“Just go, Mama, please, you and Marie,” she pleaded, scooping Ninette into her lap. “I need a little time to myself.”
“Of course, chèrie, of course you do,” Charlotte agreed, wiping away a surreptitious tear. “You’ll want a few moments alone after all the excitement. I thought it was almost too much for you for a bit, you were so white and silent. But you were fine and everything went splendidly.”
Lucienne flinched at the word. Nothing had gone splendidly from the day the marriage contract was signed. If Mama and Marie didn’t go soon, Lucienne knew she’d lose what little composure she had left. They had to go before she ran shrieking from this wretched room, this flower-decked prison that threatened to suffocate her. With many last kisses and hugs and encouraging words the two women finally left. Holding the kitten close, Lucienne crept to the frilled bed.
“What are we to do, Ninette? How did it all go so horribly wrong? And where is Philippe? Why didn’t he come as we planned?” Bewildered, shaken beyond reason, Lucienne couldn’t make sense of it all. She was to marry Philippe, her true love. No other course was possible. How could he fail her? He loved her, and nothing should have kept him away.
A soft tap at the door froze her. Philippe! He’d been held up, but he’d come. It had only been a minute or two since Mama and Marie closed the door and left her alone. She prayed they hadn’t lingered in the hallway. Lucienne shook her nightrail loose and smoothed her hair. The tap was more insistent the second time. She flew to the door.
“Lucienne, please, let me in before someone comes.”
Pierrette? Lucienne drew her wrapper closer and opened the door a crack. “I thought you were Philippe.”
Her cousin shoved the door open, slipped through, and leaned against it, breathing as if she’d run the miles between the two plantations. “He’s not coming, Lucienne. I tried, I really tried to get here in time to tell you. As soon as I could get away from Mama, I slipped out and took the pony trap.” She put her arms around Lucienne, weeping in despair. “I came as fast as I could.”
Lucienne shook off the embrace. “What do you mean, he isn’t coming? Of course he’ll come. Something just held him up.” She turned to the vanity and stuffed a handkerchief into Pierrette’s clinging hand. “After Uncle Gaston said you couldn’t come, I found another way. Philippe was to intercept Armand and take his place. He’s been delayed, but he’ll come.”
Pierrette dabbed at her eyes, avoiding the spectacular green-and-yellow bruise that circled one. “No, he won’t, sweet cousin. I know about your plans. Price sent Dorcas over our way this afternoon with something he’d picked up in town for our overseer. I was sitting on the veranda feeling sorry for myself and for you and went down to say hello. We talked about the wedding, and I said how much I’d like to be standing in your shoes. I said I guessed you’d finally given up on trying to stop the wedding, but Dorcas said not so. Philippe came to see you, she said, and she’d heard part of your talk. She told me he was going to take Armand’s place at the wedding.”
“He was supposed to, but something went wrong. I almost died when I saw Armand remove his mask.” She fought back a wave of panic at the memory. “But Philippe will be here any moment. You should go before he comes.”
“Lucienne, listen to me!” Pierrette caught her arm.
“I haven’t time, not now. I have to make some plans before Philippe arrives. I can’t elope in my nightgown.”
Pierrette wouldn’t release her hold. “No, no, you must hear me. Late this evening someone came by asking directions to Belle Mer. It was just after Dorcas left, and I was having a quiet laugh by myself over your clever scheme. This man, a rough sort, came right up and asked me how to find Belle Mer. He said M’sieu Blanchard sent him to call, he was M’sieu Blanchard’s second. He had to find Philippe to finalize the details for tomorrow morning.”
“Philippe is going to meet Blanchard? He’s given the challenge? That fool! He could be killed!” She turned away, pulling open drawers and tumbling undergarments onto the floor.
“That’s why I got into the costume and came here as fast as I could. I had to harness the pony cart myself, and it took forever. I’d thought I would be in time to trade places with you. My eye is better, and I thought it wouldn’t show under the mask. If I got here in time, you and Philippe could get away. It was the best plan I could make. I’m sorry I was too late.”
