"No!" cried Lauren, pulling away from him. "That's not true! We all need something to look forward to. It will brighten everyone's attitude. If we wait until later we will miss the convoy and not be able to leave Kaskaskia."
Rene shook his head. "I know how anxious you are, but we cannot be married right now, Lauren. There must be a period of mourning. It would not be proper."
She turned and walked to the other side of the porch fighting her anger.
Rene continued. "I'm only doing what is best for us and what is best for my family. We must stay here--at least until next spring. My mother needs me."
Lauren turned and looked at Rene blinking as if she had seen a ghost. Gabriel’s words haunted her. "There must be--” she stammered, “There must be someone who could take care of your mother."
"She is my responsibility, Lauren. Don't ask me to leave her."
This could not be happening. Rene could not be changing his mind. Could Gabriel have been right? Maybe Rene would never leave.
Lauren turned and started toward the gate.
"Where are you going?" called Rene, but she did not hear him. Her feet carried her away faster and faster until she broke into a run.
Chapter 15
As time passed, so did Lauren's dreams of leaving Kaskaskia. Someday maybe they would leave the Illinois Country, but it did not appear to be soon. Lauren’s hopes were buried along with Gabriel. Spring turned to summer, and Anne suggested the two should be married at last. The time for mourning was over, and she said there should be something hopeful for all of them. A morning in July was set aside for the ceremony, and instantly Lauren felt rejuvenated. Every night she worked diligently on her new gown after Madame went to bed, planning and dreaming about the days to come, but when Madame fell ill everything stopped again.
It began as a mild stomach complaint, but the illness lingered far too long and was growing in intensity. This alarmed Lauren, but what disturbed her most of all was Madame's attitude. Without warning, the woman turned against her husband and son. Almost overnight, she recoiled from the two men stating that they meant to do her harm.
"Don't leave me, Lauren," she pleaded one afternoon. "They'll hurt me."
"What are you talking about?" questioned Lauren. "Who'll hurt you?"
"Jean-Baptiste and Claude. They are planning to kill me."
"Don't be absurd!” Lauren laughed. “You have always wanted them by your side. Now you want them to stay away? Honestly you are unpredictable."
The woman bolted upright, grabbed Lauren by her gown and hissed, "You've got to believe me! You are my only hope! I heard them the other night in the drawing room."
"You were downstairs?"
"Yes, after you went to bed."
“What!” gasped Lauren.
Madame had a wild look in her eye. She drew the girl closer and whispered, "Take heed. One can learn a great deal after dark."
"Madame, you must stay in your room at night! You could get hurt!"
"You must believe me, Lauren--"At that moment, Madame froze. Her eyes focused on something behind Lauren.
Jean-Baptiste stepped over the threshold and asked, "How is Madame today?"
Lauren pulled Madame's fingers from her bodice and straightened up, arranging her gown. "Well, Monsieur, I am concerned. There is increased pain in her stomach, and she eats nothing. Do you suppose we should call for Dr. Guillard?"
"Nonsense," he replied. "The man will come, examine her, and tell us what we already know, that she has simply a stomach complaint. What concerns me is her mental state. This seems to be worsening."
"Yes, Monsieur, her outbursts appear--well appear to have changed." Lauren turned back to look at Madame Aberjon who continued to watch Jean-Baptiste warily.
He shook his head sympathetically, "The illness can manifest itself in many ways. These unfounded fears and delusions are an unfortunate example." He walked over to the bed and said, "I am going into town, Josephine. Is there anything I may purchase for you?"
Madame turned her head away and said nothing. As he bent to kiss her, Lauren noticed Jean-Baptiste’s linen shirt appeared threadbare and his boots worn. This was out of character for Monsieur Aberjon, but she thought no more of it.
After he left, Lauren sat down to a game of solitaire. She had never been comfortable with Jean-Baptiste, but Madame’s accusations were indeed the ravings of a lunatic. It was very unsettling, and it may be a sign that her demons were worsening.
