered. "She's pretty used to doing what she pleases, isn't she?"
It was a question Carmen knew required no reply. She merely stared back at him with a knowing, amused expression.
Aaron left the house angry and quickly saddled his mount. He had thought he'd been very clear with Louisa. This was no game they were engaged in. Other men might play
games with women, but for now, theirs was merely a marriage of circumstance; Louisa a bride for his convenience, a pawn in his affairs. What would it take to bend her to his will? "Terror? A sound beating?" he wondered aloud. "This kind of woman won't recant because I raise my hand against her. And, damn it, this affair will proceed more smoothly with her alliance," he muttered as he quickly traveled the small stretch of beach Louisa had just traversed, angrily assessing the situation. "And, God, what a waste it would be to carry out my threats." She'd managed to take him in with her beauty and her sensuality. She had the look of something almost untouchable, but touch her and she exceeded his lust-filled imaginings. "Just another whore," vowing not to be taken in by her elegance and spirit. He looked for her across the long blinding stretch of sand and water, finally seeing the flash of her yellow dress intermittently in the sun's glare. In the distance she appeared like one of the stalks of wild mustard that blew in a sea of flowers on the surrounding hillsides. How like those blossoms she was, appearing beautiful and delicate against the harsh landscape, but perennially hardy, lasting in the ever-blowing wind, surviving the beating relentless sun, blossoming, despite the infrequent caress of life-giving rain.
Seeing a figure in the distance, Louisa nudged Coffee, releasing her to sprint with abandon across the shore. Aaron couldn't decide if her action was deliberate or not as he sped after her. But he wasn't surprised by her skill as a horsewoman; he'd expected as much from what he knew of her. Nor, when he caught up with her, had he expected to find her calmly waiting for him, sitting stretched on the black boulders at the end of the curving smooth-sanded beach. She sat, her skirts high above her knees, her body turned precisely to get the best angle of the sun. "It's not the custom, but I like the sun to color my skin. I come here nearly every day," she said, coldly casual.
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