Chapter 8
The snow crunched under Lauren's feet as she walked to the Aberjon residence, a bundle of clothes under her arm. She walked alone along the streets of Kaskaskia, keeping her eyes down. Anne had offered to accompany her, but Lauren insisted that she remain at home.
No one seemed to notice Lauren as she trudged down the street through the snow. It was only last night she had been the belle of the ball, but this afternoon she was nothing more than another face in a scarf. Lauren stopped in the middle of the road fighting the impulse to run but thought better of it. She made her choices, and they had led her here to the Illinois back country. She must carry on knowing she had nowhere else to go.
It was easy to identify the Aberjon residence. Anne told her it was by far the grandest home in all of Kaskaskia and Lauren saw it standing proudly on a hill near a frozen stream, surrounded by trees. Every home in Kaskaskia had a fence around it, but this one had a grand, ornate enclosure made of iron. The house was the only structure in the village erected of stone, and it sported three stories and two galeries or porches, one on the main level wrapping around the house and the other attached to the second story.
She made her way up the walkway to the front steps. She noticed the knocker on the door. The object seemed large and imposing in the cold afternoon sun. Reluctantly, she reached up and let it drop. Footsteps echoed from inside and an Indian girl answered the door. Without saying a word, she gestured for Lauren to step in and disappeared down the hall.
Pulling her gloves off, Lauren looked around the entry. Across from the front door a set of stairs covered with patterned carpet led up to the second story and the bedrooms. She looked around to see if anyone was coming and stepped down the hall to peek. The main level had a library, sitting room, office and a large drawing room. Lauren thought the drawing room was the largest room she had ever seen. Long drapes hung in folds onto the floor, a cherry card table and chairs sat in front of the fireplace with wine glasses and two silver candlesticks. There were various armchairs around the room, and in one corner stood a harpsichord and bench. A rug was on the hardwood floor, the color of burgundy and cream. It was indeed a sumptuous room, thought Lauren.
"You're Madame Heathstone?" she heard someone say.
Lauren whirled around and faced Monsieur Aberjon, a man of middle years only slightly taller than herself. The Indian girl was behind him.
"Yes, Monsieur, I have been sent by the Lupones."
"We've been expecting you."
Turning to the girl he said, "Eugenie, take her things upstairs immediately."
Lauren scrutinized her new employer as he walked over to a cabinet, took out a crystal decanter and filled a glass with amber colored liquid. His clothing was of a fine cut, and the lace he wore at his neck was of a splendid quality. His boots were polished to a high shine, and his nails were impeccably clean. Yet despite this finery, Monsieur Aberjon had a coarse demeanor. It was apparent to Lauren that this man was not born to his present station in life and that he was not suited to this fancy dress. His skin was dark and leathery and his shoulders were rounded. He did not wear a wig and his bristly hair stood out straight in a pigtail at the back of his neck. His right eyelid drooped, and when he looked at Lauren, she felt a chill.
"My wife is quite weak and bed ridden," he said turning around to face her. "You will find her unpredictable and subject to--shall we say--occasional outbursts. She has little interest in anything beyond her dogs and an occasional game of draughts." Monsieur Aberjon tossed his head back emptying the contents of the glass in one swallow, "Your duties will include round the clock care and companionship to Madame, some minor household duties and of course walking the dogs. In return you will receive your room and board." He walked to the doorway and before leaving stated, "I spend much of my time at the lead mine, so I am seldom home. We have two house slaves. Talk to Eugenie or Marianne if you need anything. You will find them most helpful. Now go and meet my wife, Josephine. Her room is up the stairs and on the left."
Monsieur Aberjon left Lauren alone in the drawing room. Everyone had been cordial, the surroundings were luxurious and the arrangement agreeable, but a tiny voice whispered caution to her. Shaking off the anxiety, she looked around the room once more. She remembered Rene telling her that they owned the lead mine, and she deduced that excavation must be very profitable.
Never good at controlling her impulses, Lauren found herself walking toward the elegant harpsichord marveling at its workmanship. She had never seen a musical instrument of such beauty, and she longed to hear just one note from the dainty keyboard.