Days passed and Madame's stomach problems increased. She grew weaker and could not keep any food down. For Lauren this meant endless days of basins and chamber pots and endless nights of changing the bed. Marianne could see the strain on Lauren and one evening offered to take care of Madame so the girl could get away.
It was a sultry summer night, which reminded Lauren of New Orleans. She stepped out into the night air and thought of Simone and the lazy summer evenings of their youth spent by the fountain in the convent courtyard. She remembered the cool mint drinks the nuns taught them to make and wished she had one now.
Candles illuminated the windows in town as Lauren strolled through the streets, fanning herself. It was good to be away from the sickroom breathing fresh air. She enjoyed walking through town and decided to explore a new route to the Lupone home. She turned down a quiet street lined with well-kept homes inhabited by the wealthier residents of town. She enjoyed watching the families through their front windows dining, reading by candlelight or sharing the day's events over a sapinette.
Suddenly, she stopped. There in the candlelight was Jean-Baptiste dining with a lavishly dressed woman of middle age. They were sipping out of aperitif glasses conversing intimately. Lauren stepped back into the shadows as the woman rose, dropping the ties on the damask curtains. Lauren's heart began to pound. The relationship between the couple did not look platonic and a feeling of dread washed over her. Madame's voice echoed in her ear, "Take heed. One can learn a great deal after dark."
She continued down the street. It was all too unthinkable. Who was this woman? Perhaps a business associate from the lead mine? A relative? Suddenly, the peaceful evening had taken a dark turn. Monsieur Aberjon’s clothing had looked threadbare lately and Claude's monetary demands were indeed extravagant. The thought crossed her mind that maybe Jean-Baptiste needed another "good" marriage to pay some debts. Try as she might Lauren could not dismiss the image of Jean-Baptist in the window with that woman. Could there be something more sinister at play here than a mere stomach complaint? It all seemed too absurd yet a tiny voice inside of her screamed "danger".
By the time she reached Rene she could contain herself no longer and told him everything that she suspected.
"You are becoming as addled as your mistress!" he laughed. Then his smile dropped. "Don't be accusing someone as powerful as an Aberjon of murder, Lauren. That is a very dangerous business.”
Lauren frowned. “I cannot sit by idly and watch her die!”
“Yes, you can, because there is nothing to be done. It may be her time. This is all ridiculous. How could they poison her? You and Marianne make all of the meals."
"I know, I know," admitted Lauren covering her face with her hands. "It all seems so absurd. I have been around Madame so long that I am starting to think like her.”
"Put it out of your mind immediately," he said drawing her near, but try as she might Lauren's mind was not with Rene that evening.
Lauren felt compelled to do something about the failing health of her mistress. When Madame fell asleep the next morning she returned to her room, threw her apron on the bed and tied on a cloak. Glancing in the mirror she stopped and looked closer. She did not recognize herself. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her face was pale. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. For days now she had been fighting the urge to wretch, unable to eat, completely nauseated cleaning up Madame's vomit and flux.
Thunder rumbled as Lauren stepped out the front door. The skies opened, and it began to pour. By the time she r
eached the doctors home she was soaked to the skin. Lauren stood by the fire dripping on a small, braided rug as the doctor finished packing his medical bag.
In spite of his years the man moved quickly, and his mind was alert. "I have many calls to make, child. I must go."
"But I fear for Madame’s life," pleaded Lauren. "She is most ill."
He darted to a cabinet, removed several bottles of tonics and placed them inside of his bag along with some clean bandages. "I must trust Jean-Baptist's judgment in this matter. He has taken care of Josephine for many years now, and he knows what is best for her." Dr. Guillard snapped his bag shut and grabbed Lauren under the chin. "You are a good girl and Josephine is lucky to have you. Now run along."
"Doctor!" blurted Lauren, stepping forward. "There is something you don't know." Her heart began to pound.
The old man drew his gray eyebrows together and said, "Well--what is it?"
He was growing impatient as Lauren wrung her hands in desperation. "Poison!" she cried out. "They are poisoning her!"
