Tainted Lilies

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Accompanied only by Sukey—her mother would come later to see her to the garconnière—and not being allowed a word in private with anyone, Nicolette made her way slowly up the veranda stairs and toward her bedroom.

  The hallway, which had bustled with activity such a short time before, was empty now. The lamps burned dimly and, to her surprise, her own bedroom lay in total darkness.

  “Go down and get some oil, Sukey. Someone forgot to fill my lamps.” A quick thought popped into Nicolette’s head. “Wait! Tell Aunt Gabi I want her to come up.”

  Sukey didn’t ask questions, but started out as quickly as her arthritic joints would allow.

  Nicolette stood at her window, looking down on the vast panorama of her own wedding reception. She spotted Diego alone in the deep shadows under one of the oaks. No, he wasn’t alone! A dark shape stood against the tree. One of the torches flared in the rising wind and Nicolette saw the other figure clearly. It was Jada, one of the kitchen maids, a pretty young wench with a shape that had all the bucks on the place sniffing after her. Diego, her husband, was…

  “Nikki!”

  The low whisper behind her made her turn with a start. Suddenly, she felt familiar arms close around her. Tender, moist lips found hers in the darkness and pressed with gentle urgency. All the feelings she had tried to suppress for the past weeks flooded back to engulf her. She clung to Jean Laffite as if her life depended on his nearness.

  “Jean, darling,” she sighed when he paused for an instant between kisses. “Oh, my love!”

  “I’ve come to take you home,” he whispered. “I didn’t really want you to leave. I was such a fool. Forgive me. I don’t know why you’ve gone through with this farce of a marriage to Bermudez. All I do know, Nikki, is that I love you with every fiber of my being and I can’t live without you. I don’t want to live if I have to live without you! Hurry now and get out of that gown. We have to leave right away. Our boat’s waiting near the landing.”

  Nicolette didn’t waste time on words. She didn’t know how, but Jean had arrived in time to save her from her own folly and Diego Bermudez. She tossed her veil and tiara aside and began working at the hundred little pearl buttons down the back of her gown.

  “You’ll have to help, darling,” she said. “I can’t reach all of them.”

  When the dress slipped off her shoulders, Laffite indulged himself for a moment, fondling her breasts.

  “I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he whispered, then clung to her, burying his face in her sweet warmth.

  Diego Bermudez had watched the slave girl, Jada, develop for some time. His curiosity came from the fact that her mother, Bella, had belonged to him and was pregnant when he sold her to Claude Vernet. Jada, he speculated, must be the first fruit of his loins. He had been a lad of sixteen when his father died, leaving him the plantation that shared a common boundary with Belle Pointe. Terrified that Bella’s child might be a boy and look exactly like him, Diego had sold her off the place before she gave birth.

  “But you’re no boy, are you, Jada?” he said as she squirmed against him. “Don’t fret, girl. I don’t have time for you tonight. Besides, I have to take care of my bride. But I’ll be back. You just let me get a good feel while I kiss you.”

  A few minutes later, when he saw Sukey shuffling out of the house, he was already pulling Jada’s dress back up to cover her melon-sized breasts. He slapped the voluptuous girl on the buttocks and said, “You save it for me, you hear now, Jada?” before he wandered off to find out what Sukey was up to and why she had left her mistress.

  When he demanded to know Sukey’s mission and she told him of the dark bedroom, the need for oil, and Nicolette’s request to see her aunt alone, Diego said, “Never mind, Sukey. I’ll tell Madame DelaCroix my wife wants her and I’ll speak to one of the boys about refilling the lamps. You go rest yourself and have some cake.”

  The old woman nodded gratefully. “You be a kind gentleman, M’sieu Diego.” She slumped down on a high step, puffing with the effort of her long walk. “Merci! Merci! My little Nikki got herself a good man!”

  But Diego had already turned, headed not to find Gabrielle DelaCroix, but to Nicolette’s bedroom.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nicolette slipped her hands from behind Laffite’s neck until both her palms caressed his cheeks. Slowly, she pried his lips from hers.