Lucienne waved her cousin’s explanation aside. She had no time to listen. Philippe was on his way to New Orleans. That was why he’d not been able to change places with Armand. Philippe! That insane duel! She must stop him! Clothes, she had to change clothes. Most of her trousseau had been packed and awaited transport to New Orleans. A few dresses, the ones deemed suitable for the newlyweds’ first days of seclusion, were tucked into the wardrobe. She jerked the door open and pulled at the first thing she found. The blue-and-white gown she’d worn for the picnic, it would do. Lucienne took it from the hook and tossed it on the bed. And she’d need things for a day or two, as well, a change of linen and a nightgown, and— Oh, there was no time for this. She pushed the garments into a careless heap.
“That infernal duel? Of course. Philippe wouldn’t leave it alone. I begged him to apologize, end the affair. Knowing how I feel about those things, he wouldn’t consider sending me word he was meeting the man. He knows I’ll make my way to him in spite of my feelings about his silly code of honor.” Lucienne thrust away her cousin’s clinging hands. “He could be killed, Pierrette. I have to go to him. There’s no telling what may happen with the Blanchards waiting for him. I have to get to town!” She tore off her wrapper, shedding buttons like broken blossoms as the nightgown followed. “Help me get dressed.”
Pierrette caught the gown and petticoat Lucienne tossed her. “Stop and think what you’re doing. How will you get to New Orleans?”
“I’ll ride. The River Road is dry. I can be in town by morning.”
“And the moment the family finds you’ve gone, they’ll be on the road behind you.” Pierrette caught Lucienne’s hand, her grip insistent. “Your papa would never let you ride off without following you. And Armand will swallow his pride and go after you; otherwise the scandal will ruin him and your papa.”
Lucienne stopped at her cousin’s words. She knew they were true. “Then you’ll go home tonight, and I’ll hide in your pony cart. I can take a horse and ride from there.”
Pierrette shook her head. “No, cousine, you can’t. Papa is very angry with me for coming alone. He said I must spend the night, and tomorrow he’ll drive home with me. He’s sending his horse back with my brothers. He says it’s not safe for me to travel alone.”
Lucienne shook off her cousin’s grasp and pulled her petticoat over her head. “Well, I’ll do something.” Her words were muffled by the folds of linen. “I have to get out of this house now. Do up my corset strings for me.” With agonizing slowness her cousin’s fingers threaded the cords. Lucienne tugged the blue-and-white gown over her head and turned her back to Pierrette impatiently. The girl took excruciating minutes to finish up the back.
“You’ll need these. You can’t dash off without a change of linen at least,” she said as she turned her attention to the heap of garments Lucienne had tossed aside.
Lucienne buttoned up her boots, pausing to glance at the garments Pierrette folded. How would she carry even a spare chemise? All her luggage was downstairs. She spied the Turkey-red bag at the door of the wardrobe. Well, that would do! She dumped the masculine contents unceremoniously onto the bed. Flinging her own garments into the purloined valise, Lucienne closed the bag.
“You’ll need a plainer dress, something not so noticeable, if you’re going to the Oaks,” practical Pierrette insisted. She found a dark cotton housedress and tucked it in, then closed the bag and fastened the strap Lucienne had ignored.
Lucienne impatiently let the dress remain. “Quick, we have to do something with my hair.” She shook the blue ribbon loose and let her curls fall free.
“I could braid it and then pin up the braids.”
“Yes, do that. It will be horribly unbecoming, but I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”
In her haste Pierrette knocked a covered box to the floor. Cascades of pearls spilled over the dark wood. “Oh, the Dupre pearls! I’ve broken them!” She frantically gathered the strand into her lap.
“Don’t worry about that now! Just help me get out of here.”
Pierrette tumbled the pearls into their box and pushed it to one side of the vanity. Lucienne cast the box a yearning look. Did she dare take the pearls with her? It seemed a pity to leave them, after all. No, it would give Armand a stronger reason than wounded pride to hurry after her. She’d never be able to wear them anyway; the Dupre pearls were too well known.
“That’s the best I can do with your hair.” Pierrette pushed the last pin into place. “You should take the back stairs down now, before people start to leave.” Lucienne tied her bonnet over the haphazard hairstyle. “Wait, you’ll need something to cover that light dress.”
