“Oh, Papa,” Amélie said, her eyes shining, while Estelle launched herself across the rocking coach and flung her arms about his neck.
“There, kitten,” M’sieur Delacroix said as he helped his youngest daughter regain her seat. “I think we will allow your sister to be wed first while you have your customary season, but if at the end you and the Gravier boy are still of the same mind, then we will call it settled.”
Estelle subsided, looking satisfied, but there was also a rather shy and different look about her that boded well for the future.
“As for Mam’zelle Caroline,” M’sieur continued, regarding the cameo-like profile that lady presented as she stared out the window, “I imagine it is too much to expect that she will remain with us after what has been said. I can only offer her my deepest regrets and ask that she will accept whatever assistance it may be in my power to give.”
“Bernard, are you apologizing for me?” his wife demanded in scandalized tones.
“Unfortunately, Madame, yes,” her husband replied.
“Oh, how could you?” Madame moaned, sinking back into her seat in a flood of hurt tears. “My condition—”
“Estelle,” M’sieur Delacroix said bleakly, “hand your mother her vinaigrette.”
The day after their return to Beau Repos M’sieur Delacroix dressed himself in his finest, took up his Malacca cane, and drove away for a morning visit to Felicity. He returned some hours later with the intelligence that their distinguished neighbor intended to leave them. The estate had been transferred to his cousin, Victor, as a wedding gift, subject, of course, to the approval of the chosen lady’s father. The Marquis would give himself the pleasure of paying them a farewell call the next day. He had expressed a particular wish for a private interview with Mademoiselle Caroline.
Madame’s demeanor became alarmingly stiff at this last piece of news, but under her husband’s questioning gaze she remained silent.
To make up for the cavalier treatment the Marquis had received at his last formal visit, he was received with all the pomp due royalty. Colossus accepted his hat and gloves with reverence, he was plied with wine and sumptuous viands, and his every word was given the hushed attention usually reserved for the final benediction of high Mass. When he no more than hinted at his request to speak to Mam’zelle Caroline alone, the salon was vacated with such alacrity that he was taken by surprise.
Watching the expression on his face, Caroline had to smile. He turned in time to catch the twitch of her lips and his own curved in a wry response.
“It seems I am persona grata again,” he commented.
Instantly her features resumed their grave expression. “Yes. I fear that I am responsible for your loss of that position. I — I must ask you to forgive the error that — that caused it, and believe that I never intended it to happen in that way.”
“Oh, I absolve you of blame. How could I not, when I could have corrected the wrong impression with a few words?”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, her gray eyes mirroring the combined relief and bewilderment she felt.
Indecision touched his face as he considered the question, then he swung away with a small shrug. “Does it matter? At the moment that is not as important as the reason we are here.”
Caroline, almost certain she knew what he was referring to, made an attempt to avoid the subject. “I don’t believe I ever told you how much I appreciated your aid in rescuing Amélie and Estelle. I don’t know what we would have done without your assistance.”
“I was glad of the opportunity to be of service,” he said over his shoulder in a brusque tone that did not permit any elaboration on the matter.
“We are most grateful,” she said in defiance of the unspoken edict, “and we will be sorry to see you leave us. I believe you return to France?”
He agreed. “Since the defeat of Napoleon last month in Belgium, I have had information that the Bourbons will almost certainly return to power. If I am in France at the correct time, with the correct form of persuasion, it is probable that the confiscated estates of my family will be returned. The wars of the past years have greatly depleted the coffers of my country, and they must be replenished in some fashion.”
“You must be anxious to return.”
“In some ways, yes. It will be a challenge, to rebuild France and the Rochefort estates using the best of the old ways with the best of the new. I shall need a great deal of help. I shall need you, Caroline.”
Caroline clasped her hands in her lap, staring down at them. He had been too clever for her, manipulating the conversation to achieve his end in spite of her attempts to thwart him.
“Have you nothing to say?” he asked more quietly as he came to stand beside her. “I am asking you to be my wife.”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes, then looked away again. “I — there is no need of this, I assure you there is not.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“It isn’t difficult. I mean that I hold you in no way responsible for the tale Estelle concocted to save herself. You do not have to offer for me to save my good name. In a few days, as soon as some form of transportation is arranged, I am going to return to my uncle’s house in Natchez. It will be a farewell visit, for I intend to book passage to England as soon as it may be arranged.”
“I believe I begin to comprehend.”
“So you see,” she went on bravely, “there is no need for you to sacrifice yourself for a tale which will doubtless be left on this side of the Atlantic.”
“And if I were to tell you that I would not consider it a sacrifice?”
She managed a small smile. “I would not believe you. I can see as easily as anyone that the last thing you need as you return to the full enjoyment of your former title and estates is the encumbrance of a wife who is of the nationality of those who were so recently at war with your country.”
“The nationality of the people who gave me shelter in my exile,” he corrected.
“I think that when you return to France, you will find that makes little difference.”