  “Darling, I have to change so we can leave. Diego will get suspicious soon.”

  As if summoned by the mention of his name, Diego Bermudez shoved open the bedroom door. A slanting path of yellow light from the hallway fell over Nicolette and Laffite. They both froze in surprise.

  Diego snatched up his sword cane from beside the bed where Laffite had propped it earlier. The silver head gleamed ominously in the dull light as he whipped the blade free of its sheath.

  “Move away from him, Nicolette!” Bermudez ordered in a tone murderous for all its calm.

  “No, Diego!” she screamed.

  Laffite shoved her away, onto the bed, so that she would be clear of danger. He circled cautiously, his hands out at waist height, his limber knees bent to spring.

  Bermudez, his blade leveled at Laffite’s heart, synchronized his movement to match those of his opponent. Nicolette watched, her hands clamped to her mouth to stifle choked sobs.

  “Were you a gentleman, Laffite, I’d slap your face and invite you to meet me at dawn on the sandbar in the river. But since we all know you fall far short of that mark, and since I have pressing plans for the rest of the night,” he shot a quick, menacing look at Nicolette, who could not hold back a cry of fear, “I see no reason to rouse myself so early in the morning for the benefit of honor!”

  Laffite made no reply, but used all his concentration to avoid the flashing tip of the blade. Unarmed, he had to rely on his wits to save him. Bermudez gave an unexpected lunge, opening the sleeve of Laffite’s shirt and a slash wound in his upper arm. Bright red soon stained the white linen.

  Nicolette sobbed aloud, “No, Diego! Please! Do what you will with me, but let him go. I beg of you!”

  Bermudez filled the room with his ugly laughter. “I intend, my bride, to do what I will with you! But first, I’ll dispose of this vermin!”

  While Bermudez was distracted, Laffite dived forward, knocking the sword away. Nicolette watched, helpless and terrified, as the two men rolled and tumbled over the floor, knocking over a table and chair, breaking a lamp, a mirror, so that her own horrified reflection showered down over the two men in sharp, silver fragments.

  The scream that tore itself from her throat at that moment traveled to many ears. Dominique You, waiting once more on the back stairs, heard it and rushed through the bedroom across the hall.

  Below on the veranda, two of the governor’s City Guards, who had been enjoying a plate of roasted suckling pig, gumbo, coq au vin, and various tortes and jellies in the company of two comely mademoiselles from nearby Beau Rivage plantation, looked at each other for a split second. Without a word, they dropped the fine china plates and grabbéd their cutlasses. They were halfway to the upper floor when a dozen others who had been about the grounds caught up with them.

  A second scream and then a third spurred them on.

  “Sounds like Mademoiselle Vernet!” one of the guards said.

  “Madame Bermudez now,” the man beside him corrected as they hurried on.

  “Le bon Dieu!” Dominique cried as he entered the bedroom and quickly sized up the situation, then heard the stampede of booted feet coming up the stairs.

  Laffite and Bermudez were still grappling on the floor, with neither having a clear advantage as far as Youx could see. He made his decision in the flicker of an eye. There was no time to consider alternatives.

  Grabbing a heavy brass statuette of Napoleon from the corner étagère, he raised it over the struggling pair and waited for the right moment.

  “Sorry, mon petit frère. This will hurt me more than it does you!”

  Dominique brought N
apoleon’s head down to meet Laffite’s. A surprised Bermudez, suddenly released from the other man’s grip, reached for his sword cane and received a healthy whack from Napoleon as well.

  Nicolette’s screams had silenced. She lay in a faint among the pillows on the bed. Dominique did not even see her and assumed she had escaped the room before he arrived.

  Quickly, Dominique dragged his unconscious brother out of the room and across the hallway. Though Laffite towered over Youx when in a vertical position, the shorter man, with his brawny arms and magnificent shoulders, had no trouble maneuvering Laffite’s two hundred pounds of dead weight. And lucky it was for both of them. Just as Dom got Laffite onto the back stairs, the entire City Guard charged the hallway.