Lucienne dragged a dark cloak from the back of the wardrobe. A new one had been ordered for her trousseau. She’d meant to leave this one for Dorcas. Still, it would cover her from neck to toes. She tied the cords and started for the door. Ninette scrambled off the bed to chase a single bead rolling over the floor. The sight of the bundle of black fur caught at Lucienne’s heart. How could she leave her little friend? No, Lucienne reminded herself, taking the kitten was out of the question. She had no way to carry Ninette, no idea where she’d spend the next few days. Ninette would be a hindrance and would be better off at Mille Fleur. Lucienne paused to search out a page of notepaper and a pencil.
“What are you looking for?” Pierrette leaned over her shoulder. “Can I help?”
“I’m leaving a note asking Marie to look after Ninette until I can send for her. Papa may be so angry he’ll banish her to the barn. I couldn’t endure that.” She scribbled the note and tucked it into the frame of the vanity mirror, then continued to paw through assorted bits and pieces in the drawer.
“Money, I’ll need some money.” Lucienne dumped the contents of a small velvet bag on the vanity. A few coins, the gold locket on a chain, and Armand’s pearl-and-opal ring clinked against the marble top. Haste pushing her, Lucienne twisted up her skirt hem and scraped the coins into her petticoat pocket. She slipped the ring onto the locket chain and clasped it around her neck. Another gleam of gold caught her eye. The wide gold band on her left hand reflected a touch of lamplight. She slipped it off. “Give me a pin,” she directed her cousin.
Pierrette found the paper of pins and passed them. “What are you going to do with that?”
“A gold ring can be sold for money. I certainly don’t have much real coin here, and I don’t know what I may need. The locket and chain are worth something, but this gold ring isn’t as easy to recognize. One of them looks pretty much like another.” She tied the ring to a handkerchief and pinned the bundle inside her chemise. “Raise the curtain and see if anyone is in the garden. If I can get to the stables, I’ll risk taking a horse.”
Pierrette crouched beside the window to draw back a lace panel. “It’s clear from here to the landing. Everyone is in the garden on the other side of the house.” She continued to kneel for a moment. “That’s odd. There’s a signal light up at the landing. Someone must be taking the riverboat. I think I see people down there, a man and a woman.”
“Some guests going back early?” Lucienne pushed her cousin aside. “I think it’s Price and Dorcas. Maybe they’re going into town.” She grinned. “As Papa always says, matters begin to arrange themselves. The riverboat will be much safer than riding alone at night. And much less obvious. Run along to bed, and don’t give anyone the smallest hint you’ve seen me. Pray Philippe is unharmed. I should be with him by morning. When we get our arrangements made, I’ll send word to you.” Giving Pierrette a hug and tucking Ninette into the froth of lacy pillows, Lucienne caught up her borrowed valise and climbed through the long window to melt into the shadows of the gallery. Though she could hear sounds of the party still in progress from the other side of the house, she met no one on the back stairs as she dodged from one group of shadows to another.
Through drapes of moss and over carpets of night Lucienne slipped across the grounds to the landing. The valise slowed her, and try as she might she couldn’t hurry any faster. In the distance, she heard the low whistle of the boat, indicating the pilot had seen the lantern signal requesting a stop. She had to get there before the boat left. Suddenly she realized Price and Dorcas would probably tell Papa where she went. Let them. If they were going into New Orleans for a day or two, by the time they were able to reach Papa, she and Philippe should be far away.
“Miss Lucy Ann?” Dorcas turned at the sound of Lucienne’s half-boots tapping across the loading wharf. “What are you doing out here in the dark, and where’s that new husband of yours?”
“All my plans failed. Philippe didn’t come. It’s the Blanchards and that horrid duel again! Philippe challenged the man, even after I begged him not to. When I saw the boat signal, I slipped out of the house so I can join him. I can’t stay here and be married to Armand! And Philippe may be wounded…or worse! I have to go to him.” Price might run and tell Papa this minute, she realized. She had to offer some acceptable destination. “I’m just too upset to deal with the situation right now. I’ll go to town and stay at Grandmère’s house till I know Philippe is all right and we can be together.” She cast an appealing look at the overseer. “M’sieu Price, you’ll help me, won’t you?”