"What! Who is poisoning her?" he gasped.
"Jean-Baptist and his son are poisoning Madame Aberjon!"
"This is unbelievable! Do you know what you are saying?"
Lauren looked down at the braided rug and whispered, "I do."
He grabbed her by the arm and barked, "There will be no more talk of this kind! Do you understand?"
"But Madame heard them plotting--"
"Madame is a lunatic!" he roared. "Now please. Say nothing of this again. That is a very dangerous accusation. You must go."
The doctor pulled open the door and waited for her to leave. Lauren could feel his gaze as she stepped out into the storm.
* * *
It was late at night when Eugenie finally emerged from Monsieur Aberjon's room. She lit a taper and started down the hall. Usually no one was awake this time of night, and she jumped when she met Lauren on the stairs. Their eyes met for an instant, but they said nothing passing each other.
Having second thoughts, Lauren took a deep breath, turned around and said, "Eugenie, may I talk to you?"
Eugenie stopped walking, her back to Lauren. The only sound was the steady ticking of the clock in the hall upstairs. Lauren continued, "I know when you tried to explain things to me I ran away. I--I am sorry." Her hand was perspiring as she grasped the railing waiting for Eugenie to reply.
Finally, the girl said quietly, “We will talk on the galerie."
They met outside on the porch. The night air was sultry and close. Lauren was tense as she reached for the post to steady herself. Eugenie stared straight ahead.
"I've missed our talks,” Lauren said at last. “I used to tell you everything and--I thought I knew everything about you until--until that night."
Eugenie remained aloof.
"Help me to understand why you go to Monsieur Aberjon," continued Lauren.
The girl remained mute.
"Why have you chosen him?" Lauren asked.
“Chosen him! Is that what you think?" she said, turning toward Lauren. "Did it ever occur to you that I have to go there?"
"But--" stammered Lauren.
"But what? You forget. I am a slave. He owns me and has the right to beat me or sell me. He can do whatever he wants. He could sell me into a life that is even worse!"
Lauren stared at Eugenie then put her hand to her forehead. She walked down the steps and murmured, "Oh. I have been so stupid."
"You'll never know what its like to be a slave," Eugenie said. Her were eyes cold. “You are a white girl. Free to leave here whenever you wish!"
Suddenly they heard Madame scream. It seemed to reverberate through Lauren's bones. The blood drained from her face as she stared at Eugenie. She turned abruptly and took the stairs, two at a time with Eugenie behind her. When the girls burst into the boudoir, they found Madame thrashing and writhing on the bed, her eyes open and glazed. She was biting her swollen tongue and gasping for air through her clenched teeth. The girls watched in horror as the woman convulsed on the bed, rising and falling grotesquely. Suddenly Madame fell back onto the bed and sighed.
Lauren watched in disbelief, too horrified to move. Madame was not moving.
"Is she alright? What's wrong, Lauren?" cried Eugenie.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!” Lauren cried rushing to her side. She pressed her fingers to Madame's neck then frantically shook her. There was no response. Lauren backed away, tears filling her eyes. She shook her head. “I am too late. They have
won. They have killed her."
Eugenie stared at the lifeless body of Josephine Aberjon. She backed out of the room and murmured, "I'll get Marianne."
Lauren slowly approached Madame once more. The woman lay on her back with her mouth open and her hair plastered her face. She was as thin as a skeleton and an odd metallic odor emanated from her. Lauren had never seen anyone die. The nuns had grown old and sickened, but she had never witnessed their demise. It seemed to her as if Madame had simply shed her skin like a snake and passed on. Reaching over she gently closed her eyes. With a hankie, she wiped the drool from her lips remembering Madame Aberjon’s words. “If we could examine everyone’s problems like clothes hanging on a line, we would always choose our own problems back again.”
Lauren agreed with her. Rather than have Madame’s difficulties, she would indeed choose her own problems all over again.