  Dominique hefted his load onto one shoulder and said, “Now, little brother, since you can no longer talk back, maybe you will listen to reason. I take you home to Grande Terre where you belong. I fix you up with a sweet, young poussin from the bayous, and you feel like a new man… forget ail this craziness of stealing brides and dying for love!”

  You checked carefully to make sure the coast was clear before he headed out through the garden behind the house. No one saw them. In only a short time, they were in the pirogue, moving downriver.

  A low moan came from Laffite when he started coming around. Only that sound, the lapping of the oars, and the eternal song of the river currents disturbed the stillness of the black night. But soon the wind rose, howling its fury.

  Nicolette and Bermudez regained consciousness at almost the same moment. While the bride huddled down under her counterpane to hide her state of undress from the dozen City Guards crowded into her bedroom, her husband rose unsteadily to his feet.

  “Monsieur,” the tall, bronze-haired captain of the Guard questioned, “What happened here? Who gave you that nasty bash?”

  Without answering immediately, Bermudez whirled toward the bed, his eyes flashing black fire. When he saw Nicolette there, whimpering into her pillows, an unpleasant smile twitched his lips. She stared back at him, stark terror alive in her face. She had no idea what had happened to Laffite, where he was, or if he was safe.

  “Gentlemen,” Bermudez said, turning back to the guards, “I assume my wife’s screams alerted you?”

  They all nodded and voiced agreement.

  “It seems Madame Bermudez found a large, ugly river rat in her bedroom. I attacked the thing with my sword cane, but it got away. In the scuffle, I slipped and must have hit my head on the bedpost. I assure you we are both fine. Now, if you will please leave us alone… this is our wedding night, after all.”

  The men shuffled and chuckled their way out of the room, wishing the couple a “bon nuit and a “happy honeymoon,” a “long life together,” and “many enfants.”

  “I will do my best!” Bermudez called after them, then turned his attention to his bride.

  “You didn’t tell them the truth,” Nicolette said, her curiosity almost as great as her relief.

  “But of course not, chère! I plan to deal with Laffite myself. Perhaps he will escape me this time, perhaps not. We shall find out soon enough.”

  He sat down on the bed beside Nicolette. She tried to move away from him, but he caught her in his arms and forced her to lie still while he pulled back the covers.

  “So this is what so entranced your lusty pirate that he almost got himself killed for it,” he smirked, tugging her chemise down to free her breasts to his view. “Quite ripe and lovely.”

  Suddenly, the scene Nicolette had witnessed from her window earlier flashed back through her mind, turning her embarrassment to fury. “As ripe and lovely as Jada?” she hissed.

  With nøt a hint of rage, only cool, amused deliberation, Diego Bermudez drew back his hand and slapped Nicolette sharply across the mouth. One shocked, hurt cry escaped her, but she bit her lower lip to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing more.

  “You will learn, my little coquette, that what I do with other women is not any concern of yours. It is part of my business, you see. I use women… any way that they can be of the most advantage to me. Jada will find a place in my bed. You might call her an experiment in selective breeding. You see, I’m Jada’s sire. She is big, strong, healthy, and she should drop a sucker a year during her fertile time. If I can father sons out of her, they should bring top dollar in the marketplace, even as babies. I’ve already arranged with your dear papa to send Jada to my plantation as part of the marriage settlement. She’ll be your personal maid.”

  Nicolette realized she was gasping for breath. She had heard of such awful, incestuous practices on other plantations, but never had she dreamed that Diego was involved in anything so lurid and shameful. The thought made her feel weak and ill.

  “And you plan to use me as well?” she managed.

  “But, of course, ma coeur.” Once again he was toying with her breasts, almost in a bored manner now. “You have much to offer, n’est-ce pas? Your papa had no sons. His business, his plantation, his entire fortune will come to me through you. And you will be a most acceptable wife, opening doors for me in the best circles of society. There will be no more whispers, no turned backs, because my father was of Spanish blood and my mother of no consequence among the Creoles. I have married a Vernet! They must accept me!”

  “You… you beast!” she cried out, flailing at his chest with clenched fists. “I’ll tell Papa!”