Just as she reached out to touch a key, she heard someone say, "Madame's room is this way." Lauren jumped and saw that it was the young Indian girl again. The servant’s manner continued to be quiet and reserved as she turned and walked out into the hall. After showing her to Madame's room, the girl left as silently as she came.
A clock ticked heavily as Lauren approached the bedroom door and knocked. Someone told her to come in, and when she stepped over the threshold into the boudoir, bright color blinded her for a moment. Not a variety of colors and hues but one tone repeated in every furnishing, pillow, drape and coverlet; it was the color pink. The upholstery on the armchair was pink, the wallpaper was pink, the duvet and every pillow on the bed was pink and lying on the bed in a pink wrap was an overweight, middle aged woman with long red hair hanging in tangles about her porcine face. Sitting next to her were two jovial-looking Great Dane dogs, which Lauren noted were the only articles in the room not pink.
"Please come in dear," Madame Aberjon said and then with a sweep of her arm asked, "Isn't the room lovely? I designed it myself. I'm thinking next year maybe red. Or do you think pink is more flattering to my complexion?"
Lauren's mouth hung open in amazement. The lady of the house was pleasant but apparently eccentric. Lauren replied, "Oh, Madame. I much prefer pink to the red."
"Smart girl, smart girl, I knew I could count on Jean-Baptiste to find a good companion. Now come over here and sit by me." She reached out a chubby hand and patted the duvet. "Now tell me all about yourself, dear. I want to know everything, simply everything."
Sliding onto the edge of the bed, Lauren began to tell the woman about her life at the Academy when suddenly Madame Aberjon shrieked, "Baroness! Get down!"
One of the dogs was eating cake off a plate on the nightstand. The distressed woman took a lace hankie out of her sleeve and swished at the animal several times before collapsing back onto the bed gasping. Frantically Lauren searched for something to cool the lady down as the dog lapped at the dainty on the nightstand. She found a pink, oriental fan resting under a book and opened it hastily.
"I am reduced to helplessness," Madame Aberjon whined, shaking her head, "absolute, utter dependency."
Lauren's stomach churned as the woman's heavy perfume wafted up to her nostrils. Her long, red hair streaked with gray lay in a tangled mess all over the pillows and her wrinkled white breasts heaved up and down as she gasped for air. The bed lurched to one side as Baroness rejoined Duchess on the duvet. Lauren watched the dog lick the crumbs from its lips in a satisfied fashion. When Madame closed her eyes, Lauren made a face at the animal. The atmosphere is certainly unusual here, she thought.
"My husband just doesn't understand me,” the woman whined. “He thinks that I am merely weak and languid, when in reality I am plagued by all manner of disease and suffering." Without notice, she bolted upright in bed grabbing Lauren by the arms. "Do you suppose he has gone to her today? Where did he say he was going?" she demanded, shaking Lauren.
Shocked and speechless Lauren could do nothing but stammer.
"Where did he go? Tell me!" the woman continued.
"I know not, Madame," she said breathlessly, breaking the woman’s grasp and standing up. Feeling confused and frightened, Lauren took several steps backward staring at her employer.
"I've never been a good wife to him,” she cried dropping back on the bed. �
�I'm such a disappointment, Oh Jean-Baptiste, how could you leave me for another?"
Lauren’s heart was pounding. Madame Aberjon continued to cry into her pillow as Lauren backed slowly out of the room. Closing the door quietly, she looked frantically up and down the hall. Where had that Indian girl gone? She wanted to go to her room. She needed to collect herself. She needed to think. Lauren looked hastily in several bedchambers and at last, she found her clothing in a room at the end of the hall. Quickly shutting the door behind her, she dropped down onto the bed to catch her breath. Her instincts had been correct. There was something wrong at this house, and she should run away. Madame Aberjon was a lunatic, and Lauren was now the resident caretaker of a madwoman.