Chapter 16
Lauren sat staring at the fire in her room. She could not sleep. This was her first experience preparing a body for burial and most disturbing. Lauren assisted Marianne washing and clothing Madame in her best gown, and they sprinkled her with holy water and lavender flowers. They moved her to the sitting room in the candlelight with her hands folded. Lauren left the room the instant their work was complete. She could not bear to be with the body and left Marianne to say the prayers.
Although it was not a cold night, Lauren shivered, pulling her shawl around her. She was certain now that Jean-Baptist and Claude had poisoned Madame, and she was not going to keep quiet. Even though these were powerful men, and she was a homeless girl from New Orleans, she was determined to expose them.
When dawn broke, she dressed and left the house heading for Fort de Chartres. Lauren knew little about the government here, but she did know that a lieutenant by the name of Antoine Brobriant was the supreme authority.
The fort was a half-day walk up the Mississippi, and it was the first time Lauren had ever visited the structure. It was not large, but it was certainly imposing perched on a hill keeping watch over the river. The fortress was made of upright logs set directly into the earth, and in the middle of the parade ground stood a stone powder magazine. Men in blue uniforms leered down at her from their posts as she pulled herself up the hill. Lauren jumped when one of them shouted, "What is your business here?"
She cleared her throat and called back, "I am here to see Lieutenant Brobriant."
The soldier looked at her suspiciously and then opened the gate leading her across the grounds to a building that looked like headquarters. After running his eyes over her, the man spit tobacco juice and barked, "Wait here!"
The ground beneath Lauren's feet was brown and dry, and the sun baked her skin. It was only morning and already the temperature soared. She could feel drops of perspiration run down her back as she tried to calm herself.
She waited for what seemed to be an eternity before the guard returned saying, "You may go in now."
The temperature dropped instantly as Lauren stepped inside the Lieutenant's office. It was cool and dark, and it took her eyes a minute to adjust to the low light.
"May I help you, Mademoiselle?"
Lauren blinked and discovered a gentleman lounging behind a large desk smoking a white clay pipe. He was a man of middle years wearing a powdered wig and a blue waistcoat. To fight the heat he had removed his jacket and was in his shirtsleeves.
"Mademoiselle?"
Lauren swallowed hard and asked, "If a crime has bee
n committed in Kaskaskia, Monsieur, to whom do I report?"
"To me, I am the First Lieutenant of the King. What crime are you reporting?" he said, taking up his quill.
Lauren hesitated. She was afraid that he would respond like the doctor, but she must find the courage to try once more. If she remained silent then she would be as guilty as Jean-Baptist and Claude. Madame's lifeless body sprang into her mind, and she blurted out, "Murder."
"Murder!" the lieutenant exclaimed, sitting up straight. "Did you say murder?"
She nodded.
"Who has been murdered?"
"Josephine Aberjon, wife of Jean-Baptist Aberjon, owner of the Kaskaskia--"
"I know who he is," the lieutenant interrupted. "Who murdered her?"
Lauren felt as if she was going to gag, her throat was so dry. "Jean-Baptist and his son, Claude."
"What!"
"Yes Monsieur, I believe they poisoned her by putting something in her food--”
Lieutenant Briobriant put his hand up and said, "Govern your tongue, girl! Before you say anything more, I want you to realize the serious nature of your allegation. If you have any doubts, any doubts at all, I suggest you walk out that door and never return."
She hesitated a moment then murmured, "I have no doubts, Lieutenant."
He stood up and walked around his desk. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her. Lauren did not move as the lieutenant approached her. Like a rock, she stood her ground and boldly looked him in the eye.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Lauren Heathstone."
"Your family?"
"I have one sister in New Orleans."
"What is your business in Kaskaskia?"
"I was engaged as a companion to Josephine Aberjon."
He circled Lauren, looking her up and down.
"Really Mademoiselle--I want the truth! You have been slighted in love by one of Aberjon men and you are here to exact your pound of flesh."
"Lieutenant Brobriant," pleaded Lauren. "I am most sincere. Madame Aberjon overheard them plotting--it was all for money."
The Pride of the King Page 9