“Then there is no way I can persuade you?” he queried, his voice holding an odd note of passion which she translated in her mind as gratitude for her refusal.
“No, I think not,” she answered.
“Then permit me to salve my conscience by accepting the use of the Egret for your journey upriver to Natchez. She shall be at your complete disposal for as long as needed. If you so desire, the crew will wait upon the end of your visit and take you downriver to New Orleans to meet a ship bound for England.”
“You are very kind, but I couldn’t accept—”
“I insist. The Egret will call for you — say, in the morning?”
Having won the largest point, she had no will left to argue these lesser ones. “I can be ready by then,” she agreed.
Satisfied, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. With a quiet farewell, he left her.
Making her way to her bedchamber, Caroline sat down upon the end of her bed. She pressed the fingers he had kissed to her cheek, then leaned her head against the tall post of the bed and let the tears run slowly, one by one, down her cheeks.
The Egret was lying ready at the landing of Beau Repos when the household awoke. The children, rising early as usual, discovered it and came running to tell Caroline before she had even had her morning coffee. Feeling some urgency to be away, Caroline rose and dressed herself in a gown of green cambric banded in gray. That done, she gathered up the last odds and ends to be packed, then sent word to Colossus to have someone carry her things onto the ship.
She had said her good-byes the night before to all except one. That one was Tante Zizi. With her bonnet dangling from her hand, she now went along the back gallery to the elderly lady’s corner bedchamber.
Tante Zizi was sitting in bed drinking hot chocolate from an elegant and fragile china cup. “Ah, my dear,” she said as Caroline tapped on the French door standing open to the morning freshnes
s, “I wondered if you were going to come bid me adieu.”
Caroline took the frail hand held out to her. “Certainly,” she said. “You should have known I would.”
“So I should. You have beautiful manners, unlike some of the present generation I could name. Never mind that. Let me wish you a safe, swift journey and, when you get to where you are going, every happiness.”
“Thank you,” Caroline murmured.
“Perhaps I should tell you, I took the liberty of saying a few words to Rochefort about the little misunderstanding I cleared up in regards to his proper title. I hope you don’t mind an old woman’s interference.”
“Not at all. I may not see him again, but I am glad to know that he will not think so harshly of me.”
“I don’t believe his is a petty nature,” Tante Zizi observed, then setting aside her cup, patted Caroline’s hand. “You will endeavor to let me know how things turn out for you?”
“I shall certainly try,” Caroline agreed.
“Good. Then Godspeed.”
On the front gallery the children were waiting to wave good-bye. Caroline hugged them every one, then set her bonnet in place and tied the ribbons tightly under her chin. M’sieur Delacroix waited to escort her to the levee. Picking up her skirts, she took his arm and descended the stairs, a childish chorus of au revoirs ringing in her cars.
At the gangplank she gave M’sieur Delacroix her hand.
“Mam’zelle,” he began, then stopped, his kindly eyes holding a worried frown. When he spoke again it was to ask if she had everything for her comfort, including a luncheon basket from the kitchen and the sum of money he had pressed upon her in the name of salary. Receiving her affirmative answer, he bowed and stepped back to let the gangplank be raised. Though she realized he would have liked to say more, she respected him for his reticence. In spite of everything, his loyalty remained with his wife.
Gripping the ship’s railing as orders were given and the ship began to glide out into the channel of the river, Caroline waved to the children lining the gallery. Above her the sails snapped and billowed, filling with wind, and lines were hauled tight and secured. Through a blur of tears she saw the white-columned comfort of Beau Repos dropping away behind them.
“Don’t cry,” said a voice in her ear. “You can always come back someday.”
“Rochefort!” She nearly strangled on an indrawn breath. Fumbling for her handkerchief, she said, “I’m not crying, it’s only the wind in my eyes. I — I didn’t know you were going to be on board.”
“If you had you would not have come?” he queried.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did not have to. I know very well that the last thing you want is a prolonged sojourn in my company.”
“How — how can you say that when not so long ago I spent an entire day as a passenger in your phaeton?”
“Of necessity, not choice. I learned my lesson once and for all that day.”
Putting away a rather damp handkerchief, Caroline considered him as he lounged beside her at the railing. In deference, she supposed, to the summer heat already beginning to build, he wore no coat, only a shirt open to the waist without studs or cravat. The sleeves were rolled well above his elbows and he was hatless, allowing the wind to ruffle his fine dark hair at will. He wore no sash, carried no pistol, but with his breeches tucked into high-topped boots, he was much as he had been when she first saw him.
“Reverted to being a privateer, have you?” she said in an effort to dispel the constraint she felt.
“In more ways than one,” he agreed without taking his eyes from her face.
“I thought you were leaving for France and the life of a titled gentleman?”
“That was my intention.”
“Then — you are also on your way home, after you leave me in Natchez?”
“Not precisely.”