Chapter 9
In spite of the hardships, days passed quickly for Lauren in her new position of companion. Madame was an extremely demanding charge, and she awakened Lauren most nights. Her days were spent feeding, washing and entertaining the invalid while her nights were spent soothing and calming the woman‘s anxieties. Madame Aberjon had a fear of the darkness, and every evening at twilight she would fall into a panic, clutching at Lauren’s clothing pleading with her to stay by her side. The woman's personality was extremely labile, and Lauren never knew what to expect, one moment she was kind and solicitous, the next hysterical and violent. On most occasions Lauren was able to restrain the woman, but occasionally Madame Aberjon would bruise or hit her.
During this time, Lauren lost her spontaneity and carefree attitude. Her responsibilities were numerous, and she found herself neglecting her own needs. Over the weeks she lost touch with the Lupones. Rene and Anne came calling several times, but she always refused to see them. She wanted no painful reminders of her days that were gone forever. Loneliness and isolation plagued her, and she threw herself into her work, taking exceptional care of Madame.
Although Monsieur Aberjon was not home often, he did notice Lauren's efforts and thanked her with an increase in her allowance. He did not go to Josephine's room often but when he did visit her, it ended in an incident. Madame would plead with him to stay or accuse him of infidelity, and he would leave, hastily asking Lauren to return in his place.
Days turned to months, and spring eventually arrived. The snow melted and birds returned. Although the roads were nothing more than greasy mud, everyone was out enjoying the longer warmer days.
"We must open your windows, Madame. The sun is out, and the birds are singing," suggested Lauren as she drew back the drapes and unlatched the window.
"Oh, do you think it is wise, dear? There could be a draft," replied the woman sliding down under the covers.
"It will be good for you. Look everyone is out--" Just as she opened the window she saw Rene walking up to the house.
"Bon jour! It’s a beautiful, spring day," he called. "You must come out with me. I must talk to you."
Lauren said nothing, only swallowed hard.
"Who was that dear? That voice sounds familiar," asked Madame.
"Rene' Lupone," said Lauren, abruptly closing the window.
"Gabriel's son has come to see me? Oh the darling! Send him in," she demanded, sitting up.
"But Madame," Lauren pleaded, "surely your hair, the condition of the room. I don't think now is the time."
"Nonsense, send him up," she said, straightening her gown.
Reluctantly, Lauren leaned out the window and shouted, "Madame will see you now.”
With a confused look Rene hesitated then approached the front door. Holding his hat in his hand, he waited for Lauren to come downstairs. Taking a deep breath, Lauren pulled the heavy door open and stood face to face with Rene. Unable to contain himself, the young man scooped Lauren into his arms and swung her around, "What has been wrong with you? We were such friends and now you will not even talk to me. I’ve missed you so!"
"Put me down," ordered Lauren coldly.
"I don't understand," he said releasing her. “You left our home, not our hearts. Why don't you come and see us Lauren? We miss you terribly. Even Father wishes you would visit."
"I am very busy now. There is no time for entertainment. Your family saw to that," she said turning and walking up the stairs.
Rene hesitated in the foyer, trying to make sense of her words.
"Well? Are you coming? Madame is expecting you," Lauren said from the top of the stairs.
He climbed the stairs apprehensively and followed her to Madame's room stopping at the threshold. The breeze from the open window carried the scent of heavy perfume and unwashed dogs to his nostrils, and he suppressed a gag. Swallowing hard he entered the boudoir and there like a sultana on her pillows lay Madame Aberjon with Lauren standing next to the bed. The dogs jumped up and inspected Rene as Madame sat up.
"My darling boy, how delightful to see you," cooed the queen. "Look how you've grown! Your mother must be so proud."
Rene looked around the room, unable to reply.
"Lauren, please have Marianne prepare us some chocolate."
"Yes Madame," replied Lauren as she swept past Rene.
Catching her by the wrist, he said under his breath, "You're not leaving me alone. Are you?"
"Why not," she said, "Your father seems to think I can endure being alone with her permanently. Why can’t you for five minutes?”
Downstairs Lauren found Eugenie, the Indian slave, in the kitchen kneading some bread. "Where is Marianne?"