Price, a burly man beside his reed-slim daughter, regarded her. For a second Lucienne thought he’d refuse. Then he spat something into the river. “Guess it’s only right. Seein’ how your pa done so much for me, I sure cain’t leave his little girl to fend for herself.” He peered into the darkness where the lights of the riverboat had begun to shine a path along the water. “You got money for a ticket, Miss Lucy Ann? Riverboats doan take folks on credit, you know.”
Lucienne dug into her pocket and shook out her handful of coins. She’d never bought her own ticket before and had no idea how much one cost. “I have this. Is it enough, you think?”
Price glanced at the gold and silver clutched in her hand. “Doan know, miss, I just doan know. Have to dicker with the man sometimes to get a fair shake. Let me have what you got there, and I’ll make the best deal for you I can. Might be a little shy of the mark, but I’ll see you get on.”
Lucienne let the coins dribble into his massive fist. “So very kind of you, m’sieu.” He nodded and walked to the end of the pier.
“I didn’t know you and your papa had business in town, Dorcas. I suppose Papa gave M’sieu Price some time off.”
“No, Pa and me are leavin’. I hate to go, Miss Lucy Ann, but your pa arranged a real good place for us with some plantation down in the islands. We take the ship out of N’Orluns tomorrow noon. It’s hard to leave just as my garden was comin’ up so good. And I’m gonna miss you right smart, too, but Pa gets itchy in his boots from time to time, and he’s just got to move on. It was kind of your pa to find him this new place. I hear tell those islands are like heaven.”
The sound of Price’s boots on the rough boards made them turn. “It was pretty close there, Miss Lucy Ann, but I jawed with the feller over it and got you a first class bed in the ladies’ cabin. And seein’s you doan have a maid to do for you, my girl Dorcas is goin’ to be right there with you to see you’re safe.”
“That was kind of you, m’sieu. Dorcas and I will have time for a real visit.”
The trio boarded, and Lucienne followed Price and his daughter along a dim passageway to a cabin below decks. Lucienne gave the room a cursory inspection. It was nothing new to her, but she saw Dorcas looking about as if trying to take in everything at once. At the far end, where fringed red curtains covered the high windows, a group of women chatted over refreshments on a low table. The
cozy sofas and chairs invited casual meetings. Lucienne checked twice to see if there was a familiar face in the group.
“You want to visit a spell?” Dorcas asked.
“No, it’s awfully late, and I’ve had a tiring day. I think I’ll just go on to bed. I must be up the instant we dock.” Most of the mosquito-netted beds at the other end of the cabin were empty. If she selected hers now, she could be sure of getting one at the end, away from eyes that might recognize her.
“Pa thought you might want to do that.” Dorcas took Lucienne’s valise and her own tidy bundle to the corner shelves Lucienne indicated. The girl was again wearing the hand-me-down dress, Lucienne noticed. It must be the best one she has. I’ll give her that dark cotton one that Pierrette stuffed into my bag. I never liked it, but it looks a hundred times better than that faded thing she’s wearing. Papa will have to send my trunks on to Etienne’s house once Philippe and I are together. I barely brought enough to be decent.
Worried for Philippe but a little smug that things were at last going well, Lucienne pulled her trousseau nightgown, now missing most of its buttons, out of her bag. “Can you unfasten my dress, Dorcas? That bed looks good to me right now.”
Dorcas nimbly complied. “Pa thought you might like a little somethin’ before bed. He said he’d get you somethin’ to help you sleep.”
Lucienne thought of her mother’s chamomile tea. It always helped her sleep. “That would be perfect,” she agreed. Dorcas left the cabin to find her father, and Lucienne slipped out of her dress. Keeping her chemise on under her gown, she tucked her chain with its locket and Armand’s opal ring into the pocket of her petticoat. Mama always warned her not to leave valuables where they could be taken while she slept. She had no money left, but the locket and ring would be worth a good bit to a thief. For a moment she regretted she hadn’t brought the Dupre pearls. They looked so well on her, wound through her curls. But that would have been common thievery, she reminded herself, and no lady would stoop to that.
Bal Masque Page 10