  He caught her wrists in his hands and squeezed until fire bumed up her arms and her fingers went numb. Tears rolled out of control down her pale cheeks.

  “Tell Papa whatever you like, Madame! You are a married woman now, joined to me in the eyes of God through all eternity! Your papa will stand for no scandal! Remember how quickly he sent you off to Paris the night I put an end to that simpering Octave Castaigne, who planned to marry you?”

  “You!” she gasped. “You killed Octave?”

  He laughed low and long before he answered, “It really wasn’t as difficult as I’d thought it would be. We both went to the Bal du Cordon Bleu at the St. Philippe theater that evening. I’d been trying for weeks to provoke a confrontation. But Castaigne was a dull fellow. He always laughed off my insults without issuing a challenge. I had decided already that you were to be my ticket to the fortune I deserve. But on that evening, I was in luck.”

  He smiled down at Nicolette’s wild eyes and slipped a hand beneath the covers to find more of her. She squirmed away, but Bermudez pulled her back in place.

  “Did you know your Octave had a quadroon mistress, Nicolette?” The catch in her breathing gave him the answer he had hoped for. “Well, then, let me tell you about Lizette. Castaigne’s father gave him a shotgun cottage on the ramparts and took him to the balls until an alliance was arranged. Lizette was only Fifteen then… oh, that was three years and as many children before he met you, of course. Lizette was wild when she heard of her protector’s plans to marry. She came to the ball that night and flirted outrageously with every man there, including me. Castaigne challenged three of us to duels immediately. I had hoped that one of the first two fellows would finish him off. But I should know by now that if I want a job done properly, I must do it myself. I feel the same way where Laffite is concerned. I’ll bide my time. Sooner or later, the advantage will be mine. I plan to take it… swiftly and surely!”

  When he finished talking, Diego looked at Nicolette speculatively, as if he expected some response from her. She could think of nothing to say. His tales had left her feeling so drained that she wasn’t sure she could speak, even if she wanted to.

  “Very well, my dear. Now that you know all my secrets, we will remove to the privacy of the garconnière, where I plan to discover yours.”

  “No,” she cried. “Please!”

  “Mais oui, ma petite!” He tore the covers off her. “I understand how worried you are that this lump on my head might prevent me from exerting myself. Your wifely concern touches me deeply,” he said sarcastically, “but I wouldn’t dream of disappointin
g you on this of all nights. Especially after Laffite has been here to fire your passions for me. Don’t worry! I’ll finish what he started!”

  “Send for Maman!” she pleaded in a panic. “She’ll dress me and see me to the garconniere.”

  “Non, mais non, chèrie! I wouldn’t feel easy about you and your mother crossing the grounds in the dark… not with that pirate roué still skulking about.”

  He swept Nicolette into his arms. She pounded him with her fists, but he held her in a viselike grip. Moments later, he was carrying her down the same enclosed stairway that Youx had carried Laffite down earlier.

  She screamed once before he clapped a hand over her mouth. But that one cry for help couldn’t have been heard by anyone. Musicians played on the far side of the house and the babble of guests had increased with their intake of champagne.

  When they reached the bottom of the steps, Diego set her on her feet and ordered, “You will walk from here!”

  “No, I won’t!” she cried, trying to free herself from his grip.

  He slapped her again and said in a deadly voice, “Don’t ever try to defy me!”

  He dragged his sobbing bride along, both her wrists imprisoned by his hurtful hands. Nicolette fought to maintain her balance. Twice she stumbled and fell to her knees. Bermudez never slackened his pace, but pulled her on, letting the rough ground tear her stockings and bloody her legs.

  The charming guesthouse, a smaller replica of Belle Pointe, waited for them in a quiet glen. No guests or servants disturbed the solitude of the place.

  The front door stood wide to welcome the bride and groom. Bermudez caught Nicolette up in his arms once more and carried her over the threshold. Through her tears she visualized another doorway… another wedding night. Black hopelessness closed over her heart.

  Diego kicked the door shut behind them and strode straight through the salon to the bedroom. Without ceremony, he tossed his bride into the middle of the wide, downy mattress.