"At market," was the girl's reply as she continued kneading.
"Madame would like some chocolate please. We have a guest."
Eugenie nodded and turned to the cupboard for Madame's dainty yellow teacups. Silently, she prepared the chocolate as Lauren watched. For the first time since she arrived, Lauren scrutinized Eugenie. Although the same age as Lauren, the girl had experienced most of her life as a slave. She was petite and tidy, and her dark hair was knotted at the back of her head. She suspected that Eugenie had little to say because of her malformed upper lip. It formed a large crease under her nose and prevented her from properly forming her words. Everything she said had a nasal quality and a lisp was prominent.
"How long have you been with the Aberjons, Eugenie?"
"Over ten years, Madame."
"What? You must be no more than fifteen years of age. That is your entire life."
"Yes, Madame."
"What tribe were you born to?"
"Chickasaw. I was captured when the Illinois raided my village."
"What of your family?"
"Dead or enslaved," the girl replied flatly. Turning to Lauren with the tray of chocolate she asked, "Is there anything else or may I take this up now."
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry, Eugenie."
Looking down at the floor, the girl waited to be dismissed.
"We shall go up now," said Lauren.
She was reluctant to return to the Madame's room. She knew that once the visit was over, Rene would try to talk to her. Eugenie gave a little knock on the door and entered the boudoir with the tray. Rene was sitting stiffly in one of the pink armchairs next to Madame's bed, and the dogs were at his feet.
"Where is Marianne?" demanded Madame Aberjon.
"She has gone to market for tonight's supper," replied Eugenie quietly as she approached the bed with the tray of hot chocolate.
"Let me see that," the woman said pulling herself up. She inspected the tray with a scowl and said, "You have never made chocolate before have you, girl?"
Lauren sensed trouble and stepped forward on high alert. Rene read Lauren's face and shifted in his seat. His eyes were darting from Madame Aberjon to Lauren. Even the dogs sensed trouble and left the room.
"This will not do!" shrieked Madame and in a flash sent the tray flying and its hot contents all over Eugenie. The girl screamed as the liquid hit her skin, and Madame lunged across the bed tearing at her. "You little whore! You are the one he goes to at night! I'm not stupid!" she screamed as Lauren pinned the matron to the bed. "I've known for years! How dare you come in here!"
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Struggling to free herself, Madame tried to push Lauren off as Rene whisked Eugenie out of the room and down the hall to attend to her burns and scratches.
"You stay away from him! Do you hear me! You whore!" she continued to scream, "Oh my God! Let me go!"
Madame Aberjon fell back and began to sob as Lauren loosened her grip. She knew from experience the time of danger had passed, and the outburst was over. Panting, Lauren straightened her own clothing and left the room.
She found Rene in one of the guest rooms nursing Eugenie's burns. The girl was lying on the bed with her knees drawn up in pain. She said not a word but rolled from side to side moaning. Rene dabbed cool water on her face and chest but nothing seemed to help her distress.
"I will care for her now. Thank you. You better go," ordered Lauren.
The boy’s face was white, and he asked, "Has she calmed down?"
"Yes."
"Lauren, I had no idea what she was like," he apologized, his eyes like saucers. "My family had no idea. All of these years Monsieur Aberjon has referred to his wife as an invalid, we thought she was merely frail and sickly. We did not know that she was a madwoman!"
Lauren bit her lip and shook her head, "I understand. Nevertheless, you must go.”
Chapter 10
By the grace of God, there were no permanent scars to Eugenie's face and neck. With Lauren's care and Marianne's knowledge of medicine, the girl healed completely. Marianne, a black slave, gained her knowledge from her mother's stillroom when she was a child in New Orleans. The old woman mixed various plasters and packs to apply to the skin and slowly the blisters and scratches healed and disappeared. Marianne was a kind and generous woman who treated the girls like granddaughters.
Eugenie was able to help around the house on a limited basis, but Lauren had to watch her. The burns could turn dangerous if left unclean, so she inspected and changed Eugenie’s dressings on a regular basis.
The Pride of the King Page 5