Caroline looked away, disturbed by his noncommittal answer plus something more she could not quite define. Her gaze rested on the shoreline slipping past them. Abruptly she straightened. “Oh, but we are going the wrong way. We are going downstream!”
“Yes, I know.”
“But Natchez is—” She trailed away as she realized how ridiculous it was to point out directions to him. “You — you did know that I am going to my uncle at Natchez?”
“I know that was where you said you wished to go.”
“Then why aren’t you taking me there?” she said, holding to a reasonable tone with an effort.
“I have no business there, and neither do you,” he answered politely.
“Would you like to tell me where we are going?” she demanded.
“To New Orleans, of course, and then onward aboard the Black Eagle, out into the open sea, wherever you wish to roam.”
“It being a fine day for a sail, I presume?”
“No indeed. What I have in mind will take weeks, months even.”
She stared at him incredulously. “You must be mad!”
“Must I? I thought I was showing great presence of mind.”
“I can’t just — just go away with you on this ship!” she said in tones of strongest indignation.
“Well it’s not what I would prefer myself — you will recall, perhaps, that I have asked you on two separate occasions to be my wife. However, you informed me yourself there was no need for me to make the offer or to sacrifice my freedom.”
“That was not what I meant at all, and well you know it!”
“You mean, my love, that you do want to be my wife?” he asked, smiling down at her in a manner designed to destroy her composure.
“No, I did not mean that either.”
“Don’t you know what you mean? In that case, I believe I must claim the right to know what is best; I will marry you in New Orleans, and then we may be comfortable together.”
“You cannot know what is best for me!” she declared.
“Perhaps not, but I know full well what is best for me.”
Her eyes wide, she searched his face. “Would — would it be best for you?”
“Without doubt, as I have known any time this past nine months and more, since the day I faced you in the cabin of that British merchantman. My first impulse was to abduct you then and there and sail away with you in the Black Eagle. Who knows, if you had not protected yourself so ably I might have done just that. It is certain to have been an easier way of making you mine than the one I chose.”
“You mean—?”
“I mean it was no coincidence that the Marquis de Rochefort, changed somewhat in style and appearance, came to be your near neighbor.”
“You cannot be saying you went to so much trouble and expense for my sake,” she whispered.
“For none other, my heart.”
“And then I betrayed you, accused you falsely—”
He smiled down at her with affection. “I was well served, was I not? But I was also glad that you had penetrated my disguise. It was an excellent indication that you remembered the privateer.”
“But why did you let me defame your name? Why could you not have told me you were in truth the Marquis de Rochefort?”
“I thought the masquerade was at an end, that you could never—?” He looked away, for the first time at a loss for words. “I grasped at the first thing that occurred to me to hold you. In so doing, I misjudged you to a greater extent than you had misjudged me. You were right to call my suggestion a bribe. That is exactly what it was. By offering it to you I forfeited the right to explain and expect your understanding.”
“You allowed everyone to think the worst of you without making the least effort to prevent it. You even—”
“I even thumbed my nose in their faces, did I not? Voyons, my heart, if you believed me to be an imposter, what did I care what others thought? I sent for Madame Fontaine and her friends, a matter that needs some explanation.”
“Not for my sake,” Caroline began, but he stopped her with a gesture.
“Then for
mine,” he said with a smile and a slight inclination of his head. “The lady has been well known to me for some years. Of mediocre talent and a vast distaste for what might be called proper behavior, she has a warm heart quick to respond to those who need her. It was she who, with the help of my man, saw to it that I survived the gunshot wound you gave me. It was also she who helped me trace you through the Delacroix family to Beau Repos. When she came to Felicity, it was with the understanding that I needed companionship, nothing more. At times her affection for me led her to resent anyone who did not appreciate my charms as they should, and I apologize for anything she may have said to offend you. But she was a good friend to me. When she saw her presence was doing me more harm than good, she decided to leave — over my protests, I might add.”
Caroline bit her lip. “I don’t quite see why—”
“Why I am telling you this? Because I wish there to be no chance of more misunderstandings between us.”
“How can you say that when you are abducting me?” she cried.
“Not at all, my darling love. For this to be an abduction you would have to be unwilling. This is an elopement.”
“I cannot remember saying anything that would give you the impression that I am willing,” she said, stubbornly refusing to look at him.
“No,” he agreed cheerfully. “It was Tante Zizi who did that. She told me how you came to discover who I am and how upset you were. She seemed to think you had revealed yourself as not indifferent to me. She told me also of your ridiculous idea that I would not believe you loved me for myself. Did I not offer you marriage for money and title once only to have you throw it in my face? When I broached the idea of an abduction to her, she thought it an inspired suggestion, though she was not at all certain you would object, except as a matter of form—”
“A matter of form?” Caroline echoed. “Insufferable!”
He paid no attention. “And of course, if you don’t object this becomes an elopement, as I said.”
“And if I do object, what then? Must I go?” she demanded.
Sweet Piracy Page 22
